‘This is ridiculous.’ He sat down heavily on a chair by the door, looking defeated.
His evident unhappiness deflated Daisy’s rage, and she just felt sad. She sat on the bed. But she had not lost her curiosity. ‘Who is she?’
He shook his head. ‘Never mind.’
‘I want to know!’
He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Does it matter?’
‘It sure does.’ She knew she would get it out of him eventually.
He would not meet her eye. ‘Nobody you know, or would ever know.’
‘A prostitute?’
He was stung by this suggestion. ‘No!’
She goaded him further. ‘Do you pay her?’
‘No. Yes.’ He was clearly ashamed enough to wish to deny it. ‘Well, an allowance. It’s not the same thing.’
‘Why do you pay, if she’s not a prostitute?’
‘So they don’t have to see anyone else.’
‘They? You have several mistresses?’
‘No! Only two. They live in Aldgate. Mother and daughter.’
‘What? You can’t be serious.’
‘Well, one day Joanie was . . . the French say
‘American girls call it the curse.’
‘So Pearl offered to . . .’
‘Act as a substitute? This is the most sordid arrangement imaginable! So you go to bed with them both?’
‘Yes.’
She thought of the book of photographs, and an outrageous possibility occurred to her. She had to ask. ‘Not at the same time?’
‘Occasionally.’
‘How utterly foul.’
‘You don’t need to worry about disease.’ He pointed to the condom in her hand. ‘Those things prevent infection.’
‘I’m overwhelmed by your thoughtfulness.’
‘Look, most men do this sort of thing, you know. At least, most men of our class.’
‘No, they don’t,’ she said, but she thought of her father, who had a wife and a long-time mistress and still felt the need to romance Gladys Angelus.
Boy said: ‘My father isn’t a faithful husband. He has bastards all over the place.’
‘I don’t believe you. I think he loves your mother.’
‘He has one bastard for certain.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Then you can’t be sure.’
‘I heard him say something to Bing Westhampton once. You know what Bing is like.’
‘I do,’ said Daisy. This seemed a moment for telling the truth, so she added: ‘He feels my bottom every chance he gets.’
‘Dirty old man. Anyway, we were all a bit drunk, and Bing said: “Most of us have got one or two bastards hidden away, haven’t we?” and Papa said: “I’m pretty sure I’ve only got one.” Then he seemed to realize what he’d said, and he coughed and looked foolish and changed the subject.’
‘Well, I don’t care how many bastards your father has, I’m a modern American girl and I won’t live with an unfaithful husband.’
‘What can you do about it?’
‘I’ll leave you.’ She put on a defiant expression, but she felt in pain, as if he had stabbed her.
‘And go back to Buffalo with your tail between your legs?’
‘Perhaps. Or I could do something else. I’ve got plenty of money.’ Her father’s lawyers had made sure Boy did not get his hands on the Vyalov-Peshkov fortune when they married. ‘I could go to California. Act in one of Father’s movies. Become a film star. I bet you I could.’ This was all pretence. She wanted to burst into tears.
‘Leave me, then,’ he said. ‘Go to hell, for all I care.’ She wondered if that was true. Looking at his face, she thought not.
