"You don't understand! You never understand!"
Still crying, Alice pushed by him and ran out the door. He heard her footsteps as she fled up the stairs. He paused before turning and returning to the hall. As he did so, he saw the kitchen door close quietly and knew that little episode had been witnessed by Mrs Peters. He looked up towards the closed bedroom door but then turned and entered the study. His wife was clearly in no mood for conversation.
Dinner that evening was a strained affair. Alice sat at the opposite end of the table and made no eye contact with her husband. Since fleeing upstairs she had cried some more but now simply had red rings around her eyes. As her husband inspected his food she glanced at him. How had their marriage come to this so quickly? She knew she was not what her husband's family would have wanted. Whilst her husband had a title, the Hon. Edward Stanbridge and would one day be Lord Stanbridge, she came from new money. Her family had prospered in the new industrial era in the early years of the twentieth century and, whilst she had no title, her family were more than financially secure. However, part of her was still a little girl from a provincial town and, like so many provincial town girls, she loved the cinema. Often she had to sneak to the picture houses as her husband felt that such entertainment was below people of their standing. She did not care. She laughed at Chaplin and was stunned by Swanson but most of the time she was in love with Valentino. She had seen The Sheik so many times she could run it in her head. On a number of occasions she had dreamed that she was Agnes Ayres being taken in Valentino's arms and woken to find a surprising warmth between her legs. On those occasions she had drawn close to her husband but he had remained stubbornly asleep. Maybe it was that these films had created an unrealistic belief in what marriage would mean but she felt, often, that it was simply a disappointment. On the occasions when her husband had made love to her, it had been perfunctory, messy and unsatisfying. The women she saw in the films seemed to sink into the arms of their lovers in exotic locations. For her, it seemed that sex was, as the vicar had said, for the continuance of mankind and took place with no interaction in a darkened room at night. She had begun to see why so many of the actors and actresses she admired seemed to take a number of lovers.
From the other end of the table Edward glanced up at his wife. She seemed to be lost in a reverie. He felt he should say something but he did not know what. Not for the first time, he regretted that he had never really known a woman. His mother was a distant figure and his nanny was not someone to whom you could warm. He had two younger brothers but no sisters or even female cousins, certainly not ones he saw on anything like a regular basis. That's not to say he knew nothing about sex. In the dying months of the war, when he had finally been old enough to sign up, he heard the conversations that the junior ranks had about women but he never liked to hear words like 'fuck' and 'screw' used in these situations. There had even been one occasion when a young Belgian girl had lifted her skirt and allowed him to lose his virginity but he hated the memory of her cold, unfeeling eyes. She hadn't been a prostitute but he felt that he needed to leave a few francs on the side as he sneaked from her room that night. Alice was different; he knew she stirred something within him. She had, since the first moment he had met her at Cousin Lionel's wedding. But that was the emotional side of marriage. He could manage that -- just. It was the physical side he found so difficult. Alice told him she had been a virgin when they married and he had wanted their love-making to be special but something held him back. He had not enjoyed it and he was pretty certain she had not either. Occasionally, he had felt her hands on him in the night, as if she wanted him but he had feigned sleep and she had soon left him alone. He knew he could never match up to the film actors she so much admired but deep down he knew he must try. Otherwise he could see their marriage ending up as cold and loveless as that of his parents. He knew that both his mother and father had lovers and hated them both for it. He knew he must do something if he and Alice were not going to finish the same way.
Edward's cutlery clattering onto his plate and the scraping of his chair made Alice lift her head. Their eyes met. Edward stepped towards her but said nothing. Alice didn't move, her eyes just fixed, blankly, on the spot he had vacated. Fleetingly, he rested his hand on her shoulder then turned and walked quickly from the room. Alice looked down as her tears started to fall once again.
The following day, a Thursday, was as bleak as any Alice could remember. From the moment she had felt Edward rise from their bed to go to work to the moment she retired back to bed that evening she neither saw nor heard from her husband. She had walked for what seemed like hours in the afternoon, the hot sun a stark contrast to her mood. Buying a paper, she sat on a park bench and read of the crowds filing passed Valentino's coffin in New York, of Pola Negri fainting and having to be carried away. She dabbed at her eyes once again. She knew it was pathetic. In fact, she was almost as angry with herself for this ridiculous over-reaction but then thought back to Edward's cruel words of the previous evening. When Alice returned home that afternoon Mrs Peters had a message from her husband. Something had 'come up' and he was unlikely to be back early so she may as well go to bed. After a lonely supper, that was exactly what she did.
