The Peacock Emporium(109)

“Don’t be silly, darling.”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me, Athene. I can’t do this. I really can’t. I need to know why you’re here.”

“You know, it’s lovely to see you looking so well. You always did look marvelous in that suit.”

“Athene!” he protested.

A woman had arrived at their table, the cloakroom attendant. He wondered, briefly, whether she was about to tell them that there was a call for Athene, and what he would do if she did. It would be Him, of course.

“I’m sorry, madam, but your baby’s crying. You’ll have to come and get her.”

It was several seconds before he had taken in what the woman had said.

Athene stared at him, something raw and unguarded in her face. Then, composed, she turned back to the woman, her smile perfectly poised. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Could you be a dear and bring her to me? I won’t stay long.”

The girl disappeared.

Athene took a long drag of her cigarette. Her eyes were glittering and unreadable. “Douglas, I need you to do something for me,” she said coolly.

“A baby?” he said, one hand clamped to the top of his head.

“I need you to look after Suzanna for me.”

“What? A baby? You never—”

“I really can’t discuss it. But she’s a good baby. I know she’ll adore you.”

The girl arrived with the child, almost concealed by blankets, whimpering as if in the aftermath of some terrible storm. Athene stubbed out her cigarette and reached for her, not looking at her baby’s face. She jiggled her absently, watching Douglas. “Her pram is at the front of the restaurant. It’s got everything she needs for a little while. She’s no trouble, Douglas, really.”

He was incredulous. “Is this—is this some kind of a joke? I don’t know what to do with a baby.” The child had started to fret again, and Athene patted her back, still not looking at her.

“Athene, I can’t believe you—”

She stood up, thrust the baby over the table so that he had little choice but to take the bundle. Her voice was urgent, insistent. “Please, please, Douglas, dear. I can’t explain. Really.” Her pleading eyes were an echo of a time before. “She’ll be much better off with you.”

“You can’t just leave me with a baby—”

“You’ll love her.”

“Athene, I can’t just—”

Her cool hand was on his arm. “Douglas, darling, have I ever asked you for anything? Really?”

He could hardly speak. He was dimly aware of the occupants of the next booth staring at them. “But what about you?” He was babbling, unsure even of what he was saying. “What about you and I? I can’t just go home with a baby.”

But she had already turned from him, was packing her bag, fiddling with something inside it, a compact perhaps. “I’ve really got to go. I’ll be in touch, Douglas. Thank you so much.”

“Athene, you can’t just leave me with—”

“I know you’ll be wonderful with her. A wonderful daddy. Much better than me at that sort of thing.”

He was staring into the folds of the blankets at the innocent face in front of him. She had managed to find her thumb, and was sucking furiously, an expression of rapt concentration on her face. She had Athene’s jet-black eyelashes, her Cupid’s-bow lips. “Don’t you even want to say goodbye?” he asked.

But she was halfway out of the restaurant, her high-heeled shoes clacking like pins over the tiled floor, her shoulders straight in the abominable suit.

“Her pram’s with the hatcheck girl,” she called. And without a backward glance she was gone.

He never saw her again.



* * *



—

He had told this story to Vivi some months after it had happened. Until then, she said, Douglas’s family had simply told everyone that Athene was “staying abroad” for a little while, but that she thought the English climate better for the baby. They said “the baby” offhandedly, as if everyone should have known there was one. Some believed they must have been told and somehow forgotten. If anyone had not accepted this version of events, they had said nothing. The poor man had been humiliated enough.

He had told Vivi steadily, not looking at her, a short while after they had heard about Athene’s death. And she had held him while he cried tears of anger, humiliation, and loss. Afterward she realized he’d never asked if the baby was his.

Suzanna, sitting frozen on the tea chest, was paler, if possible, than she had been when she arrived. She sat there for some time, and Vivi said nothing, allowing her time to digest the story. “So she didn’t die giving birth to me?” she said eventually.

Vivi reached out a hand. “No, darling, she—”

“She ran away from me? She just handed me over? In a bloody fish restaurant?”

Vivi swallowed, wanting Douglas to be there. “I just think maybe she knew she wasn’t going to be the mother you needed. I knew her a little in her youth, and she was a pretty wild character. She’d had a hard time with her parents. And it’s possible the man she ran off with might have pushed her . . . Some men are rather resentful of children, especially if—if they aren’t theirs. Douglas always thought he might have been rather cruel to her. So, you see, you shouldn’t judge her too harshly.” She wished the words sounded more convincing than they had. “Things were different then.”