Oriental Hotel (38 page)

He set down his teacup and reached out to cover her hand with his. The skin was pale and freckled against her deep tan.

‘You're here now, anyway. And thanks to Hugh, you will soon be home.'

‘Thanks to Hugh!' She wanted to say, ‘The thanks is due to Brit,' but he was leaning across her, pushing her back into the corner of the chaise, seeking her lips. As she fought against the sudden urge to push him away, something like panic obliterated her momentary anger at the injustice.

I don't want him to kiss me! I don't want …

His lips were warm and moist, utterly familiar, yet she felt suffocated by them. When his hand left hers and moved to her breasts, something within her recoiled.
I can't! Don't, Gordon, please!

‘Gordon – be careful – my cup …'

‘Put it down, then!'

‘Gordon – not now …'

‘Elise, I haven't seen you for eight months …'

‘I know – but there's so much to talk about …'

‘Darling …' Those hands, gentle but insistent, the hands which had taught her to accept loving but never to revel in it, touching her where Brit touched her, gently kneading where he caressed and bit, arousing nothingness instead of heights of gentleness and depths of fierce passion.

‘Gordon – not now! It's the middle of the afternoon …'

‘What does that matter?'

‘Of course it matters! Come on now, behave yourself …' He leaned away, bitter disappointment and hurt in his face, and she was sorry.

‘You haven't changed, Elise.'

Oh Gordon, if only you knew how I had changed! The thoughts ran like quicksilver through her mind, acid she was only amazed he should not have seen the reflection of it in her eyes. She wriggled out of the chaise and out of reach; smiling, trying to hide her fear and revulsion, trying to act normally.

‘You know what my grandfather used to say? That there's a place for everything and everything should be in its place?'

‘I don't think he was referring to a timetable for love-making, when you haven't seen your wife for eight months. Although,' he paused and went on ruefully, ‘knowing your grandfather, very probably he was.'

‘Oh Gordon, for goodness sake … couldn't we have some more tea?'

Gordon sighed. ‘ It's lucky for you, Elise, that I'm not a more demanding husband. All right, I have waited for eight months and I can wait a little longer. And if you want more tea, you'd better ring for some.'

She crossed to the telephone, very aware of him watching her. As she replaced the receiver he said, ‘So tell me about your journey.'

‘I don't know where to begin. There's so much …'

‘You've been on ships which have been requisitioned by the Ministry of War Transport, I understand?'

‘Yes, I have been extremely lucky.'

‘Lucky? You were torpedoed!'

She shuddered. ‘Don't talk about that. I meant I was lucky to get the passage.'

‘Oh yes. Who was it that you said arranged it?'

‘Gerald Brittain.' She was glad she was not looking at him; otherwise she knew she would have been unable to prevent herself from blushing, to keep out of her eyes the look that would have told him …?

‘Brittain? I thought that was what you said, but it was a bad line. Elise, he's not one of
those
Brittains, is he?'

‘
Those
Brittains?'

‘Cormorant.'

Before she could answer there was a tap at the door and a boy entered with a fresh pot of tea. When he had left, she said as casually as she could, ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, he is.'

‘I thought so! I didn't think there were any other Brittains in Hong Kong. How the hell did you come to get mixed up with him?'

‘He was in Cairo. He was given my suite as a matter of fact, and after that I think he felt he had to do something to make up for it.' Thank heavens for the tea – for a pot and cups to bend over so as not to have to look at him as she said it.

‘But how did you get to know him?'

‘A Frenchwoman – I spoke to you about her – Comtesse du Pare – she knew him. And she asked him for me. I didn't think he would be able to do anything and I still don't really know how he managed it …

‘Damn Brittains – it's them all over. They can worm their way in anywhere.'

Don't talk about him like that! she wanted to say. But instead she said mildly, ‘ Just be grateful that he did.'

‘Humph!' Gordon's snort spoke volumes. ‘ Oh well, I suppose I shall have to see him and thank him – though I don't mind telling you that the less I have to do with that family the better I shall be pleased.'

