Chapter 44
Once Adam and Noah had left, and Opal had recovered herself from her blunder, something about the mood shifted. Opal had half hoped that Johan might also make his excuses, but instead he topped up his wine glass and tucked into his gateau.
‘Have you got your eye on a winner yet?’ Johan asked nonchalantly.
In truth, Opal had all but forgotten that this whole thing was a tournament.
It seemed ludicrous now. Had she really been so estranged from the world of bohemia, and so beholden to the grips of Thatcherism that she thought art could be competitive?
‘I haven’t given it even a moment’s thought,’ Opal answered honestly. Johan studied her face, as though trying to decipher some deeper meaning from her words. Seemingly finding none, he went back to his food.
‘But I’m very much looking forward to your final piece. Can you give me any teasers?’
Johan didn’t respond immediately; instead he put down his spoon and finished his mouthful slowly, contemplatively.
He swallowed and looked Opal in the eye.
‘I have no idea what to do next, not even the faintest clue. Everything I’ve tried so far is rubbish.
’ His eyes were almost turquoise in the candlelight.
Opal found herself wondering how she had never noticed them before.
‘You see, my favourite muse hasn’t been … at my disposal, lately.’ His gaze was intense, and Opal blushed. It was true that ever since the palm-reading incident nearly two weeks ago, Opal had been, perhaps subconsciously she thought now, avoiding spending time alone with Johan.
‘Surely you could photograph Ruby. I mean given the subject matter …’ Opal felt prudish all of a sudden. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. ‘With the theme being sex, I mean.’
Johan laughed. ‘Yes, I understood your inference, although I hadn’t realised that our “liaison” was common knowledge.’
‘Let’s just say that while the walls are thick in this house, the doors are …
not so much, and what’s more they often shrink a little in the summer and sounds finds their way through the cracks.
’ It was pointless trying to fight her own biology.
Opal could feel the heat flush into her cheeks again as she spoke.
She was satisfied, though, to see that Johan wasn’t completely immune to embarrassment himself. ‘Right, yes. Understood, Lady Fairfax,’ he said a little sheepishly.
‘It’s Fortescue,’ Opal said without thinking, regretting it almost immediately as she watched Johan’s face light up with devilish curiosity.
‘About that, what is going on between you and the lord of the manor? Although I hasten to add that I’m being facetious there; I know it’s your title, not his.’
Opal scoffed, and took another gulp of wine, buying herself just an extra few seconds to decide what exactly she was about to share with Johan about the state of her marriage. By the time the crystal was back on the table, she’d landed on the ‘fuck it’ option.
‘Martin is having an affair with my next-door neighbour and best friend’s daughter.’ Opal hadn’t expected it to feel so freeing to say the sentence out loud, though the accompanying thought of Debbie, and their estrangement, still stung deeply.
‘I hate to burst your bubble, darling, but that much I do know,’ Johan said as he topped up her glass. The term of endearment didn’t slip Opal’s attention.
‘Of course you do, as does everyone in the county now I suspect, after his little performance at the gala.’
‘But I don’t want to know about him, Opal; I want to know about you. This little escapade with Noah seems … ill conceived.’ Johan couldn’t quite keep the disdain from his voice at the mention of Noah’s name.
Opal shifted in her seat. Now that she was out the other side, it was hard for her to explain her infatuation with Noah.
He was a beautiful man, and he always smelled great but that wasn’t really reason enough to justify her obsession.
She hated entertaining the possibility that it was something about his youth she’d found so alluring.
‘You know what I think?’ Johan asked.
Opal was willing to take on any insight she could get. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I think you were looking for someone, anyone who was as different as possible from your husband. In walks the Indian Brummie with his silk shirt and strong cologne, and you thought he was your one-way ticket to reinvention.’ Johan looked pleased with himself.
‘He’s from Uganda,’ Opal corrected.
Johan shrugged. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘So if I told you that you were right about some of that, the reinvention bit, and that I’m still looking for that, to find some way to distance myself from this scoundrel of a husband whose name I still inexplicably insist on being called by, what would you recommend?’
Johan didn’t respond, but there was a glint in his eye.
