Chapter Twenty-One
Deeta
The pavilion is even grander close up and set against the starlit sky. It has marble steps leading up to its floor, and columns of marble stretch up to a vaulted marble ceiling. Its structure is oval, and glittering chandeliers bathe everything in a warm light.
Jasmine and roses climb the arches and columns, and beneath these bowers around the outside edge of the room are small round tables, covered by pristine white cloths. The resulting splendour is hard to take in all at once and I find myself being led, unresistingly, by Ryder to a quiet corner.
“What do you think so far?” Ryder Andak asks as he pulls Jan’s chair out for her.
“Let’s just say you have an unfair edge,” answers Jan, depositing herself into the chair with a smooth swish of silk.
Ryder comes around the table to help me into my seat.
“And you, Deeta?” His voice has hardened imperceptibly, and I see a cold edge of steel in his eyes.
“It’s beautiful.”
He moves to take his seat, his shoulder brushing against the jasmine. The disturbed flowers’ scent is released and wafts gently across to me. It occurs to me that it’s too early for jasmine and roses, unless they have some sort of heating system to nurture the tender blossoms.
Music plays softly; a piano, a clarinet, three violins, and a cello. Several couples sway dreamily to their rhythm on the parquet flooring.
“You see the man dancing with the lady in the red dress?” asks Ryder. “That is my half brother Jeshua and his wife Devina. Jeshua is my father’s second son by Rebecca, his second wife. The girl in the dark pink dress with black hair is Hayley, my father’s only daughter by his third wife Nadia. She’s dancing with her husband, Neil. It’s Jennet that will be of the most interest to you, she’s the girl in the green dress. Jennet is Dec’s oldest sister.”
“We met her this afternoon; who’s the young man she’s dancing with?” asks Jan.
“That’s Dorian; his mother’s family were politicians, and his father’s family were Monaco’s royal family,” replies Ryder.
“I bet they don’t let anyone forget it either,” laughs Jan.
“You’re quite right; they still use their titles.” The faintly sardonic note in his voice fades and he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s understandable, I suppose.”
A young man in a white jacket comes and stands quietly at Ryder’s elbow.
“Hello, Nick, what’s cooking?” asks Ryder, taking a slim pamphlet from his proffered hand and perusing its script.
“You’ll have to help me out girls; do you like vegetables and fish? Or are you meat eaters?”
Jan leans across the edge of the table, her hand outstretched. The single ringlet trailing over her shoulder brushes Ryder’s sleeve. Is it just me or does he seem to be a little warm?
“May I see?” she asks.
“Sure.” Ryder pulls away a little, an inscrutable look on his face. I don’t think Jan notices, she’s already reading the gold edged leaflet, a slight furrow between her brows.
“Do you need some help?”
“No, thanks.” Jan looks up, a mocking light in her eyes. “Come on, mate, what do you think? That you invented the French language or something?”
She turns, placing the menu between us both.
“What do you think, Deet?”
I take in the gastronomic delights enthusiastically.
“I can’t decide between the prawns and the chicken,” I answer.
“Good; I couldn’t either.” She smiles at the waiter and orders both in her beautifully accented French.
Ryder’s face is comical. I can see him wondering how two barbarians, such as Jan and I, can possibly have command of a second language. I smile, thinking of Madam Delon, a French woman that had lived in our compound when I was a child. She’d been a sweet little old lady, and every day all the children in our compound had spent an hour learning French. As I recall, Ralph had spent most of the lessons throwing pellets of chewed up paper at his classmates’ heads. He’s always been a bit of a philistine.
Jan has ordered a soup starter, along with two glasses of lemonade, and profiteroles for dessert. I find myself filled with admiration at her ability to handle all of this. It’s as though she is in the habit of dining out in such extraordinary surroundings every night, and sees nothing special in the situation.
Ryder orders a salad starter, a steak and potato main course, and a raspberry cheesecake for dessert, along with a bottle of champagne.