With the cup poised half-way to her lips, Elise froze. Gordon was going to meet Brit! She would have to introduce them. And Brit didn't even know that Gordon was here; she had told him it would be another two days before he arrived. She had even arranged to meet Brit in the Tiffin Room. Her eyes flew to her watch; he could be waiting now – supposing he decided to come up and look for her? He might very well walk in, saying or doing something which would immediately betray that the familiarity between them went far deeper than merely being travelling companions …

That's true, Gordon. Let's find him and get it over with.' He looked at her curiously as she wenr on, ‘If you leave it until dinner, we might have to eat with him …'

‘But will you know where to look for him at this time of day?' Was it her imagination that there was a gleam of suspicion in those light blue eyes? With guilt colouring her every thought, she could not be sure.

‘Most people seem to be about at tea-time. You know the Raffles, Gordon – next to the Cricket Club, it's the centre of everything …'

He straightened, crossed to the mirror and tidied his thinning hair.

‘Gerald Brittain, you said? I don't think I've ever met him. What's he like?'

‘Different.' She could have bitten her tongue. ‘Not what you would expect. He was a pilot.'

‘Oh,
that
one. I believe I have heard of him. The black sheep! Are you ready, then?'

As ready as I'll ever be.

‘Gordon … don't be rude to him, will you?'

‘What do you mean? I'm never rude.'

‘No. It's just that I know you don't like the family, but he has been a great help …'

‘I'm not entirely insensitive, Elise.'

‘No, I just don't want him to think you're ungrateful.'

‘I think you can leave it to me to know what to say.'

As I've always left everything to you, she thought, with a touch of bitterness. And you will manage it as you always do. Only this time there will be something you don't know …

When they first entered the Tiffin Room she thought he was not there; then she saw him standing beside one of the columns and her heart came into her mouth.

Don't let him come rushing towards me! Don't let him open the conversation with some give-away remark, before I've had a chance to warn him …

She took hold of Gordon's arm, trying to keep level with him so that Brit would see them simultaneously. She had described Gordon, hadn't she? Surely Brit's own common sense would tell him …

He looked up and saw her. The recognition was there in his eyes, a start, a half-smile, then the narrowing glance and wary hesitation. Her heart was pounding, her throat going into spasm.

‘Gordon …'

She turned and saw a similar expression on his face. ‘That's him?'

‘Yes.'
How had he known?
Because he looked like a Brittain, or was it something else? Like standing by that pillar obviously waiting where she would expect to find him …?

Brit made no attempt to approach them. Naturally he had realised who Gordon was – she should have known he would. But something in the coldness of his stare turned her stomach over: taking in Gordon, summing him up, his eyes almost as hard as those of Hugh de Gama.

‘May I introduce my husband, Gordon. Gordon, this is Gerald Brittain.'

Neither of them was listening. They were eyeing one another as two stags might do at the start of the rutting season. Cold and afraid, she stood there watching them, knowing there was nothing more she could do.

‘Brittain.' Gordon's voice showed a forced cordiality. ‘I understand I owe you a great debt of gratitude.'

Brit's mouth twisted upwards. ‘Really?'

‘You arranged my wife's passage, she tells me, when it looked like being an impossibility.'

‘It wasn't too difficult.'

‘Well, according to my wife, it was very difficult indeed! I'm very grateful.'

‘I did it for a very charming old French lady who makes it impossible for anyone to refuse her anything.' All Brit's old arrogance was back. ‘I preferred to battle with the authorities rather than face her and admit defeat!'

‘Well, that was our good fortune,' Gordon said stiffly. ‘ Thank you! We may see you again of course, but in case we don't …' He offered his hand and after a brief hesitation Brit took it.

The hand which had shaken Brit's went around Elise's waist in a proprietorial manner, steering her away, back through the Tiffin Room. As the tension subsided, she became aware of a deep, black hollow aching within her.

