Lady of the Shades (10 page)

When I ask about it, she shrugs and says she wants to take things slowly. ‘This is a big step,’ she mutters, nuzzling my neck. ‘I’ve become conditioned to the demands of
sex. I’m used to surrendering my body, not giving it freely. I want it to be special between us, not like it is with Mikis. Will you be patient?’

I say that of course I will, but it’s frustrating. I can feel the desire in her, the sexual longing. She wants me as much as I want her. So again I wonder — what’s holding her
back?

I try not to let my personal life interfere with
Spirit of the Fire
, which is chugging along nicely. I’ve been devoting a lot of time to the science side of the book and
I’ve got a good idea of how to blend it with the horror elements. Soon I’ll be ready to start.

Jonathan gets in touch to say he’s in the process of finalizing the contract, but it might still take a few weeks. He’s not going to rush them — he’ll use the time to
scout around for an American publisher. He asks if I’m free to return to the States if needed. I say I’ll let him know, then discuss it with Andeanna. I mention the possibility of her
accompanying me, but she vetoes the idea. There’s no way the Turk would let her travel to America without him.

‘But go if you must,’ she urges. ‘I don’t want to hold you here. If your work takes you away, I won’t interfere.’

‘Don’t say things like that,’ I scowl. ‘You know I won’t leave you.’

‘I know,’ she smiles. ‘But I don’t want you thinking that you
can’t
. It won’t crush me if you call it quits. I’ll survive. I’m quite
accomplished at surviving.’

Though Andeanna rules out a trip to the States, Joe would love to go. I’ve told Jonathan about my partner, and while he isn’t keen on the idea of a collaborator, he’s accepted
my decision to involve Joe and is preparing a contract for him. I told Joe he shouldn’t sign if he doesn’t want to, and I urged him to seek legal advice, but I don’t think he paid
any attention. He’s so excited at the thought of being involved, he’d sign away all rights if a deal to that effect was placed before him.

I’m paging through a monstrously thick book about unusual deaths when my phone rings. It’s Andeanna. ‘Guess what?’

‘Surprise me.’

‘Mikis has been called away on business. He’ll be gone for three days. I have the house to myself.’

I lay the book aside. ‘What about bodyguards? I thought he didn’t leave you alone at home.’

‘He doesn’t. A guy called Axel Nelke is guarding me. But things aren’t so hot between Axel and his wife. He could do with some extra time at home with her. I told him I
wouldn’t tell Mikis if he didn’t.’ She lowers her voice and does a pretty good Mae West impression. ‘So why don’t cha come up and
see
me some time?’

‘I can’t,’ I reply solemnly.

‘Why not?’ she asks, perturbed.

‘I don’t have your address.’

‘Funny guy,’ she drawls, and tells me where she lives, describing the quickest route from my hotel. I jot down directions, grab my keys and hurry downstairs, not bothering to change
my clothes.

The Menderes mansion lies tucked off the main road in the northern suburbs of London, hidden behind a scattering of trees. The electrified gate opens as I approach and closes smoothly behind me.
It’s a short drive to the house, where Andeanna waits on the steps of the front porch. Rolling down the window, I ask where I should park.

‘Here is fine,’ she says, so I cut the engine and step out. She glides down the steps to greet me, wraps her arms around me and buries me in a long, eager kiss. It’s a kiss
I’m in no hurry to break, but then I catch a glimpse of a security camera overhead.

‘You have CCTV?’ I snap.

‘Of course,’ she says.

I stare at the camera, feeling my stomach drop.

‘But you don’t have to worry about it,’ she smirks.

‘How come?’ I frown.

‘I sneaked in and switched off the record function.’

‘Won’t somebody notice that when they check?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she smiles. ‘I’ll turn it back on when you leave. I do this every time I slip in and out. It’s second nature now.’

I grunt uneasily. I trust her, but the camera sets me on edge all the same and I start thinking about other things that could go wrong. ‘What about the staff?’ I ask.

‘All gone,’ she says, tugging me up the steps. ‘Mikis can’t tolerate servants. He employs the slimmest of crews and gets them in and out as swiftly as possible. The
maids, cleaners and gardeners come in the morning and are gone by early afternoon.’

‘Who does the cooking?’ I ask.

‘Me. Except when we have guests. Then Mikis hires caterers. But when it’s just us, he keeps the help at arm’s length. That’s one of the reasons I feel so lonely. I have
to stay in all day with bodyguards who never talk with me. I don’t know how I’d survive if I wasn’t able to slip out at night and mix with real people.’