“Are you hungry?” asks Jan, leaning her elbows on the table. She props her face in her hands, raising her eyebrows slightly.
“Famished,” replies Ryder, lounging back in his chair and fixing her with a practiced smile.
“You’ll get indigestion,” predicts Jan.
The charming smile slips from Ryder’s face, and it’s a moment before he laughs.
“You’re the first person, aside from Mari, to tell me that. It kinda kills the mood don’t you think? The romantic atmosphere disappears instantly.”
“There’s nothing in the least romantic about you feeding us to the dogs to afford yourself a little amusement. I hope you do get indigestion; I hope it keeps you up all night, and that you have a very long and trying day tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have the great felicity of impeccable digestion,” he replies. For a moment there’s silence and then he leans forwards, pointing to a table at our left.
“Those are my brothers from my father’s third wife, and over there.” He turns again indicating another table. “Are the children of wife number four.”
“I don’t understand? Mari said that you all had dinner as a family, she said it was a big thing.”
“It is traditional, yes.”
“But… this isn’t having dinner as a family! This is frequenting the same restaurant.”
“Perhaps you’d care to elaborate?” His voice is a little tense, but his attitude as he lounges in his chair is relaxed.
“Here, I’ll show you.” I turn a little in my chair and indicate one of the tables. “That table is filled with the children from your father’s second marriage, that one by the third wife’s children… can you see a pattern? There isn’t any togetherness; you might as well be on your own separate islands. You’re not connecting with each other at all, there’s no interaction.”
Ryder’s eyes show a flicker of annoyance, and as the silence stretches out Jan steps in to fill the breach.
“Where’s Val?”
“How do you know Val?” Ryder’s tone is sharp. “When did he speak to you? What did you say to him?”
“I didn’t, it’s just that Mari mentioned him in passing, that’s all.”
He looks slightly mollified, and goes back to twisting the stem of his wine glass between long fingers.
“Look for a table populated by beautiful women, he’ll be there somewhere beneath their frills and flounces.” His tone is snide and he turns back to me, unnerving me with the directness of his gaze.
Our order arrives and conversation turns to tea time prattle. Mostly it’s Jan and Ryder who talk and I sit silent, comforted by their voices, not easy enough to join the conversation. Instead I steal glances around the room from under my lashes. It seems as though everyone’s attention is firmly fixed upon their own small groups, but in actual fact I see that our table has attracted much attention. Every now and then I see a quick, telltale, glance toward us. By the time the second course arrives I have an uncomfortable knot of apprehension in the pit of my stomach. Mari is right it seems; we do not look to be welcome.
Ryder’s steak is huge, topped by grilled tomatoes, and set at one end of an oval plate that looks more like a roasting platter. At the other end of the plate is a mountain of creamy mashed potato with rich brown gravy. A plate of chicken in a yoghurt sauce and lying on a bed of seasoned rice is placed in front of Jan, and for me there is a bowl shaped arrangement of lettuce leaves filled
with king prawns in a garlic butter and cream sauce. The waiter eases the cork from the bottle of champagne with a loud pop, and I almost believe that Ryder only ordered it to bring yet more attention to our table. If he did then he quickly changes his mind about our exposure.
“What are you doing?” He demands in a half whisper, looking uncomfortably over his shoulder.
Jan and I have pulled our chairs closer together, and have begun to sample each other’s dishes with much enjoyment.
“We’re eating.”
“That isn’t eating, I don’t know what it is but — look will you just stop it! Come on, stop it!”
“Say, Deet? Do you think they overdid it with the pepper?” Jan doesn’t seem to have noticed Ryder’s interruption. She hands me a piece of naam bread stuffed full of chicken, sauce, and rice.
“It’s great, I actually like the pepper.”
“I can’t watch… I just can’t watch! I mean, why do we even bother having our own plates? Why don’t we just have a communal bowl for each table? Or even better a communal trough for the entire room? That way we could just swill it out and we’d save on washing up.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” placates Jan mildly.
