Chapter 10
As night fell, Jane found that her mood of fury at Alexander had not waned. In fact, it was stronger than ever. Sitting on the terrace which fronted the club, she played idly with a bourbon and water, which was rapidly becoming water and bourbon, and watched the cool, green lawn against the flame-red sunset. The sun had disappeared only a moment before, and now a cool breeze swept across the well-cared-for grass, coming from the line of trees on the horizon. The distant call of a jungle bird split the stillness abruptly, as the sound of a cricket began near the side of the house. Over the scene, the sky seemed to draw the flame from the distant horizon, bringing it out in long, golden strands, cloud-by-cloud, across the expanse of gathering night.
In light yellow dress, crisp and clean, with fresh nylons, Jane relaxed in the soft, cool confines of the camp chair, her eyes heavy-lidded. The glass set on a small table beside the chair, she stretched luxuriously, her long legs lovely in the light from the dying sun. Jane yawned, feeling drowsy and supple and ready for bed.
On the inside, she was not relaxed at all. A molten ball of hate for Alexander, and for what she had seen him doing earlier in the day, burned in Jane's stomach.
How could he have been so unfeeling? Talking to her as he had, even telling her of his love for her, and then going right ahead and doing that!
A brief replay of the scene Jane had witnessed went through her mind. On the screen which she kept inside her head, she saw once more the passion-wracked figure of Madeleine. And beneath her, driving upward relentlessly with his massive sex, the suppliant Alexander. The scene flickered, and faded from Jane's mind. She took a quick, angry sip of her drink, and put the glass back on the table.
Probably, Alexander and Madeleine had joked with each other later, about Jane's foolishness in falling in love with him. They had probably had a good laugh about it.
Jane took another sip of her drink, swallowing the watery whisky quickly, as though to erase the memory of the morning. The door opened slowly, and Jane turned, looking at Frederick, who was just coming out of the house onto the terrace. The terrace was screened, and the red sunset cast a mesh of shadows, bloody looking, a patchwork of scarlet cut by black lines, across the worn, seamy face of Frederick Ashley.
"God damn that nigger!" he said abruptly, his voice raspy and rough from too much drinking over too short a space of time.
"What?" Jane gasped, taken aback by his coarse, insistent crudity of tone and expression. "What did you say?"
Frederick shook his head angrily.
"That nigger Alexander," Frederick rasped, "has taken off without getting a fresh supply of whisky. Probably off with that nigger wench of his."
"I wish you wouldn't use that expression, Mr. Ashley," Jane replied, taking another sip of her drink. Already, this man's presence was annoying her, making her uneasy. She wished that he would go back into the house -- and the sooner the better.
"What expression, in the name of God?" Frederick blustered, giving Jane a drunken, accusing stare. Jane did not reply.
"You mean nig... "
"I wish you would just go inside, Mr. Ashley. You've had too much to drink."
Frederick Ashley stared at Jane for an uncomfortably long time, as a silence fell between them. Finally, he broke the silence abruptly: "Been talking to Madeleine, eh?"
Jane did not reply.
"Well let me tell you something, my dear girl," Frederick began, ignoring her silence. "My little wife is a little bitch."
Frederick staggered drunkenly, his eyes going blank for a moment, then refocusing.
"Yessir," he lisped, "a scalding little bitch, is my wife!"
In spite of herself, Jane found herself in sympathy with the man before her. The more she learned of Madeleine's real nature, the more sorry for him she became. Being married to her was, probably, a hell on earth -- that might even be what had started him on the bottle.
With that cheerful thought in her bead, Jane watched the man before her as he stumbled against the door, waving an arm at her in an odd gesture of warning.
"I," he lisped, "am a prophet, my dear. I solemnly prophesy ..
Losing his train of thought for a moment, Frederick faltered, his hand wiping his mouth.
"I solm... ly... predict, that you will run afoul of her."
Jane, fascinated, continued to regard Frederick in silence.
"The way I did!" he finished triumphantly. Jane shook her head.
"Mr. Ashley, I really don't see what this has to do with... "
"With you?" he finished for her, blowing a strong breath of whisky in Jane's face. She drew back instinctively, away from the whisky breath, thinking for a moment of the drunk in the plane who had propositioned her so crudely, a few days ago, in San Francisco. Jane frowned. Had it only been a few days? It seemed that she had been here, at this spot on the earth, all of her life.