‘Does the Turk know about your nightly escapades?’

She shakes her head. ‘He doesn’t think I could be so bold. He believes I’m locked away all the time.’

‘Don’t your guards tell him?’

‘I retire early every night – I always have done, so there’s no call for them to be suspicious – then disable the CCTV and sneak out.’

‘You’ll be caught eventually,’ I warn her.

She laughs. ‘Not as long as there’s sport on the telly for them to watch.’

Taking my hand, Andeanna leads the way inside. She’s nervous, and so am I. Regardless of her guarantees, I can’t shake the thought from my head that this is the Turk’s
stronghold. I expect him to burst in on us at any moment.

Andeanna takes me on a tour of the house. I feel edgy, and it’s not just the feeling you get when you enter somebody’s home without the owner’s permission. There’s a
chill in the air. The rooms are larger than normal. Sounds echo through them. And there’s a . . . I don’t know if I can describe it . . . a solemnity to the atmosphere. This feels like
a house of mourning. Even my ghosts look sombre.

Each room is a hall of garish wonders. Crystal chandeliers, mounted heads of lions and deer, banisters studded with jewels, paintings by artists whose names are familiar even to me, leopard-skin
rugs adorning the hearths, lots of marble and gold leaf. It’s been a long time since I visited such a monument to lavish, vulgar taste.

‘You don’t like it,’ Andeanna notes.

‘No, it’s lovely, I . . . ’

‘Don’t lie,’ she laughs. ‘I hate the place too. It’s Mikis’s dream home, not mine. He took control of the plans. He even designed
my
bedroom and
makes me keep it the way he wants.’

‘That’s a room I’d like to see,’ I mumble artlessly.

Andeanna looks at me without saying a word, then turns on her heel and marches upstairs. I follow silently, eyes glued to her shapely calves as she climbs the stairs ahead of me. At the top she
takes a left and escorts me to a room at the end of the corridor. Another huge chamber, soft blue wallpaper, billowing curtains, antique dressing table, walk-in wardrobe and an en suite bathroom. A
four-poster bed occupies a full quarter of the floor. Several framed wedding photos of Andeanna and Mikis adorn the walls. She’s hardly aged at all.

While Andeanna stands just within the doorway, I stroll to the dressing table and study the few personal artefacts scattered across it — brushes, a compact, hair pins. A photo album rests
next to a powder box. I pick it up and flick through. Snapshots of Andeanna and her son. He’s young in most of them, but there’s a recent shot of him near the back. He’s shaved
his hair off and the glow of his scalp creates a halo-like impression. ‘Gregory?’ I ask.

‘Greygo. Yes.’ She comes over and stares at the smiling young man.

‘Handsome,’ I note.

‘
He
thinks so,’ she laughs, ‘but that bald head’s awful! He’s an actor. Very talented, and that’s not just his mother talking, the critics have often
said so too.’

‘Have I seen him in anything?’

‘I doubt it. He prefers the stage to movies or the telly, and he likes to take small, interesting character roles. That’s why he shaved his head — he wears a lot of wigs,
darting from one play to another.’

My eyes flick from the photo to Andeanna. ‘He favours you.’

‘Yes,’ she says proudly. ‘He inherited my finer characteristics and hardly any of Mikis’s lesser features. It drove Mikis mad. He hated the fact that his son looked more
like me than him. I used to lie and tell him that Greygo has his eyes and mouth. Over the years he’s come to believe that. But it isn’t true. He’s mine.’

Her fingers brush across her son’s face, then she takes the album from me and closes it. ‘Mikis insisted on a blood test. When Greygo didn’t look like him, he dragged us to our
doctor to make sure he was the father. If there’d been even a shadow of a doubt, we would have wound up at the bottom of the Thames. Mikis isn’t the sort who’d bring up another
man’s child, or allow him to live.’

‘Where is Greygo?’ I ask.

‘On tour with a rep company. He spends a lot of time on the road. I think he finds it easier that way.’

‘What do you mean?’

She sighs. ‘Greygo loves his father, and it’s reciprocal, but he knows he’s a disappointment. Mikis wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, but Greygo fell in love with
acting when he was a child. Mikis tried to dissuade him, but Greygo was adamant. When Mikis refused to support him, he won a scholarship to RADA. Any other parent would have been bursting with
pride – do you know how hard it is to get into RADA? – but Mikis went into depression. I think he was worried because so many actors are gay — at least that’s the myth. He
was afraid Greygo might go pink. To a man like Mikis, there’s nothing worse than a gay son.’

