Fanchon's Book(55)

"Ah yes, Fanchon, you give me everything. Suck, suck… "

It was a long time before we left the bed. But I didn't consider it a wasted morning, no, in its evanescent hours lay the key to life itself: das Leben ist die Liebe. And there were others like it in the days that followed. Lovely mornings. Lovely afternoons. Lovely nights for the loveliest of lovers.

For a while I paid only cursory attention to Rosalba. She slept in the maid's room and took her orders from Kristi, and both seemed contented with the adjustment. There was some sex-play between them but not enough to be obtrusive; anyway, a fit of jealousy would have done me little good and I decided against making an issue out of it. Especially since my enchanting angel-child was being so thrillingly sweet to me.

Then my husband's office called and I had to pack a second suitcase for him; they didn't say for sure but I got the impression that he would be gone much longer than anticipated. Which was fine with all concerned-except that the additional time allowed Rosalba to become more firmly entrenched in the household. Too much so, I realized, and I wondered how to go about getting rid of her without creating a fuss.

Not that Kristi was neglecting me. But the novelty of the situation had worn off and I begrudged every minute she spent out of my sight. Nor did it help my already tottering aplomb when I returned home from a social engagement one day to find the pair of them locked in my bathroom. A "mistress and maid" theme, no doubt, and although I didn't knock on the door and interrupt their fun, it jarred me to recognize that in a certain singular sense I was being displaced by an interloper. Kristi seldom bothered to make up play-acting scenes for us any more, nor had I any need of them, really, but it hurt to learn that her deviously naughty brain was still inventing-and for someone else's benefit. After that, Rosalba's presence in the house became a thorn in my pride.

Eventually I scraped up sufficient nerve to do something about it. Kristi was in Oliver's room, reading; I went in to talk to her. But before I could open my mouth she pounced on me with an impetuous hug and kiss. Then, bright-eyed, giggling, obviously enthused, she dangled a typed document in front of my nose.

"Look what I just came across, Fanchon. In with the books."

It was a copy of Oliver's will. I got huffy and told her to put it back where she found it; after all, my husband's private affairs were no concern of hers. But she had already read it, of course, and my admonition came too late. That being the case, well, I too was curious enough to scan the paper-and then we both knew of the existence of a foreign bank deposit. Of which, some day, I would be the sole inheritor.

But it wasn't a seemly subject for discussion-and besides, I had to get that other more pertinent business off my chest. The will was restored to its hiding place without further comment, and then-spuriously casual-I voiced a small suggestion about Rosalba overstaying her welcome and wasn't it time we sent her away?

I met with stubborn opposition, though. Kristi was intractable. She liked having Rosalba around to do her bidding; worse yet, she insisted that I keep the girl on indefinitely-and since my budget wasn't affected, even Oliver's return would have little bearing on the arrangement.

"It's perfectly safe, Fanchon. Who would object to an extra housemaid? Rosalba can share my room; we'll set up the folding cot for her. And as long as it doesn't cost you any money… "

"But she's becoming a fixture here. If she settles down like that, how will we ever get rid of her?"

"Oh, that's easy. You know what a silly goose Rosalba is. I'll just talk her back into patching things up with her husband. And out she'll go. Whenever we're tired of her."