Lady of the Shades (11 page)

‘Well, I’m glad I can make you laugh, even if I can’t satisfy your carnal desires,’ Andeanna sniffs, then flexes her fingers at me again. As I chuckle, she gets up, grabs
hold of me and pulls me down on to the bed. We wrestle with each other, playfully. She tickles me. I kiss her and start to slide a hand up between her legs, drawing a delighted squeal. I stop
before she pushes me away, respecting the boundaries the Turk has forced on her.

After a while she falls still and rests her head on my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmurs. ‘I want you more than anything else in the world. I want to give myself to you.
Not being able to . . . ’

‘Don’t let it get you down,’ I tell her, kissing the top of her head, running my hands through her hair, relishing even this much contact, content to have to stop here.
‘Our time will come. Things will work out.’

‘You really think so?’ she asks sceptically.

‘Sure,’ I sigh. ‘It happens in fairy tales all the time, and you’re as beautiful as any fairy-tale princess, so . . . ’

‘Bullshitter,’ she says, pinching me lovingly. Then we hold each other tight, smiling, kissing, letting our warm breath mingle. If I was to be truthful with her, I’d have to
admit that I don’t know if I can settle for a chaste relationship in the long term. But for the time being, it doesn’t matter. She has me and I have her. That’s enough. For
now.

EIGHT

A pattern develops over the next fortnight. Days spent working on the book with Joe, time moving with all the speed of a slug. Nights devoted to Andeanna, hours slipping away
like minutes.

I can’t stop thinking about Andeanna, the Turk, the pressures he brings to bear on her, the restricted nature of our relationship. I fantasize about killing him, catching him alone and
cutting the bastard down. But Andeanna told me that his bodyguards are always with him, except when he’s at home. I’d have a crack at him there if not for her. She’d be with him.
If she saw me kill him, she might hate me, even though it would mean her freedom. I can’t risk that.

I try to lose myself in work. Joe and I have come up with a name for our central character — Don Sanders. In the book, when Don comes back to life, he sets out to find answers to explain
his return. If you want to learn more about life after death, you track down people who deal with the dead. So Joe and I set off on a trail of fortune-tellers and clairvoyants. I’ve got the
names and addresses of many reputable mediums – including Andeanna’s friend Etienne Anders – but I don’t pursue them. Instead, imagining ourselves in Sanders’s shoes,
we turn to the internet for leads, and our search engine results lead us from one merry fraud to another.

In other research, I discover that spontaneous human combustion isn’t confined to humans. There are reports of animals, furniture, books, all sorts of objects bursting into flames.
I’m not sure how to work that into the novel, so I’ll just neglect to mention it. What the readers aren’t told can’t confuse them!

Andeanna agrees to spend an evening with Joe and me. We’ve nothing special planned – meet at a pub, go for a meal – but it’ll be nice to get them
together at last. We’re due to meet at a quarter to eight. Joe and I arrive a few minutes early, order drinks and find a table in clear view of the door. Joe has dressed smartly and even came
equipped with a tie. I told him not to be so formal, but he insisted on looking his best. ‘I feel like a father waiting to grant approval of his son’s fiancée,’ he
said.

Eight comes and goes. No sign of Andeanna. I don’t worry. She’s a woman, so I hardly expect her to be on time. But when nine o’clock ticks by, I’m sweating. She
can’t have got the pub wrong – we’ve been here before – but maybe we got our times mixed up. I ring her cell phone, but it’s switched off.

Joe’s mood darkens before mine. He was telling loads of terrible jokes earlier, but they’ve dried up and he’s tight-lipped now. Even though he doesn’t know her, he
guesses the truth before I do — she isn’t coming. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see by the way he keeps looking around that he’s embarrassed. Finally, with ten
o’clock looming, I try her cell again, then give up. ‘She’s blanked us.’

Joe sighs with relief at having the truth out in the open. ‘Maybe she was delayed,’ he says diplomatically. ‘Traffic. A puncture. An accident.’

‘No. She stood us up. She’s gone out of her way to avoid meeting you. I don’t know why, but she has. She told me she’d be here tonight, but I don’t think she ever
meant to come.’

‘Why would she be anxious to avoid me?’ Joe asks, startled.

I frown, considering it. ‘Maybe you know her. She said her maiden name was Emerson, but maybe she lied. Hell, Andeanna might an alias too. It wouldn’t be the first false name
she’s given me.’

