Twenty-Seven

HALF AN hour after they had registered at Raffles Hotel he was telephoning Savu. He intended to do it every evening. He had asked the Robinsons if they would mind. They had been amused, for he was only the child’s stepfather after all and besides he didn’t have the reputation of being the kind of bachelor who made a fuss of children and was affectionately called uncle by them. Yet here he was fussing over Christina more than her mother.

Leila was lying on the bed. She had taken off her costume and was wearing only white brassiere and briefs. She looked lovely.

He had trouble getting through, but persevered and at last heard Ann Robinson’s cheerful voice.

‘Good evening, Andrew. We’ve been expecting your call. Christina’s fine. She and Mary are having their shower together. It’s a wonder you can’t hear their screams. That’s what little girls are like, you know. Do you want to talk to her or shall I just tell her you called?’

‘Yes, that would do.’ But he felt disappointed. ‘Perhaps I could talk to her tomorrow night. She’s all right, though? Not pining or anything?’

‘Good heavens, no. She’s really a very happy, independent little girl.’

‘So she is. I’ll phone again tomorrow about the same time. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course we don’t mind.’

‘Perhaps I could talk to her then.’

‘I’ll have her prepared. Did you have a nice flight to Singapore?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

He put the telephone down. ‘I didn’t get speaking to her. She and Mary were having a shower together.’

‘What a good idea.’ Leila got up and came over to him. The overhead fan stirred her hair. ‘But I’ve got an even better one. This is our wedding night, remember.’

He remembered, but it wasn’t quite the time yet. He had calculated that it would come after dinner, when he had drunk a good deal of wine and felt bolder.

Her offering herself to him prematurely was disconcerting.

God forgive him, he was reminded of the Shamrock whores. They, women of the East like her, had given up their chastity for money. She was doing it for love of him. Yes, but he wasn’t worth it.

‘What’s the matter, Andrew?’ she asked, quietly. ‘Don’t you want me?’

Yes, but he could not have her while he felt unworthy. It wasn’t only his betrayal of Jean, though that counted.

‘What have I done?’ she asked.

He shook his head. He could never have explained.

‘Was it true what Miss Hislop said? Why did you marry me then?’

She turned away, picked up her dressing-gown, and went into the bathroom.

He heard what sounded like her weeping but it could have been a tap running.

There was his suitcase, open but not yet unpacked. He could escape to another hotel. It would mean the ruin of his marriage; worse, it would mean his being cut off from Christina.

He knocked on the bathroom door.

‘It’s not locked,’ she said.

Was there contempt in her voice? There ought to be, for he deserved it.

He went in. She was standing in front of the mirror, staring at her tearful but resolute face.

He stood beside her. ‘I’m sorry, Leila.’

‘So am I, Andrew.’

‘I love you.’

‘And I love you. But it’s difficult.’

‘Yes.’

‘We don’t know each other well enough. My father said I was hurrying you into marriage. He was right, but then, you see, Andrew, I did not want to lose you.’

‘And I didn’t want to lose you.’

‘Well then, we have each other.’

‘And we have Christina.’

She smiled. ‘She’s important to you, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she is.’ Though he would have found it hard to explain why.

‘And you’re important to her.’

‘Am I? I hope so.’ Again he remembered the child embracing him at the airport.

Christina’s love could be his certificate of exemption.

‘Since we’re here, Andrew, shall we have our shower together?’