Three Rivers (15 page)

It was Sunday. Today she would go and meet Alfred and Ava for a coffee at the Piccolo Café in the square. A thought came to Kate. She hoped that Ava and Alfred would not bump into Constantine and invite him to coffee. She had not told them that she had rejected his proposal
of marriage. This was the first time she had thought of Constantine since that night. She had seen him many times in the square, and although she had greeted him most cordially, it was no more than that and with no feelings whatsoever. She greeted the butcher, the newspaperman and the street cleaner in the same way.

She no longer saw him as the white-haired gentleman admiral. He was another man who spoke English with a rotten accent and who wanted to use her to relieve himself. The filthy fool! Well, she told him off. He would not get hard again for a long time, if ever. She would bet on that.

The telephone rang — it was Ava. Coffee in the square was off. She would come to Kate’s place in half an hour and they would have coffee there, just the two of them.

Kate dashed around putting things away. She did not want Ava to see what was going on. There was much to tell Ava, but Kate wanted to do it her way and not through a million questions from her daughter. She wished that Ava would not always be changing plans. Did it never occur to her to ask if her mother wanted to have coffee in or out?
My God
, Kate thought,
what selfish children
.

IV

Isabel was sitting propped up among half a dozen ruby-red-and-gold silk-embroidered cushions on the large antique bed that was covered in an ancient boukhara, patterned with pomegranates. High above her head was a wonderful crown of carved wood, finely gilt and suspended from the ceiling. From the crown canopy of the bed hung billowy folds of the finest white mosquito netting, draped back and tied with very large gold-and-white tassels.

She looked around the room, down at the floor, up at the ceiling and was yet again overwhelmed by the sweetness
and sheer beauty of the antique
boiserie
with its painted panels of flowers, birds and little vases. The paint had faded with time, only making the scenes more romantic looking.

Every detail of the room was perfection, and obviously created with great care. The room reflected an atmosphere of sumptuous erotic feminity. Every flower, every scent in the room pricked the senses. The heat, the sunlight, the shadows, only added to its voluptuousness. The mirrors were placed to reflect only more of what was there. It was a room of which dreams are made. Surely it must have been created for a queen, at least a princess and, if not, certainly someone’s favorite concubine. Isabel had been floating along with the room, and what had dragged her back into reality was talking to Kate.

It never failed; whenever there was something good happening in Isabel’s life, she was never allowed to share it with Kate. How sad that at this time, when Isabel felt something really special, something that had not happened in years — a kind of happiness, a strange feeling of security within herself and with this stranger who had sought her out — Kate would not let her share that feeling with her. Even if this were to last only a day, why would Kate not accept some of Isabel’s joy?

Isabel took a mother-of-pearl hand mirror from the side table and looked at her necklace. It was quite incredible that it fit perfectly, high up on her long, slender neck. She put her hand around her necklace, and there was a good feeling coming off it. She thought of Alexis and felt more calm thinking how lovely it would be to get to know this man.

She was waiting for a phone call to go through to Ava. Having placed the call, she now had no idea why. Leaving the bed and going to the dressing table, she picked up the note that Alexis had sent a few minutes before with Gamal: “Get used to it. I have only just begun. Alexis.” Oh, but that made her feel good.

Just then the phone rang. It was her call to Ava.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ava, how are you?”

“I am very well. Why are you calling again? I only spoke to you a few days ago. Why are you wasting the money? You really should write, you know.”

“I called because I wanted to talk to you and …”

“My God, Isabel, you are extravagant. I mean, it is nice to hear from you, but you are extravagant. You know it is different when I want to call you. After all, I am married to a rich man, but can you afford all these extravagant phone calls?”

“As a matter of fact, I am not paying for this call, Ava. I am calling from Cairo.”

“I thought the line was particularly bad. What are you doing in Cairo?”

“I’m here on business, for a week. I will be back in London Monday or Tuesday, if all goes as planned.”

“Business, what kind of business could you have there? Will it pay?”

“Well, I really can’t answer that at the moment, Ava, since I only arrived an hour or so ago and have not even looked the job over to see if I can do it.”

“Oh, no. You mean that you had to pay out all that money just on the possibility of a job? Really, Isabel.”

“No, I did not. All expenses are paid. Ava, I did not call you about how I work and money. I simply called to let you know where I am and that it is for that client, the one I told you about when I called you from London.”

“What client?”

“Sir Alexis Hyatt.”