Joe tugs at his beard. ‘You really think I might know her?’

I shrug. ‘Probably not. Maybe you’re right — she could have been delayed.’

‘Sure.’ Joe beams encouragingly. ‘She’ll most likely ring any minute now and clear things up. We’ll be laughing about this by the end of the night.’

‘Yes,’ I say, not believing it for a second.

I down more rum than I should. Joe looks on worriedly and suggests it might be for the best if we drink up and leave. My nasty streak coming to the fore, as it sometimes does when I drink too
much, I sneer at his worries and tell him to lighten up. I urge him to take off his stifling shirt. When that suggestion upsets him – maybe he thinks I want to mock his scars – I make a
bullying grab for the top buttons. He loses patience and storms out, saying I can follow if I want, or stay and rot.

‘Fuck him,’ I growl, tossing back another shot of rum. Then I forget about Joe. Andeanna’s treachery consumes my thoughts. I’ve started thinking of things I could do to
hurt her – maybe call Mikis and drop a few hints about his wife’s indiscretions – when I spot a girl staring at me. ‘Help you?’ I snap.

She turns away and says something to the two girls with her. All three glance at me, giggle and return to their drinks. I keep watch on the one who first caught my eye. She doesn’t look
more than eighteen or nineteen, dark blond hair, lots of make-up. She has nothing in common with Andeanna except her gender, but I convince myself otherwise and pretend she’s my
beloved’s spitting image.

I wait until one of the trio heads for the toilet, then slide over and take her seat. As the others start to object, I raise my hands, smooth as silk now that I’m half-steamed.
‘It’s OK, ladies, I’m not stopping, I’d just like to apologize for my rudeness earlier.’ I smile broadly, and the pretty young blonde smiles back.

‘Are you American?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’

‘New York?’

‘No, but I know the city well.’

‘I have a brother in New York,’ she informs me. ‘I’m going over for a visit next month.’

Her friend returns and I swiftly vacate her seat. ‘Would any of you care for a drink?’ I ask. They all place an order and I shuffle off to the bar. Handing out the cocktails when I
get back, I murmur as sexily as I can, ‘My name’s Ed. Could I have yours?’

After checking with her friends, who give her the nod to show they think it’s OK to speak with the tall American, the blonde tells me her name is Louise Maloret and she’s from Kent
but is currently living in Roehampton, studying to be a teacher. The address rings a bell and I recall John Meyher. Excited by the coincidence, I tell her I was out her way recently. When she asks
why, I let her have it. ‘Research. I’m a writer. Ed Sieveking. You may have heard of me?’ I don’t grow discouraged when she says that she hasn’t. Instead I say
I’m big in the States. ‘Your brother’s probably read my books.’

A fourth chair soon materializes – nothing’s too much for a famous American author! – and it isn’t long before I’m spinning yarns that would make Pinocchio blush.
Stephen King? Sure I know him. Have they read his latest novel? They haven’t? Oh, they should. I’m mentioned in it. ‘A character’s reading one of my books,’ I chuckle
modestly. ‘I’ll have to return the favour, keep Steve happy.’

They’re more interested in movie stars than writers. I tell them that two of my books are being adapted, and of course then I have to name all the actors who’ve been linked with the
imaginary films.

The girls drag me to a nightclub when the pub closes. After a couple of painful numbers on the dance floor, I hurry to the toilet and throw up. I feel better after that, and better still when
someone in the next cubicle offers me some Charlie at a good price. I don’t normally do drugs, but the spirit of the night takes me, and by the time I track down Louise, I’m wide-eyed
and jerking convulsively to the beat. This time, when we get on the dance floor, there’s no stopping me. I hold Louise captive for most of the night, a true party animal.

Later on I find myself locking lips with the girl in a niche near the cloakroom. I don’t know how we got here — the last hour or so is a blank. Between kisses I suggest we slip back
to the Royal Munster. After some hesitation – she doesn’t want me thinking she’s easy – she agrees, but first goes to tell her friends where I’m taking her. I start to
feel guilty while I’m waiting for her to return, thinking about Andeanna. Another shot of rum helps drive the guilt away.

In my room I throw Louise on to the bed and practically rip off her clothes. She stops me as I’m pulling down my trousers, panting like a horny dog. ‘Hold on a sec.’ Rising,
she empties the contents of her purse and finds a cache of condoms. Tearing one open, she tells me to put it on.