Brit! Brit! You didn't even look at me! Not one glance – not one tiny private exchange. Perhaps it wouldn't have been wise, but don't you even care that he's here, that it's all over two days too soon and we can't even kiss goodbye?

No, you don't care! Because it's the way you wanted it. No strings. No goodbyes. No duel at dawn. Just ‘fun' as long as it lasted. But it wasn't ‘fun' for me.

What an idiot to fool myself into thinking I could give it up this way; an idiot to think that anything was better than nothing. I didn't stop to realise how much it would hurt to have to say that silent impersonal goodbye. I didn't know how it would tear me apart …

But it mustn't show. Neither of them must know how it hurt inside. Neither Gordon nor Brit. Especially not Brit …

She dined with Gordon in the Elizabethan Grill, where the Ranee of Sarawak and her two beautiful daughters held court; the lights dancing and sparkling on their jewels, their faces elegant above their rich, flowing gowns.

Gordon drew attention to them and, knowing him as she did, she knew it was a mere stepping-stone to remarking on the absence of Brit.

‘Doesn't he dine here?' he asked as the waiter approached with a side of lusciously pink roast beef ensconced on the famous silver trolley.

‘Oh, I think he likes variety …' That was true enough. While Gordon retained his conservative preferences for totally British food even here in the East, Brit ordered a wide range of dishes from Indonesian nasi goreng and Chinese mah mee or bee hoon to Malay prawn crackers with a rich French lobster bisque.

Hmm. I should imagine he's a man to enjoy the nightlife too,' Gordon said with an air of one who disapproves. ‘That ‘‘Innocent Mick's Raving Seven,'' or whatever they call themselves, still play at the Tanglin Club, do they? He's probably gone there.'

‘ ‘‘Innocent Nick's Hot Six'',' Elise corrected, but her depression deepened. Brit obviously had gone out; who knew what he might find besides food and music at the Tanglin Club, or wherever he had decided to go in order to keep out of their way?

‘What about Hugh de Gama?' she asked, changing the subject. ‘Where is he?'

‘Oh, he said he had one or two business associates he wanted to look up.' Gordon's hand reached out across the snowy white tablecloth to cover hers. ‘But if you ask me he was just being tactful.'

Her throat spasmed as it had that afternoon, as she reached for her wine-glass and sipped at the rich Cote de Rhone.

‘When are we leaving?'

‘Tomorrow. Neither Hugh nor I want to be away longer than we can help. Elise – I have missed you. It's been hell without you.'

He wants me to say I have missed him, she thought, and I don't know if I can.

Instead, she managed a small half-laugh.

‘I didn't think you would ever notice I wasn't there, Gordon.'

‘What do you mean?' He sounded hurt.

‘I don't exactly see very much of you at home. You work such long hours. Oh, I know the business …'

‘But it's going to be different from now on, Elise,' he broke in. ‘Once we can get the scare of this war behind us and things settle back to normal again, I think you will find we've broken the back of establishing the company. And I've been thinking, now that Alex is older and off your hands perhaps you would like to play a bigger part. Nominally you're a director already, but …'

‘But I don't know the first thing about the company,' she protested.

‘I know. But if you were to learn …'

‘And I know even less about electronics.'

‘That doesn't matter, you don't need to. You can leave the technical side to the experts. There are plenty of ways you could fit in and be an asset, and we should see a great deal more of each other.'

Elise nodded, sipping thoughtfully at her wine. How strange life was! A few weeks ago she would have welcomed the idea. Apart from having another child, there was nothing she would have liked better than to be able to develop an interest which would not only mean she saw more of Gordon but which would give her a purpose in life. Now, with the world turned topsy-turvy, she didn't know about anything any more.

‘Elise, I do love you.' In the candlelight his blue eyes met hers and she felt like crying.

‘Oh, Gordon …'

‘I may not always be good at showing it, but …'

‘Hush! The people at the next table are looking!' He glanced away, then glanced back at her. The pouches had dropped, almost hiding his eyes.

‘You don't want dessert, do you?'