“
Sir!
You didn’t tell me he was a Sir. Well, you know what these titles are, never have any money, and if they do, they hardly part with it easily. I certainly hope he pays you.”

“Well, of course he will. As a matter of fact, he asked for my bill before I even made the journey. That is far from the point ….”

“Far from the point, really, Isabel, get it in proportion. That is the
only
point.”

“If we are going to talk about him, what you should know is that he is turning out to be quite a terrific man.”

“Look, Isabel, I don’t want you to waste any money telling me all about that. If anything comes out of the job you can write me all about it. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Yes, listen, Ava, I called mother to tell her I was here. She seemed extremely peculiar about it and wanted to come. That is hardly possible since I am here with a client.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she is not going to go.
She is perfectly happy here. I see to it that she has everything that her heart desires. You never come here and see what a good life we have arranged for her. I can’t say that I am very fond of the friends that she has taken up with, except for the Greek admiral, whom I find utterly fascinating; and so why would she want to be with you? I never seem to have trouble with her and I think you make much more of what she says than is necessary. You only look for trouble. Why did you call her in the first place? You should have just called me.”

“I don’t know, I simply thought that one of you should know where I am and honestly, it has been such a good beginning, I just felt like calling. Who knows why I called. I suppose … oh, I don’t know what I suppose. At this point I don’t know why I called at all.”

“Well, that’s what I mean about extravagant. You could have sent a letter.”

“Yes, Ava, I suppose I could have. But as long as I didn’t and I am on the telephone, how are you? All right?”

“I am fine, just fine. I am going away myself on Wednesday for three days. We do seem to be busy with our careers. I wrote to the
Reader’s Digest
and gave them an idea for an article. I received a letter telling me that if I write it up and send it to them, they may use it. I am going to do the research for it.”

“Ava, that really is very good news for you. What is the article about?”

“The title tells it. It is called ‘A Massachusetts Lady in a Greek Island Village.’ The subtitle is ‘Her Effect on the Village and the People.’ ”

Isabel thought how extraordinary Ava’s vanity was, but she said, “Well, that sounds interesting. Look, what I think I’m really calling about is that I am quite overwhelmed by Alexis Hyatt, this job and what has happened since I arrived here. He is quite a remarkable man, very special. I am feeling really flattered that he asked me here.”

“Now listen, Isabel, I am really not interested in all that. All those phony rich men that hire you do not interest me. Nor does the fact that they have to hire you because they cannot do it for themselves make me respect them. I can only think it unfortunate that money has to be wasted the way they do. I certainly can see why you have to accept them and am happy for you because it gives you a way
to make money, but I truly wish you were more realistic about it all. But we have been through this before, I simply have no enthusiasm for your projects. I find them boring. I have my own work, which is very important. In
my
profession I at least make a contribution.”

“What profession?”

“Why, my
writing
profession. I mean for this to be a successful career. After all, this is going to be the second article I will have contributed to the
Reader’s Digest
. I know that you look down on it, but you know not everyone is interested in the avant-garde the way you are. At least I reach the bulk of the public, not just a selected few, fawning, arty-farty types. Of course I am happy for you and I wish you the best. Good luck to you. But I can’t get that interested and I have to go now anyway.

“As for mother, don’t worry about her. I will straighten her out, that is, if there really is a problem, which I doubt. There is no problem here. She is happy, as happy as she will ever be. Everything is just fine. Will you be stopping here on your way back to London?”

“No, Ava, I can’t. I came by private jet.”

“What do you mean, you went by private jet?”

“I mean that Sir Alexis Hyatt sent his plane for me, and I imagine that he will send me back the same way.”

“Well, I never. I mean, if he has that much money I hope that you charge him enough. Everyone knows how vulgar those rich Arabs are. I suppose they want you to do something for them because you know how to handle flashy things with more taste than they do. Yes, I can see where they would like your kind of thing.

“Look, the best of luck to you and write to me when you get back to London. I will be only three days on the island and back here long before you return to London. Listen, I must go now, my telephone bill has been astronomical this last month.”

“Ava, I am the one who called. It’s not costing you anything.”

“Oh, well, I have to go now anyway. Bye.”

Isabel took the receiver from her ear and looked at it in wonderment. Ava was impossible, not to mention insensitive. There was no way of getting away from it — Ava had a sickness, a pathological love for nothing but herself.

