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DECEMBER BROUGHT AN Advent candle. Appleton set it on Charles’s bedside table.
“He used to like these,” he said. “Not that he was religious particularly. Unsurprising really. God hates queers. Or so they say. Have you ever read Oranges are Not the Only Fruit?”
“No,” Noonie said.
“You ought to. Have you got a light?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“I’m a doctor. I’m supposed to say Hallelujah to that.”
“Do you smoke?”
“Only when I’m down. And since I met you, I just don’t get so down.”
“I think there’s probably a box of matches somewhere in the kitchen, although you’ll have to ask Phillip. What do you want a light for?”
“To light the Advent Candle, of course.”
“Sorry. Obviously.”
He clapped his hands, grinned and rolled his eyes. “You thought I wanted to smoke? Oh, Madame Butterfly, you are a hoot.”
He stood up and went to get the box of matches, leaving Noonie alone with Charles. Charles was sleeping, the regular re-inflation of his chest the only visible sign that he was alive. Shrunk to roughly two-thirds his old size, even Appleton agreed he couldn’t have long.
It had been dry and windy for several days now but in the last half hour a storm had come out of nothing. The trees soughed outside the window. Every few minutes there was a hard splatter of rain on the pane, as if someone had flung a fistful of pebbles at it.
Appleton had brought an electric fire into the room and replaced the functional chairs on either side of Charles’s bed with more comfortable ones taken from elsewhere in the house. He’d commandeered Susan’s CD player and installed it in the corner. His Madama Butterfly CD was on repeat. On a three-daily basis, he brought a bouquet for Charles, splitting it up into smaller bunches and arranging them in vases around the room. Thus, although it was winter outside there was a feel of spring inside. Viene la sera played quietly from the corner.
Just like Susan before him, Appleton continued to address Charles as if he were in full possession of his mental faculties, supplying the missing parts of the conversation himself. He did the same with Noonie when she was in her blackest periods, in her own room lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, unable and unwilling to speak.
He fed her smuggled food and anti-depressants, although nothing touched the real cause of her misery. What she really needed from Appleton was the mental equivalent of a thick metal curtain.
Appleton returned with the matches. He lit the Advent Candle and took his seat beside Charles. Noonie wept for no reason she could see.
“You’re always crying, Madame Butterfly.”
She nodded.
“Now me, I’ve never cried, not since I was a child. Not even when Charles rejected me, sixth of November nineteen ninety-two, four pm. Not even then. I’m cry proof.”
She nodded again and wiped her eyes.
“Sometimes, I wish I could cry. But I can’t. I’ve tried. Never mind, though. You’re crying overtime, trying your best to make up for moi. Maybe that’s why I like you so much. Sometimes, I look at you and I feel so sorry for you, I think I might actually really cry this time, after all. But then, no. No tears. Trapped inside no-crying moi, same as ever. Filthy no-crying moi.” He made a loud sobbing noise and pretended to wipe his eyes.
She stopped and watched him with amazement.
“Shall we have a pre-midnight midnight feast, now, Madame B? I’ll spoon-feed you something lovely instead of dog food and you can eat and eat until you feel a bit better, and you can go to sleep and have a wonderful dream where Edward Grant’s an enormous white stallion and you’re a coy little mare.”
She sighed.
“I’ve had that dream about you two many times now,” he said.
Having reluctantly accepted that Noonie wasn’t going to get better soon, Valérie hired a housekeeper to keep the dilapidation in check. According to what Thanongsak said, she’d also been instructed not to go near Noonie’s room: if Noonie was allowed to wallow in her own filth it might bring her to her senses.
But neither Thanongsak nor Valérie knew that Appleton was secretly doing her laundry. When she was well enough to attend to Charles, he’d change her bedding, stuffing the old sheets into a medical holdall.
