Sin by Josephine Hart Page A

the studio.”
    More appropriate? To talk to Dominick? About new “arrangements”?
    â€œDid you talk on the telephone?” Freud always hated the telephone.
    â€œIs that relevant?”
    â€œNo.”
    I just want to know how I was betrayed. For it is a betrayal. Within my world—with him—I thought I was hermetically sealed. No possible intruder. Even casual visitors. Not allowed. But now I feel the terror of the periphery. I feel the force that could trap me there forever. And an even stronger force that might propel me into an eternal free-fall. But I won’t let this happen. I have hooks to hold on to. And though suspended above it, I am not in the abyss. Yet.
    â€œI’ve lost you totally.”
    â€œWhat?”
    These are unlucky words. I do not want to hear them. In case I learn to say them.
    â€œRuth, please. Please listen.”
    â€œYes. … Yes.”
    â€œBy moving into Elizabeth’s studio I can see William in a familiar environment. It will be less traumatic for him.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs that all you can say?”
    Collect your thoughts, Ruth.
    â€œNo. No, it’s not. I think your decision is … is false. It’s a false move. Don’t make it.”
    â€œYou astound me, Ruth. You’re … an aberration … in some way.”
    â€œI thought you swore eternal allegiance to me.”
    â€œI don’t remember that phrase.”
    â€œYou’re right, Dominick. I think you said you’d love me always. Something like that.”
    Well, Ruth. Make a decision. Quickly. Which is best? Make Dominick stay? Or make him go? Which is best? For your relationship with Charles. For your … suddenly … weakening relationship with Charles. Which is best?
    Keep Dominick. Much better. A base. One must have a base for a secret life. Too obvious the other way. The unmarried woman with her married lover. No. Keep Dominick. He wants to stay. Such childish nonsense about the studio. It makes no sense. The pathetic business about William. William is at boarding school. And holidays and half terms are spent at Lexington. Stupid Dominick. Stupid? Dominick? Not words I’d normally put together.
    So make him stay. Be subtle. Be slow. Just move. The way you can … towards the drinks cabinet. Now turn. Look a little sad. But slow sad. Let everything drain from your face so that, as you know, only sensuous silkiness remains. Watch his face. There is a tiny flicker. Hold on to it. With your eyes. Just hold it. But carefully, Ruth. Carefully. Say nothing. Silence. It is essential for concentration. For the concentration of your power. To achieve your will.
    Now. Give him a drink. Stand close. Don’t move. He must reach out for you. Otherwise it’s impossible for him. For the future. Breathe deeply so your breasts move to a rhythm you know. Leave him now. You can feel the tension in him. Move to the sofa. Lie lengthways. Sigh. Sadly. And let one leg fall down so that the skirt of your dress falls away. A little. And just gaze. He is coming towards the sofa. Hold his eyes. Hold them. Sadly. And he is here. Above me. Now he is about to … and his hands betray him. Desperate. They search again for the way in. And it’s over. I’ve won. I lie back. Dominick won’t leave. Not this time. Not ever?

TWENTY-FOUR
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    â€œI’m sorry. I meant to tell you.”
    Charles and I. Time together. Regularly, in my home. So easy, when you are trusted. And when you know all the arrangements of the “others.” Where they are. When they will return.
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œMy conversation with Dominick. About the studio.”
    â€œOh, it doesn’t matter. Elizabeth and I spoke of it this morning. I gather you’re building her a studio in the grounds at Frimton. And that you will spend less time in London.” My tone was cold.
    â€œYes.”
    Silence.
    â€œIf I can.”
    â€œDo you think