Love's Sacrifice Page 6

  The arrogance and snobbery is breathtaking. I take a deep and cleansing breath before I dream of answering her. ‘Has she done anything that makes you believe she is unfit to care for your grandson?’

  Her eyes flicker insolently. She has done that on purpose to provoke me. The white, perfectly manicured fingers of her right hand are resting delicately on the table top. The air conditioning hums like a lazy insect. It is actually too cold in this room. I’m starting to get chicken skin on my arms and legs. I wonder if she has turned it up on purpose. No wonder she is wearing a turtleneck sweater.

  I come to the conclusion that one of the things I detest and deeply resent most is being in a freezing hotel room with my mother-in-law.

  ‘Well,’ I say quietly, ‘I’d rather be her than a bloodline snob, any day.’

  She smiles cynically. ‘Are you sure? You seem to have done everything in your power to…catch a bloodline snob in your net.’

  ‘By some quirk of fate I find myself married to one, but I can assure you I wouldn’t want to be one of you.’

  ‘You don’t seem to understand. Our bloodline can be traced back to antiquity, beyond recorded history. We, the thirteen original families, have been in power since time immemorial. We are born to lead. It is the design of the current paradigm. Our bloodline is a privilege. You cannot join the family. You must be born into it. There is no other way in. So you can never be one of us.’

  She stops and takes a delicate sip of tea and I stare at the sheer hubris of the woman.

  ‘And just so you are aware, breeding is case specific, depending on the role required. There are no ‘unapproved’ unions. Our families always intermarry between houses. In all my time on this earth I have never seen or heard of a family member breaking this code.’

  ‘Your son just did.’

  She carries on as if I had not spoken. ‘In the rare instance of a child being born in…well…difficult circumstances, that child will be raised in accordance with the family rules, but away from either of its parents. To serve the family.’

  My heart hammers in my chest. ‘Is that what you have planned for Sorab?’

  Her words chill me to the bone. ‘Everybody serves the family. One way or another.’

  ‘Well, Sorab is not. He is my son and I will die before I give him up to the “family”.’

  Swollen with vanity she sits at her fine table and smiles knowingly, but I know how to prick her. ‘Did you know what your husband was doing to your son?’

  She doesn’t pretend not to understand. Her eyes flash with anger. ‘You must be very proud of yourself. Rising up from the lowest rung of society, snaring a man such as my son and now presuming to sit in judgment of me. How old are you?’

  ‘Twenty-one.’

  ‘And you think you know how everything works, do you?’

  How clever she is. Suddenly I am under attack again. ‘I know fathers shouldn’t abuse their sons,’ I say.

  She scowls and flushes with rage. ‘Abuse? How dare you? Who said anything about abuse?’

  For a moment I am so taken aback by her genuine anger that I start to think she did not know, and that I have accused her wrongly, and my brain instinctively scrambles to apologize, but her next words make me realize that she is not angry because I accused her, but because I have dared to question the ways of her precious bloodline.

  Her voice is abruptly and disconcertingly quiet and mild. ‘There is a tribe in Asia, untouched by Western influence,’ she pauses to smile sarcastically. ‘Something you, no doubt, will advocate preserving. The custom of this tribe is that when the husband comes home from a hard day’s hunting, he puts down his hunting accouterments, and goes up the steps of his wooden house to call to his daughter—usually she will be very young, less than ten, perhaps even five or less. When he calls her, she knows what he wants of her and she will go to him and lie down, usually in the main room where everyone can see what is going on. He will open her small legs, and right there in front of his wife and all his other children, he will put his mouth between her legs and he will suck.’

  She stops to savor my unconcealed horror. ‘Often while he is drinking from her innocent little pussy, she will be drinking from her milk bottle.’

  I stare at her in shock. Is she telling the truth?