Noonie didn’t know why Appleton had taken such a liking to her. She supposed it must be their connection to Charles and their shared fate as doomed lovers. It was a macabre form of liking, full of taunts, deliberate obfuscations and an Italian opera about a fifteen year-old Japanese girl. But it was recognisably liking and as far as possible she reciprocated it.
Thanongsak disapproved. “I think Appleton’s spending too long with you,” he said, one mid-December day. She was recumbent, fully clothed and looking at the ceiling of her four-poster bed. She didn’t reply.
“The man’s morbid,” he went on. “He’s the opposite of what you need right now. He’s like some sort of incubus, draining the life out of you. I took his Madama Butterfly CD and threw it out. He doesn’t know.”
“But I liked that CD.”
“He’s using it to taunt you.”
“Anyway, he does know. He came in with another copy yesterday.”
“Edward Grant’s not coming back.”
“So I hear,” she said.
“It’s true that Madama Butterfly’s an accurate diagnosis of why you’re here. According to the stereotype, the ‘Oriental’ woman’s the model of submissive loyalty. The difference is, Appleton’s using the diagnosis to mock you. I’m not.”
“Thank you kindly.”
“If you think you can save yourself by submitting to the stereotype, you’re wrong. If you’re Cio-Cio-San, Edward Grant’s Pinkerton, Susan’s Kate, and I’m Prince Yamadori. Edward declares love to Noonie; Noonie believes him; Edward abandons Noonie; Edward marries Susan; Noonie rejects Thanongsak.”
She sat up a centimetre. “Are Edward and Susan married, then?”
“I’ve no idea.”
She flushed and clenched her teeth. Her throat hurt as she swallowed.
“I suppose it’s better you know now,” he said.
She turned away from him and dug her fingers into the edge of the mattress.
“This isn’t the time or place, I know,” he said, “but I’d like to plant a small seed in your mind. It’s ten years hence. The sun’s going down behind Koh Maphrao. The sky contains hundreds of colours. Every variety of yellow, red and green. The birds are winging their way back to their nests for the night. A man and a beautiful woman are walking along the seashore, accompanied by their two little children, a boy and a girl. The man turns to the woman. He tells her he’ll never stop loving her. She looks at the sunset and at her children, then she marvels at the sheer adoration she inspires in her husband.
“When she was younger, this woman suffered a nightmarish ordeal in a cold, dark, foreign country, far, far from her home. But that’s over. It’ll never come back. She’s happy now. Happier than she’s ever been. This couple are married, of course. He had to beg her to marry him, she wasn’t easy to win over. Oh, she didn’t want to marry him. But looking back, she can appreciate that the day she said ‘yes’ was the day her life truly began. She dreads to think how things might have gone had she said no.”
She clicked her tongue. “I can’t marry you. I can’t marry anyone.”
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Wh – what? Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Noonie, I love you more than life itself. If you reject me I’ll never find anyone remotely like you again. You’ll condemn me. You might reject my proposal of marriage but to deny that I love you - ”
“Okay, I reject your proposal of marriage.”
“What’s your alternative? Edward Grant isn’t coming back.”
She was crying hard now. “I know ... know he isn’t coming back. Stop telling me that!”
“You’ll get over him eventually. You must. After what he did to you.”
“Leave me alone!”
“I can’t. I love you.”
“Leave me alone!”
He stood up and went to the door. He watched her writhing for a moment then opened the door.
“I can’t,” he said, as he let himself out.
A week before Christmas, Valérie drove to London to do some shopping. She arrived in the city at noon and queued for thirty minutes to park in her favourite car park on Horseferry Road, listening to Vivaldi with the heater on. Once she’d found a space, she took a taxi to Oxford Street where she set about buying herself the presents she’d give to Phillip to give her back in seven day’s time.
She bought six bottles of perfume, a new dress, a boxed set of CDs, a pair of shoes and some whisky for the men. She decided to set off back to the car park when her arms began to ache. She was struggling past hordes of shoppers with her four gift-wrapped boxes and three shopping bags when she found herself on Great Russell Street outside the British Museum.
