Lynda Plante - The Talisman

She rocked him in her arms... ‘I’m home now, I’m home now.’

There was no void, no shyness between them.

Later, when she lay next to him, he reached out in his sleep and pulled her close, the way he always had. She closed her eyes. She could feel his powerful body and pressed her backbone against him, surrounded by him, curled against him. Now she was home.

Feeling buoyant, Edward whistled as he entered his office. Miss Henderson handed him a cable, and he started to laugh as he read it. He ordered her to get his wife on the telephone. It was only nine o’clock but he poured himself a brandy.

The intercom buzzed and he picked up the phone. ‘Harry, hey guess what? Alex, the sly son of a bitch, has got himself married... married! Alex! Just sent me a telegram. Doesn’t say who the hell to, how about that? You want to go to the theatre tonight? Okay, pop into the office... See you later.’

Replacing the phone, Harriet gave it a loving little pat. It was a start — Edward had begun asking her to meet him at the office and taking her out to lunch. She called to Dewint that Alex had got married. He had never met Alex, so he wouldn’t know him if he fell over him, but he said all the right things.

Dewint was delighted to have Harriet back, looking so well and obviously happy. She had adored the pale lemon of her studio, and had set about reorganizing all the furniture.

‘You know, Norman, when I was away, one of the things we used to do was act out dramas. I just loved it, and I am going to start taking drama classes, what do you think?’

At one stage in his life, Norman Dewint had been a ‘hoofer’ — not that he would ever have mentioned the fact unless asked, and it was something he left off his curriculum vitae. Now he did a quickstep down the stairs, ending with a flourish.

‘Mrs Barkley, I can think of no one who’d be better on stage.’

‘Why, Norman, you’re very light on your feet — how did you do that step?’

Dewint flushed with pleasure. ‘I used to be able to tap dance, it’s all to do with relaxation. It’s a very simple, old-time step used by Fred Astaire — one, two, three, sidestep, sidestep, bend and twist...’

Harriet applauded, then persuaded Dewint to teach her more in the dining hall. They pushed back the table and rolled the rugs aside, leaving the wooden boards bare.

‘Right, you be Fred and I’ll be Ginger... Oh, music, we must have music...’ She burst into song, ‘I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night, and still have begged for more...’

Dewint watched her dancing up the stairs. The whole house had come alive again. Everything was back to normal.

Alex, with his new wife, met her battery of lawyers and legal advisers. Only then did he realize the magnitude of the fortune that came attached to his wife. Barbara was as uninterested in her financial powers as only an incredibly rich, spoiled woman could be. She daydreamed of being introduced to society and of becoming a famous socialite.

Alex flew to New York, leaving Barbara to make the arrangements for herself and her two daughters to travel to England. He knew he should have contacted Ming, explained to her, but it had all happened so fast, and he was unsure how she would take it.

Ming was not in her Manhattan apartment or her office. He was told she would be ‘on site’ at, of all places, his wife’s new penthouse. Alex bought a ridiculously ornate bouquet of roses and arrived at what was to be his own apartment.

Ming was standing at the window, holding up pages of a large pattern book. She looked up at Alex and smiled. ‘Good heavens, you look wonderful! I have called London so many times to speak to you — where on earth have you been?’

Alex handed her the roses and she gathered them in her arms, buried her face deep in the flowers. ‘Oh, they smell delicious... now, come and see what I’ve done to this place, it will be magnificent.’

Alex didn’t know how to tell her. She was so excited, leading him from room to room, and as always he was impressed with her taste and her innovative designs. She led him into the master bedroom. ‘See, I have made everything in different, just slightly different, shades of pink... I don’t think it looks too bad, more than likely she will hate it, her type always do. She’ll want gilt mirrors and hideous gold angels... Alex? Is something wrong?’

Alex sat on the oyster-pink satin bedspread. He ran his hand along the cover, then gestured for Ming to come to him. She slipped into his arms as she always did, curled up on his lap.

‘I got married, in Nevada last week, I married Barbara.’

As quickly as she had moved to him, Ming slid away, turning her back to him. She was rigid, but her hands fluttered slightly, like birds’ wings. ‘Well, she is very rich... I am making over a million dollars from this commission alone... Then I will have more, because of her daughters’ apartments.’

‘She won’t be living here, I am taking her and her daughters back to live with me in England.’

Still Ming remained with her back to him. ‘I see... does that mean you and I... What about us?’

Alex moved closer to her, wanting to hold her in his arms.

‘I love her, there will be no more of you and me. I still want to be friends with you, of course I do... I still want to see you.’

She turned on him, her eyes like a Siamese cat’s, narrowed into slits. ‘Oh, that will be nice! Well, thank you for telling me, now if you will excuse me...’

‘Ming, please...’

‘You know, if you had said “I have married her because of her millions” I could understand, really, I would understand that, but love... You love her? She’s tasteless, she’s cheap, she’s coarse, the only thing that smells sweet about her is her money...’

Alex bowed his head. He didn’t argue, he didn’t want to, he knew he had hurt her and he felt guilty. ‘I’m sorry, Ming, but... I love her.’

She laughed and walked to the door. When she reached it, she turned to face him. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word, but you have what you deserve. I am sorry for you, she’s notorious, did you know that? You see, I have a number of other clients now, courtesy of your new wife, and none of them could wait to tell me... You’ve married a whore.’

Alex’s temper snapped. ‘I don’t think you have any right to bring that up, you of all people.’

Ming’s voice was icy. ‘I slept with men because I needed to eat, I was poor. She pays for her men, she buys them! Look at you — how much is she paying for you, Alex? And does she know about you? Does she know what you are?’

Alex hit her, hard, so hard that she slammed into the edge of the door. She rubbed her shoulder. ‘Get out... please, leave me alone, I never want to see you again.’

Alex left the apartment. He felt sick at the way he had struck out at her, guilty, hating himself. He stepped out of the lift fifteen floors below and Ming watched him from the penthouse window as he hailed a taxi. She would make him pay, she hated him now as much as she did Edward. She knew their secret, and if they didn’t let her buy her shares back, buy them both out of the business, she would make damned sure they would be sorry... Alex and Edward Stubbs, socialites — she wondered how popular they would both be with the English aristocracy if it were known that Edward had murdered their father, that they came from East End slums. She laughed softly — she would plan carefully, let them climb the ladder just that little bit higher... The higher they were the further they would fall, and she would make them fall so hard that neither of them would get up again.

Ming straightened the bedspread. The roses lay on the floor where they had fallen. She bent and picked them up, trying so hard not to cry, but her mouth quivered, and she sobbed. She had pushed Alex into Barbara Taverner’s arms, and her anger at her own foolishness dried her tears. She tore each rose from its stem and hurled it across the room. She had come cheap — what a pay-off, a damned bunch of roses, pink roses.