Zane Pella: Fanchon_s Book

Eventually I scraped up sufficient nerve to do something about it. Kristi was in Oliver's room, reading; I went in to talk to her. But before I could open my mouth she pounced on me with an impetuous hug and kiss. Then, bright-eyed, giggling, obviously enthused, she dangled a typed document in front of my nose.

"Look what I just came across, Fanchon. In with the books."

It was a copy of Oliver's will. I got huffy and told her to put it back where she found it; after all, my husband's private affairs were no concern of hers. But she had already read it, of course, and my admonition came too late. That being the case, well, I too was curious enough to scan the paper-and then we both knew of the existence of a foreign bank deposit. Of which, some day, I would be the sole inheritor.

But it wasn't a seemly subject for discussion-and besides, I had to get that other more pertinent business off my chest. The will was restored to its hiding place without further comment, and then-spuriously casual-I voiced a small suggestion about Rosalba overstaying her welcome and wasn't it time we sent her away?

I met with stubborn opposition, though. Kristi was intractable. She liked having Rosalba around to do her bidding; worse yet, she insisted that I keep the girl on indefinitely-and since my budget wasn't affected, even Oliver's return would have little bearing on the arrangement.

"It's perfectly safe, Fanchon. Who would object to an extra housemaid? Rosalba can share my room; we'll set up the folding cot for her. And as long as it doesn't cost you any money… "

"But she's becoming a fixture here. If she settles down like that, how will we ever get rid of her?"

"Oh, that's easy. You know what a silly goose Rosalba is. I'll just talk her back into patching things up with her husband. And out she'll go. Whenever we're tired of her."

"I'm tired of her right now, darling. And I really don't see why you're so keen on her staying. She does most of the housework for you, I'll admit, but is that the only reason? You're not in love with her, are you?"

"In love with Rosalba? Don't be ridiculous. Fanchon, how could you even think it? You're the one I care for! That's why I want to keep Rosalba around, actually-because of my love for you. I can't be nasty to you the way I can to her. And sometimes I just get that nasty urge; it's a kind of compulsion, you might say."

"A compulsion to be nasty? What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know. That night in the cellar-remember what I did to you? That was nasty. And you didn't like it. So it won't happen again-not to you, anyway. But just the same, I still get the urge now and then."

"You-you do that to Rosalba?"

"Uh-huh. Only I don't have to force her. She loves it. She opens her mouth and swallows what I give her-and worships me all the more for it. But you should have figured it out for yourself by this time, Fanchon. Haven't you heard us making all that noise in the hall bathroom?"

"N-no. I-I just didn't realize… "

"Well, you realize it now. And I'm glad, frankly, I'm glad it's out in the open. I hate that little two-by-four toilet, it's so shabby and uncomfortable. Now maybe I can use yours, huh? You won't mind if I take Rosalba into your bathroom once in a while, will you?"

What could I say? I looked at the glittering green eyes, the determined face, the chin tilted at such an obstinate angle-and all I could do was bite my tongue and let it pass and hope the whole mess would soon blow over. Certainly I couldn't see myself offering to take Rosalba's place. Ugh!

After all, well, somehow everything got pretty chaotic-and just a bit weird, too. Kristi still slept with me, but now she contrived to spend more time with Rosalba, gravitating between us and yet avoiding any overlapping of the two pursuits. As if each was a separate sphere of activity. Except that she led Rosalba into my bathroom every so often, and I had to turn my head and act as though I didn't notice. But I did notice, oh yes, and I listened to the strange sounds and shuddered and knew that it wasn't any innocent "mistress and maid" charade going on in there behind the closed door.

I stood it as stoically as I Could. But I soon recognized the ugly fact that I was involved in an invidious competition. Kristi loved me, but that didn't constrain her from conferring a portion of herself upon my rival. And measured in minutes, the portion seemed to be increasing with exasperatingly conspicuous regularity. Until at last my heart shriveled and I went to my beloved and got down on my knees and pleaded with her to send the girl away.

"Poor unhappy Fanchon. So you're jealous, hmm? But if Rosalba goes, who'll be my toilet slave?"

"Is it-is it so necessary to you? That sort of thing?"

"No, not exactly. But there's something exciting about it. I guess I've just got a dirty mind, huh? Anyway, I don't want to give it up-and I'd be angry if you forced me to."

"What if I let you… uh… you know… "

"Do it to you?" She snorted in wry reproof. "Fanchon, you can't even say it; even the words are disgusting to you. You'd only get sick to your stomach again-and that's no fun for me. I need someone who feels a sexy thrill when it happens."

"Sexy… no… I could never feel-"

"Rosalba does. It makes her so hot she begs for more. Shall I prove it to you? She's always ready for me, always thirsty; I'll call her in and drop a little hint, that's all it takes. I'll have her begging for it right here m front of you."

"Please, no, don't call her! I believe you." A mist of despair blurred my eyes. "Darling, what can I do? How can I convince you? If that girl stays another day I'll just die, I know I will."

"Come now, Fanchon, I'm sure you'll live. Don't be so morbid. Let's have no talk of dying." Then, in an oddly pensive murmur, "Unless it's about-" She shrugged abruptly. "Oh, forget it. So you want me to get rid of Rosalba, huh? I can't see any reason why I should. Still… "

"Darling?" I clasped her legs to my breasts. "For me?"

"And what will you do for me?"

"Anything. Everything. I swear it. Anything you ask." My voice cracked to the consistency of a leaky sob. "Just so you and I can be together."

"Hey, you're crying! Crocodile tears, maybe?" She smiled down at me. "But no, of course not, you're truly suffering, you poor darling. My sweet Fanchon… would you really do anything? Would you do something dangerous if I asked you to? Something bad? Because there is something-something so awful I can hardly say it-only it's not just for me, it's for both of us. Listen to me, dear, and try to understand; I know it's terrible but I can't stop thinking about it. It's been tormenting me ever since the day I was leafing through the books and stumbled across that paper "

I clung to her in desperation. I must have known what she was going to say, I should have expected it. But I heard her and felt the chill of dread and broke out in a cold sweat; and then I thought of all that money and how it would enable me to wrap her in luxury and keep her happy and hold on to her forever-and I nodded my head into the soft embrace of her thighs, brushing my damp cheeks dry upon the overheated skin, sensing only vaguely that I was making myself a party to murder. The murder of my own husband.

A party to murder. Murder most foul. Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out. Et cetera: oh, there was no end to the clichйs and quotations-and all of them reaffirmed what I already knew: a pretty sinister subject, murder.

Incredible, then, how easily I became inured to the enormity of the idea-incredible to me, at any rate; could my immorality indeed be so immoderate in scope? Did I dare dally with death? Ah, but I scarcely had time for introspective inquiry, not with my darling Kristi-devil in such an enlivened mood-she kept me too deliciously diverted. She even managed to inject a sybaritic tincture into the occasion of Rosalba's farewell.