his head.
He made no attempt to put his arms around her, and his lips barely touched hers. It wasn't passion that she felt in him, but tenderness, a continuation of the enchantment that had pervaded the whole evening. When he lifted his head he saw that she was smiling. He smiled back, then, turning to the two mimes he said, “Thank you.”
Their response was to jump for joy, dancing around Dottie and Randolph. He took some money out and again tried to give it to them. “Won't you let me show my gratitude?”
But, as before, they shook their heads. Then they turned and ran away, hand in hand, until they vanished into the darkness of the trees.
“Why did you thank them?” Dottie asked, speaking as in a dream.
“Because without them I wouldn't have dared to kiss you.”
“I'm glad they wouldn't take money,” Dottie said. “That would have spoiled it somehow.”
“Yes,” he said, in quick appreciation. “It would.”
Dottie didn't say anything, but stood looking at him in unutterable content. This was part of the glory of the whole evening. It was as though time had been suspended for a few hours. Later it would start again and she would become her real self once more. But nothing would be quite the same.
They wandered on out of the park until they reached the hotel, which was in darkness.
“Got your key?” she asked.
“Later. I'm walking you home.”
“It's only two streets away.”
“A gentleman doesn't let a lady walk home alone.”
And the spell could last a little longer, she thought happily. They walked the two streets in silence and stopped outside a shabby brick house, three floors high.
“Good night, Dottie. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“It should be me thanking you. I've never-” she laughed and sought for words. “I've just never…just never…”
“Never drunk white burgundy?” he said, smiling. “Never eaten nouvelle cuisine?”
“Never talked like that,” she said. “It was nice to fly.”
“Don't you want to keep on flying?”
She shook her head. “But it was nice to do it once.”
“You're so certain that it will never happen again?”
He thought for a moment that she would answer, but then she backed off like someone who'd seen danger. “I've got a real life to live. You can't do that flying.”
“But-”
“I have to go in now,” she said hurriedly. “Good night.” She ran up the short path to the front door.
“Good night,” he said regretfully and turned away. But before he'd gone more than a few steps she called out to him. “Yes?” he said hopefully.
“Don't forget to miss a step as you go into your room. Otherwise you'll hit the wobbly floorboard.”
“I'll remember.”
“Have a good night, and I'll bring you a real English breakfast in the morning.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying to conceal his feelings at the prospect of this treat. “Good night.”
Just before she went to sleep Dottie spoke to a photo of Mike that she kept by her bed. She often did this, and not for the world would she have admitted that it could be more rewarding than talking to the real man.
“It was just a meal-not an actual date or anything-a bit like being taken out when you were a kid. It's not like I fancied him. Well, maybe just a bit…all right, a lot. Okay, Okay, so he kissed me.
And I wouldn't have minded if he'd done it again. But you're the one I love. Honest. Anyway, what were you up to with Bren?”
She turned out the light.
Chapter Three
Thursday was the great day of the week, the day when Dottie finished work early, and met Mike in the park. As two o'clock neared she hurried away from the cafe, rejoicing in the knowledge that all was right with the world. The sun was shining and heaven, in the shape of a chunky garage mechanic, was just around the corner. The fantasies of the night before were no more than colored dreams, like being taken to the movies. It was easier to think like this because there'd been no sign of Mr. Holsson this morning. She'd done him a good English breakfast, as promised, but had persuaded Jack to take it up.
She entered the little wood that fringed the park, and at first she had to stop and blink as the trees blotted out the light. Then her sight cleared and she realized that she wasn't alone. A man stood leaning against a tree, only half-visible through the slanting sunbeams.
Today he was in slacks and shirt, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He didn't see Dottie at first and she was able to study him, trying to recapture the way he'd seemed the previous evening. But in the morning light she saw only a man whose arms were heavy with muscles, and whose torso beneath the light shirt was lean and hard.
Last night he'd kissed her, but only softly, on the lips. He hadn't put those strong arms around her or drawn her against him. Of course it was better that he hadn't, but for a moment her head spun with the thought. Behind the gentleness of his mouth she'd sensed something else, a tension, an urgency, even an anger, that she'd never known before in a man's kiss.
Her experience was limited: overeager boys whose wishes had exceeded their skill, and whom she'd had to put firmly in their place. And Mike, well-meaning and affectionate, always glad to please her.
But now she'd encountered something different, not a boy but a man, with the power to excite her mysteriously. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again something had changed. The sun struck him at an angle that made him seem enclosed in a golden light, and for a moment it was like seeing an apparition; a benevolent apparition that hinted at a glorious future that might tantalize her for a moment before vanishing.
He looked up to where she stood. But although his eyes were fixed on her she had a feeling that it wasn't herself he was looking at, but someone else. The impression was so strong that she turned to look behind her. But then he smiled, and she knew it was just for her.
Randolph had awoken with a strange sensation, as though the new world he'd glimpsed last night was still there, inviting him to enter again, because she was there. She had the gift of spring, he thought, and was startled at himself, because such a poetic thought had never crossed his mind before. All his training urged him to avoid such ideas, but when he saw her again he smiled despite himself.
“Was your breakfast all right?” she asked, coming closer to him. “You didn't eat it all.”
He nearly said frivolously, “That was because you didn't bring it up to me.” But he pulled himself together. He was here on serious business.
“It was excellent,” he said, “but a little more than I normally eat. The tea was-” he hunted for the word, “very strong,” he said at last.
“Round here we say tea's not tea unless you can stand the spoon up in it.”
“So I gathered,” he said with feeling.
It was better to keep the talk light, and so avoid the swirling undercurrents.
“Are you exploring the neighborhood?” she asked as they fell into step.
“No, I was waiting for you.”
The sudden gravity in his voice made Dottie's heart beat faster, as though she was faced with unknown danger.
“I warned you about that floorboard,” she said quickly. “If you want to complain-”
“I have no complaints,” he said, taking hold of her arm to halt her. “There are things we need to talk about. Last night-”
“Last night was lovely but…” she shrugged helplessly, “it was last night. Today I'm me again.”
“And who were you then?”
