‘Where are you going? You’ll tell me that, at least.’
‘Let’s talk about you a little. A girl must retain her mystery.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Do you have a sweetheart?’
‘No,’ he replied without hesitation. What harm would it do to lie to a woman he was sure never to see again? He threw his cigarette butt into the ocean.
‘So why are you so sad?’
‘I lost many friends in the war. Good friends. People I’d grown attached to. They died but I survived. Why me?’ He shrugged.
‘I see,’ she said gently. ‘Where were you in all this fighting?’
‘In the air.’
‘Oh, a pilot. That’s very glamorous, you know.’
‘Not when you’re in the middle of a bloody battle it isn’t.’
‘No, I suppose not. You must be a very good pilot to have survived.’
‘Perhaps just lucky.’
‘So you’re leaving all those memories behind. The funny thing is that memories are like my scar, you can’t run away from them.’
‘But one can try.’
‘I suppose we both will and then, one day, we’ll wake up and find that we can only be happy by confronting our demons. The thing is, I’m not quite ready for that yet.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘Who would have thought that you and I had so much in common?’
‘I don’t even know your name,’ he lied. He didn’t want her to know that he had been discussing her with the unpleasant Mrs Bullingdon.
‘Susan Robertson.’
‘George Bolton.’
‘Mind if I steal one of your cigarettes?’
‘Not at all. Please.’ He pulled the packet out of his breast pocket.
‘Oh, Lucky Strike. There’s an old familiar friend,’ she said, taking one.
She had slender white hands with long nails painted red. She placed the cigarette between her lips and fixed George with pale shiny eyes, probably blue but he couldn’t see well enough in the darkness. He flicked his lighter but the wind blew it out at once. She cupped her hands around it, lightly brushing his with her fingers and he tried again. This time it worked and she inhaled deeply.
‘Where in America are you from?’ George asked, intent on drawing more information out of her.
‘You don’t give up, do you?’
He laughed. ‘I’m just curious.’
‘Like a child who is denied a toy.’
‘Or like a man in the presence of a strikingly beautiful woman. Isn’t it natural that he should want to know everything about her?’
‘Are you flirting with me, George Bolton?’
‘I wouldn’t be so presumptuous,’ he retorted and grinned crookedly as was his way.
‘Very well. I’m from all over. My father was a diplomat. I was brought up in Washington. Then we lived for a while in Buenos Aires. My fondest memories are of that time. After that we moved to Europe. Paris, London, Rome. I consider myself a child of the world. I don’t really belong anywhere.’
‘But you consider yourself American?’
‘But of course. That’s different. That’s in my blood. Have I satisfied your curiosity?’
‘Marginally.’
‘That’s better than nothing.’
‘But we have three more days before we arrive in Buenos Aires.’
‘And you think you’ll wheedle it all out of me in three days? I’m not a pushover, George, and I’m not in the mood to be romanced. You’ve had your opportunity.’ She smiled at him indulgently and added in a soft voice. ‘You’ve been good company, though, and I don’t feel sad any more.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Good night, George.’ She patted him on the hand before walking away.
George remained for some time on the deck. It irritated him that she considered him little more than a boy. The idea of being romanced by him was obviously preposterous to her, like being courted by a child. He wanted her to look on him as a man. After all, she couldn’t have been more than twenty-eight or nine. Hardly in a position to patronize him.
He returned to his berth and decided to write to Rita. He recalled the letters he had written her during the war. He had never recounted his experiences in the air. They had seemed somehow too harsh for Rita’s gentle sensibility. Besides, he hadn’t wanted her to know the dangers he was in. So he had dwelt on their past. On the cliffs and the beach, in their cave and on the farm. He had written long, nostalgic paragraphs recalling their games and their innocence, without really realizing that when he returned it would all be gone for ever. This time he simply told her that he missed her.