Her heart almost failed her. There, at the top of the steps, almost hidden amongst the crowds of visitors, was her own daughter, dressed in a long camel winter coat and a matching hat – with Edward Grant. They faced each other and pressed their bodies together and kissed. Neither looked in Valérie’s direction. They seemed utterly transfixed.
Valérie felt as if she had been punched. She flushed then double-backed and retreated at a pace that was almost a run.
“He’s out! He’s out of prison!” she yelled when she arrived back at Black Gables.
Phillip came out of the living room trailing a half-folded newspaper, dressed in his suit-trousers, socks and with his shirt open halfway down. He held a tumblerful of whisky.
“Cool it, cool it,” he said. He seemed about to add something but instead he stood still in front of her. “Cool it.”
“Edward Grant’s out of prison.”
He growled. “I knew it. It’s only been a bloody month.”
“Bleeding-heart bloody do-gooders. He must have had them wrapped round his little finger to get parole this quickly. One bloody month.”
“No wonder this country’s in such a mess.”
“Where’s Thanongsak?”
“Gone home. Couldn’t get through to the former maidservant again.”
“We’ve got to get out of here. The boot’s on the other foot now, Phillip. They know where we are. We’re sitting ducks.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Put it like this, Phillip. That day Edward Grant broke into this house, do you know how he got in?”
“Er, no.”
“He knew Charles for years and Charles probably showed him all the entrances and exits. It’s what men do. They take pride in that sort of thing. An Englishman’s home is his castle and a good castle comes complete with a moat and lots of secret passageways. In addition to which, Edward Grant’s lived here. He probably knows it inch by inch. Last time, he was just trying to get to Susan. This time, he’ll be trying to get to us.”
“Do you really think he would?”
“Don’t forget, we accused him of something he didn’t do. We’ve probably ruined him. People tend not to forget that kind of thing. They tend to want revenge, especially when they’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Calm down, baby. They’ll have him electronically tagged or something.”
“Phillip, do you still have faith in the Criminal Justice System?”
“I take your point ...”
“Well, do you want to risk it?”
“What’s the alternative?”
“It’s Christmas, Phillip. Do you really want to spend Christmas day wondering whether Edward Grant’s about to jump out of the shadows? I don’t. I’m thinking about ... I don’t know. Going abroad?”
“Do you think there’ll be any flights at this time of year?”
“Everything’s got its price. Frankly, I want to leave this house and never come back. It’s giving me the creeps. Nothing’s gone right since we moved in here. Let’s just cut and run, shall we? We’ll start with a two-week stay in Switzerland.”
“‘The home of Father Christmas’, to quote Jacques Derrida. I think that’s a super idea.”
“I’ll give you your Christmas present when we get there. It’s me in some Ann Summers gear.”
“Oh, boy.”
“You get on the phone to Thomas Cook. Two weeks, mountain villa, Switzerland, money no object. I’ll sack the housekeeper.”
“Who’s going to tell Thanongsak?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. No one.”
“What?”
“We’re going to leave him here. If Edward Grant is after revenge, he’ll want to smash Thanongsak’s head in. And when he does, we can call the Police back in. Of course, that might never happen. But if Thanongsak leaves the house alongside us, we’ll never know, will we?”
“So we’re effectively using him as bait?”
“All’s fair in love and war. We’ll just tell him we’re going on holiday, we don’t have to tell him the reason. I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance to be alone in the house with Noonie. Or take her back to his shop. It hardly matters. So long as Edward Grant knows where to look.”
“Do you think she’ll be safe with him? He’s getting increasingly frustrated with her.”
“Strangely, I just don’t care.”
“What if he gets sick of her? He might decide to leave. He might decide he wants ‘a little holiday’.”