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ she challenges. ‘Go look it up.’ Her face morphs into a hard, cold mask. ‘Mind you, only the father has this privilege. This act, no matter what it may seem like to your education and understanding, has no sexual connotation to it at all. It is done to strengthen the man. As the girl grows and becomes a woman, the practice is no longer considered strengthening and is discarded. But the girl will carry fond memories of the times she has ‘helped’ her father. After all, it must be a rather pleasant exchange.’

  She pauses, and, picking up a pair of chopsticks, reaches for and expertly captures the dried shrimp and corn wrapped in cha phlu leaves. ‘Will you be the intrepid woman who will go and inform this tribe that what they are doing is shameful and barbaric?’

  I swallow hard, bereft of words.

  ‘No? And yet you are happy to sit here and lecture me on the barbaric nature of our ways and our rituals.’

  This woman is truly a master at mind games. Every time I think I have her cornered, I find that I am the one in the corner. ‘If these girls remember their encounters as fond memories then how can they be compared to what happened to Blake? He still suffers from awful nightmares.’

  ‘I am surprised at you. What kind of woman encourages her husband to be weak?’

  A bark of laugher erupts from me. ‘Weak?’

  ‘Children have nightmares about their visits to the dentist. Would you have them not visit the dentist?’

  I throw my hands in the air in exasperation. I feel as if I am caught in the twilight zone. This woman is totally nuts. I stand up. ‘I’m going. Thanks for the tea.’

  She remains seated. ‘I am leaving tomorrow, but I will see you in Belgium for the July ball. It is our most important gathering. Blake will want to “introduce you”, I’m sure.’

  I look her in the eye. ‘I won’t be going.’

  For the first time I see that I have confounded her. She did not expect that. It never crossed her mind that anyone would refuse such an important invitation. I take the milk jug and pour the milk back into the bowl. Then I place it on the ground.

  ‘Here, Constable. Here, boy,’ I call. The little dog jumps up from its prone position and runs toward the bowl. I straighten and she is watching me. Her mouth is a thin line, her jaw is tight.

  ‘Goodbye, Helena. I don’t think we’ll ever meet again.’

  ‘Don’t think you can keep Blake from the gathering.’

  ‘Blake is welcome to go. That will be his decision.’

  ‘You’re making a mistake, a big mistake.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I say quietly, and leave her room. I take the lift and go back to our suite. I feel so odd, so small. At our suite Blake is waiting for me. He takes me into his arms.

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘It went exactly as you thought it would.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know you wanted it to go well.’

  ‘It was silly of me to think it would go any other way. I am the worst person you could have married, aren’t I?’

  He grins. ‘It would have been worse if I had married Billie.’

  That makes me giggle. ‘Do you know she said Billie’s neck looked like the wall of a public lavatory?’

  One side of his lips lift, as his heart-stopping, long lashes sweep down. ‘That’s mother for you.’

  ‘Joking aside, she really hates me, doesn’t she?’

  ‘She doesn’t hate you. She is jealous of you. She’d give up all her money and privilege to be you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Everything you take for granted, the apple-like tightness of your cheeks, the firmness of your body, the light in your eyes. They are a cause of great envy for those who have passed
that stage.’

  ‘How sad that we all have to grow old.’

  He looks into my eyes. ‘I’ve ordered you high tea.’

  I frown. ‘You have?’

  ‘Hmm…’ He takes me by the hand to the dining table. It is laid out with a proper English tea. Finger sandwiches, scones, cream, raspberry jam, cakes.

  I look at him and feel like bursting into tears.

  ‘You knew she’d do that.’

  ‘I didn’t know. I guessed. But I had to let you try.’

  ‘Oh, my darling,’ I ramble. ‘I love you so much nobody even knows how much because that’s just how much I love you.’

  ‘OK,’ he agrees with a wide grin.

  Ten

  Victoria Jane Montgomery

  ‘Hello, Mummy,’ I greet softly.

  ‘Hello, dahhling,’ she witters excitedly, and coming forward, grasps my shoulders and kisses both my cheeks soundly. Her blue eyes are crinkled at the corners, but deep within them I see something disconcerting. It is not I but she who is dancing on the edge of madness.

