Instruments of Darkness

I sat down opposite her and took another look while Charlie did something about everybody’s drinks and looked over his shoulder at Yvette – a lot. She wore a pink crêpe jacket, and a blood orange crêpe sarong which was split to mid thigh. The jacket wasn’t fastened and I could see from her exposed waist that she was naked underneath it. A long orange and pink silk scarf dropped down from around her neck and covered her breasts. Like Jasmin, she sat low on the sofa, her legs crossed at the knee, and her bare feet nodding. She smoked an untipped Gauloise, thick and fat as a chalk stick, with the relish of a true professional. Charlie handed me a Scotch with ice and sat on the sofa next to me.

‘Yvette tells me they don’t believe in marriage in France,’ Charlie said as he sat down. ‘Says they have this thing concubinage instead.’ He strained his whisky through his moustache. ‘Sounds kind of interesting, you know, concubines and that. Sounds to me as if you could trade ‘em.’

‘Like pork bellies, you mean?’ I asked Charlie, wondering how they got to be talking about this kind of stuff.

‘I was thinking more onna lines with “1987 Concubine convertible. Low mileage, one previous owner, swap plus cash considered”.’

‘I think you’re over-romanticizing it, Charlie,’ I said.

‘No, no, Bruce, you gotta understand, marriage – that ol’ roman’ic institution – is old-fashioned. Strictly wartime only before you fly off to a certain death. That’s what the lady says.’

‘Don’t you think so, Bruce?’ Yvette dared me, having dug deep to pronounce my name.

‘I’ve heard there’s a very high success rate when the man dies immediately.’

‘Whose side you on?’ asked Charlie. I ignored him.

‘The woman is left with a memory of perfect love and consummation…’

‘Yeah,’ said Charlie, with no encouragement.

‘…and, if it’s really a perfect marriage, a load of money.’

‘Now here is a man who really understands,’ said Yvette, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.

‘And the guy?’ said Charlie. ‘What the hell does the guy get out of this perfect marriage?’

‘The guy gets to die at the pinnacle of his achievement. Wedding night followed by heroic death.’

‘What more could a man want?’ asked Jasmin.

‘To do it again?’ asked Charlie.

‘It’s never as good the second time,’ said Jasmin, ‘and anyway, men are always looking for the ultimate thrill.’ She pecked at her cigarette. ‘Sex and death. In Japan they don’t always need the sex…I’ve seen them sit down to eat puffer fish knowing that if the chef’s carved it up wrong any one of them could get the chop.’

‘Raw fish,’ said Charlie, ‘is not my kind of thrill.’

‘Yes,’ said Jasmin smugging at her Gauloise. ‘I think the spider gets it right. She shows her mate a good time, gets herself pregnant and has a problem free dinner.’

‘I think I’m coming round to concubinage,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t wanna give you indigestion or anything.’

‘Don’t worry about us,’ said Yvette. ‘We have huge appetites. You must think of it as an act of kindness. We’re saving you from yourselves.’

‘Kindness was not the word I had in mind,’ said Charlie.

‘All this talk and now I’m hungry,’ said Yvette. ‘It’s time to eat.’

‘Will you be our guests?’ offered Charlie.

Yvette had stood up and looked Charlie over.

‘You look too tough for me. I like my meat very tender,’ she said baring her teeth.

‘The tender bits are inside,’ I said for Charlie.

Yvette raised an eyebrow. ‘Can I use a phone?’

Charlie pointed to the desk at the far end of the room behind our sofa. He saw Yvette hesitate. ‘Sorry, it’s the only one inna house. My rules. Somebody wants to use my phone, I wanna know what they’re saying. It’s business…’ he smiled, ‘something personal.’

She gave Charlie a look which left me charcoal broiled and I was only sitting next to him. She walked over to the phone and punched out some numbers.

‘Camilia?’ she asked and started speaking in Italian. Charlie nodded and drank some more and sneaked a look at Jasmin who had stood up and walked to the window to look at the dark.

Yvette put the phone down and walked back over. ‘I’m sorry…’ she said.

‘I heard,’ said Charlie.

‘You speak Italian?’ she asked.

‘I am Italian,’ he said. ‘Carlo Reggiani.’

Yvette and Jasmin slipped into their shoes. ‘We have to go. Tonight we are meeting someone for dinner who says they know somebody who probably knows lots of other somebodies who might be able to sell me something I want,’ explained Yvette.

‘That’s the only kind of business they have here,’ said Charlie.

‘African art, Bruce, is a terrible business. The worst,’ she said, smoothing her scarf inside the lapels of her jacket.

I put my drink on the table and we all walked out to the private parking area at the back of the house. There was a taxi with a powder blue furry dashboard waiting for them under a low palm tree. Charlie was kissed soundly on the cheek by Yvette, which might have disappointed him but he didn’t show it. The two women got into the car. The taxi took a while to get going and circled us before disappearing behind the paillote.

Chapter 8 (#ulink_6b2d44f7-3d97-5916-af62-9562e757cab0)

Charlie shivered.

‘She does something for me, that woman.’

‘Confuse you?’ I said.

‘There’s one thing I’m not confused about,’ he said, turning and putting his hand on my shoulder to steer me into the house.

‘They don’t make them like that any more,’ I said.

‘Right.’

‘Now that we’re all being genetically engineered.’

‘Something went wrong in my test tube,’ said Charlie, looking down at his big hairy body.

‘Not us, Charlie. You can still see the ape in us. In the future they’ll iron out all those blips and glitches that make someone extraordinary like Yvette and we’ll all look like leads from shampoo and shaving ads. We’ll be the bathroom people from planet Earth.’