Of course, I was obsessing about my paper. After all that I had done for Virginia, I hoped that I could count on her. Ok, I may have been naïve. But I thought – assumed – Virginia had – what? Some sort of taste. Some discretion.
I read it aloud. It seemed pretty strong. As soon as I’d made a few edits to the text, I got it printed, down in reception. Did I really dare show her before the conference? That was the thing I was conflicted about. But my hunger was stronger than my caution. Obviously I longed to know what she thought.
The plan had been to dine together, with Ray Kuyperman joining us. I thought I was providing her with what she needed: safe, uncomplicated masculine attention.
Wrong premise. Wrong person.
First, she was not in her room when I called. I knocked twice. No answer. I pushed my paper under the door, then tried to get it back, and broke my nail. I was kneeling on the floor on the landing when the Muslim breakfast girl came past with towels. They’re all Muslim, actually, I suppose, but she wore a headscarf, very slim, very proper. She stood watching for a second before she spoke.
‘You look for your … friend?’
‘I am delivering something.’
On the floor, I felt at a disadvantage. This was not a conventional delivery mode.
‘I can help you? You look under the door for your friend, I think?’
‘She has gone out. She is, she looking, beautiful!’
I rose to my feet in a dignified manner. She smiled at me. She was very pretty, in a way the headscarf could not conceal. Her skin was pale, her teeth very white, her eyes jet-black. She said, ‘I think you love her.’
‘I like her, yes, of course I do.’ Her English was quaint, perhaps she was a student.
‘So you saw her go out?’
‘Half-hour ago.’
The men down in the lobby set my mind at rest. ‘Yes, first she waited, then she goes to eat.’
‘She waited for me?’ They looked at each other.
‘Yes, maybe.’
‘But she went out alone?’
They consulted again. ‘Yes, but nice colleague show her where to go.’
‘Somewhere safe?’
‘Yes, naturally.’
‘Oh, that’s OK then. Thank you for that. This is, you know, her first time in Turkey.’
‘No problem, we look after her!’
One of the younger ones was smiling too much. He had a wart in the middle of his forehead. The others looked at him repressively. Like the headscarf girl, he was trying too hard to please. But I did not mind it. Better than indifference.
Just at that moment, Ray Kuyperman arrived. Linen-suited, more chiselled than ever. ‘Ray! I’m afraid Virginia’s gone out.’
‘Then we will eat à deux,’ he said.
I admit I was not entirely displeased. Ray and I had often met at conferences. I liked his intelligence, his gracious manner. Let’s face it, I also liked his good haircut, the elegance of his rangy physique, without the little pot that so many men had. (But not Edward. Edward. The two-beat sadness. So far away. So far, so cold. What had I done? What had I done?)
Don’t think about it. ‘Ray, let’s go.’
And I hardly thought about Virginia again until I came back, slightly tipsy, at midnight.