Lying in bed in that empty house she thought once again of Valentino, not just as the Sheik but as Juan in Blood and Sand and, especially, Julio in The Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. Oh my, that tango he did could stir even the coldest soul. As she lay there, picturing him dancing in those Buenos Aires backstreets, her hand strayed unbidden to the growing warmth between her legs. Through the material of her thin Summer night gown she pressed against the wiry hair that hid those parts meant only for her husband, revelling in the feelings produced. As she pressed harder a light moan escaped from her lips. The noise brought her back to reality. She stopped, feeling she was doing something wrong although she did not know what. Banishing thoughts of Valentino from her mind, Alice rolled over and, despite an unsatisfied feeling in her stomach, quickly fell asleep.
Waking the next day, Alice knew this was the day when she would have to confront her husband, would have to get him to treat her with something more than contempt. As she sat up in bed she was astounded to see that it was already 9.30. The sun was shining through the curtains. The dip in the bed next to her told Alice her husband had been there but she did not remember his presence from the night. Why had Mrs Peters not woken her? She jumped from the bed and the thump as she landed on the floor made her realise how quiet was the house. She went to the door, opening it nervously. She was almost prepared to find that, in the night, her husband had stripped the house of all chattels, leaving her penniless in an empty shell. But no, everything seemed to be in its place. In the bathroom, she quickly washed and, returning to the bedroom, pulled on her undergarments and a light Summer dress to match the weather.
Hurrying down the stairs, she sensed an emptiness about the house. She looked into the kitchen but there was no sign of Mrs Peters or her daughter. In fact, there was no sign of anything: no breakfast, nothing cooking for later in the day. By now, Alice was becoming nervous. She was no fan of some of the more disturbing films that starred Lon Chaney or had emerged from Germany in recent years but she had spoken with Edward regarding Mr. Wells' book about an invasion from space. Surely...no, she was now being silly. However, she did move quickly to the front door to ensure there were people outside and they were not fleeing London. When she looked out, everything was as it should be.
Suddenly, she heard a noise. What was it? A muffled cough? A scraping chair? Alice was not certain but she knew where it came from -- the dining room, the location of that pitiable scene of two nights ago. Was it a burglar, forcing entry through the French windows? Slowly, she moved to the door and grasped the handle. She turned it but, as she did so, the door was torn from her grasp, rough hands grabbed her, dragging her into the room and the door was slammed behind her. She staggered into the middle of the room, fearful of what would now happen to her. Even now, was Mrs Peters lying murdered somewhere? As these thought raced through her mind she stopped and looked around the room. This was not her dining room. All around the room, draped floor to ceiling, were lengths of cloth, silk by the look of it. The sun that usually beamed through the French windows was filtered through the material, bringing an unusual duskiness to the room. The dining room table had gone...where? She had no idea. The only furniture she could see was the chaise longue that normally lived in the drawing room and a table which had Edward's gramophone upon it. All this flashed through her mind in seconds as she turned to see her assailant, determined to fight him off but the breath was seemingly sucked from her body. It was Valentino! Actually, no, it wasn't Valentino himself. It was the character she had dreamed of so many times: the Sheik and, underneath those Arab robes was surely...
"Ed..."
"Silence, woman!" From the figure that stood before her emerged a strong, powerful command that she knew she must obey. "You have trespassed into my domain where no woman is allowed. I may have to kill you...or perhaps take you as one of my harem."
Alice did not know what to do. It seemed as if the entire world was mad! She opened her mouth to speak but, once again, she was hushed by the imposing figure in front of her.
"I told you to be silent! Now, come here and let me look at you. I will see if you are worthy of being one of my women."
Alice felt herself drawn by the voice. As she reached him, the Sheik reached out and grabbed her chin. He lifted it, inspecting her face and then turned her, observing her body from every angle.
"Yes, very pleasant." The words were almost murmured. She felt the Sheik behind her, his body pressed close to hers and a frisson of excitement ran through her body. She had thought she knew this person when she first saw him but now she was not so sure. Was this really her Edward? This seemed more like the figure who emerged from her nocturnal fantasies. He clutched her shoulder and whispered in her ear. "So, my European interloper, your looks please Ahmed Ben Hassan..." Alice gasped, hearing the name of her fantasy figure uttered aloud. "...but what else can you offer? Only women who please me can ever hope to become my wives. Shall we see what I can find?"
