supposedly blind beggar was rowing out with a spare oar.
The top floor bathroom was shared by the sisters. Painted white and tiled in shiny aquamarine, one side was in perfect order and the other was littered with pins, clips, hairbands and pots of face cream. A large art-deco mirror covered one wall, the floor was tiled in black and white, and if you looked out of the window you gazed down on tropical fronds.
Sylvie had insisted they have two separate bamboo storage cupboards so their belongings wouldn’t get muddled, and Nicole rarely bothered to glance in her sister’s. This time, while she filled the bathtub, she ran her fingers over the contents of Sylvie’s shelves: Super-Rich All Purpose Crème, Cleansing Oil and Skin Lotion – all three Estée Lauder – wereon the bottom shelf, with various shampoos and soaps on the shelf above. Among the pretty perfume bottles on the top shelf was Sylvie’s favourite, Coeur Joie, a Nina Ricci fragrance. Nicole, shorter than Sylvie, needed to stand on the tips of her toes to reach. She managed to safely slide the bottle forward and, after she removed the stopper, dabbed it behind her ears. But when she slid it back in, she felt something else. She pulled a small box out and opened it. Inside were two bottles of pills, one labelled Benzedrine and the other Dexedrine, both with Sylvie’s name on the labels. But why was Sylvie taking pills? As far as Nicole knew, these were both amphetamines. She felt suddenly anxious. Was her sister unwell?
She put them back, then lay in the lovely hot water to soak and think of Mark. The unfamiliar feelings crowded her thoughts. She felt happy and excited at the same time. Most of all she felt thrilled that by taking her out on the lake he had shared something private and special with her. And now, as she soaped her skin, she felt like a woman who was falling in love but who couldn’t quite believe it was happening.
She had finished towelling her hair and was absently picking at the paint coming adrift from the door frame, still thinking of Mark, when there was a tap at the door and Sylvie came in.
‘What is it?’ Nicole said.
Sylvie walked over to the square of darkness at the window. ‘Shall I close the shutters? I don’t like a black window. Makes me think of death.’
Nicole shrugged, but understood. It was like when you saw the moon reflected in the water and all your life felt upside down. And sometimes she didn’t look out at the blackness, for fear the ghosts at the bottom of the garden would hide behind the trees, and the rustles would not be the leaves and the wind at all, but the voices of the dead.
‘Afraid the ghosts will get you?’ she said.
‘There are no ghosts.’
‘You’re the one who told me about the bodies. Buried by the Japanese, you said.’
‘Bodies are not the same as ghosts.’
Nicole laughed and began combing her damp hair. ‘You have no imagination.’
‘Well, we know that the Japs shot French people at the end of the war. It stands to reason some might be buried here.’
After closing the shutters Sylvie turned her back on the window and seemed to be thinking as she glanced around. She handed Nicole a white towelling gown and shot her a smile. ‘Let’s go through to your room.’
Nicole had tidied up the piles of books on the floor, but her glass beads hung in random strings from a hook on her dressing table, and a topless red lipstick had been left to dry up in an open drawer. A little pot of powder lay where it had fallen into the handbasin and a few items of clothing lay in a jumble on the floor near her bed.
Sylvie picked up the pot and a cloud of powder flew in her face, making her sneeze.
Nicole grinned.
Sylvie wiped the powder from her face with her fingers. ‘Very funny … Anyway, I wanted to talk about the shop. We have to think of your future.’
Nicole pulled a face. ‘Like marrying a nice Vietnamese man?’
‘Papa didn’t mean that.’
Nicole studied her sister’s
The top floor bathroom was shared by the sisters. Painted white and tiled in shiny aquamarine, one side was in perfect order and the other was littered with pins, clips, hairbands and pots of face cream. A large art-deco mirror covered one wall, the floor was tiled in black and white, and if you looked out of the window you gazed down on tropical fronds.
Sylvie had insisted they have two separate bamboo storage cupboards so their belongings wouldn’t get muddled, and Nicole rarely bothered to glance in her sister’s. This time, while she filled the bathtub, she ran her fingers over the contents of Sylvie’s shelves: Super-Rich All Purpose Crème, Cleansing Oil and Skin Lotion – all three Estée Lauder – wereon the bottom shelf, with various shampoos and soaps on the shelf above. Among the pretty perfume bottles on the top shelf was Sylvie’s favourite, Coeur Joie, a Nina Ricci fragrance. Nicole, shorter than Sylvie, needed to stand on the tips of her toes to reach. She managed to safely slide the bottle forward and, after she removed the stopper, dabbed it behind her ears. But when she slid it back in, she felt something else. She pulled a small box out and opened it. Inside were two bottles of pills, one labelled Benzedrine and the other Dexedrine, both with Sylvie’s name on the labels. But why was Sylvie taking pills? As far as Nicole knew, these were both amphetamines. She felt suddenly anxious. Was her sister unwell?
She put them back, then lay in the lovely hot water to soak and think of Mark. The unfamiliar feelings crowded her thoughts. She felt happy and excited at the same time. Most of all she felt thrilled that by taking her out on the lake he had shared something private and special with her. And now, as she soaped her skin, she felt like a woman who was falling in love but who couldn’t quite believe it was happening.
She had finished towelling her hair and was absently picking at the paint coming adrift from the door frame, still thinking of Mark, when there was a tap at the door and Sylvie came in.
‘What is it?’ Nicole said.
Sylvie walked over to the square of darkness at the window. ‘Shall I close the shutters? I don’t like a black window. Makes me think of death.’
Nicole shrugged, but understood. It was like when you saw the moon reflected in the water and all your life felt upside down. And sometimes she didn’t look out at the blackness, for fear the ghosts at the bottom of the garden would hide behind the trees, and the rustles would not be the leaves and the wind at all, but the voices of the dead.
‘Afraid the ghosts will get you?’ she said.
‘There are no ghosts.’
‘You’re the one who told me about the bodies. Buried by the Japanese, you said.’
‘Bodies are not the same as ghosts.’
Nicole laughed and began combing her damp hair. ‘You have no imagination.’
‘Well, we know that the Japs shot French people at the end of the war. It stands to reason some might be buried here.’
After closing the shutters Sylvie turned her back on the window and seemed to be thinking as she glanced around. She handed Nicole a white towelling gown and shot her a smile. ‘Let’s go through to your room.’
Nicole had tidied up the piles of books on the floor, but her glass beads hung in random strings from a hook on her dressing table, and a topless red lipstick had been left to dry up in an open drawer. A little pot of powder lay where it had fallen into the handbasin and a few items of clothing lay in a jumble on the floor near her bed.
Sylvie picked up the pot and a cloud of powder flew in her face, making her sneeze.
Nicole grinned.
Sylvie wiped the powder from her face with her fingers. ‘Very funny … Anyway, I wanted to talk about the shop. We have to think of your future.’
Nicole pulled a face. ‘Like marrying a nice Vietnamese man?’
‘Papa didn’t mean that.’
Nicole studied her sister’s
Similar Books