She blew air. “I’ve said it before, Phillip, and I’ll say it again, the house is secluded enough. No one’s going to hear her if he decides to snap. It’s not like Charles is going to come riding to her rescue. And I’m certainly not going to interfere. She’ll probably start enjoying it once he’s been going at her for a while. That’s how it works.”
“It’s a pity he can’t be here to hear you say that.”
“She’s from the Third World, for Christ’s sake. Once she’s knocked up, she’ll marry anyone who’ll have her. Disgrace, and avoiding disgrace, that’s all that matters over there. It’s not very civilised but well, I’m no cultural imperialist.”
“You’d better tell him.”
“Tell him he’s got my permission, you mean? What’s the point? He’s a wimp.”
“So what are we going to do? She’s what’s keeping him here. We need him here as bait. What’s your solution?”
“I’ve always said, if you want a man’s job doing, ask a woman. You ring the travel agent. I’ll fix Yum-Yum then we’ll ring Thanongsak and tell him the marvellous news. That can be his Christmas present. Then we’ll pack our winter clothes and head for the airport.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Valérie hurled the door against the adjacent wall. She crossed the room in four strides and stopped by the bed. Noonie lay in her usual position. She felt a surge of fear. She swallowed.
“How’s the ‘depression’ going?” Valérie said.
Noonie made no reply.
“I know you can hear me, you ignorant little bitch. Sit up.”
Valérie grabbed her hair, flicked it round her fist and pulled. Noonie yelped and scrambled upwards, sweating humiliation and fright. Valérie loosed her hair and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You might be able to fool Appleton and you might be able to fool Thanongsak. But I’m a woman. I don’t buy your drippy little flower routine. I’ve seen it too many times before. Now, it’s time for a few home truths. Thanongsak tells me you don’t want to marry him. What’s the matter with him?”
“I – I don’t love him.”
“Is that all? Oh diddums. I suppose you were deeply in love with Charles when you married him, were you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a liar. You must have thought your boat had finally come in. An eighty year-old multi-millionaire and unmarried to boot. Do you know what this whole sorry saga means? You lying there on the bed, feeling ever-so-sorry for yourself? It means you’re a loser. You were a loser since day one, girl, the day you first clapped eyes on Charles. You’re going to continue being a loser from what I can tell, because you’ve got a loser’s mentality. Do you know what all losers have in common?”
“No.”
“They only ever think about themselves. Take you and Thanongsak, for example: you don’t love him so you won’t marry him. It’s all about you. What you should be thinking about is your mother and brothers in that spanking new bar of theirs. It’s doing quite well, I understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“You owe us money, Noonie. Muchos dosh. Charles wasn’t in his right mind when he paid that ... ‘dowry’. We’re going to get it all back, every last penny, plus the interest it would have earned had it stayed in Charles’s account. Ultimately, that means we’re going to own your precious bar, and your poor old mum and her two sons are going to be out on the streets. We’ll even need to take your house, in all likelihood, just to cover the interest. Talk about ‘Third World debt’, eh? The global economy in microcosm. Not to worry, though. Thailand’s famous for its sex-tourism. I’m sure your old lady will get by, somehow. A woman’s work is never done, as they say.” She stood up and opened the curtains. “My, it’s gloomy in here.”
Noonie welled up. “What - what do you want me to do?”
“That’s better. That’s the attitude. All I want, beauty, is for you to stop thinking of yourself. Think of them. You see, put it like this: if you were to marry Thanongsak, I’d probably give you the bar as a wedding present. From my point of view, that would mean writing it off ... but I’m prepared to do that. And you two lovebirds could go back to Thailand, and Thanongsak might even be able to help your family make a real go of it. He knows a lot about food and drink and even more about business. With him behind you, you could all rule the Third World. Money galore. Then, instead of your mother parading the streets for the rest of her life, selling her crotch, maybe you could buy her a lovely present. Something she’s never even seen before. Something electrical, maybe. Or ... you could carry on thinking of yourself, carry on being a loser.” She examined her manicure. “Which is it to be?”
