Carl’s decision continued to trouble her and nag at her nerves for the rest of the day. She awoke the next morning with it still on her mind. She and Stuart had breakfast in bed as usual. Could he help her? Perhaps she could lead him to take some stand that would eliminate Carl. The old grateful feeling of utter dependence on him revived in her.

  “I’m not sure I’m pleased about Carl moving quite so firmly into our lives,” she said experimentally. “I mean, taking a house and so forth. Don’t you think he’s rather rushing it?”

  He looked at her over the top of the morning paper. “I don’t see that it makes much difference what we think. The whole peninsula is open to the public. We have only ourselves to blame.”

  “Yes, but you might be able to discourage him. You could point out the drawbacks. It’s awfully quiet here during the winter. Perhaps he doesn’t know how beastly the weather can get. You could make it clear that we’re planning to spend some time in Paris. It’s a bit odd his deciding to settle in so quickly.”

  “Is it?” He put the paper aside, astonished. He’d thought she was as pleased as everybody else to have him here. He heard an incomprehensible note of anxiety in her voice and gave her his full attention. “I have the impression that that’s the sort of life he’s led—moving in wherever it strikes his fancy. He has friends here and there along the coast. People take to the life here very easily. Why not Carl?”

  “I’m simply not sure we want to make such a friend of him. Jane Cumberleigh told me a story that I haven’t wanted to repeat. It—”

  “About blackmail in Egypt? The admiral told me and Carl told me about it himself. There’s not much to it.”

  “Perhaps not, but that’s not the only thing. Alex asked me not to say anything, but he thinks the statue is a fake. Something about the marble. He seems to know a lot about such things.”

  “A fake what? It’s a statue. Carl told us himself that it’s probably a Hellenistic copy. I can’t see what the statue has to do with him.”

  “He arranged it all. You handed over quite a large sum of money. Maybe nobody cared whether we took it.” Faced with slightly amused indifference, she felt increasingly cornered. In the old days he would have taken charge by now, explaining to her what she was trying to say. Couldn’t he understand that she felt threatened or had they both reached the point of not caring what the other did? She tried again. “The point is, where does he get his money?”

  “Where does anybody get their money, old dear? Where does Alex get his? For quite a small community, there’s an amazing number of people with no visible means of support. Carl fits in very nicely.”

  “You can say what you like but there’s one bothersome little thing after another. I just don’t feel we can trust him.”

  He pushed his tray aside. Something was wrong; it didn’t hang together. He’d seen how much she enjoyed herself in his company. If she was getting bored with him, why make a point about trusting him? It would be easy to start seeing less of him once he was out of the house. He felt a sudden hard kick of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. Unlike the little flutters of jealousy he’d felt in Greece, it carried the dread weight of certainty. She was making a case of him. It was unlike her unless he had really got under her skin. Perhaps she had already committed herself in some way and was trying to back out.

  He pulled himself out of bed and went to the low table in front of the window to get a cigarette. He lighted it and puffed on it, taking time to compose himself. He turned back to her. “I’m ready to believe that he might be a dubious character, but what do you expect us to do about it in a practical way?”

  “I leave that up to you. Men know how to deal with each other.” He was wearing a white toweling robe that made him look very tan and added bulk to his spare frame. His physical charm was undiminished. He hadn’t lost the weather-beaten look he had acquired in the vineyards but it didn’t detract from his distinction. He looked like the gentleman farmer he had been, fit and capable. She wanted him to take command as he had in the past. He would have been eloquent in defense or condemnation of their guest and would have somehow made the situation manageable. She realized how much of their life had been built on his words. Whatever she had hoped for this morning wasn’t going to happen. Everything in him seemed dimmed. She had failed to ignite him. “You might at least persuade him to postpone his decision about the house. Tell him you’d be offended if he refuses our hospitality so abruptly.”

