The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [113]
It was just before seven on Friday that I finally saw Christina standing in the doorway. She wore a smart blue suit buttoned up almost to the neck and a white blouse that made her look as if she were on her way to a business conference. Her long fair hair was pulled back behind her ears to give an impression of severity but however hard she tried she could not be other than beautiful. I stood and raised my arm. She walked quickly over and took the seat beside me. We didn’t kiss or shake hands and for some time didn’t even speak.
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
“I shouldn’t have, it was foolish.”
Some time passed before either of us spoke again. “Can I pour you a coffee?” I asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Black?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t changed.”
How banal it all would have sounded to anyone eavesdropping.
She sipped her coffee.
I should have taken her in my arms right then, but I had no way of knowing that that was what she wanted. For several minutes we talked of inconsequential matters, always avoiding each other’s eyes, until I suddenly said, “Do you realize that I still love you?”
Tears filled her eyes as she replied, “Of course I do. And I still feel the same about you now as I did the day we parted. And don’t forget I have to see you every day, through Nicholas.”
She leaned forward and spoke almost in a whisper. She told me about the meeting with her parents that had taken place more than five years before as if we had not been parted in between. Her father had shown no anger when he learned she was pregnant, but the family still left for Vancouver the following morning. There they had stayed with the Willings, a family also from Munich, who were old friends of the von Braumers. Their son, Klaus, had always been besotted with Christina and didn’t care about her being pregnant, or even the fact she felt nothing for him. He was confident that, given time, it would all work out for the best.
It didn’t, because it couldn’t. Christina had always known it would never work, however hard Klaus tried. They even left Montreal in an attempt to make a go of it. Klaus bought her the shop in Toronto and every luxury that money could afford, but it made no difference. Their marriage was an obvious sham. Yet they could not bring themselves to distress their families further with a divorce, so they had led separate lives from the beginning.
As soon as Christina finished her story I touched her cheek and she took my hand and kissed it. From that moment on we saw each other every spare moment that could be stolen, day or night. It was the happiest year of my life, and I was unable to hide from anyone how I felt.
Our affair—for that’s how the gossips were describing it—inevitably became public. However discreet we tried to be, Toronto, I quickly discovered, is a very small place, full of people who took pleasure in informing those whom we also loved that we had been seen together regularly, even leaving my home in the early hours.
Then quite suddenly we were left with no choice in the matter: Christina told me she was pregnant again. Only this time it held no fears for’ either of us.
Once she had told Klaus the settlement went through as quickly as the best divorce lawyer at Graham, Douglas & Wilkins could negotiate. We were married only a few days after the final papers were signed. We both regretted that Christina’s parents felt unable to attend the wedding but I couldn’t understand why you didn’t come.
The rabbi still could not believe his own intolerance and short-sightedness. The demands on an Orthodox Jew should be waived if it meant losing one’s only child. He had searched the Talmud in vain for any passage that would allow him to break his lifelong vows. In vain.
The only sad part of the divorce settlement was that Klaus was given custody of our child. He also demanded, in exchange for a quick divorce, that I not be allowed to see Nicholas before his