Lynda Plante - The Talisman

‘Ah! Does that mean you know everything about him?’

‘Yes, yes I do. Now let’s forget it.’

Harriet was already sitting on the balcony eating breakfast when Edward, very hung-over, stumbled out from their suite. She peered over her bright pink-rimmed sunglasses. ‘I hope we are in a better mood than we were last night. Coffee?’

‘What’s the time, I’ve got a meeting at nine.’

‘Well you’ve just missed it, and I suppose you’ll say that’s my fault. Here, sit down and have your coffee and I’ll order some eggs and bacon.’

‘Christ, no! I couldn’t face eggs and bacon, just coffee. I must have had more to drink than I thought.’

‘Is that an apology?’

‘No.’

‘Well it should be, you know you left Skye in the car park?’

‘Well somebody had to behave like an adult. You two are not safe to be let out together. I am supposed to be here on the quiet, doing subtle business deals, and what happens? The wife gets up with that ancient pianist and sings, then pulls the whole fucking tablecloth off... very subtle, can I borrow your sunglasses?’

Harriet continued to read the paper eating her toast. Edward sat in moody silence. She looked up and then back to her paper, hiding a smile. He was feeling dreadful, she knew it, and he was now wearing her bright-pink sunglasses.

‘I’ve got to go to Pretoria, do you want to come?’

‘No, thank you, I just want to sit and relax by the pool.’

He took his coffee inside. She could hear him on the telephone, then he came back out again. ‘Right, I’m going then, you sure you don’t want to come with me?’ She flicked through the paper, pursing her lips.

‘I don’t understand you. Why don’t you want to come with me?’

She flicked the paper again. ‘Because you are foul. To discuss your wife’s sexual problems in public is to my mind the ultimate in bad taste... would you mind standing to one side or the other, you are blocking the sun.’

He sighed, shaking his head. ‘You are something else, you know that. You come all the way out here, and now you’re having a go at me... I don’t even remember what I said...’

She looked at him over the paper, then carefully folded it. He reached over and took her hand. ‘All right, I do, and I’m sorry, I’d had too much to drink... and he was all over you, I never got the chance to tell you something.’

She left her hand in his, and he lifted it to his lips. ‘I liked your song, but before I could say anything he was in like Flynn...’

She beamed. ‘Do you mean it? You liked it? Honestly?’

He kissed her hand... then caught the time on her wrist-watch. ‘Shit, I’m going to miss my next appointment... come on, your coat’s on the bed.’

He grinned at her, and she punched him. ‘You bastard, you always win me round so easily...’

He ducked the next punch, still smiling. ‘Was it that I liked your song or the hand kissing?’

She got him a good left, and he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. ‘You can sing to me in the car, it’s a long drive... and tonight we’ll go dancing, but without Skye Duval, is it a deal?’

Edward was cramming his white panama hat on to Harriet’s head as the Rolls Corniche screeched out of the parking lot. She was driving. Skye rolled down his window but he knew they hadn’t seen him. He had a bunch of wild flowers for her, and he tossed them away. He sat in the boiling hot car, brooding... he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.

She belonged to Edward, maybe that was why he wanted her so much... he lit a cigarette, wondered what Eddie boy had meant when he had said she liked to tease, was that what she had been doing to him?... the cigarette followed the flowers as he started the engine, crashing the gears. ‘Bitch... they’re all the same, bitch...’

He drove as fast as Harriet out of the hotel. He turned the music up loud. ‘I’m Your Back Door Man’... he was Eddie’s back door man all right, he was that schmuck, well, he’d taken enough. By the time he arrived back at his bungalow, he was seething with impotent jealous rage. He rolled up a joint, inspecting his hidden stash, warning himself to go easy, his crop was almost through. He looked at the joint and laughed. If he could get Mrs Barkley to take one of these, he’d show her what teasing was all about.

Skye did not see Edward or Harriet for two days. He was in constant contact with Edward, but he never said a word about their last meeting, or his wife. Edward was no fool, he kept them well apart, knowing that Skye was a bad influence. He was, however, very busy and constantly in meetings, and after two days trailing around with him she grew restless. Unable to sit in the sun for long she went on shopping sprees buying a strange assortment of African carvings. She arrived back at the hotel as the phone rang. It was Skye. He asked what she had been doing, and if she ever had a free afternoon, he would love to show her the sights. She accepted, but said she would have to be back by six as she was expecting Edward then.

‘Eh, no problem, get a cab over to my place and we’ll take it from here.’ He let the phone drop back on to the hook... She was at the door before he had finished drying his hair. She handed him a small packet.

‘It’s something I saw, it reminded me of you.’

It was a small carved wooden tiger, and he held it in the palm of his hand.

‘Reminded you of me? Don’t know how to take that, Mrs Barkley.’

She smiled a little selfconsciously. ‘It’s your eyes, it was a toss-up between that and a green lizard, but I wouldn’t be offended, I bought Edward a chimp.’

She strolled out on to the verandah and asked where his houseboy was. Skye said it was his day off. It wasn’t. He was banished to his room.

‘I wouldn’t mind a swim, do you mind? Only I never really like swimming in hotel pools, because you never know how many people have pissed in them.’ He smiled, waved for her to help herself. He pointed to the shower area, and said there were swimming costumes if she wanted one.

He sat rolling a very big joint as she changed. She came out, and posed in a terrible flowered one-piece suit. ‘Dear God, what kind of women do you have here, this is thirties, isn’t it?’

He licked the paper, and she screwed her eyes up. ‘Do that again.’ He did. ‘I should have bought you the lizard.’

She then executed a perfect dive into the pool. She was a strong swimmer and he began to lose count of the lengths. Eventually she swung herself up the steps, her hair dragged back from her face. ‘Ohhhhh that was good, so good.’

She flopped down beside him and he lit the joint. He drew heavily on it, feeling it fill his lungs, and then held it out. ‘You want to try it? It’s home grown, pretty good.’

She curled her tongue over her lips, and then nodded. He instructed her to draw in the smoke, to suck it in on a breath so she would ‘feel the benefits’. She held on to the thick joint, and gulped, coughed and wafted her hand... then she tried again.

‘You feeling the benefits?’

She cocked her head to one side. ‘Not sure what they are, but it tastes foul.’

He encouraged her to continue smoking, then took the joint back.

‘Holy shit, my head’s exploding, is that the benefit? It’s like being drunk... Whooo, lemme have some more, it’s great.’

Skye passed the J back to her and lay back, he was feeling nicely stoned...

‘You want some music...? Harry? Shall I put some music on?’

She didn’t answer so he got up and walked into the house. He chose one of his favourites, Berlioz. She saw the way his strange eyes closed as he listened to the music. His face with his eyes shut had no brilliance, was ravaged, gaunt. His flowing caftan gave him a sexuality that was both male and female. He hadn’t heard her enter, and his eyes opened. She listened to the music for a moment.