‘I have a file to pick up from the office,’ Cy said. ‘OK if we make the detour?’
In the passenger seat beside him Mary had nodded without turning her head. She was saying to herself: this is the most absurdly dangerous thing I have ever done in my life.
Through the trees she could see the lights of Page Corner, the house she had lived in since she was a child. The house where Sunny was waiting for her. She shook her head. No, Fin would be out cold and Sunny would be watching TV and thinking of an early night.
Through the corner of his eye Cy had caught the slight shake of her head. Waiting until they had swung past Page Corner and were travelling the straight road towards Meyerick, he reached out and touched her knee, walking his fingers slowly back towards her thigh.
She put the palm of her hand on the back of his and pressed down, exerting a slight pressure towards the inside of her leg. They drove like that to Meyerick.
The offices of the Meyerick Fund had been chosen by Cy in his first year as president. In that year the city had announced plans for the refurbishment of the old commercial waterfront, a half-mile or so of crumbling warehouses intersected by two stagnant canals. On behalf of the Fund Cy had bought a large loft in a neo-Gothic warehouse, its gable inscribed 1885 and its timbers saturated with soft, oriental odours. He had acted, as he often did, without too much consultation. Oliver Digweed had been informed and had apparently agreed. By the next trustee meeting the loft belonged to the Meyerick Fund. Within six months everybody agreed it was an inspired buy.
Cy’s Mercedes moved along the waterfront under the ornate cast iron lamps which the developers had retained. The river gleamed in the yellow lights. He pulled the car to a stop, switched off the engine and turned slowly in his seat.
‘What about your file?’ she said.
He reached out so that his hand was along her shoulder, touching the back of her neck. She made no effort to move away. His arm moved further round her shoulder. Drawing her towards him, he kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth as she fumbled desperately for him.
She could not believe the fire in her, the heat surging from face to loins, the trembling of her arms and legs, the fierce, palpitating heartbeat.
He drew back from her. ‘The lady’s hot,’ he said. She didn’t like that. But he had not understood. ‘The lady’s very hot,’ he said.
She could not control her trembling limbs. ‘May I have a cigarette?’ she said.
‘Sure. But you don’t usually smoke.’
‘Tonight I do.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘But we don’t have to smoke here. I’ve got a nice wide sofa up in my office…’
‘The one Sunny used to speak so highly of?’
‘Mistake, Mary.’ He handed her a cigarette and lit it for her. ‘Don’t hold it against me. These things happen,’ he said.
She drew on the cigarette. ‘The mistake’s mine, Cy,’ she said. She exhaled fiercely. ‘I must be mad to be here.’
‘Mad?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, Mary. I think this is something we’ve both thought about for a long time. I think it’s something we’ve both wanted for a long time.’ She shook her head, partly to conceal the shiver of excitement that passed through her. Had he watched her, had dreams about her as she had had about him?
‘For me it goes back a long way,’ he said. ‘Strangely enough I remember the very evening. I guess you hadn’t been too pleased about Sunny’s marriage. Saw me as something of an interloper, a boy gold-digger even.’ She flinched. ‘Something like that, uh? Anyway, the evening I’m talking about, we all went over to the Rose house. You remember, Jason Rose was giving a winter garden roast to introduce Ruth to the gentry of Meyerick. You remember that night?’
‘I remember,’ she said.
‘I remember too,’ he said. ‘Because you and me were the only ones who didn’t laugh at the snide “blind man” jokes about “maybe he hasn’t found out what colour she is yet?”’
‘Not the only ones,’ she said.
‘OK, maybe not the only ones. But suddenly we were kind of allies for an hour or two.’ She nodded, drawing on the cigarette. ‘Strange thing about a moment like that between two people. You notice things that you’d always known of course, but it hadn’t really hit where it hurts.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Like what a pretty woman you are.’
‘That hurts?’
‘Sometimes,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, Cy. I didn’t mean to be smart.’
He reached his arm around her shoulders. For a moment she hesitated, then yielded to the faint pressure of his arm. As she turned towards him, she felt his free hand slide under her silk jacket, his palm opening slowly to enclose her breast. ‘Just stay like that,’ he said. ‘Just relax a few moments, and we’ll go back.’ He made no attempt to kiss her. No attempt beyond the faintest movement of his hand to caress her breast.
But she could feel herself melting towards him. I am Sunny’s sister, she said to herself. This man is Sunny’s husband. His hand beneath my jacket, moving now, sliding below the scooped front of my dress. ‘No,’ she said, as the tips of his fingers fanned across her bare flesh. ‘No, Cy. Take me home. Take me home now, Cy.’ He withdrew his hand slowly. ‘You’re sure, Mary. You’re sure you want to go back?’
All she felt now was a sort of numb fatigue. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Please, Cy.’
He leaned across and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Give me one minute,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to pick up from the office.’ He was away a few minutes. Enough for her to repeat to herself four or five times: there’s no justification for the risk. It’s not love, it’s lust. There’s no justification. But she was still hoping he’d say something more.
A few moments later he climbed back into the car and threw something on to the rear seat. ‘OK,’ he said, with a quick smile towards her. ‘Let’s go back and see the folks.’
Sunny stood in the big living room alone. She could hear the crunch of gravel outside as Cy’s car drew up. It seemed to her a long time before the car doors slammed and footsteps approached the house. She hurried through to the hall, flicked on all the lights in the chandelier and pulled open the door.
Mary, her foot on the bottom step, and Cy staring up at her, caught in the blaze of light. ‘Has something happened?’ Mary said. She was looking across to Harker’s car, seeing it for the first time. ‘Sunny,’ she looked at her sister’s grim face. ‘Is that Dr Harker’s car?’
Sunny nodded, mouth clamped tight.
Mary hurried past her into the house. ‘Has something happened to Fin?’ She swung round. ‘Tell me, for goodness’ sake.’
Behind her Sunny exploded. ‘And where were you if something had happened?’
‘He’s all right? Fin’s all right?’ Cy said gripping her arm.
Sunny nodded. ‘He looked bad for a while,’ her anger was subsiding slowly. ‘He was breathing strangely. I thought maybe he was having a heart attack. Where were you?’ There was less of a note of accusation in her voice.
‘We drove into Meyerick,’ Mary said.
‘Had to pick up something from the office.’ Cy waved the file. ‘How is he now?’
Dr Harker was coming down the stairs. ‘False alarm, this time, Mary,’ he said.
‘I’ll go up and see him.’ Mary walked past Harker towards the foot of the stairs.
‘No point now,’ Harker said. ‘Leave him to sleep a little. He’s vomited most of the alcohol. He’ll be OK now.’