‘Anything to please,’ I mumble, sliding it over my erection.

‘You speak funny,’ she laughs, then turns off the light.

Sex is swift. As I thrust blindly into her, I moan, ‘Andeanna!’ Louise overlooks the slip and yells my name out loud. I clutch her tightly and grind into her, lips pulled back over
my teeth, sweating like crazy from the mix of sex, drink and cocaine. It isn’t long before I climax with a groaning shudder, porn-star style. Louise lets rip with a considerate fake
groan.

In the aftermath she peels off the condom and wraps it up neatly in a tissue. ‘You’d better keep this,’ she says. ‘Safer that way.’

‘What do you mean?’ I pant, needing a glass of water but not trusting my legs to support me if I get up.

‘You’re a famous writer,’ she giggles. ‘I could slip in some seed and hit you with a paternity suit.’

‘Christ! Is that what they teach you in university these days?’

‘No. It’s what my mum taught me.’

We fall asleep chuckling.

Louise is already up when I wake with a hangover that isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. She bounces around in the buff, examining the hotel room. She tells me about
her digs, the students she shares with, the awful state of the kitchen, their landlord from hell. Typical student troubles.

After breakfast we shower, dress, swap numbers and kiss goodbye. Louise says I don’t have to call her if I don’t want to. I say that I will but I don’t mean it. By her relieved
smirk, I know she knows it’s a lie, so I don’t feel guilty.

I also don’t feel guilty for what I’ve done. I should – I’ve betrayed the woman I pledged my heart to – but I don’t. Thinking about that after Louise has
left, and the normal night of fun we shared, I realize it’s because life with Andeanna is so
ab
normal. Why should I feel guilty for cheating on a married woman who can offer me
nothing but kisses?

I love Andeanna, and I think she could love me if the circumstances were different, but right now we aren’t a good match. She’s trapped and I can’t help her break out of the
prison of the Turk’s making. One of us needs to stand up big and break this off before we destroy ourselves.

I’m going home to Montana.

Joe’s face drops when I tell him I’m quitting London. ‘What about the book?’ he splutters.

I shrug. ‘I’ll work on it from home. I’ll keep in touch with you. It shouldn’t make much of a difference now that we’ve put in most of the legwork. I can work
better in Montana. Fewer distractions.’

‘You mean Andeanna,’ he says quietly. ‘Is she the reason you’re going back?’

I see no point in lying. ‘Yes.’

‘Have you told her?’ he asks.

I shake my head.

‘Are you going to?’

‘I don’t know,’ I sigh. ‘I’d like to see her one last time, but I haven’t been able to contact her. I’m booked to fly out early tomorrow, so it
–’

‘Tomorrow! Why so soon? Jesus, Ed, I know you’ve been unhappy, but running away like this . . . Are you sure it’s a good idea?’

‘I’d have gone today except I wanted to talk with you first and clear the air. I acted like a dick the other night.’

‘Forget it. We all do stupid things when we’re drunk.’ Joe sits back and looks around at the cases I’ve packed, one for my clothes, two for the notes, maps and research
material. ‘You’re really going,’ he says glumly.

‘Afraid so.’

He sighs. ‘I’m not too surprised. I sensed things weren’t working between you and Andeanna.’ He thinks for a minute, then says, ‘I could go see her if you want,
take a message, give her your address.’

‘Why bother?’ I scowl.

‘It isn’t nice to slip away without saying farewell. Besides, I’d like to meet this beauty you’ve been bragging about.’

I squint suspiciously. ‘You’re not thinking of making a move on her when I’m out of the way, are you?’

‘Certainly not!’ he howls. ‘Ed, how can you even think such a –’

‘Joking,’ I smile.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ he sniffs.

‘Sure it was,’ I chuckle, then shake my head fondly. I’ll miss Joe. My smile fades. Maybe as much as I’ll miss Andeanna.

I almost don’t phone her. As day turns to night, I argue the decision with myself. She’s the one who broke our appointment. If she cared, she’d call. But what
if I’ve misjudged her? Maybe she did have an accident. What if she’s been in a crash or a fire or . . .

Eventually, knowing I won’t be able to rest easy if I don’t attempt to make contact, I try her cell phone again. This time it rings. I disconnect before she can answer. I’m
shaking. What will I say? Should I be cruel or compassionate? I’m not experienced in scenes of this nature. Finally I hit redial and let the conversation take its own course.