The red-bud trees were in full bloom around the main plaza and the
ornamental pool, as David crossed to the admin block and asked for her
at the inquiries desk where the porter was on the point of leaving his
post.
Miss Mordecai, the porter checked his list. Yes.
English Department. On the second floor of the Lauterman building. He
pointed out through the glass doors. Third building on your right. Go
right on in. Debra was in a students tutorial, and while he waited for
her, he found a seat on the terrace in the warmth of the sun. It was as
well, for suddenly he felt a breath of uncertainty cooling his spine.
For the first time since leaving Athens, he wondered if he had much
cause to expect a hearty welcome from Debra Mordecai. Even at this
remove in time, David had difficulty in judging his own behaviour
towards her. Self-criticism was an art which David had never seriously
practised; with a face and fortune such as his, it was seldom necessary.
In this time of waiting he found it novel and uncomfortable to admit
that it was just possible that his behaviour may have been, as Debra had
told him, that of a spoiled child.
He was still exploring this thought, when a burst of voices and the
clatter of heels upon the flags distracted him and a group of students
came out on to the terrace, hugging their books to their chests, and
most of the girls glanced at him with quick speculative attention as
they passed.
There was a pause then before Debra came. She carried books under her
arm and a sling bag over one shoulder, and her hair was pulled back
severely at the nape of her neck; she wore no make-up, but her skirt was
brightly coloured in big summery whorls of orange.
Her legs were bare and her feet were thrust into leather sandals. She
was in deep conversation with the two students who flanked her, and she
did not see David until he stood up from the parapet. Then she froze
into that special stillness he had first noticed in the cantina at
Zaragoza.
David was surprised to find how awkward he felt, as though his feet and
hands had grown a dozen sizes. He grinned and made a shrugging,
self-deprecatory gesture.
Hello, Debs. His voice sounded gruff in his own ears, and Debra stirred
and made a panicky attempt to brush back the wisps of hair at her
temples, but the books hampered her.
David, She started towards him, a pace before she hesitated and stopped,
glancing at her students. Then sensed her confusion and melted, and she
swung back at him.
David, she repeated, and then her expression crumbled into utter
desolation. Oh God, and I haven't even a shred of lipstick on. David
laughed with relief and went towards her, spreading his arms, and she
flew at him and it was all confusion with books and sling bag muddled,
and Debra making breathless exclamations of frustration before she could
divest herself of them. Then at last they embraced.
David, she murmured with both arms wound tightly around his neck. You
beast, what on earth took you so long? I had almost given you up. Debra
had a motor scooter which she drove with such murderous abandon that she