  He was puzzled. Was it possible that she had succumbed so completely that she couldn’t bear to think of him under a separate roof? He watched her realign her forces and close herself to him. She had expected something more of him but he couldn’t intervene. Freedom had always been the basis of their relationship, to the point of not providing it with a legal seal. Even if there had been no Odette in his past, she had the right to find in another man whatever she needed. Jealousy afflicted him like a sickness, making his throat and chest and limbs ache. “That seems an odd approach to a man we can’t trust,” he said, steeling himself to present the smooth surface of ordinary intercourse. “I should think the sooner he’s out of the house the better.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said as if she were already thinking of something else. She felt totally alone. He hadn’t picked up her plea for help. Should she have waited till later when he would’ve recovered from his usual hangover? If things came to a visible crisis with Carl, he would probably have a few extra drinks and ignore it. She would have to save them single-handedly.

  He watched, despite his determination to give her her head. By the end of the day, he was convinced that he had lost her, if not permanently, at least for as long as it took for whatever it was with Carl to run its course. Although he couldn’t imagine how they’d managed it, numerous small signs suggested that they were already lovers—the way they sat together with easy familiarity, the smiles and looks of complicity they exchanged, Carl’s masterful domination of her. They never touched, even when they thought they were unobserved, which might be significant. People who were merely fond of each other, without any sexual undertones, found constant ways of expressing it, in the way Robbie and Toni did. Above all, Helene’s manner was so completely at odds with her behavior this morning that he could only believe that she had been motivated by guilt.

  He wished he could find out something about Carl that would discredit him and send him running. For all anybody knew, he might be a Nazi. He invented a satisfying fantasy in which the French intelligence authorities came and took him away for espionage. Why not? There were probably things going on here that the Germans would like to know about.

  Carl was undoubtedly an adventurer. Was he also a fortune hunter? Did his ambition go beyond a pleasant affair? Did he know what a catch she was? Because of their marital status, or non-status, he had invested everything equally in both their names. Helene could walk out tomorrow without the nuisance of signing a single paper. Apart, they might not be able to live so comfortably in the States, for instance, but here they were both rich.

  Carl leased his house and reported that he would be able to move into it in another week or so. He undertook to widen their social horizon. After a few phone calls, he arranged for them all to be invited by Maxine Elliot to a party in Cannes. Stuart remembered her name as that of a great American beauty who had had a career on the stage and who had retired to England where she had become the familiar of royalty before the war. He was surprised to hear that she was still alive.

  “Very much alive,” Carl assured him. “Quite a fat little lady but still beautiful in the face.”

  Toni pointed out that the date conflicted with a party some of his film friends were giving locally, a party to which he’d already arranged to take Robbie. In the way that constantly endeared him to Robbie, Carl backed them up.

  “Yes, yes, stay here for your party,” he urged them. “The other will be very grand, for older people, not much fun for you boys.”

  Stuart was aware of being pushed aside even in the life of the family and was outraged by Helene in a way he had never had cause to be before. Why did she allow it? He could persuade himself that she needed a flirtation, an affair, whatever it was, at this peak period of her life, but she should have the sensitivity and consideration to make sure that it didn’t encroach on his basic rights. He would stand aside for her but he wasn’t going to stand aside for Carl to take over the household. It was time for Carl to get out; he wondered how much longer he could put up with him.

  Once more he went over the argument that he’d been having with himself, starting with his own transgression with Odette. Helene’s beauty was still unblemished but it couldn’t last indefinitely. After forty-five, no woman could hope to retain the bloom that most men looked for in a casual love affair. This might be her last chance to renew herself at the passionate source of life before they settled down for the long haul of middle age and the horrors that followed it. He could imagine trotting out the same justifications for himself if he suddenly fell for a pretty girl. What was good enough for him should be applicable to her. He would forgive her when it was over if she didn’t humiliate him while it was going on. She hadn’t had a clue about Odette until he had chosen to tell her.

