“For several years I was afraid to even speak to another girl — in case it led to a repetition: in case it brought back the feelings I'd had for Anne. When I was 18 I met Michael. He was an attractive, well-educated young man — he belonged to 'my class' as they say here in England.
“Scarcely knowing what I was doing, I accepted him when he proposed a few months after we were introduced. And here I am! A respectable, middle-class English housewife; living in the most sober, stuffy, middle- class environment you could imagine! And just waking up to the fact that I made a terrible mistake!”
Monique stared at the faint lines of cynicism which were beginning to etch around Jean's mouth. The woman looked bitter, her eyes overcast as she dwelt upon her past. After a moment, Jean continued:
“I suppose we've been fairly happy together — up to about three years ago, that is. We never got really close; our sort of background didn't encourage people to be too intimate, not emotionally at any rate. I think I tried to get to know Michael, I think I did…
“It must be hard for someone like you to understand us, Monique. How can two people live together for nearly sixteen years and still be relative strangers? It seems incredible to me, at least it does now! But apart from exchanging banal pleasantries and going out to village fetes, church, the local repertory company — things like that — apart from the most mundane sharing of experiences, we scarcely allowed ourselves to share anything. Not the important things, anyway.
“As I told you before, Michael started to go out with other women. Slyly, secretly — pretending that I didn't have the slightest suspicion of what was going on. It was sordid, really sordid!
“And that's the state we were in when Michael got in touch with an agency and arranged for you to spend six weeks with us as an au pair girl. He could see that I was growing more and more miserable and the fool thought that all I needed was companionship! Since he wasn't prepared to give it to me himself, he thought an au pair girl would solve the problem of poor little Jean very nicely!”
Jean disengaged herself from Monique and lit a cigarette. She lay back with her head on the pillow, smoking in silence for a few moments.
Monique said: “Did you ever think about getting a divorce?”
“On what grounds? Coldness isn't recognised in English law as an adequate excuse for divorce, you know. And Michael would never leave me — his standing with the company would drop immediately any hint of scandal about his private life got out. A separation would kill his career. You've simply got no idea how Victorian some of these British stockbrokers are! A man in an important position like Michael has to have a character as blameless and pure as Snow White!”
Jean tapped the ash off her cigarette and blew gently on the tip, making it flare redly for a moment. “Both of us are trapped in a dead end,” she said. And there was a crushing, defeated finality in her voice now.
“We're stuck with each other whether we like it or not. He won't leave me — and I love Cathy too much to break up her home life”. She shrugged hopelessly. “It's a bastard of a situation, isn't it?”
Monique took Jean's hand in hers and squeezed it. “Is it still so bad — now that you've got me?” she murmured.
Jean turned and looked at her. “It's wonderful to have you, Monique', she replied sadly. “But you know as well as I do that it can't be permanent, don't you? In three more weeks you'll be going home. And that's when we'll have to say goodbye to each other — forever!”
Monique's lips quivered. “Don't say that, Jean', she begged. “Surely there's some way I could be near you. I could get a job here, work in the town. I'd do anything — ”.
Before the girl broke down completely, Jean interrupted her. “There might be a way', she admitted. “But it's a solution I hardly dare mention to you…”
“Anything!” Monique implored. “Oh, Jean, believe me — whatever it is, if I can only be with you — ”.
“It would mean your doing things which you might find to be completely against your nature', Jean told her. “If we could somehow persuade Michael to let you stay on as my companion…”
Monique almost clapped her hands together with delight. “Could you, Jean! Oh, that would be wonderful!” All thoughts of her homeland, of her relatives and friends in France had disappeared from Monique's mind. The girl's only concern was to find some way of being close to Jean.
“The snag is', Jean went on, holding up a finger in front of Monique's face. “I can't see Michael agreeing to it unless we convince him that we're more than just companions — more than just friends!”
“I don't understand, Jean. Why wouldn't he let me live here? You said yourself he let me come in the first place to be company for you. And I'd work hard and pay for my keep…”
Jean shook her head. “It's obvious that you don't know my husband very well', she replied. “Michael would never let you stay on permanently — for one thing, he'd be afraid of the gossip. He has quite a few business people visiting the house from time to time. And word would soon get around that our temporary an pair girl had become a permanent resident.
“That might seem perfectly innocuous to you, but out here where there's little to do except look for juicy bits of scandal; well, let's just say that people would talk and Michael wouldn't like it”.
Jean finished her cigarette and stubbed it out carefully. Then she said: “Besides, Michael would hate me to have someone I could confide in: someone who was around all the time and who would listen to my criticism of him. Temporarily — yes: but a permanent companion, no!”
Monique looked bewildered. “I can't understand what you're trying to say, Jean', she protested. “First you tell me we should be more than just friends — then you contradict yourself and say Michael wouldn't like you to have a close friend! Please — can't you be plain: tell me exactly what you have in mind”.
“All right, I will”. Jean looked down at Monique's hand and began to caress the girl's fingers as she spoke. “I've been vague about this because I don't know exactly how to put it, darling. But I might as well be frank and run the risk of upsetting you. There's no other way we can be certain that we won't be parted.
“Supposing we let Michael know how intimate we are! Supposing we show him that we're much more than just friends — that we're lovers!”
Monique looked horrified. “But — but that would spoil everything, Jean. Surely it would! We — ”.
“Not necessarily', Jean told her. The woman's voice was very quiet now, her words spaced deliberately. “Not if we allowed him to share us occasionally!”
She glanced up quickly, seeing Monique's face paling with disbelief. “Wait — let me finish, darling', she went on hurriedly. “It needn't be too often, we could just let him sleep with us say once a week! And the rest of the time we'd be together. Just the two of us!”
The enormity of Jean's proposal was a long time registering on Monique's mind. She couldn't even feel shocked by it, so outrageous was the woman's scheme. All she could say, finally, was: “He'd never agree to a thing like that! Jean — he's simply not the type of man to do such things as sharing his wife with another girl. The whole idea's impossible.”
“Is it?” Jean set her mouth primly. “I don't think it is — and I know Michael better than you, Monique. Oh yes, on the surface he's as dull and stodgy as the rest of his class. But don't forget that he has a mistress: or, more probably, several mistresses.
“Beneath that pin-striped suit and that ridiculous bowler hat is a highly-sexed, very lecherous male! When we were first married we enjoyed ourselves in bed quite a lot. Michael can be an inventive, imaginative lover, believe me.
“Perhaps it's both our faults that we've grown so stale, so remote from each other: both in and out of bed. I'd gamble that faced with the titillating situation of having two girls eager to please him, Michael would quickly regain his old zest. He simply wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity, Monique. And I don't believe that there are many men who could!
“Then, once we've seduced him he can hardly turn around and tell you to leave, can he? And even if he tried, I could always threaten to drop a few hints in the neighbourhood about what we've been up to…!”
Jean pulled Monique closer to her, holding the girl's hands tightly. “It all depends on you, my darling', she whispered. “If you feel you can't go through with such a plan… I'll understand — of course, I'll understand. But think how marvellous it could be: together all day long, every day”.
She pressed her face against Monique's, murmuring huskily: “And every night, too, my precious…”
While she waited for the girl's response, Jean deliberately snuggled her breasts against Monique's; she made their nipples brush silkily together, the red teats touching in dainty little movements. Would Monique swallow the bait, she wondered. And even more pertinently, was it in reality a “bait” at all?