She’s babbling because she’s nervous. I gently bring her back to the point I was trying to make. ‘So we’re alone,’ I remark.

She nods tensely. ‘Yes.’ Then, trembling, she offers her lips. Our kiss is brief. When we separate, she looks troubled. ‘I know you’ve been patient, and I know how hard
it’s been. I don’t want to keep you hanging in suspense, but I . . . ’

‘It’s OK,’ I tell her.

‘There are things I haven’t told you, things . . . ’ I silence her with a kiss, but she’s determined to say her piece. ‘Mikis forces me to submit to gynaecological
tests. My doctor is one of his oldest friends. She answers directly to him.’ I stare at her, understanding at last why she’s been keeping me at arm’s length. ‘He springs her
on me without warning. Sometimes months pass between examinations. Then she’ll test me three times in a week.’ Andeanna looks up, tears forming. ‘She’s a godawful bitch and
thorough as the devil. No matter what precautions we took, I couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t find a trace of you. That’s why . . . ’

‘Oh God,’ I groan, embracing her. ‘You should have told me. If I’d known . . . Christ, I wouldn’t . . . I’d never have . . . ’

‘I want to give myself to you,’ she cries. ‘I want to be with you properly, but if she found out and told Mikis . . . ’

‘It’s OK,’ I whisper, kissing her forehead. ‘I can wait.’

She sniffs. ‘There’s no
wait
. I love you, but I won’t risk my life for you. If we could run away – if I thought he couldn’t find us – I’d light
out in an instant. I’d give it all up, this house, the lifestyle, everything. Even Greygo. I love you that much. But he’d find us. He’d kill us.’

‘Not if we killed him first.’ It’s barely a whisper.

She giggles. ‘Right. With copies of
Soul Vultures
.’

‘I’m serious. With a gun. A knife. Mikis Menderes is human. He can be killed. I could –’

‘Stop,’ she smiles. ‘It’s cute – no, not cute, volunteering to kill a man can’t be
cute
– but you’re being silly. You’re a writer,
not a thug. You couldn’t kill anyone and I don’t expect you to, so quit with the macho crap. It doesn’t become you.’

‘And if it wasn’t crap? If I could really kill him?’

She pinches the love handles I’ve developed over the last few years. ‘Stop.’

‘OK.’ I force a smile. ‘I won’t kill your husband.’

She laughs, then grows serious and steps back. ‘Now that you know. Now that you realize how impossible it is. Do you want to go on seeing me?’ She stares at the floor.
‘I’ll understand if you don’t. Our only hope is if Mikis drops dead of a heart attack or if one of his rivals eliminates him. I don’t think that will happen. Although
he’s older than either of us, he’s fit as a fiddle, and he leads a charmed life. He may live to be a hundred.’

‘Andeanna.’ She looks up, hopeful, fearful. ‘I love you. Nothing can change that. If I can’t have it all, I’ll take whatever I can.’

‘You don’t mind?’ She sounds doubtful.

‘Of course I mind! Being with you and not having you tears me to pieces. But it’s better than not being with you at all. Just to see you, to talk with you, to hold and kiss you . . .
’ I stop when I feel a lump in my throat. I haven’t cried (except when drunk and pitiful) since I was a kid, and I don’t want to embarrass myself by starting now.

‘Oh, Ed,’ she sobs, and throws herself on me. I hold her and whisper and tell her everything’s fine, the sex doesn’t matter, simply having her with me like this is
enough.

Eventually Andeanna pushes herself away, grabs tissues from the table and wipes around her eyes, then sits and applies make-up. I watch, amused. She notices my grin in the mirror and lowers her
head. ‘Force of habit,’ she mutters, then stands and clears her throat. ‘There
are
things we can do, if we’re careful.’

‘What are you talking about?’

She blushes and whispers something beneath her breath.

‘I can’t hear you,’ I tell her.

She looks at me straight, defiant this time, and with a twinkle in her eye. ‘I could give you a handjob.’

I laugh out loud at the unexpected proposal.

‘What?’ Andeanna snaps, pretending to be offended. ‘I’ll have you know I have very skilled hands.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ I smirk.

She wriggles her fingers. ‘Kings would offer fortunes for a few quick jerks from me.’

I explode in a fit of giggles, and I can’t recall the last time that ever happened to me. ‘Stop!’ I gasp, clutching my sides.