feel about Penny.'
'I love her,' he said. 'And I don't want to lose her. When you called the first time, and told me what she'd asked you to do, it shocked me. I hadn't faced it before; hadn't thought through the implications of what I've become and what it'll mean to us in the future. Now, though'
'You want me to do it.' She looked down at the table.
'Yes. So that Penny and I can stay together.' His fingers moved restlessly. 'I know it's a great deal to ask, Carmine; especially when you well, when I've disappointed you.' He shook his head quickly. 'Christ, that sounds so arrogant; I didn't mean'
'Forget it. I haven't lived as long as I have without developing a very thick skin. Yes, it is a great deal to ask. But you're asking it out of love, and I'd have a hard time coping with my conscience if I used love as an excuse for refusing.'
David's eyes lit. 'Then'
'I'll do it. Not for money; I won't accept payment this time.' She raised her head, seemed to force herself to meet his gaze, and smiled. 'Call it my love token to you.'
There was a brief silence, then David let out a long breath and relaxed in his chair. 'Thank you. I don't know how to tell you what this means to me.'
'Then don't try.' One of her hands, under the table, clenched until the fingernails dug painfully into her flesh. 'I could begin this evening,' she added after a few moments. 'Sooner the better, yes? Then I'll be out of your hair for good.'
'I don't know what to say, Carmine.'
'You're making a habit of these 'don't know's.' She manufactured a laugh to show that that was a joke. 'I'll come to your house at eight o'clock, then?'
'Eight o'clock. Yes. Thank you.'
Carmine stood up to leave, her coffee still untouched. 'It might be better if you don't tell Penny before I arrive. She isn't very well disposed towards me at the moment.'
'That'll change.'
'Ah. My consolation, and reward for services rendered.' Her mouth twitched with a sad drollery. 'I'll see you this evening. Oh, and a glass or two of a decent Bordeaux or Burgundy would be welcome afterwards. Goodbye, David.'
He hadn't intended to say a word to Penny about it, but when he walked into the house and saw her tight face and tense posture, he wanted to cheer her into a happier mood. So he kissed her (she responded stiffly) and said, 'I've got a surprise for you.'
'Oh?' Penny eyed him uncertainly, wishing she could hate him for what he was doing to her.
'Mmm. You'll find out what it is at eight o'clock. When Carmine arrives.'
'Carmine?' She stared at him, her eyes glaring disbelief and outrage, but David was already on his way upstairs and didn't see the change. 'That's right. No need to worry about food: she won't be eating with us. But I've bought some wine; if you open it now, it can breathe for an hour or two. Just going to have a quick shower and get changed.'
His voice diminished up the stairs and Penny stood motionless in the living room doorway. She hadn't taken in his exact words; hadn't listened to them. One word, one name, was all that had registered. All afternoon she had been preparing herself for the great confrontation, when she would hurl down what she had seen today like a gauntlet and challenge him to deny it. Now all her plans were thrown into chaos; he had preempted her and snatched the advantage. Carmine was coming here . He had invited her, as if there was nothing between them, nothing to hide, nothing going on. What 'surprise' had they cooked up between them to mollify her, put her off the scent? They must think she was a fool, a moron , to be taken in by their games!
Upstairs in the bedroom David was singing as he stripped off. He had a good baritone voice, but now it grated hatefully on Penny's ears. Fool. Dupe. Taken for granted, used, mocked A huge and uncontrollable rage was rising inside her like a storm-tide, and though a small part of her brain warned her it was a kind of madness, another part welcomed it because it was better, so much better, than the pain of enduring betrayal and making no effort to counter it.
Counter it . Penny moved at last. Down the hall, into the kitchen. Footfalls overhead; David was in the bathroom now. Faint sound of the shower running. He's stopped singing. I don't ever want to hear him sing again .
She opened one of the kitchen drawers at random, looked inside, closed it. Her mind wasn't functioning properly: it was the rage that was doing it, blocking logic, blocking efficient reasoning and leaving her only with a robotic level of half-conscious reflex to drive her. Second drawer. No, not in there. Third.
Ah
It doesn't actually have to be a stake. Anything will do, as long as it pierces far enough . Carmine's own words. Her daughter had died that way, caught out by — how had Carmine phrased it? 'A tactical mistake', that was it. Found out, unmasked for what she was, and summarily executed without a judge, jury or lawyer in sight. It must have happened a long time ago, of course. A century, two centuries: Carmine was coy about her age, so she hadn't put a date on the event. Attitudes were different then. This was the modern world, a rational age. People didn't do such things. Did they.
As long as it pierces far enough.
Penny took the cook's knife with the eight-inch blade out of its plastic sheath in the drawer, and started to weigh and balance it gently in her palm.
Carmine was fifteen minutes late, but that didn't matter. Penny heard a car approach and slow down, and settled herself more comfortably in her cross-legged position on the hall floor. It would take Carmine a minute or so to park; spaces were always tight in the evenings as more and more people arrived home and squeezed into diminishing slots. Yes; there she goes. Rev, rev. Sounds as if she doesn't know the length of her own car. I don't think I'll go outside and help her. I don't think that would be a good idea .
