Then, in her sleep, she murmured something. He held his breath, trying to catch the words. It wasn’t English she was speaking, it was an Eastern European language; probably her native Romanian. He could make no sense of what she was saying, of course, but there was a softness to the syllables; a neediness, which suggested they were supplications. She turned her face up from the pillow, and he saw that her expression was troubled. Her brow was furrowed, and there were tears welling beneath her lids. The sight of her distress bothered him. It brought back memories of his mother’s tears, which he’d watched her shed so often as a child. Tears shed by a woman left to raise her sons alone. Tears of frustrated rage, sometimes; but more often tears of loneliness.
“Don’t … ” he said to her softly.
She heard him speaking, it seemed. Her entreaties grew quieter. Then she said: “Willem?”
“No … ”
The frown nicking her brow deepened and her lids began to flutter. She was waking up now, no doubt of that. He got to his feet, and began to retreat to the door, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. Only when he reached the door did he finally, regretfully, relinquish sight of her and turn away.
As he slipped through the door he heard her speak. “Wait,” she said.
He was sorely tempted to exit rather than turn and face her, but he resisted his cowardice and looked back towards the bed.
She had pulled the sheet a little way up, to partially cover her nakedness. Her eyes were open, and the tears her dreams had induced were now running down her cheeks. Despite them, she was smiling.
“I’m sorry,” Todd said.
“For what?”
“Coming in here uninvited.”
“No,” she said sweetly. “I wanted you to come.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have stayed … watching you. It’s just that you were talking in your sleep.”
“Well it’s nice to have somebody listening,” she said. “It’s a long time since anyone was with me when I slept.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Were you having a bad dream?”
“I can’t remember,” she said, glancing away from him. He knew from his acting coach what such glances indicated: a lie. She knew exactly what she’d been dreaming about; she just didn’t want to tell him. Well, that was her business. God knows everybody was allowed their share of secrets.
“What time is it?” she said.
He glanced at his watch. “Almost four-thirty.”
“You want to go for a walk before it gets too dark?” she said.
“Sure.”
She threw off her sheet, and got up out of bed, glancing up at Todd as she did so, as though to assure herself of his scrutiny.
“I’m going to bathe first,” she said. “Would you do me a little favour in the meantime?”
“Sure.”
“Go back to the Gaming Room, where we met last night, and — ”
“Don’t tell me. Fetch your whip.”
She smiled. “You read my mind.”
“As long as you promise not to be beating me with it.”
“Nothing could be further from my mind,” she said.
“Okay. I’ll get it … but no beating.”
“Take your time. There’s still plenty of light in the sky.”
He left her feeling oddly light-footed, pleased to have an errand from her. What did that say about her relationship, he wondered as he ran? That he was naturally subservient? Ready to do her will at the snap of her fingers. Well, if so, so.
He found his way back down to the big house without difficulty. Marco heard him in the Gaming Room, heavy-footed as ever, and came to see what all the noise was about.
“You okay?”
“That’s all you ever ask. Am I okay? Yes. I’m better than okay.”
“Good. Only I heard from Maxine — ”
“Fuck Maxine.”
“So it doesn’t bother you?”
“No. We had a good run together. Now it’s over.”
He picked up the switch from the mantelpiece.
“What the hell is that?”
“What does it look like?”
He beat the air two or three times. The switch was beautifully balanced; he could imagine learning how to use it with considerable cunning. Perhaps she would let him stroke her body with it.