Noonie was crying too hard to speak. She opened her mouth several times but all that came out was nothing.
“There, there,” Valérie said. “Don’t try and speak. Just nod your head if you agree with me about the best way forward. Now, do you want to marry Thanongsak?”
Noonie nodded.
“Sure?”
She nodded again. Valérie patted her head.
“That’s a good girl. You get some rest now. Cry it all out and you’re bound to feel better. Phillip and I are going on holiday in a few hours’ time but we’ll be back in time for the wedding in ... oh, I don’t know ... say, three weeks?”
Noonie nodded.
“Good. Now, don’t say anything to Thanongsak about this, will you? Strictly speaking, it’s not terribly romantic that we’ve had to have this conversation. Not something either of us should be proud of. But we both know you’re doing the right thing. I’ll go downstairs now and ring the Registry Office. As for Charles, we’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed. If he’s not dead when Phillip and I get back, we’ll put a pillow over his face. Sounds cruel, I know, but it’s not like killing a person. And no one’s going to know, not even poor Appleton.”
Thanongsak stood up as soon as the phone began to ring. He put down his newspaper, left the kitchen, where the dishwasher was beginning its daily rumble, and went upstairs to his lounge.
“The Golden Wave,” he said. “How can I help?”
“This is Edward Grant. I’m out of prison now and I haven’t forgotten what you did to me. You’d better watch your back night and day, old friend, because I’m coming to get you.”
Thanongsak recoiled as if struck by lightning. The very thing he’d dreaded. A hundred useless thoughts coursed through his mind: how he’d calculated that Edward wasn’t the sort to seek revenge; how he needed more time to work on Noonie; how he’d hoped to have sold up and to be in Thailand when Edward was released; how -
“Hi, Thanongsak, Valérie here! That was Phillip. Pretty good imitation, yes? Hope we didn’t scare you.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his head. “Not at all,” he said. His heart pounded.
“I’m ringing because I’ve got some excellent news. Noonie’s upstairs, saying she’s had a change of heart. She wants to marry you.”
“Another joke.”
“Not this time. God’s honour. I had a little word with her, woman to woman. She’s just a bit ... shy. But she really does love you. Please come round. I’ve sent a taxi to pick you up. It should be there any minute. Phillip and I are going away for a little holiday but we’ll wait for you, because we both want to see your face.”
“‘A little holiday’? That’s a bit sudden ...”
“We’re creatures of the moment, Thanongsak. Aren’t you pleased? About Noonie, I mean, not about us going on holiday. I wanted to do something for you before we went away. I’ve booked you both a slot at the Registry Office too. We’ll talk about it when you get here.”
“You’re really not joking?”
“You’ll be here in ten minutes. You’ll see for yourself. Mind you, if you don’t mind me criticising, I was just saying to Phillip earlier, if you’d only forced yourself on her at the outset all this could have been avoided.”
“I tend to draw the line at rape.”
“Horses for courses, Thanongsak. Okay, I agree with you in some ways. Raping a woman because you’ve got an itch and she just happens to be there: yes, that’s quite sordid. But raping a woman to make her pregnant so she’ll have to marry you? Well, I think most people would say that’s rather romantic.”
There was a knock at his front door. He went to the window, pulled back the net curtains and looked onto the street. The taxi.
“Parp, parp!” Valérie said. “Methinks your carriage has arrived! See you in a minute.”
Thanongsak went straight up to Noonie’s room. He stayed there ten minutes then they heard the sound of Noonie’s bedroom door closing. He crossed the landing and descended the stairs. Valérie and Phillip waited at the bottom.
“There’s a spring in his step,” Phillip said.
“Come on, Thanongsak. Don’t keep us in suspense. What did she say?”
He stepped off the last stair and broke into a wide grin. “She’s a bit ... emotional.”
“That’ll pass,” Valérie said. “Come on, what did she say?”
He laughed. “She said yes! It was an unequivocal yes!”