  Dates fell into place. Carl was going to take possession of his house the day after the party in Cannes. By then, August would be more than half over and the summer would be on the wane. The Coslings’ plan to give a party for Carl somehow became an end-of-season affair, more a farewell party for Toni and Robbie. Having a party given for them seemed to Robbie like a public consecration of their love. He couldn’t see beyond it to an actual parting. Life without Toni was unimaginable; something would happen at the last minute that would permit them to stay together. Perhaps Carl would help him make a case for giving up school and going to study in Paris instead.

  “I’m going to miss Toni. I love watching them together,” Helene said. She was sitting on the beach with Carl in the late afternoon on the eve of the Cannes expedition. Robbie had just come down from work to join his friend for a swim. They were the one bright happy note in her increasingly tormented life. Stuart had chosen to withdraw completely. He drank steadily most days and was spending a lot of time indoors, claiming that he had business to take care of. Her time was running out. When Carl moved day after tomorrow she would learn how deep his grip on her was. She hoped that his being gone would free her and that she would slowly return to an even keel, but the thought of him alone in a nearby house, waiting, continued to be unnerving.

  “They are beautiful young animals,” Carl said as they emerged from the sea adjusting their trunks. He had no intention of leaving without jolting her into making some positive move toward him. It was time to play his trump card. “To see Robbie head over heels in love is a joy, although it should also make me a bit jealous.”

  “You would call it being in love?”

  “Most definitely. I thought we agreed about that.”

  “I said something about platonic love. I don’t see how anybody can be in love without its becoming—” Her voice trailed off. She was touching on something that had drifted through her mind as an amorphous thought but that she hardly dared put into words.

  “Without its becoming physical? That, too. What I said about Toni is true, but a quite normal man can have pleasure with a boy. I’m sure they have found ways of satisfying each other that aren’t offensive to him. With Robbie it is quite different. You are surely aware that he is a lover of men.”

  Her breath caught on a gasp. “Is he?” She sounded more bewildered than outraged. He glanced at her and saw that her lovely face looked thoughtful but not dismayed.

  “Of course. Do you mind?” he asked.

  “Mind? How could I help minding? It would be a terrible tragedy. I don’t believe it’s true.” She minded because she knew she should mind, but her thoughts had strayed close enough to the possibility to have prepared her to accept it. Somewhere deep within her, she welcomed it. She could dismiss the threat of girls forever.

  “I can assure you it’s quite true,” he said. “I had intended to tell you sooner or later. He offered himself to me in Greece. We have been lovers.” He sat back calmly without looking at her and felt the bombshell rock her.

  “You’re a monster.” Her voice came out with a strange forced rasp. She wanted to scream. She wanted to leap up and fly from him. He leaned forward and held her with his eyes.

  “Am I? Is it monstrous for me to have wanted him when you, his mother, want him also? I knew from the beginning that I would have you both. He is beautiful in the same way that you are beautiful. It is impossible to want one of you without wanting the other. Boys have played little part in my life, but he gave himself to me unsparingly and it was glorious. I will provide the physical link that you crave with your son.”

  She cringed from him, staring into his hypnotic eyes. Her mind was filled with an. image of Robbie’s graceful young body bending to his implacable will. She saw a perverse beauty in it but she wanted to destroy it with her own reality. She wanted to replace Robbie’s body with her own. The control of years crumbled under his probing gaze. She raged with desire. She remembered her mad husband and the searing lust that Stuart had been able to unleash in her and her body began to tremble. She wanted to tear Carl’s trunks off. She wanted him to take her here on the beach. She wanted Robbie as a witness. She was appalled by herself and alive. “Please,” she begged in a hushed voice. She was aware of the boys coming closer. “No more now. I’ll come to you on Thursday.”

  “Of course. That is why I am here. That is understood.”

  “Stuart knows nothing about Robbie, does he?” she added in an urgent undertone.

