The Designer(51)

‘Oui,’ Copper whispered.

‘I laughed at him. But I don’t laugh at you.’ She was pressing herself more urgently against Copper’s mouth, opening her thighs. ‘For you, I feel something completely different. I want you. I give myself to you.’ She, too, knelt, and pressed her naked body against Copper’s. ‘Are you disgusted with me?’

‘No.’

‘Even when I tell you I enjoyed playing the putain?’

‘I’m not disgusted.’

‘Truly? Sometimes I am disgusted with myself.’ She kissed Copper lingeringly on the lips. This time, when Suzy’s tongue pushed between her teeth, Copper could not resist. She felt it explore her mouth, firm and strong, like everything about Suzy, filling her. Suzy’s hands moulded her breasts, slipped under her clothes, seeking her thighs. Her touch sent a thrill shuddering through Copper. She was in the coils of a dragon far stronger than she was, overwhelmed by its desire and its greed. Her own weakness was delicious to her, her body melting into honey.

Distantly, she heard her name being called. It was Pearl’s voice, on the stairs. Somehow, Copper found the strength to draw back. ‘They’re looking for me,’ she said in a shaky voice.

‘Let them look,’ Suzy hissed.

‘I have to go.’

‘No. Stay with me.’

‘I can’t.’ She rose on unsteady legs, rearranging her clothes. ‘I’m sorry.’

Tight-lipped, Suzy got up, fastening her cheongsam. ‘You are a coward.’

‘Please don’t.’

Suzy seized Copper’s face in her hands and kissed her passionately on the lips, hard enough to hurt. ‘You are mine, mine.’

But Copper could hear Pearl calling her name. She broke away, shaking her head. ‘I can’t stay. I’ll go first, you follow.’

‘There you are, Copper Pot,’ Pearl said, meeting Copper coming down the stairs. They went back into the deafening noise of the studio. ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

‘I went out for a breath of fresh air.’

‘In this freezing weather?’ Pearl demanded. ‘You’ll catch your death. Look, I’ve got to get back to the flat. I need a fix.’ She took Copper’s hand, which was indeed as cold as ice. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing,’ Copper replied dully. But she felt frightened and dazed. The drug was so overpowering and she was trying to hide its effects.

‘Are you sick?’

‘I’m fine,’ Copper muttered. The party was in full swing now, a carnival of music and colour. Bérard had put on one of the ballet costumes that hung around the walls – an extravagant clown’s outfit in vivid oranges and yellows – and was dancing to loud applause. His face was suffused with blood, his eyes almost closed. He was lost in his own world.

Henry pushed through the crowd to reach them. He looked into Copper’s face. ‘Copper? Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Copper repeated.

‘You are very pale.’

‘Just tired.’

‘She was with that woman,’ Pearl said. She pointed to Suzy Solidor across the room, a spectacular figure with her platinum hair and her red-and-gold Chinese dress. Her eyes locked with Copper’s for a moment. Then she turned back to her conversation, her aquiline profile indifferent.

Copper swayed. Henry put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Maybe you should go home, my dear.’

Copper’s voice was dull. ‘You’re right. I’m ready to go home now.’



Copper stumbled as the three of them went out into the street. Henry had to steady her. His face was troubled. The night was bitterly cold, a sparkle of ice starting to form on metal surfaces. They had to walk down the steep, cobbled street to find a wider road where there was a chance of getting a cab. Though Henry held on tight to Copper, her shoes skidded on the ice and she almost fell twice. She said nothing. The hubbub of Bérard’s party faded away behind them and the city was silent.

‘I wish we’d never come,’ Pearl muttered angrily. Henry said nothing, concentrating on supporting Copper.

By good fortune, they found a cabbie who had started work early and set off for home.

Copper lay back in the seat, her eyes closed, her face white. She made no responses to questions. Pearl was furious.

‘She’s done something to her.’

‘Who’s done something to her?’ Henry asked.

‘That dyke.’

‘You mean Miss Solidor? What has she done to Copper?’

‘Given her something. Drugged her. I know the signs, trust me.’

By the time they got back to place Victor Hugo, Copper was feeling awful. She ran to the sink in the corner of her bedroom that sat under dangling ribbons of developed negatives, and retched violently, her knuckles white as she clutched the ceramic. Her skin was clammy and cold and her face was the colour of ivory. Henry held her forehead, his other arm around her waist. Pearl got a towel and mopped her face.

When Copper had finished being sick, Henry and Pearl helped her into bed. The weird feelings in her head were starting to fade and she felt less panicky. Henry kissed her and left, looking troubled.

Pearl was angry. ‘She doesn’t give that for you,’ she said, snapping her fingers. ‘Do you really think she cares for you? She doesn’t. Can’t you see what she is – a heartless actress, making an exhibition of her perversions for money. While Henry—’