Free The Unbelievers by Alastair Sim Page A

you.”
    â€œI’m sorry to disturb you. Is Miss Antonia at home? I need to speak to her.”
    â€œYes, I’ll let her know you’re here.”
    The maid asked him to sit in the parlour while she went upstairs to announce Allerdyce. He sat in the familiar chair beside the brandy decanter, looking up at the same paintings of nude gods and goddesses, and entwined nymphs and satyrs, which had blended themselves into his dreams and nightmares when he’d first come here. Even the smell – a rich blend of pot-pourri , polished mahogany and faintly lingering cigar smoke – was as it had been then.
    â€œMiss Antonia is ready to receive you in her boudoir,” said the maid.
    â€œThank you.”
    He went up the stairs, feeling the deep red pile of the carpet springing under his feet, and along the landing to Antonia’s room. As he stood at her door he inhaled the unique blend of wood-polish and musky perfume and felt his pulse quicken. He knocked gently and let himself in.
    Antonia was sitting in front of the mirror at her dressing table, tossing the long curls of her blonde hair over her shoulders as she dabbed perfume under her ears. A book was open in front of her. She had an embroidered silk Chinese dressing gown on, birds and the figures of little men against a sky-blue background. The gown fell loosely open at her throat, exposing the dark golden cleavage which disappeared into the lacy whiteness of her undergarment.
    Allerdyce reflected on how seldom he’d seen her in daylight. The cold winter light from the lace-curtained window showed the shadows of lines which were masked by the amber lighting she used in the evening, and her face seemed a little thinner, but overall the nine years of their acquaintance had been kind to her. She turned to him and smiled.
    â€œArchibald! An unexpected pleasure!”
    â€œI’m sorry to disturb you, Antonia.”
    â€œNot at all, Archibald. I was worried, you know.”
    â€œWorried?”
    â€œWhen you didn’t come to see me after your Speculative Society dinner. I’d been looking forward to seeing you, but I thought something must have happened to you.”
    â€œSome sudden business came up. I’d have sent my apologies if I could.”
    She stood up and took his hands.
    â€œI know you would, Archie, But I do rely on you to keep me in touch with the great current of ideas. You have no idea how isolated a woman in my position can feel from intellectual life. Come and sit by the fire.”
    They sat in silk armchairs at either side of the hearth. Allerdyce was uncomfortably conscious of Antonia’s large white-linened bed in the corner of the room, the bedclothes turned down to show the plump white pillows. It was years since he had lain there, not since those weeks of madness, but the temptation was still strong. There was no absolute moral reason why he shouldn’t yield, no vigilant and narrow-minded God who’d punish him, but his duty to Margaret was clear. It would also feel like a betrayal of Antonia – he told himself that they had discovered in each other a shared interest in the life of the mind and that it was through sustaining her in that intellectual life that he could best support her as a friend. It was almost like being a missionary for his sex, trying to show that a man could have a relationship with a woman which was neither carnal nor domestic. If he could hold to that belief he could persuade himself that continuing to see Antonia was the right and dutiful thing to do, but it didn’t feel sufficiently right that he could ever tell Margaret about it.
    â€œI ought to say,” added Antonia, “that I have a gentleman caller due in twenty-five minutes. I’d like to see you for longer, but I’m afraid this will have to be a rather short conversation.”
    â€œThat’s all right.”
    â€œSo how was the dinner? You told me that Alexander Bain was going to be