Refracted Crystal: Diamonds and Desire Page 8

  For a second, a look close to jealousy filtered across Anne’s eyes, but then she shook her head and clutched Kris’s wrist. “I’ll hold you to that.” As she sat back upright, she surveyed her friend for a few moments and said: “Married life is going to suit you, you know.”

  “I hope so,” Kris replied.

  “It will, really. You look, I don’t know, really comfortable in yourself. You’ve gained a few pounds—”

  “I see,” said Kris, scornfully. “So that’s what radiant means, does it? I’m getting fat.”

  “No! You look good. Really. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so confident in yourself.” Without warning, Anne leaned back across and kissed Kris on the cheek, a warm, loving touch. “The best is yet to come,” she told her.

  “I hope so,” Kris answered, smiling. “I hope so.”

  Not that the best appeared to arrive the following morning. She and Daniel had driven themselves to exhaustion during the night, and when she entered the shower with him still dozing in bed, she seemed to be truly living in a fairy tale. It was with some regret she washed the scent of his body, her own sweat mingled with his, the traces of their sex, but that regret was mingled with the recognition that she was making herself anew: that each time he entered her, she would prepare herself afresh to return to him, again and again.

  When she left the bathroom, however, prepared to wake her husband with a kiss and give herself up to him, with a twinge she realised that this particular fantasy was not to be.

  Daniel was sitting up in bed, the covers thrown negligently across his waist. His chest, scratched and marked from her own nails, still glistened with perspiration, and the hollow of his neck rose and fell as he swallowed, tempting her as a sweet dip of bliss.

  On his face, however, was a scowl. The reason for it was quite clear, as in one hand he held the TV remote, and a faint buzz was coming from the large screen that was set into the wall. Walking across to him naked, slightly unnerved in the change that had taken place since their hours of lovemaking, Kris sat silently on the bed and turned her attention to the television.

  The channel was the local news, one of its interminable business magazine shows that she knew Daniel devoured assiduously but which she had largely ignored. No doubt some events were taking place in the world that affected Stone Enterprises, and she was wondering how best to ask Daniel as politely as possible to turn the programme off, to remind him that whatever the world wanted this was still their honeymoon after all. The presenter was droning on about falling share prices but, before she could speak, the next video clip surprised her.

  The scene was the City Hall and, despite the slightly shaky footage, it was quite clear that the camera was moving towards a small knot of figures walking down the steps. With a sense of growing foreboding, Kris recognised herself and Daniel followed by their select group of wedding guests.

  “Do you have any comments to make about the failed leverage bid on new Stone Enterprise acquisitions, and what this means for the future of the company?” the reporter asked, her voice sounding flattened out in contrast to how she had spoken to them on the steps of the Hall.

  From this vantage point, Daniel’s face looked even more furious and bitter than Kris had realised at the time, his skin flushed and red, his scars made even more livid by the oversaturated footage. “I have no comment to make at this time,” he said harshly.

  The camera remained on them as they walked towards the car, Kris looking utterly bemused by the event and Daniel being displayed as utterly charmless and un-photogenic as he walked.

  Back in the studio, the presenter turned to another pundit who was sitting beside him. “And what do you make of that, Donald?” he asked, his face smug and knowing as he referred to the footage they had just seen.

  “Out of touch is the first phrase that springs to mind. As far as I can see, Stone Enterprises is floundering—”

  The screen went black as Daniel flicked a button on the remote.

  “Now you understand why I’m so keen not to appear on television. It’s very hard for me not to appear as some kind of ogre.”

  The comment was self-deprecating, but Kris could hear the pain in Daniel’s voice. Placing her head on his shoulder, she stroked his chest gently, the moist warmth of her own body seeping into him, the only comfort she could offer him at this time. After a while, his own hand came up to her head, softly caressing her still-damp hair.

  “Is it that bad?” she asked after a while.

  She could feel him shrug. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Only time will tell.” He sat in silence for a while and she did not interrupt him. He would speak when he was ready.

  “You know,” he began at last, his voice slightly tentative. Kris kept her eyes on his chest, moving her fingers across his muscle and skin, tracing delicately the scratches and scars she had placed there the night before, temporary marks of love in contrast to the permanent, more harrowing marks on his face. She did not interrupt: he wanted to speak. He needed to speak. The words were not easy, however, and he gave a cough before continuing, clearing his throat.

  “You know, when first we met, I had nearly given up.”

  She nodded, but still said nothing, did not look at his face. For a moment she remembered when her father had taken her to confession when she was young, how the priest had sat with his face hidden by a grille and she had told him her sins, sins that were so trivial when she was seven years old. But not seeing, having an ear that would listen but no face to judge her—she remembered how important that had been.

  “While I had something of a reputation as a playboy, one undeserved by the time you met me, to be honest, it would still be fairly unusual to say the least for the founder of a company the size of mine to just disappear for a month. Felix, however, was more than happy enough to cover.”

  Though she had promised not to speak, as his own voice drifted away, she felt she had to help him. “He didn’t want you to come back, did he?”

