azure contact lenses at the yacht moving slowly away from the jetty, Baby Hutchmeyer was herself filled with a sense of dedication, a maternal dedication amounting to euphoria. The days of useless inactivity were over. From now on she would stand between Piper and the harsh insensitivity of Hutchmeyer and the world. She was happy.
Upstairs Piper was anything but. The first flush of his courage in challenging Hutchmeyer had ebbed away leaving him with the horrible feeling that he was in desperate trouble. He took his wet trousers off and sat on the bed wondering what on earth to do. He should never have left the Gleneagle Guest House in Exforth. He should never have listened to Frensic and Sonia. He should never have come to America. He should never have betrayed his literary principles. As the sunset faded Piper got up and was just looking for another pair of trousers when there was a knock at the door and Baby entered.
'You were wonderful,' she said, 'really wonderful.'
'Kind of you to say so,' said Piper interposing the furbelowed stool between his trouserless self and Mrs Hutchmeyer and conscious that if anything more was needed to infuriate Mr Hutchmeyer it was to find the two of them in this compromising situation.
'And I want you to know I appreciate what you have written about me,' continued Baby.
'Written about you?' said Piper groping in the cupboard.
'In your diary,' said Baby. 'I know I shouldn't have...'
'What?' squawked Piper from the depths of the cupboard. He found a pair of trousers and struggled into them.
'I just couldn't help it,' said Baby. 'It was lying open on the table and I...'
'Then you know,' said Piper emerging from the cupboard.
'Yes,' said Baby.
'Christ,' said Piper and slumped on to the stool. 'Are you going to tell him?'
Baby shook her head. 'It's between us two.'
Piper considered this and found it only faintly reassuring. 'It's been a terrible strain,' he said finally. 'I mean not being able to talk to anyone about it. Apart from Sonia of course but she's no help.'
'I don't suppose she is,' said Baby who didn't for one moment suppose that Miss Futtle appreciated being told what a deeply sensitive, intelligent and perceptive person another woman was.
'Well she wouldn't be,' said Piper, 'I mean it was her idea in the first place.'
'It was?' said Baby.
'She said it would work out all right but I knew I would never be able to keep up the pretence,' continued Piper.
'I think that does you great credit,' said Baby trying desperately to imagine what Miss Futtle had had in mind in persuading Piper to pretend that he...There was something very screwy about all this. 'Look, why don't we go downstairs and have a drink and you can tell me all about it.'
'I've got to talk to someone,' said Piper, 'but won't they be down there?'
They've gone out on the yacht. We've got all the privacy in the world.'
They went downstairs to a little corner room with a balcony which hung out over rocks and the water lapping the beach.
'It's my hidey hole,' said Baby indicating the rows of books lining the walls. 'Where I can be myself.' She poured two drinks while Piper looked miserably at the titles. They were as confusing as his own situation and seemed to argue an eclecticism he found surprising. Maupassant leant against Hailey who in turn propped up Tolkien, and Piper, whose self was founded upon a few great writers, couldn't imagine how anyone could be themselves in these surroundings. Besides, there were a large number of detective stories and thrillers and Piper held very strong views on such trite works.
