“The world isn’t always simple.”
“Well, it is to me.”
“You don’t have to blame yourself.”
He stopped and looked at her. “One of the things my father—my lower-middle-class father, the disgrace to the family—one of the things he always said was that you should take responsibility for your own actions.”
Field thought about the way Penelope had draped her arm affectionately over her husband’s shoulder on the first night they’d all met up.
“You don’t have to be chippy, you know. I don’t care about all that.”
“All what?”
“The family.”
“Great. Fine.” He did up the buttons on his shirt.
“Don’t blame yourself, Richard,” she said, sitting up on her elbow and looking at him, the sheet falling away from her breasts. “No one will know.”
“No one will know,” he repeated. “I will know.” He stood. “It was a mistake.”
She glared at him. “A mistake?”
“A mistake, yes.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Don’t tell me you think it wasn’t.”
“Just a mistake, that’s it?”
Field sighed.
“This is why you came here, and don’t you deny it.”
“Fine.”
Her face was small and angry as she thrust it toward him. “You were intent on fucking me the moment you came through that door.”
“It wasn’t a mistake, then.”
“You were trying to get even, is that it?”
“I’m going to go.”
“Determined to get back at the family because—”
“Oh please . . .”
“Well, you’ve succeeded. Are you happy now?”
“It has nothing to do with—”
“Your girl. Is that it?”
“Look . . .”
“I can see it in your face: it’s the Russian princess. Another bloody Russian princess.”
Field frowned.
“Oh, don’t worry, Richard, she’ll find out. I’ll make sure of that and then your love will wither on the vine.” Her eyes flashed. “You’re all the same: you think you can get away with it, but you can’t.”
Field raised his hand, suddenly tired and wanting to leave with the minimum possible rancor. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“What will she think when she knows?”
“I’m sorry if I upset you.”
Her anger disappeared in an instant. Her smile was sickly sweet. “Do you want me to get Chang for you?”
“I’ll get a rickshaw.”
“Will you give me a kiss, Richard?”
“Penelope, please . . .”
“You just fucked me, Richard. Be polite, if nothing else.”
He walked forward and leaned over. She kissed him with an open mouth, briefly grasping the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” she said.
Field hesitated. He looked at the gold Buddha beside her, then walked away.
“Richard?”
He didn’t stop.
Field went to the Happy Times block and stood beneath the line of trees, but there were no lights on the top floor.
He tried to walk away, but got only a few paces before he turned back.
He moved quickly through the light and shadow, the heat of the night bringing sweat to his brow as he climbed the stairs again to the darkened hall. He knocked, quietly calling her name, but there was no answer.