  “No, no. It would be a great misfortune if he did.”

  Carl had arranged for them to dress for the party after the drive to Cannes, where friends had offered the use of their villa. Stuart was to take Jane and the admiral, who already knew Maxine Elliot. To allow for the more than two-hour drive, they were ready to leave in the middle of the afternoon.

  “See that somebody puts these things in the car, will you, dearest?” Helene said, giving herself a few last-minute touches at her dressing table. They had packed their evening clothes and toilet articles in a small suitcase.

  “Sure,” Stuart said. He left her and went in search of Felix. He encountered the boys, who had come to see them off. Carl appeared. Robbie and Toni stood holding each other in a loose embrace, arms around shoulders, hands on hips, leaning against each other. Stuart had seen them stand like this dozens of times but today it bothered him. Robbie was absently toying with the hair on the back of Toni’s neck. Weren’t they beginning to overdo this sort of public intimacy? He must warn Toni that it might look odd to others.

  They chatted about their respective evenings until Helene joined them. They told each other that they might meet in the early hours of the morning and then the trio of elders was off, Helene in Carl’s car.

  They had almost reached town when Stuart realized that he didn’t have the suitcase with him. He honked and Carl pulled over and Stuart stopped beside the little car. “Do you have our clothes?” he called to Helene.

  “You said you’d take care of it,” she replied with a little frown of impatience.

  “Never mind. You two go ahead. If the Cumberleighs don’t keep me waiting, I’ll be only ten minutes behind you. I have the address.” They waved and Stuart backed up and turned around.

  He found the suitcase where they’d left it and had started back to the car when he heard a cry from below. He recognized Robbie’s voice. The cry struck him as odd, like panic or ecstasy. He dropped the bag and went to a tree near the steps where he could look down at the beach without being seen. The two heads, blond and brunette, were bobbing in the sea quite close to shore. They moved in toward each other. Neither appeared to be in any kind of difficulty that would explain the cry. As he watched, a wave broke behind them and tumbled them over and cast them up on the beach on their backs. They were both naked. They both had erections. They rolled lazily over to each other and their mouths met. Their bodies moved against each other. They broke apart and scrambled up and, covering themselves with their hands, ran in a crouch toward the beach house and disappeared from view.

  Stuart stood rooted to the spot. For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick. He had never seen two men kiss. He gagged and swallowed his nausea. He had an impulse to go down and tear them apart, give Toni a good beating and throw him out. He thought of Robbie’s age and let it pass. He was finally able to move and turned and went to the drinks table. He poured himself a slug of brandy and swallowed it and held the empty glass while he stared sightlessly at bottles and his mind grappled with what he’d seen.

  He had seen two young men with erections. He had seen them kiss. He had seen their bodies move lasciviously against each other. One of them was Robbie. He hurled the glass against the wall. It shattered with a cheerful tinkle. Rage boiled up in him. What were they doing now? He wanted to mutilate Toni’s beautiful face. That damned vicious—He thought again of Robbie’s youth. Enough damage had been done. He didn’t want to add to it. Perhaps by tomorrow he would have got himself sufficiently under control to deal with it reasonably. The brandy was already dulling his rage. He made a rush for the suitcase and hurried to the car.

  Another quick brandy on the admiral’s yacht made it possible for him to smile and chat sociably. Negotiating the perilous curves of the Esterel was a disagreeably sobering chore and anger and anguish once more stirred in him. The scene on the beach had acquired the blurred edges of a dream but it hadn’t been a dream. He had witnessed it. He thought of all the times in the last few weeks that he had seen them reach for each other, hold each other, lean in against each other. They had dared carry on under his very nose. Everybody knew that such things happened with schoolboys but Toni wasn’t a schoolboy; he was a symbol of what the place had become, a haven for every corrupt and depraved taste. Who was responsible? He had admitted the hordes of serpents into his paradise. It was up to him to limit the damage.