He splashed cold water on to his face and shook off the drops, then he
grinned stupidly at himself in the mirror above the basin. His hair was
damp and hung on to his forehead; he closed one eye and the wavering
image in the mirror hardened and squinted back at him.
Hi there, boy, he muttered and reached for the towel.
He had dripped water down his tunic and this annoyed him. He threw the
towel over the toilet seat and went back into the living-room.
The woman was gone. The leather couch still carried the indentation of
her backside, and the dirty plates were on the olive-wood table. The
air was thick with cigarette smoke and her perfume.
Where are you? he called thickly, swaying slightly in the doorway.
Here, big boy. He went to the bedroom. She lay on the bed, naked,
plump and white with huge soft breasts and swelling belly. He stared at
her.
Come on, Davey. Her clothing was thrown across the dressing-table, and
he saw that her corsets were grey and unwashed. Her hair was yellow
against the soft ivory lacework.
Come to Mama, she whispered hoarsely, opening her limbs languidly in
invitation. She was spread upon the brass bed, upon the lace cover
which had been Debra's and David felt his anger surge within him. Get
up, he said, slurring his words. Come on, baby. Get off that bed, his
voice tightened and she heard the tone and sat up with mild alarm. What
is it, Davey? Get out of here, his voice was rising sharply. Get out,
you bitch. Get out of here! He was shaking now, his face pale and his
eyes savage blue.
Quivering with panic, she climbed hurriedly from the bed, the great
white breasts and buttocks wobbling with ridiculous haste as she stuffed
them into the grey corset.
When she had gone, David went through into the bathroom and vomited into
the toilet bowl. Then he cleaned the house, scouring pans and plates,
polishing the glasses until they shone, emptying the ashtrays, opening
the shutters to blow out the stench of cigarette and perfume, and
finally, going through into the bedroom, he stripped and remade the bed
with fresh sheets and smoothed the lace cover carefully until not a
crease or wrinkle showed.
He put on a clean tunic and his uniform cap, and drove to the Jaffa
gate. He parked the car in the lot outside the gate and walked through
the old city to the reconstructed Sephardic synagogue in the Jewish
quarter.
It was very quiet and peaceful in the high-domed hall and he sat a long
time on the hard wooden bench.
Joe sat opposite David with a worried expression creasing his deep
forehead as he studied the board. Three or four of the other pilots had
hiked their chairs up and were concentrating on the game also. These
chessboard conflicts between David and Joe were usually epics and
attracted a partisan audience.
David had been stalking Joe's rook for half a dozen moves and now he had
it trapped. Two more moves would shatter the kingsize defence, and the
third must force a resignation. David grinned smugly as Joe reached a
decision and moved a knight out.