  ‘How are you?’ she asks, her voice still an untamed shriek.

  My mother and I have never been close, but I can see now that she can be my most useful ally. I smile my sweetest smile at her. ‘I feel fine.’

  ‘I thought it was going to be a horrible day, but hasn’t it turned out so lovely?’

  Of course. The weather. She is talking about the weather as if I am a stranger that she has met at the village bakery. Very English. Sure. I can do that. I turn toward the window. The sun is shining. ‘Yes, you are right, it is a beautiful morning.’

  My mother’s right hand floats uncertainly up toward her face and suddenly she seems a pitiful creature. ‘Are they treating you well?’

  ‘Yes, everyone is very nice.’

  ‘Oh good.’ She sighs, and appears relieved.

  ‘How is Daddy?’

  ‘Well, he misses you, of course. He can’t wait for when you are better, when you will be allowed to return,’ she says brightly.

  ‘When do you think that will be, mother?’

  Mother blinks uncertainly. She honestly reminds me of a deer caught in headlights. ‘Well, as soon as you are better, my dear.’

  Ah, no time soon then, but she is still speaking.

  ‘Don’t worry about that now. Just get better quickly. Take all your medicines and do everything the doctors tell you, can’t you? You’ll be home in the blink of an eye. Come and stay with us for a while. I’ve never liked the idea of you staying alone in that flat in London, anyway.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea. I will.’

  She smiles, pleased at the thought of me staying with them. ‘Would you like me to bring you anything the next time I come?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I’d like to read some of the books you read.’

  Mummy frowns. ‘But I only read romances.’

  ‘Yes, they will do nicely.’

  ‘But you hate them.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind. The library here is in quite a disgusting state. It almost entirely consists of the third part of trilogies.’

  She smiles broadly. ‘Yes, I’ll bring you some of my favorite books.’

  I look at her brooch. It is not her best one. ‘Mummy, can I have that brooch you are wearing?’

  Her hand flutters to it. ‘This?’

  I nod.

  She frowns in consternation. She cannot understand why I might want her brooch. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’d just like to keep it while I am here. It’ll remind me of you. At night. When it gets lonely.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ She takes it off with trembling hands and brings it to me.

  ‘Thank you, Mummy.’ Our fingers touch and before she can remove her hand I catch the smooth, slightly knobby fingers. Her eyes run upward to meet mine—hers are startled and a little frightened. She is now afraid of me. Afraid of what I am capable of.

  ‘I haven’t been a very good daughter, have I?’

  The little liar begins to shake her head, quite vehemently too.

  ‘I know,’ I continue, ‘that I haven’t been a good daughter. I’ve been too…obsessive.’

  She draws a sharp breath. This is territory that she has been warned not to go into. We might end up talking about that terrible thing that I did to Blake’s slut. She rushes. ‘Don’t worry about all that now. You just get better.’

  ‘Thank you, Mummy. I was wondering if you could bring me some of my jewelry, too, perhaps the designer pieces. It will make me feel better while I sit here.’

  ‘Of course, but what if the staff or the other patients pinch it?’

  I shrug. ‘Then you’ll bring me some more. They are not too expensive to replace.’

  She smiles, a ray of sunshine in her worried face. ‘I’ll bring a little safe for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mummy.’

  She sighs.

  ‘Do you know this might have been the best thing that’s ever happened to me, after all?’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I was too spoilt and selfish. I think I’d like to build new bridges with you and Daddy. Start afresh and all that. I hope with time,’ I pause and drop my head, ‘you and Daddy and Blake…and his wife will find it in your hearts to forgive me for what I have done.’

  ‘Oh, darling. There is nothing to forgive. Certainly not on my side, anyway.’

  ‘I disgraced you and Daddy.’

  ‘Never mind. No use crying over spilt milk.’

  ‘I think the meds are helping. I feel a lot calmer now. A bit as if I am floating on a cloud.’

  She smiles. ‘Probably a good thing. You’ve always been a little intense.’