Isabel was furious with herself yet again for not accepting
Ava the way she was. Would she never learn about calling Ava and Kate and trying to share the good things that came into her life with them? This had to be the last time. They wished her well but they deeply resented the good things in her life. Now, at this time when there was something she felt might be the happiness she had been seeking all her life, where were they with their support?

Ava, as always, had kept both eyes on the mirror during the conversation with Isabel. Never moving her eyes from her own reflection, she’d put down the receiver, cutting the call from Cairo. She tilted her head in order to see herself in a better light, and with her forefinger went over her eyebrow a few times, opening her eyes wide.

She had listened to nothing Isabel had been telling her, only what she had been telling Isabel. Therefore she simply had no idea why Isabel had called her, and was feeling pleased with herself in making sure Isabel understood how frivolous she and the people she worked for were.

As Ava played with the tiny wrinkles at the sides of her eyes, she thought about her problem. She could not find any pink pearl buttons in all of Athens, and she needed them for the blouse that she was having made.

Ava had always lived a conventional life and loved it. Convention and security made her feel in control of herself and her destiny. That is why the pink pearl buttons were important. The blouse, its pattern, the pink silk material from Rome, and the pink pearl buttons had all been planned and organized. Any change, such as the buttons, was unthinkable.

Ava did not like Isabel because she was essentially unconventional. Since Ava loved herself and her own life-style, she looked upon everything else with a sense of pity. And threat.

For years and years Ava had kept a good cover on her true feelings about Isabel. The fact that she was able to look down on Isabel as some kind of second-rate citizen compared to herself made it easier for her to conceal her true feelings. In her heart, however, Ava carried resentment, jealousy and the desire for complete success of every kind over Isabel.

Ava was humming away as she jogged around the house, doing her chores. She changed her clothes and went shopping for the buttons.

She found them in the eighth shop that she went to in Monastiraki. It was the twenty-fifth that she’d tried since she’d started looking for the buttons.

Ava hurried herself along up Kanaris Street to Kolonaki and then through the side streets home, with a high sense of accomplishment. She was looking forward to the village on Siphnos, where she would go in a few days. She loved the island people and they loved her. They called her a
koukla
, a little doll, and were thrilled because she could speak their language perfectly. Greece was good to Ava; she was always better, happier there than in most places.

Once home, Ava poured herself a drink, sat down in the garden near the pool and waited for her husband to come home for lunch. He was working on a project of some kind with an old school friend. Ava thought to herself that nothing would come of it, of course. It would end as all projects with old school friends always ended. Lots of expensive luncheons and gay dinners filled with reminiscences, but no business.

Alfred was
so
dependent on her. They did everything together and now that she would be gone for three days, she wondered how he would occupy himself. The old school friend, she supposed.

Ava knew that they had a good marriage because they were so much alike in so many ways. Their self-interest and conservatism held them together.

Ava and Alfred’s sex life went more or less like the rest of their life: smooth, uninspired, conventional. She treated him more or less like a baby in their everyday life, and he treated her more or less like a brother. It was no different in bed, but it wasn’t bad, not bad at all. It was just that it was not great, either.

Ava’s vanity told her that he had never had a woman on the side; in fact, however, Alfred liked whores. When separated from Ava he always hired them. Ava never knew it.

Three times in her marriage with Alfred, Ava had tried to step up and out. She managed to reduce the men to devoted slavedom, but when too much time had passed and the question was not popped, they were dropped. And when Ava dropped, she dropped for good.

That was years ago. In the last few years Ava had decided to concentrate on Alfred, her career and those few
flirtations that went nowhere and would produce no problems. This plan — and Alfred — seemed to keep her more or less happy and satisfied.

It was the third try not coming off that cooled her down. Number three was Professor William Warfield, a lecturer at Harvard University. His subject was physics.

Ava and Alfred met Professor Warfield and his wife, Louise, on a transatlantic crossing. Ava did her usual flirtatious routine, and William Warfield fell. While Louise, Alfred and another couple were playing a tournament of bridge across the Atlantic, Ava and William crossed the Atlantic, growing closer together. Their affair lasted for eighteen months. William Warfield was completely enchanted by Ava. His children were married, and his wife and he had drifted apart because his first love was his work. A very rich Bostonian whose ancestors came over on the
Mayflower
, he was certainly able to handle financially a divorce with no trouble whatsoever. His position in the social and academic worlds was certainly so well established that there would be no problem there.