  Daniel did not reply immediately, but still she did not look up at him. Her own stomach felt queasy at the thought of what he must be going through—and she was surprised at just how distressing recent events were for her.

  “No, he didn’t.” Another pause. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have, but then... but then I met you. I had something to...” The pause was a long one, him struggling to find the word to say, repressing others. “I had something to fight for.”

  “Is that why he hates me?”

  “He doesn’t hate you...”

  Don’t defend him, Daniel, she thought to herself harshly. But she did not contradict him. His own words died in his throat, as though he was aware he had broken his promise to her in however small a way. I don’t lie. Not to you.

  Before he could speak again, the two of them heard his phone coming from the lounge area. As Daniel’s body began to shift, Kris held on to his waist and now she looked up at him, pleading. “Leave it,” she said. “Please.”

  Yet his face bore an expression both slightly embarrassed and resigned. “I’d better,” he said quietly.

  As he walked through to the other room, naked and firm, his body still lean whereas her own had begun to display a feminine softness that worried her slightly if she told the truth, at the same time she had never seen him look so small, as though he had shrunk into himself slightly. When he picked up the phone, he turned to the door and closed her out. She could hear his mumbled conversation beyond the door, and she huddled on the bed, pulling the duvet across herself, pressing it to her stomach. Christ! Why was she so nervous? Why did she have such a feeling of nausea?

  At last he came through. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” he said, grimly. “That was Felix. There’s something I need to do today. I’m sorry.”

  He went to the wardrobe and began to pull out a shirt and suit, quiet and concentrating. Unable to answer for a moment, Kris simply lay on the bed, watching him a little miserably while he began to get ready. Don’t go, she thought silently. St
ay. It wasn’t selfish to want him, she told herself. This was her honeymoon. Why couldn’t the rest of the world just fuck off and leave Daniel Stone alone for two weeks—two weeks! That was all she wanted. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough, but it was a start.

  Perturbed by her silence, Daniel looked back to her. He had forced himself into some sort of resolution, but when he saw the look on her face, and her arm pressed to her stomach, he frowned.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. He was unwilling to enter into an argument with her, but he could not hide his concern.

  She nodded. “It’s okay. I’m just feeling a bit sick. Sorry, I know it’s stupid, it’s just that all this is making me nervous, I guess.”

  He nodded solemnly, then turned away again, unable to look at her. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “I need to see someone, though. I thought I could put them off, till the end of our vacation at least, but I need to keep Felix off my back for the moment.”

  Aha, thought Kris, somewhat sullenly. So that was why he had brought her here. I may not tell you everything, but I don’t lie. So when, if ever, had he been intending to tell her of this meeting, that even his honeymoon was not to be free from business? For the first time in a very long period, part of her felt like shouting at him, screaming, beginning an argument just for the sake of it. But she felt too sick now, too unhappy.

  “Can you see Elaine and your friends back to the airport? Offer them my apologies, please.” He was courteous and clipped but already distant as he pulled on his trousers and jacket. Sitting on the bed, reaching for his shoes, he had transformed before her. The mask had come down and he was prepared for whatever it was the day would bring—but without her.

  Yet when he looked back at her, his eyes flashed with pain momentarily. “I shall make it up to you, I promise.”

  And then he left.

  Chapter Nine

  The sun was bright overhead as Kris walked along the piers and sea-front beside Fisherman’s Wharf. She had not been eager to return to the hotel particularly quickly, especially not if Daniel was not back, and so had come to visit the tourist attractions for a while. The water of the bay was a deep blue, tinged with greens and sparkling as the shallow waves of the protected sea glinted in sunlight.

  She had decided to avoid the most obvious tourist traps, such as the wax museum and the Ripley’s Believe it or Not: she’d had more than her fill of such things as a child growing up in London, and they were inevitably tawdry to her now. Nonetheless, as she caught a tram alongside the piers and alighted in Ghirardelli Square, for a few moments she had imagined herself back in Lisbon and her spirits had lifted.

  Sitting outside a restaurant, she sipped her coffee and sketched in a book she had brought with her, determined to take her mind off things, watching people walk by and making quick, sure marks on the white paper of the pad, recording her own impressions of the place more securely than if she had brought a camera with her. For a while she succeeded, but then the recollections of the morning returned to her.

  She was still worried about Daniel, that much was certain, but at this present time it was something else that disturbed her.

  Accompanying Anne, Andrew and Elaine to the airport in a taxi (surprisingly for him, Daniel had taken their designated driver and not returned him), she had waited for a while at San Francisco International to wish them well on their flight. She apologised to them all that Daniel was not with them, but her three companions did not appear to mind. Anne and Andrew were still a little overawed by him, while Elaine seemed to understand in a way that was more profound than Kris’s own comprehension.

  “Don’t expect life to be easy with him,” she had told Kris when the two of them were on their own. “It won’t be—Daniel Stone is not an easy man. He never has been. That is why, in our different ways, we love him so much. But remember this: he loves you, more than I have seen in a long time. Not everything he does is for himself. In fact, though he would hate me saying it, he is capable of being one of the least selfish men I know.” At this, the older woman’s eyes flashed down Kris’s body. “In any case, there’ll be another for him to look after soon.”