“You’re taking food from each other’s plates; that’s anti-civilisation!” exclaims Ryder.
Jan and I regard him quietly, and for some moments there is something of a face off. Eventually Jan holds out a succulent morsel.
“Want to try some?”
For a second he looks horrified, then he grins.
Ryder accepts the mouthful and is silent for a while as he chews with intense concentration.
“I agree with Jan; too much pepper.”
From then on things are more relaxed around our table. We find that Ryder’s steak is very tender, the mash and gravy are delicious, and that he doesn’t like prawns.
“When was the last time you tried one?” I ask sceptically.
“I don’t know; I guess I was about five,” answers Ryder.
“And you haven’t had one since?” I exclaim. “You have to try again.”
I push the plate towards him, and after a moment’s hesitation he takes it from me.
“What do you think?”
“Not bad,” Ryder answers noncommittally.
“Thank you, Ryder; you’re looking rather handsome yourself.”
Her voice is soft and breathless. I hadn’t known she was standing behind me and, as I hear her words, the fork falls from my fingers to clatter on my plate.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I startle you?”
She leans forwards and places her hand on my shoulder. Her voice is amused and indulgent, as though talking to a small child.
“My but you’re jumpy… oh, thank you, Ryder.” She turns to give him a high voltage smile as he provides her with a chair, and pats my forearm as she sits down. “There’s no need to be jumpy here, not when you’re among friends. At least…” She directs a sly smile towards Ryder. “That’s what you must tell people Ryder is!”
She smiles knowingly, and I realise she’s trying to get some sort of a reaction from me.
“Will you ever introduce me to your friends, Rye?”
“I was waiting until I could get a word in edge ways, Nova. This is Jan and Deeta Richards.”
“Sisters; isn’t that sweet! I should have guessed of course, you have the same laughter lines around your eyes.” She caresses Ryder’s arm. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Rye. Sisters, and you without the decency to date them one at a time!”
She laughs, a false tinkling sound. She continues to prod Ryder, trying to get him to confirm or deny the insinuations that she has levelled towards him. Ryder’s hand pauses, his champagne glass half way to his lips.
“Not at all; I thought one or the other of them would do for Tommy. Who knows; I might have the other myself.”
For a few unguarded milliseconds I see the full force of her hate, and then she smiles.
“You’re right; they’re charming, so simple and sweet. I don’t see how he could resist you, darlings.” She stands, her dress making a soft rustle as she rises. “I have to get back to my own table now, darling.” She runs her hand the length of Ryder’s arm to his shoulder, her diamond bracelets glittering against the black background of his tuxedo. “Try to spare a dance for little old me, won’t you, darling?”
She presses a kiss on to her finger tip, and lays it briefly against his cheek. Then with an airy wave she is gone.
“Deeta?”
“Yes, Janny?”
“Show me your hand.”
I raise my hand, palm up ward, on to the table. Bright red marks stand out lividly against the pale skin where my nails have dug into the softness of my flesh. Jan places her own, similarly marked, hand beside mine. Our eyes meet for a surreal moment before we begin to laugh.
“Deeta, did you ever?”
Again we collapse into giggles.
“I thought I was going to burst when she gave Ryder the octopus treatment, my sides were fit to split!”
Jan and I laugh until the tears stream from our eyes, and our laughter has been reduced to silent shaking.
“Well, I’ve seen many a reaction to Nova, but I haven’t seen that one before.” Ryder leans over, picks the napkin Jan has dropped from off the floor and hands it to her. She murmurs her thank yous and presses it against her damp cheeks.
“In any case, I think you can look after yourselves quite adequately.”
“Oh, were you worried about little old us?” asks Jan affecting Nova’s breathless diction, and leaning forwards to place her hand on his arm. Her berry red lips smile teasingly. “I’m touched, darling.”
We both begin to giggle again.
“Why what has he done?” Mari’s voice asks.