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A FULL-BODIED RED by James Wood The two women faced each other on the doorstep -- spider and fly: mongoose and snake. "It's Emma, isn't it?" the owner of the house asked. "Yes. How did you know?" "I recognised you from the photograph," answered Sarah. "Photograph?" The woman's tone was cautious. ''What photograph?" "The group picture; taken at my husband's office. The one with the top executives and their --- assistants." Emma noticed the slight hesitation, but let it pass. "I'm afraid my husband's not around at the moment." Sarah said politely. "Was he expecting you? He didn't say. But then, he doesn't always tell me everything." "It doesn't really matter --- " Emma began uncertainly, finding it difficult to make small talk with the wife of the man she loved. "I wasn't quite sure whether he -- " "Was available?" Sarah smiled. "Afraid not. But never mind. It gives us a chance to have a little chat. Get to know one another. I mean, you've been Robert's secretary for almost a year now but we've never really talked before. Not face to face, that is. Usually just some quick message by phone telling me my husband's going to be late at the office; an unexpected crisis or some other important affair." The emphasis on the word 'affair' made Emma wonder just how much Robert's wife knew about their relationship. "Perhaps it would be better if I waited for your husband to contact me?" suggested Emma. Sarah smiled but didn't answer. "I mean, I don't want to bother you, Mrs. Williams." "Nonsense, my dear," said Sarah Williams. "It's no bother. Really." With the unctuous charm of a politician, Sarah took the other woman's arm and led her politely into her home, her lair, her web.
It was the first time Emma had been in her lover's home. Usually they made love in some obscure hotel in the less fashionable part of town. "What a lovely home you have, Mrs. Williams," Emma said, gazing at the expensively decorated room. "Sarah," corrected her hostess. "'Please call me Sarah. And I'll call you Emma. After all, I feel I already know you. And we do have a lot in common: my husband, for instance. He's always talking about you; telling me how resourceful, how cooperative you can be. Prepared to stay late to get things done. Almost above and beyond the call of duty, one might say." And she laughed as she invited her guest to sit on the elegant settee while she poured two glasses of red wine from the cut-glass decanter. Emma was not at ease perched on the edge of the settee, her eyes flitting from her hostess to the ornate and slightly-odd knick-knacks scattered about the room: an ivory figurine depicting a man and woman in frenzied love-making; a painting of vultures fighting over the remains of a corpse; a long wooden spear which appeared to have strands of human hair sticking to its rusted tip; and the death-mask of a man's face frozen in mid-scream. Emma tried to reconcile these hideous objects with the gentle, soft-spoked man that she loved. It was impossible to believe that Robert would choose such grotesque things with which to decorate his home. "A hobby of mine" said Sarah, noticing the frightened curiosity of her guest. "I dabble in anthropology: the study of man as an animal. A study of the baser instincts of Homo sapiens, the origins of good and evil.' She spread her beautifully manicured hands wide to embrace all the unusual objects scattered around the room. "Each of these little trinkets forms part of a story," Sarah continued. "Interlocking pieces in the complicated jigsaw of life and love." Calmly she rose and picked up the ivory figurine, sensuously fingering the tiny bodies of the couple locked in a fierce embrace. "You can almost feel the lust throbbing in their sweating bodies. Two lovers straining to get pleasure from each other. The touch of flesh on flesh.' She held out the figurine to her guest. 'Hold it. Feel it. Enjoy it!" She waited for the bewildered woman to accept the figurine, but Emma only flinched and refused to touch it. Reluctantly Sarah put it back in its place then carefully lifted the wooden spear from its fixing on the wall. "Now I'm sure you'll find this little item fascinating. It's from a tribe in Central Africa that combined an ardent belief in monogamy with a primitive method of retribution." She paused to take another sip of wine. "They believed that a man and woman should mate for life. So if one of them committed what we now call adultery, then that partner was deprived of life. A very simple solution for an age-old problem, don't you think?" Emma refused to be drawn on the subject but the anxiety clearly showed in her voice. " I thought Mr. Williams was due back today? He said he was taking a long weekend skiing but should be in the office again by Tuesday. Is he sick or something? I haven't heard from him." "And you were worried? How admirable! Such devotion to the boss does you credit, my dear.'" Sarah leaned forward and gently patted the other woman's hand, allowing the tip of the spear to rest just a few inches from Emma's eyes; close enough for the woman to see the dark stain that had seeped into the metal tip. Sarah noticed the anxious look in her guest's eyes and quietly explained, "It's blood. Or so they tell me. It's supposed to be the blood of some unfortunate victim caught in the act of adultery. At least that's what Robert was told when he bought the thing from some old woman on a trip to Africa years ago. Probably complete nonsense but you know how gullible Robert can be. Believes anything a woman tells him --- if he's in the right mood." "I think I'd better be going," interrupted Emma. |
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