I wished the Brenners elsewhere, they weren’t going to budge on my say so.
“He didn’t?” Bianca laughed. She should have practised laughing in front of a mirror. She had prominent eye teeth, and they became exposed when she laughed. “Oh, my poor Sue! That is what he calls you, isn’t it? Sue? Delightful name. He is a naughty boy, our Charles. But surely you must have guessed that he was a bit of a rogue where the girls are concerned? Why, he even had a go at me one night when Julian was out... but that’s all to be forgiven now he’s working with us.”
“Is he?” I asked. I wanted to sit down, but knew that I wouldn’t make it to the nearest chair.
“Of course, my dear. Oh, you’re thinking of his little naughtiness over the fraud case? Well, of course that was very bad, but when you remember that Charles’ one ambition in life was to be a millionaire before he was forty...”
“Don’t you know any other adjective but ‘naughty’?” I asked, and was ignored.
“I expect he’ll give you a nice present for helping him out this week,” said Bianca soothingly. “I’ll say that for Charles, he always pays his way.”
“I do?” said Charles, speaking from the doorway. He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and his keys in the other. I hardly recognised him; his features might have been carved from soapstone, they looked so hard. This was a Charles I’d never met; the Double First who moved in moneyed circles, had a job in a Merchant Bank, and held his own with a millionaire reputed to be a bastard in his personal life. I ought to have guessed at his existence, but I hadn’t, for up till now Charles had only shown me his warm-hearted side.
He turned to me, his eyes checking to see what damage had been inflicted in his absence. I don’t suppose my face reassured him. He set down the bottle of wine, and shrugged off his coat. Neither of the Brenners moved. Both continued to smile.
“To what do we owe the honour of this visit?” asked Charles, his voice as cold as his manner.
“Visiting the sick,” replied Julian. “How are you getting on, dear boy?”
“I told you on the phone. I’m flying out to join him tomorrow, and I don’t know exactly when we’ll be back. Maybe a week, maybe two. But I’ll keep in touch, as I said I would.”
“But the money. You’ve missed a payment...”
“That was your fault, wasn’t it? You shouldn’t have put me in hospital.”
“You shouldn’t have been so obstinate,” said Julian, but he didn’t sound annoyed. He sounded quite pleased with himself. I didn’t like the way his eyes continued to assess me while he spoke to Charles.
“I think we’ve seen enough,” said Bianca, rising to her feet in one supple movement. Her hips couldn’t have been more than 34 inches; I didn’t like to remember what mine measured. “Don’t you think so, Julian? She’s not at all what I expected, but she’ll do very well.”
“Agreed.” Julian got up, and held the door open for his wife. As she passed by, she picked up one of Charles’ sweaters, which had been lying on the table, and thrust it at me. I recoiled, and the sweater fell to the floor between us. She laughed.
“Has he hurt her feelings, then?” she said. I couldn’t look at Charles, or at her. I just stood there, waiting for her to hit me again. That was what it felt like; a series of punches to the solar plexus.
“There are limits to my patience,” said Charles, in that well-modulated cocktail-time voice of his. “As you very well know.”
“Did we spoil something between you and Sue?” enquired Bianca. “So sorry, darling!”
The door shut behind them. I heard Charles speak, but couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. I thought I’d better see what had happened to my mayonnaise. It had probably curdled.
Charles whirled me round and shook me. This time I did hear what he was saying, he was asking how long the Brenners had been there, and what they’d said. I stared at him. I’d forgotten in this past week to think of him as a handsome man; I’d only thought of him as “my” man, to be petted and fattened up and confided in, and loved. I’d forgotten — perhaps deliberately — my original suspicion that he must have a permanent girlfriend somewhere, and I’d managed to quiet my