"What has it to do with you? Nothing directly, my dear girl."
Frederick wheeled dramatically, his index finger jabbing the air before him.
"But mark me in this, miss Jane. One day, Frederick will get enough. Do you hear me? One of these days, old Frederick will get enough, and blow little Madeleine's head off. I didn't serve in the Royal Marines for five years for nothing, my dear. Believe it."
Jane shuddered. There was something hard, and rugged, in the way Frederick had made the threat -- as though a former self, a self buried by years of drinking and neglect, had suddenly come to the surface and spoken to her. It was that former self which she had just seem emerge from Frederick, which chilled her to the marrow of her bones. She looked at Frederick for a moment, with veiled respect.
In this time, in the years before the advent of Madeleine into his life, he must have been quite a man indeed.
"I think you'd better go back inside, Mr. Ashley," Jane said, not unkindly.
Frederick nodded his head.
"Of course, my dear," he mumbled, "sorry to be rude -- must have spoiled your evening."
"Nothing of the sort," Jane lied, smiling at the aging drunk who, backing to the door, found the knob with his open hand. He turned, going back inside the house abruptly, his shoulders bent.
Jane turned away, picking up her drink and then setting it down again abruptly. A sour knot had formed in her stomach, and she could not have finished the drink if her life had depended on it. Abruptly, she opened the screen door and walked outside, savoring the night air, breathing deeply. To her grateful surprise, Jane found that she felt better immediately. She decided to take a walk, alone, around the grounds.
Stepping briskly, Jane felt the air like smooth liquid against her face, the night breeze rustling her skirts and lifting her hair in a soft, downy veil around her pretty face.
As she rounded the side of the house, Jane halted abruptly.
In front of her, standing in the gathering darkness of the deep green lawn, was Alexander. He cleared his throat.
"I'd like to take you to a festival tomorrow evening," he began, the wind ruffling his white shirt, contrasting with light blue, tight-fitting pants.
Jane was puzzled, and a bit uneasy. His sudden appearance had startled her, and left her at a loss as to bow to act toward him. Should she be aloof? Or should she be angry?
"I would think," Jane began, "that Madeleine might have some further use of your services tomorrow."
Alexander's eyes widened slightly, and he took a step backward involuntarily.
"I mean," Jane continued, "what if Madeleine decides that she needs you here -- the way she obviously needed you this morning."
Alexander cleared his throat.
"If you're going to judge me on that basis, let's just forget the whole thing. I work for Madeleine, you know -- that means that she signs the checks. If you don't like what I do, then clear the hell out. But don't come whining to me when you get an eyeful."
With that, Alexander turned and walked across the grass, soundlessly padding, like a huge, lithe cat.
A spasm of remorse clutched at Jane's stomach, and she waved her hand frantically.
"Alexander? ALEXANDER? COME BACK... PLEASE!"
Her voice sounded plaintive across the evening silence, and for a moment she wondered if he had heard. Then, he turned slowly, and looked back.
"Yes?" he said, his voice rumbling across the grass like a low roll of thunder. He did not take a step in Jane's direction.
"Alexander, I... I'll come!" Jane blurted. "Where shall I meet you?"
"Come to my room at seven," he called over his shoulder, striding away powerfully, not looking back.
Jane turned and retraced her steps, back to the house, and to the safety of her room -- which, after the scene which had just played itself out, was very warm and inviting indeed.
Two hours later, showered and in bed, a book on her lap, Jane heard a knock at her door.
Getting out of bed slowly, and putting on her houserobe, Jane went to the door and opened it.
Standing before her was what looked like an apparition from another world. An old woman, bent and worn, dressed in a long, flowing robe of some light material, stood before her. Her face was black as mid-night, her nose bent sharply in a hook, her cheekbones high and prominent, her cheeks sunken. Her eyes seemed to be on fire with tiny points of red light. A fiery quality to the irises made the pupils seem pinpoints in the dim hallway.
"Hello," the old woman croaked, "I'm Mama Lu. May I come in?"
An odd, hypnotic quality to the woman's gaze made Jane go backward, almost involuntarily, and open the door wide.
"Yes," she gasped, "I suppose so. Yes, of course. Come in."
Mama Lu made her way into the small apartment, nodding her head and cooing softly as she noticed the elegant furniture in the room.
"Mrs. Ashley is an elegant hostess, isn't she?" said Mama Lu softly. The voice, though rather harsh, was oddly lilting, and full of a strange power.