  “What do you mean?” Kris’s tone was suddenly sharp—much sharper than she had intended.

  “Oh,” Elaine replied, withdrawing into herself slightly with an enigmatic smile. “Ignore an old woman’s folly. Ah, our flight is ready to board. I must go—much as I would love to see more of San Francisco, I don’t think any of us should intrude on you and Daniel any longer.”

  And so she had gone. Returning to San Francisco, Kris had indeed dismissed her words as folly: she knew precisely what the headmistress was getting at, but how on earth could she know and Kris not realise what was going on in her own body. And yet, as she had sat in the restaurant, picking at the crab she had ordered but suddenly much less hungry than she had been before, her mind began to fit together certain pieces.

  She was on the pill: pregnancy was impossible. And yet Kris’s care and attention had begun to waver in the months before her exhibition. She had, frankly, become a little scatty in many things as her focus fixed upon the paintings which demanded everything other than the love she had to show Daniel when he was with her.

  But even so, she had been through her period. Actually, when had her last period been? Suddenly, Kris was not so sure. Totting up the days, she realised with a shock that perhaps six weeks had come and gone since the last one, and even that had not been particularly heavy.

  Her weight, feeling sick all the time... Kris was not entirely sure how she felt about this apart from one thing: uncertainty was what was affecting her most now.

  Picking up her sketches, sure that she would not be able to keep her mind from this until she had a more certain idea of herself, she left some money on the table and searched around the neighbourhood with her eyes, hunting out what she needed. The nearest drug store was only a hundred yards or so away and, with renewed determination, she set across the road.

  She clutched the bag in her hand as she caught the tram to within a few hundred metres of the hotel, not even looking at it, not tempting fate as she entered. Nodding to the concierge at the reception desk, she kept her eyes straight ahead at all other times, acknowledging nobody else as she took the lift up to the floor where their room was situated and unlocked the door.

  “Daniel? Are you there?” She paused for a moment with the door half open: it was actually a relief to her when there was no answer and, entering the suite, she dropped her handbag with her sketchbook on the table nearby and shrugged off her coat, still clinging to the other paper bag with her purchase as she went through to the bathroom.

  Still fully clothed, she sat on the toilet with the lid down and, slipping the contents of the bag into her hands read the instructions on the pregnancy testing kit repeatedly. She had to get this right. It promised more than 99 percent accuracy, but Kris was aware that this would only be the first step in proving what she already felt to be true.

  Lifting her skirt and dropping her underwear, she flipped up the seat and sat down, pressing her arm between her legs with the plastic strip of the tester dangling beneath her buttocks. For a few seconds, she couldn’t make herself pee and cursed at the sheer inelegance of it all, her cheeks flushing red with annoyance.

  At last, her urine began to flow and droplets from the stream splashed over her hand as well as the applicator. Not that this mattered. Instead, she whipped the kit before her eyes, staring at the clear, plastic strip, unable to take her attention off it even though she knew very well that she was incapable of speeding up time.

  After an age one of the windows in the strip turned blue. She did not need to read instructions to know what that meant, and let her hand fall away. She sat against the toilet for a while, lost in thought.

  Pregnancy did not fill her with any horror, and indeed explained so much about how she had been feeling recently. Indeed, part of her was thrilled about the thought of having Daniel’s baby, but she was als
o a little confused.

  While she had made plenty of mistakes thus far in her life, having an abortion had not been one of them. There was no question of that being the case now—Kris’s Catholicism was so far in the background of her life now that this was not an issue of being especially pro-life, for she had always been of the opinion that the choice would be hers. And in any case she certainly wanted Daniel’s baby—but this had not been planned nor expected at all.

  And that was her problem for a moment. She did not particularly worry about Daniel’s reaction in many ways: she knew that one of the losses that had affected him at the time of his first wife’s death was that she had been pregnant when she had been killed in the car crash. But it was also clear that other things were worrying him at the present time, and she felt a little ashamed that she had not discussed the possibility of trying for a child with him. It seemed unfair to spring a child on him without at first letting him know. After all, she thought with a wry smile, things could have been a lot more fun if they had been actively trying.

  And yet here she was: pregnant. Her head spun at the thought of it, and she tried to work out how long it could be. Possibly six weeks, even longer perhaps if, as she increasingly suspected, her last period had not been a full one. She chewed her lip: part of her couldn’t wait to tell Daniel, but she also felt that she should wait for the right opportunity. At the same time, she wondered if she should wait a few more days until they returned to London and, from there, visit a doctor, just to make sure. With a sense of dread, she considered the possibility that, despite the claims of 99 percent accuracy, this could be a false alarm: that would be even worse—to raise Daniel’s hopes and then to dash them.

  She was only on her own for less than an hour when Daniel arrived. Seeing the scowl on his face as he flung his jacket down on a chair, any consideration of being immediately open to him quickly retreated. This would require sensitive handling, and she had no intention of one of the most important things in her life becoming the opportunity for a misunderstanding or even argument. She would not lie to him; she would just not tell him everything—yet.