She will not fail Odette again.
At the last moment, Mr King looks back at her, like she is Melusine, naked in the water, painted and pinned up on the wall.
10
Odette
‘IHATE HER,I hate her, I hate her.’
Odette paces Cecilia’s room, flexing her hands against the hot spark of loathing that runs through her. Cecilia is oddly quiet, and Odette thinks perhaps she is allowing space for Odette’s anger to bloom. When she tried to touch her, Cecilia tensed uncharacteristically. Odette thinks, distantly, she should ask Cecilia why – but in this moment, her mind is filled only with thoughts of Claudine and how small and shameful she made Odette feel.
‘I know I said I must try to have sympathy for her, but she is such an unpleasantbitch. I’m trying – I really am – to find some redeeming feature in her, but there is none. No one is a complete monster, but, my God, she runs it a close thing.’
Finally, they have escaped upstairs, as the late summer twilight turns the sky translucent. The heat has built ferociously, and the whole party became querulous over dinner, wine sloshing onto the tablecloth, the laughter of Odette’s father and his friends unpleasantly alien. It is a careful dance Odette does at such dinners, to be her father’s pet who can be shown off, clever and articulate, while knowing her place: she is not one of them, she can gain admittance only through a narrow door. If she gives a line of poetry, or makes some witty remark, she must not expect their approbation to mean anything real. She knowsthis, and that knowing should make the pleasure sour – and yet. Here she is, compelled.
Her mother shrank from it all and excused herself early, Odette expanding to fill the space, disguise the flaws of their family, while Claudine sat beside George, surveying the mess of bohemian artists and intellectuals with barely concealed disdain. The worst of it is that Odette doesn’tdisagreewith all of Claudine’s snobbishness, and that makes her hate her more. Penelope sat at one end, positioned carefully with a few chinless, fawning men, fanning herself and delicately accepting compliments. Leo gravitates to the men, keen to show himself an adult amongst equals.
Now the party has moved to the smoking room, where Odette knows they will stay up drinking and playing billiards until the early dawn drives them to their beds.
‘Do you think she might feel scared, being here?’ says Cecilia from where she sits cross-legged on the bed. ‘That she will lose her place as quickly as George has given it to her?’
‘Do not take her side, Ces. I cannot bear it.’
‘I take her side in nothing, of course not. I only meant to try and understand her. England must be a difficult place for her, you told me yourself she had an engagement broken off.’
‘I am tired of understanding. I owe her nothing.’ Abruptly, Odette turns on her heel to Cecilia. ‘Godiva. Let us do it now.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes. I do not want to be myself.’ She half kneels on the bed beside Cecilia, takes her hands into her own. ‘Make me someone else, Ces.’
Finally, some colour returns to Cecilia’s face, and Odette sees that she has offered her a lifeline out of an unknown sea.
‘Yes. All right. We can take Diana down to the lane by the water meadow.’ Diana is the docile mare that both Odette and Cecilia learnt to ride on. ‘I’ll be Leofric and issue you thechallenge.’
Odette pulls Cecilia to her and kisses her deeply, overcome by her love and excitement. There is no one but Cecilia who can understand what she needs, and in this moment, she wants to possess her entirely, to have something – someone – of her own. Their kissing grows passionate, but Cecilia captures Odette’s wrist before she can push Cecilia’s nightdress from her shoulder.
Odette draws back, mouth hot and wet, fearing for a moment that she will be chastised for her wanting.
Cecilia’s eyes are dark. ‘I would have you outside. Under the stars.’
Hand in hand, they slip from the house, as silent as spirits. There is a riot of noise still from the smoking room, of music and laughter, and they are careful to skirt through the unpeopled places. It is somehow even hotter outside, a dank, desultory heat that sticks Odette’s hair to her neck and makes slick the rub of her thighs. A mass of stars wheels overhead, the turrets and gables of Herne House a dark outline marked out against them. They lead Diana across the yard, pressed together tight and giggling at their own brilliance. The sound of horseshoes is lost beneath the revelry, and above them, a gibbous moon swells in the sky.
At the meadow gate, they stop, and Cecilia draws herself into the character of Leofric.
‘O Lady mine,’ she says softly, voice low, ‘I weary at your troublesome requests. I will lift the taxes from the people of Coventry when you strip naked and ride through the streets for all to see. That is to say: never.’
A rush of peace passes over Odette. Here, it is better. Here, she does not have to worry about Lydia or money or Claudine or the future.
‘You are mistaken, husband,’ she says, and reaches for the hem of her nightgown. ‘There is no shame in doing what is rightand good.’
In one movement, she lifts the dress up and over her head, baring herself to the night air and Cecilia’s gaze. Her heart is racing, skin hot. It is quite something to be desired so greatly even after so many nights together. She wants Cecilia to look, to want, to hunger.
For a moment, all is forgotten, and she comes close enough to place Cecilia’s hand on her bare breast.
‘Husband,’ she breathes, an invocation of something that will always remain out of reach.
‘Wife,’ responds Cecilia. She brushes her thumb softly over Odette’s nipple, a claim and a promise at once.