  I laugh. And so does she. She will be my ally.

  After a while she leaves. I am happy to see her go. I find her exhausting, but I need her. I stand at the window. I can see Daddy’s Rolls parked close to the entrance. I wait by the window until I see her emerge from the building and cross the road. As she is about to get into the car, someone enters my room. I turn around.

  It is Angel. I smile at her.

  ‘How are we today?’ she says. Her voice is jaunty.

  ‘I have a surprise for you,’ I say.

  ‘When people say that to me it usually means they have soiled the bed or something equally revolting.’

  I open my palm and show her the brooch.

  She gasps and comes forward. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful, Lady Victoria.’ And then she stops and looks at me. ‘It’s real, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I don’t think we are allowed to take such expensive gifts from the patients.’

  ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’

  ‘Well,’ she says doubtfully.

  ‘Besides, I’m not allowed jewelry. Let alone something so sharp.’

  ‘That’s true. It is very sharp. You could hurt yourself with it.’

  ‘Exactly. Why don’t we trade?’

  ‘Trade?’ Her tone becomes suspicious.

  ‘In exchange, you let me use your cell phone sometimes to make local calls. How about that?’

  ‘Local calls.’

  ‘Just to friends and family, if I start to miss them too much…’

  Her face changes. ‘I guess that would be OK.’

  ‘Oh thank you, Angel. You don’t know how happy you’ve made me. Thank you.’ I take a step forward and place the brooch into her palm.

  We look at each other—both our eyes are shining. She doesn’t know it, but both of us have just made a bargain with the devil.

  Eleven

  Lana Barrington

  There is hardly a breeze to ameliorate the relentless humidity that extends into the night like the embrace of an unwanted lover. The wet heat hits us like a wall when we exit the hotel. We have dinner in a beautiful restaurant in the middle of Bangkok then Blake takes me to a club. It is darkly lit, smoky, and throbbing with sultry music, but it is also air conditioned and wonderfully cool. It seems full of European
men and scantily clad, snake-hipped local girls. All the tables and booths face a round stage.

  ‘What is this place?’ I ask Blake.

  ‘It’s a place where everything is allowed.’

  There is a stage lit with a red light.

  We are taken to a booth by a girl in a lace bustier, leather knickers and black stockings. ‘You like something to drink?’ she asks.

  ‘Give us a couple of your most potent cocktails,’ Blake says.

  She nods, smiles and leaves.

  I look around me. ‘We are in a sex club, aren’t we?’

  Blake grins. ‘I love that it’s taken you all this time to figure that out.’

  The drinks arrive, umbrellas galore. I take a sip. It is deceptively cloying. I should be careful. I have already had a few over dinner.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind. Get me a whiskey,’ Blake tells the waitress.

  She nods and leaves.

  The blue neon light comes on over the stage. A girl walks on. She is dressed in a white bikini top and matching thong. The costume glows against her dusky skin. She has long black hair that reaches her waist. A tiny little man with a sickly yellow complexion runs in front of her and deposits a stool at the edge of the stage. She gyrates and dances around the stool. I have a sudden fear that she is going to drop a wet gerbil.

  Slowly she peels her sticky thong off. Underneath she is wearing a Brazilian wax. I squirm in my seat. The memory of Billie telling me she felt as if she had stolen a part of their soul by watching them is still fresh in my mind. Besides, I am jealous, I am not sure I want Blake to be watching this. He turns his eyes toward me.

  ‘Just think of her as a performer. I only want you.’

  I look into his eyes. Unconvinced, I touch him between the legs. He is un-aroused. It may be childish of me, but that makes me feel a whole lot better. I leave his eyes and concentrate on the stage. The girl sits on the stool and suddenly lifts her legs athletically off the ground. With her knees held straight she opens them into a wide V towards the audience. All her bits are exposed to the audience. A spotlight is shone onto her vagina. It is an uncomfortable moment for me. I keep thinking that Blake might be attracted to her. I hate the thought.