‘If my dalliance with Noah was so ill conceived, what should I have been chasing instead?’ Opal wasn’t totally naive; she knew that Johan had laid out a path for her to follow, and she was feeling just drunk enough to wonder where it might lead.
‘Well, for starters, someone who isn’t interested in cock.’ Johan smirked, and Opal rolled her eyes.
‘Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it.’
‘That’s not true.’ For a second, Johan looked almost hurt. ‘For one thing I seem to be the only person around here taking their art seriously.’
Opal had to concede that point. For the third challenge in particular, she’d hardly seen any of the others spend much time creating anything.
Even Heather, who was usually most diligent, had only spent the last couple of nights in her studio.
Johan by contrast was forever roaming the grounds snapping photos and lugging large vats of chemical development to his makeshift darkroom.
Opal tried to change the subject. ‘So why exactly can’t you use Ruby as a subject?’
Johan looked down at his hands. ‘Whatever was going on between us … it’s not going on anymore.’
‘Oh, what happened?’ Despite herself, Opal was curious.
‘She seems to have succumbed to the same fate as Noah.’
Opal was confused, and so Johan clarified. ‘She’s sleeping in Heather’s bedroom every night.’
The revelation made Opal feel completely out of touch for the second time that evening.
All this fluidity … had it changed so much in the decade that separated her from her guests?
When she was their age she’d known gay people, mostly through Gareth of course, but they had always seemed so set in their ways.
As far as Opal understood things, it certainly wasn’t something they were influenced into like a passing fashion trend; in fact it was on this point of disagreement that Opal had stopped voting for Mrs Thatcher.
‘I must admit that I’m surprised by that. Didn’t you and Ruby … make love? It certainly sounded that way?’ Opal just had to know.
‘I don’t think you could describe it as making love.’ Johan chuckled. ‘But we had … relations of a sexual nature, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Right, well, I’m learning a lot about life this evening. I suppose you never really know how sheltered you are until someone pushes you out into the rain.’
Johan shuffled his chair closer, and his gaze darkened. ‘But that’s what you want, isn’t it?’
Opal nodded, but she couldn’t get any words out. She felt the hairs on her neck stand on end.
Johan leant in, his breath hot in her ear. ‘And you want the rain to make you soaking wet?’
Opal’s breathing quickened, and she replayed the last few minutes in her head, which was spinning too much to make any sense of how she’d ended up in this position. Johan’s legs encasing her bare knees, his stubble brushing her cheek, his hand slowly inching up her thigh.
She didn’t resist when he reached the lace trim of her underwear, or when his thumb hooked the fine satin fabric to the side and left her exposed. She let him snake his other hand between her legs, even spreading them slightly to allow him better access.
When he strummed his fingers over her, she gasped, and he groaned into her neck before reaching inside her. ‘Look at that,’ he murmured, ‘you’re already sodden.’
Opal had to bring her hand to her mouth to try and stifle her moans. He played with her, at some points softly, and at others reaching deeper to tease out her pleasure. Opal braced herself, throwing her head back.
The crash of the tray hitting the hardwood floor shocked Opal back into herself.
Her back was to the kitchen door, but she immediately understood what was happening.
How had she forgotten that Hetty was still in the house, and in the room next door no less?
Johan, as ever, seemed to find the whole scenario amusing.
He leant back casually, sliding his fingers out of her as he went.
Opal gasped at the suddenness of his exit, and then tried to disguise it with a theatrical coughing fit.
It was no use. Opal was sure that Hetty had seen something untoward going on, or at least deduced it.
Opal had never seen her drop a single thing in the two summers that she’d worked in the house.
‘Hetty, don’t worry about all that; we’ll clear the plates ourselves. Why don’t you head home?’ Johan called over Opal’s shoulder, and the sound of her ‘coughing’.
Opal wasn’t so distracted as not to notice how comfortable Johan was in the role of directing the staff, how naturally he took to being ‘master of the house’.
Had it been in any other circumstance, it might have irked her.
As it stood, she was grateful not to have to turn around and address Hetty herself.
She was even more grateful when she heard Hetty’s hasty retreat.
‘Personally, I think the plates can wait until morning.’ Johan was staring at her again, his voice full of intent.