“But I’m completely jealous of you, Françoise. .”
“Why would you be jealous of something that stops me from living. . And I have no idea how it’s going to end. .”
“Well, until then it’s made a new woman of you. . You look irresistible. . Haven’t you seen how all the men at the other tables are looking at you?”
“No, they don’t interest me in the slightest. I don’t even see them. In fact, I don’t see anything. Everything is fuzzy except him. What’s happening to me? Why have I never felt like this before, not even when I was younger? I sweat and sweat and it scares me. Can’t you smell it, this scent of a woman in her fifties?”
“What are you talking about. The only thing I smell is your Nina Ricci, Françoise.”
“You don’t understand, how could you! We have the same smell. Oh, his smell. . He smells. . vegetal, somehow. That’s not a perfume, it’s his scent. . Why has this happened to me in the middle of my menopause? Anyway, so how is June? I saw her playing tennis when I came in; she has a great smash. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, that one, Christina. . But what about her heart? Has she got a boyfriend?”
“No, there’s no one special at the moment, but I’m not getting desperate yet. . But you and this boy, have you slept together?”
Madame Saint-Pierre recoils slightly.
“Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason. .”
“I know you better than that, Christina; you don’t say things for no reason. . All right, yes, we’ve. . been together twice, so far. .”
“And did you come?”
Madame Saint-Pierre’s embarrassed laugh. Christina’s serious expression.
“The second he touches me. .”
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Not at all. . But you’re beginning to make me nervous. I don’t know whether you approve or disapprove.”
“Are you passive or active?”
“Active. . I’m the one who initiates things, but as soon as I get too close to him everything in me goes haywire. . I’m like a mechanical doll that’s run amok, I have no control over what I do. .”
“Do you have the feeling that even when he’s lying passively on his back, he’s still the one who’s in control?”
Long silence.
“Yes. .”
“That’s all I wanted to know.”
“Why did you want to know that?”
“I can’t tell you that because it’s not my secret to tell. . There’s someone else involved in this story. .”
“It’s your daughter, isn’t it? You found her with a boy? Isn’t that what you wanted? Ever since she. .”
“No, it isn’t that! I found her straddling a boy on our verandah. . Oh, good Lord, I shouldn’t have told you that. I haven’t even had the courage to talk to her about it. I don’t know what to do about it at all. .”
“We should talk about this again when we have more time. . I have an appointment I have to go to. . What are you doing Saturday?”
“Riding with June in the morning. . What about lunch at Chez Gérard?”
“It’s a date. Unless. .”
“I’ll understand, Françoise.”
HARRY IS FINISHING a game when his wife and Madame Saint-Pierre come out. He’s winning hands down. Whenever he’s ahead of an adversary, it isn’t in him to take it easy. He is a lean, mean, killing machine. Madame Saint-Pierre claps her hands. Christina remains silent, a light smile floating on her lips, a sure sign that she is still in love with her husband. Harry comes over to where the women are standing and takes off his T-shirt. He’s as red as a boiled lobster. His naked, sweating torso emits an undeniable vitality. An animal vitality. He casts a quick look towards the Bellevue Circle’s high green wall. It doesn’t last a quarter of a second, but Christina catches it, and when she follows it she sees the young woman who’s been waiting for Harry by the gate. They don’t usually come here, she thinks. She feels as though she’s been slapped in the face. She looks again at the girl before turning her back on her. She’s seen her before. Small, compact, tight bum, smooth thighs, very black, just the way Harry likes them. She feels a sexual charge surge through her. The girl isn’t hard to look at, she tells herself.
“Damn,” says Madame Saint-Pierre. . “I left my scarf at the table.”
Harry offers to go in and fetch it for her.
“Have a shower while you’re in there,” Christina tells him.
“I think I will,” Harry replies. “Anyway, I’m not going home just yet.”
“Oh?” says Christina.
“I have to drop by the office to sign some papers.”
“On Saturday?”
“Yes, they need them first thing Monday morning. .”
Harry moves off with an easy grace towards the Circle.
Now it’s Françoise’s turn.
“Excuse me, Christina, Harry will never find my scarf; I left it at Jacqueline’s table.”
“Jacqueline Widmaier? I didn’t see her in there. .
“She was hiding. She’s with someone. .”
“Who?”
“A young musician she’s interested in launching, it seems. .”
“She’ll never retire, will she. .”
“Let me go in after Harry. He’ll be making a fool of himself by now. You know how impatient he is. .”
It’s the kind of remark that should never be made to the wife of a man you’ve had an affair with. A veil descends over Christina’s face. The man Harry was playing tennis with, the dentist they’d talked about earlier, says hello to Christina as he passes. Madame Saint-Pierre takes advantage of the distraction to slip into the Circle. She feels ashamed of herself. Christina is left standing alone on the lawn.
“May I speak with you for a minute, madame. . I won’t take up too much of your time. .”
Christina turns, slightly taken aback.
“Of course. .”
“My name is Tanya. . Let me get straight to the point: I’m Harry’s mistress. . It’s my house he stays at when he doesn’t come home.”
“And why are you telling me this, Tanya?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you.”
“So?”
Christina feels some of her spirit returning.
“You deserve better.”
She gives the girl a closer look.
“You want my husband for yourself, is that it?”
Tanya laughs.
“Not at all,” she says. “He’s not my type. .”
Once again, Christina is nonplussed. This girl moves fast. Christina chews her lip, telling herself she could never keep up with her.
“Then what is it you want?”
“Sometimes Harry gives me money.”
“No doubt you earn it.”
“If you give me the same amount, I’ll leave him all to you. .”
“How dare you talk to me like this!. . Harry can pork every little Negress on the island as far as I care, it has nothing to do with me. . People like you, I wouldn’t even hire you as a servant. .”
“Don’t get yourself all worked up. I only came to make you an offer. . If you change your mind, let me know. . Don’t worry, I know where to find you. .”
She leaves, moving like a cat. Christina watches her with a certain admiration. What nerve! Suddenly, she feels tears coming on. She squeezes her eyes shut until they hurt to prevent herself from crying. And then Madame Saint-Pierre comes out, smiling.