William Boyd - The Blue Afternoon

Annaliese rejoined him.

'My dear, I don't think you've met Mrs Sieverance.' He presented Annaliese. 'My wife, Annaliese.'

'Mrs Sieverance, I'm glad to see you looking so well.'

'Ah, thanks only to your husband, Mrs Carriscant.'

There was a hellish silence.

'What… I mean, no. Ah, no discomfort? No difficulties in any -'

'Don't worry, Doctor,' she said, smiling. 'The cane, I must confess, is a bit of a luxury. One hates to abandon such a dashing accessory.'

'Yes,' he said, stupidly, seeing her glance at Annaliese. 'Yes.'

'Is your husband here?' Annaliese asked.

'He's in Mindanao. They're having trouble, I believe, with the insurrectos.'

He felt he was about to collapse. 'If you'll excuse me, I think I see Chief Bobby there.' He gave a small bow and marched off, leaving them talking. He had not seen Bobby but he made directly for a crowd of people around a buffet table where he drank two more cupfuls of punch and tried to regain his composure. He filled a plate with savoury biscuits shaped in stars to take back to Annaliese. He felt… He did not know what he felt. He had never seen anyone so beautiful, he thought. He had never physically desired someone so much: the pressure of being beside her and of not being able to touch her had been intolerable, shocking. After a few moments he managed to calm himself down, saw that Annaliese was alone again and crossed the lawn to rejoin her.

'What're these?'

'I thought you might be hungry.'

'No thank you.'

He handed the plate to a passing waiter.

'Very much the Gibson Girl,' Annaliese said, patronisingly. 'Very. What must she think of us poor colonials?'

'Who?'

'Your Mrs Sieverance. She's certainly "got right there" as they say. Must have six inches of hair pads. At least.'

'She's made an excellent recovery.'

'I think that all that untidy hair makes them look like shop girls.'

'To be out and about after an operation of that seriousness is-'

'Vulgar. So American.'

Later, when Annaliese was sitting round the dance floor with Mrs Freer and Madame Champoursin, Carriscant took his opportunity to slip away and go in search of her. He saw her standing under a frangipani tree talking to some Americans – he thought he recognised one from that night on the Luneta-and he passed close enough to the group so that she would see him. He went to a table draped in the Stars and Stripes and ordered yet another punch – he felt awash with punch, but there was nothing else for it.

'Hello again, Dr Carriscant.'

He turned to face her. He felt tears sting his eyes. Beyond her he noticed the others glancing over.

'Would you like a-? Can I offer you -?'

She seemed so calm, so controlled. They stood two feet apart. He handed her the punch cup. His hand was trembling and the liquid slopped over the rim.

'You didn't tell me your wife was so attractive. She was very… polite, I thought.'

'It doesn't matter,' he said thickly. 'It's not important. There's nothing between us, nothing, I told you.'

'I was a bit surprised, I must say.'

'I've missed you,' he said in a low voice, trying to look like he was engaged in superficial chitchat. 'I have to see you again. Can you come to the hospital?'

'No. Come to the house, the day after tomorrow. Three in the afternoon. Return my book.'

'I love you,' he said. 'I adore you.'

'I know.' She looked at him, that way, then raised her voice. 'I'll bear that in mind, Dr Carriscant. Thank you.'

He looked round. Paton Bobby, beaming, was striding across the lawn towards them.

'Evening, Doctor, you look almost distinguished. Almost. Evening, Mrs Sieverance.'

They shook hands. It was clear, much to Carriscant's surprise, that Bobby knew her fairly well. Bobby made an appointment to see him the next day and they chatted a while about the situation in Mindanao. After a minute Bobby moved on.

'I must go now,' she said, her eyes big with secret messages.

'Yes,' he said lamely. He felt a thick-tongued dullard. A Cruz semi-mute.

She turned away and sauntered back to her friends. The trembling in Carriscant's legs forced him to move quickly to the low wall that marked the edge of the garden, where he sat down. It was five minutes before he felt able to go and find Annaliese and suggest that it was time they returned home.

THE LIBRARY

She locked the door and turned to face him. He could see she was excited also, her chest rising and falling.

'We have ten minutes,' she said.

They kissed. He held her fiercely to him, his face in the angle of her neck and shoulder. His lips touched her moist skin, feeding off her salt. He breathed in her smell.

'Jesus Christ,' he said. 'My God, you don't know how -'

'Don't cry,' she said, smiling at him. 'You'll set me off.'

'Is the nurse-'

'No. But there are servants. I can't risk anything.'

They sat down opposite each other, he held both her hands in his, and made every banal declaration to her that he could think of. He kissed her knuckles, pressed them to his forehead.

'I have to be with you,' he said. 'It's killing me. We have to find some way.'

'But what?'

'I don't know,' he said, real despair in his voice. 'I just can't think.'

'An hotel?'

'In Manila? There are no secrets in this wretched place. Everyone knows me. Everyone watches everyone else. Impossible.' He felt the frustration build in him. 'Damn this place. Damn this stinking city.' He sank to his knees in front of her, putting his arms round her hips, burying his face in her lap, feeling her hands on his head, his shoulders.

'I could come to the hospital again,' she whispered. 'Maybe just once more. I can't go unaccompanied too often. I could have another crisis or something. A relapse, maybe.'

'Wednesday, the same time. No-One will be there.'

'Her day off is Friday.'

'Friday, then.' He kissed her, his tongue in her mouth. Her cool mouth, her slick quick tongue. He squeezed her breasts.

' Salvador, no.' She stood up and unlocked the door. She rang a small handbell and sat down, leaving the door ajar. 'We have to be careful,' she said. 'So very careful. Stay and have tea with me, let all the servants see. Nothing could be more natural. When I write to Jepson I'll tell him about your visit. Everything must be above suspicion.'

Pantaleon's hands gripped the edge of the uppermost blade of the propeller. The Aero-mobile stood outside its shed; in front of it stretched eighty yards of new planked roadway.

Carriscant stood to one side, his hands holding the ropes that were attached to large wooden wedges set against the front wheels of the supporting carriage. Pantaleon jerked down on the propeller and there came a fart of noise from the engine and a puff of bluish smoke from the exhaust. He pulled again and this time it caught. He leapt back and the blade began to spin, blurring into a shimmering disc. Pantaleon walked round the wing, leaned over and pushed a lever to engage the chain drive of the other propeller, which began to turn also, slowly at first and then after a second or two with real speed. The noise of the engine was loud, high and angry, and the Aero-mobile shook and quivered, like a thoroughbred at the start of a race. Pantaleon climbed into the forward saddle and sat there a moment, head bowed, hands on his control levers, as if he was at prayer, and then turned to shout out something at Carriscant-which he could not hear over the engine – but the sweeping gesture with a hand told him he wanted the wedges removed. Carriscant hauled them away and to his astonishment, for he had never really believed the Aero-mobile capable of movement, the machine began to move slowly forward, thrumming and vibrating like a hovering dragonfly, as Pantaleon slowly opened the throttle. Carriscant trotted along beside it as it rolled along the roadway, shouting encouragement to Pantaleon, and then began to run as the machine picked up speed but it soon outstripped him. He stopped, out of breath, and shouted weakly, 'Go, Pantaleon, go!' But then Pantaleon cut the engine and the blades abruptly stopped spinning and he saw him reach down to apply the brakes to the front wheels and the Aero-mobile began to slow, although it started to veer to the right. Carriscant watched as the wheels reached the raised edge of the roadway and the machine, moving at walking pace now, slowly tipped over on to its nose. There was a distinct crunching sound as of a bundle of dry twigs being broken.