The silence is thick and suffocating. I daren’t break it.
‘I thought you and I were the same.’ He rubs his black hair so that it stands up in furious spikes. ‘Both been down a dark path. But I got it wrong. You lived your life as best you could, a lovely, healthy, feminine child who couldn’t extricate herself. But I’m an adult who should have known better. I should have got out before it damaged everyone.’
‘Who is this “she” who’s done a number on you, Gustav?’ I try to unfold his fingers from the fist. ‘Is it your ex-wife that’s freaked you out?’
‘Margot is her name.’ He jumps up and goes to pour himself more wine, kicking out at the little whip. ‘Still contaminating everything.’
‘Forget her. I’m here. You’ve saved me, Gustav. Histrionic, but true.’ I stretch my arms out. That woman’s name has scared me stiff. I have to reach him before he slips through my fingers. ‘Let me count the ways. The exhibition. This house. What you’ve shown me. What you did to me just then. It’s saved me from all the shit. So let me help you.’
‘I can’t let you. Watching you submitting to whatever I dealt you just then, the catharsis, the release, that was thrilling. But it’s had the opposite effect on me.’
He can’t even look at me directly now. Through the mirror he stares at me as if from the bottom of a deep well.
‘It’s my job to make you feel better.’ I gulp back the tears. ‘Let me please you in return.’
The silver chain hangs loosely between us. He draws it taut, like a surgical scar.
‘I can’t let you near me with that thing.’ He tips more red wine from a crystal decanter into two big goblets. The muscle is working furiously in his jaw.
‘Not the whip, then. How about simple tender loving care?’ I shrink back into the sofa. ‘Or perhaps you just want to be left alone?’
He shakes his head, handing a full goblet to me. He doesn’t come closer. I take a sip, spilling a little on my leg. She’s in here, alright. She’s a shadow sliding in between us. The rain spits against the window, filling the long, heavy silence.
Margot is her name.
‘If you want to help me, there is another way,’ he bursts out, putting the glass down suddenly. ‘Come to Switzerland. We’ll get out of the city, breathe in some Alpine air.’ His eyes flash back to life. ‘I haven’t been back there for more than five years. It’s time to clear the house. Tackle those lingering ghosts. You can be my mascot.’
‘There are ghosts in Switzerland? What about right here in Mayfair?’ I glance about at the flickering candles, the huge yawning fireplace. The man standing there, tapping his foot as he waits for my answer.
‘She’s not here, Serena. If this house is haunted, they’re not my ghosts. The day I met you in the square was the day I completed the purchase.’
‘But you look as if you’ve lived here for centuries!’ I think of the mournful portrait hanging on the landing. The glittering, fully stocked kitchen. The old furniture so at home in my bedroom.
‘Like a wizened old vampire, you mean?’ The etched lines in his face disappear as he smiles slightly. I can do that to him. I know it now. I can make him smile whenever I like. ‘Nope. The new owner.’
‘We are the same, you see?’ I raise my glass to him before draining it. ‘Both wiping our slates clean.’
‘This house is my clean slate, yes. But there’s unfinished business in Lugano.’ He takes my empty glass from me. ‘Let’s go wrap it up.’
‘So I’m a removal man now, am I?’ I’m deliciously woozy now. ‘Just one thing. If we go ghost-busting in Switzerland, what happens about my exhibition?’
‘It’ll take care of itself for the time being. Crystal can oversee any sales. And I’ve arranged some media interviews for you for when we get back. They’re clamouring for you, girl. So what do you say? Will you come on another voyage of discovery with me?’
He runs his finger up and down the goblet, waiting anxiously for my reply.
‘The two of us in your luxury retreat? Fur rugs and deep dark forests! What’s not to like?’ I stand up stiffly. I make sure he gets a good eyeful of my burning, red striped butt before the dress drops softly over my legs. ‘Maybe we can get in some skiing while we’re there if I can bend ze knees?’
‘There’s no snow so close to the lake,’ he replies sharply, kicking at a log coming loose from the fire.
‘Listen, Levi, whatever’s eating you is not my fault!’ I step over and lift my hand as if to strike him. He catches it in midair. ‘Perhaps you should go to Lake Lugano on your own.’
‘You’re my lucky charm, Serena. You’re coming with me.’ We really are like weighing scales. The crosser I get, the calmer he becomes. He frames my face with his warm hand, tipping it up to his. ‘Anyhow, Dickson has your passport. He’ll fly us over tomorrow and open up the house. If that suits?’
‘Your wish is my command. But there’s just one problem.’ I pick at the silver chain. ‘The sleeping arrangements. There’s this “he” who fancies himself as a shrink. I thought he was a Halloween spectre when I first saw him, but it turns out he’s real.’
He smiles slowly, holding my hands now. ‘Go on.’
‘He’s my Pygmalion.’ I go on, keeping my voice low. ‘He’s very rich and he’s sculpted me into a successful snapper. He’s a bit mean and moody sometimes but he has these amazing fingers and dark flashing eyes, and this annoyingly mesmeric mouth.’
He puts his finger on mine to hush me and I nibble it in between my lips. Gustav pulls me closer as I suck the tip. Further down his sexy hardness is pressing urgently through his jeans, nudging at my dress. I hook my thigh around his for a moment. That tango stance again. I push his finger out of my mouth.
‘He’s touched me intimately, you know, with this very finger. But you see, doctor, that’s where I get really confused. Offended, actually. Because he still doesn’t fancy me enough to go any further. He gets hard. I’ve felt his erection. I’ve even sucked him off. But still he rejects me.’
He smiles quietly and unclips the chain.
‘Oh, Miss Folkes. I told you in the beginning. Poco a poco.’
‘There’s nothing little about you, Levi. Oh, just loosen up and come to bed with me!’
‘Patience, princess.’ He marches me to the door. ‘This is the famine before the feast.’
‘You can trust me.’ I wind my fingers through my hair flirtatiously. ‘I’ll be gentle with you!’
He laughs softly and takes something from behind the big vase full of winter roses on the mantelpiece. It’s a mini disc from a camcorder. He waggles it in his fingers. ‘I’ve seen what you’re like when you’re on fire, my lovely. You’re every boy’s wet dream.’
‘Give that to me!’ I yelp, failing dismally to snatch it as he dangles it high above my head.
‘Not on your life. This is another bargaining tool. Or maybe I’ll save it for private screenings. You see? It’s not you, as they say. It’s me. I can’t be trusted.’
I stomp sulkily into the hall, praying he’ll follow me and reassure me. But he doesn’t.
‘I’ll get that film off you.’ I turn at the bottom of the stairs, sweep into a sarcastic curtsey like the principal ballerina before the curtain falls over Swan Lake. ‘And I’ll have you in my bed before the week is out, Signor Levi, by fair means or foul. Just you wait.’