The eyes were keen, and inquisitive, full of a strange power that made Jane somehow uneasy. She stirred herself as a chill passed through her, and looked at the ancient bent woman inquiringly.
"Is there anything I can do for your Jane said softly.
Mama Lu nodded, grinning in sudden recognition. Jane was startled to see a lovely, even row of teeth in the old woman's mouth. They were strong, and shiny. Jane guessed that this woman had never had a day's dental work in her life -- which must have encompassed at least sixty years.
"Of course," she acknowledged, "you must be wondering at the reason for my visit."
There was a sudden, slightly awkward pause.
"The reason I have come is simple. You have perhaps heard of my daughter Odetta?"
Jane shook her head, and Mama Lu frowned suddenly.
"You mean that Alexander has not mentioned her to you?"
Jane shook her head, her eyes widening slightly.
"You know Alexander?" she asked softly, and the old woman laughed out loud.
"I was midwife at his birth," she replied. "He is a good friend of my daughter. They were raised together, side by side."
"Oh, I see," Jane said softly, averting her eyes from the old woman for a moment.
Why hadn't Alexander told her this? And why was she hearing it, now, from this woman?
"Odetta," Mama Lu continued, "is having a festival at a village near here. The planting season approaches rapidly, and every year, a festival of fertility is given. Last year, it was I who organized it. But, now, I find that I am too old, and have lost too much strength. And so my daughter carries on the tradition for me." Mama Lu chuckled softly, and then was silent.
While he had been speaking, Alexander's invitation earlier in the evening flashed through Jane's mind.
So that was the reason for the invitation! Alexander's native girl was giving a party! Jane's face reddened slightly.
"I'm sorry, Mama Lu," Jane said, "but if this is an invitation, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. And you might tell Alexander the same thing when you see him."
Suddenly, Mama Lu put a withered hand on Jane's arm.
"Do not be jealous of Odetta," Mama Lu said softly, "for she has been out of his life for a long time. He will never take her for his wife. I have known that for a long time."
Jane started to speak, but the older woman waved her off.
"That is what you were thinking, wasn't it?" the old woman crooned.
Jane smiled, in spite of herself.
"You are perceptive," she said softly.
Mama Lu chuckled, squeezing Jane's arm.
"Alexander thinks a great deal of you. Otherwise, he would not have invited you to come. Do you regard him highly?"
Jane gave a barely perceptible nod of her head.
Mama Lu smiled, and an odd process of analysis, of measuring, seemed to be going on behind the old, bright eyes.
"Yes, I believe that you do," she murmured, her hand squeezing Jane's arm briskly.
Jane smiled abruptly.
"You have a good use of the English language, Mama Lu," she said, as the older woman nodded brightly.
"Yes I do. And now, I must ask you if you want Alexander to love you, in return."
After a moment's hesitation, Jane nodded her head.
Mama Lu smiled once more, and spoke: "I have prepared a special mixture -- a drink which you will give Alexander tomorrow evening. It will make him love you."
"And what am I to do for you in return?" Jane asked, only half believing what the woman had said about the potion.
Mama Lu shook her head.
"Nothing for me. I am much too old to make bargains with young American women. just make sure that you are worthy of his love, when you receive it."
Jane nodded her head.
"Yes, of course. Incidentally, how will I receive this -- er, this drink?"
"I will give it to you, saying the words, `May luck and health stay by you.' When you hear that from me, you will know that the drink is in your hands."
Feeling a bit odd, Jane nodded her head. "Is the drink's effect permanent? Will he love me forever?"
Mama Lu nodded her head.
"Forever."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"It will work. You can only break the spell by betraying his love with another man. In that case, Alexander will die." With that, Mama Lu moved toward the door slowly, her walk a bit unsteady. She seemed to have a slight limp.
As she opened the door, she looked back at Jane, and smiled sweetly.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she whispered, closing the door behind her softly.
Jane, alone in the silence of her room, thought about the odd visitor she had just received. It was, she knew, no accident that Mama Lu knew where to find her. There was something strange, almost mystical, about that woman. Even now, it was hard for Jane to believe that she had actually been in the room. She seemed to exist in another world, this old woman -- a world just slightly removed from the real one.
Jane shook her head, as though to clear it. There was one thing that was certain, she thought to herself, sitting on the edge of the bed in the empty room:
Tomorrow was going to be one hell of an interesting evening.