Night Over Water

Impatiently, he beckoned to her. She ran up to the plane. He leaned toward her and shouted: “What are you waiting for? Get in!”

She looked at her watch. It was a quarter to three. They could still make it to Foynes in time. Her spirits bounded with optimism again. I’m not finished yet! she thought.

The young blacksmith came up with a twinkle in his eye and shouted: “Let me help you up.” He made a step with his linked hands. She put her muddy bare foot on it and he boosted her up. She scrambled into her seat.

The plane pulled away immediately.

A few seconds later they were in the air.

CHAPTER NINE

Mervyn Lovesey’s wife was very happy.

Diana had been frightened when the Clipper took off, but now she felt nothing but elation.

She had not flown before. Mervyn had never invited her to go up in his little plane, even though she had spent days painting it a lovely bright yellow for him. She discovered that, once you got over the nervousness, it was a terrific thrill to be this high in the air, in something like a first-class hotel with wings, looking down on England’s pastures and comfields, roads and railways, houses and churches and factories. She felt free. She was free. She had left Mervyn and run away with Mark.

Last night, at the South-Western Hotel in Southampton, they had registered as Mr. and Mrs. Alder and had spent their first whole night together. They had made love, then gone to sleep, then woken up in the morning and made love again. It seemed such a luxury, after three months of short afternoons and snatched kisses.

Flying the Clipper was like living in a movie. The decor was opulent, the people were elegant, the two stewards were quietly efficient, everything happened on cue as if it were scripted, and there were famous faces everywhere. There was Baron Gabon, the wealthy Zionist, always in intense discussion with his haggard companion. The Marquis of Oxenford, the famous Fascist, was on board with his beautiful wife. Princess Lavinia Bazarov, one of the pillars of Paris society, was in Diana’s compartment, in the window seat of Diana’s divan.

Opposite the princess, in the other window seat on this side, was the movie star Lulu Bell. Diana had seen her in lots of films: My Cousin Jake, Torment, The Secret Life, Helen of Troy and many others had come to the Paramount Cinema in Oxford Street, Manchester. But the biggest surprise was that Mark knew her. As they were settling into their seats, a strident American voice had called out: “Mark! Mark Alder! Is that really you?” and Diana had turned around to see a small blond woman like a canary swooping on him.

It turned out they had worked together on a radio show in Chicago years ago, before Lulu was a big star. Mark had introduced Diana, and Lulu had been very sweet, saying how beautiful Diana was and how lucky Mark had been to find her. But naturally she was more interested in Mark, and the two of them had been chatting ever since takeoff, reminiscing about the old days when they were young and short of money and lived in flophouses and stayed up all night drinking bootleg liquor.

Diana had not realized that Lulu was so short. In her films she seemed taller. Also younger. And in real life you could see that her hair was not naturally blond, as Diana’s was, but dyed. However, she did have the chirpy, pushy personality she displayed in most of the movies. She was the center of attention even now. Although she was talking to Mark, everyone was looking at her: Princess Lavinia in the corner, Diana opposite Mark, and the two men on the other side of the aisle.

She was telling a story about a radio broadcast during which one of the actors had left, thinking his part was over, when in fact he had one line to speak right at the end. “So I said my line, which was: Who ate the Easter cake? And everybody looked around—but George had disappeared! And there was a long silence.” She paused for dramatic effect. Diana smiled. What on earth did people do when things went wrong during radio shows? She listened to the radio a lot but she could not remember anything like this happening. Lulu resumed. “So I said my line again: Who ate the Easter cake? Then I went like this.” She lowered her chin and spoke in an astonishingly convincing gruff male voice. “I think it must have been the cat.”

Everyone laughed.

“And that was the end of the show,” she finished.

Diana remembered a broadcast during which an announcer had been so shocked at something that he said, “Jesus H. Christ!” in astonishment. “I heard an announcer swear once,” she said. She was about to tell the story, but Mark said: “Oh, that happens all the time,” and turned back to Lulu, saying: “Remember when Max Gifford said Babe Ruth had clean balls, and then couldn’t stop laughing?”

Both Mark and Lulu giggled helplessly over that, and Diana smiled, but she was beginning to feel left out. She reflected that she was rather spoiled: for three months, while Mark had been alone in a strange town, she had had his undivided attention. Obviously that could not go on forever. She would have to get used to sharing him with other people from now on. However, she did not have to play the part of audience. She turned to Princess Lavinia, sitting on her right, and said: “Do you listen to the wireless, Princess?”

The old Russian woman looked down her thin beaked nose and said: “I find it slightly vulgar.”

Diana had met sniffy old ladies before, and they did not intimidate her. “How surprising,” she said. “Only last night we tuned in to some Beethoven quintets.”

“German music is so mechanical,” the princess replied.

There would be no pleasing her, Diana decided. She had once belonged to the most idle and privileged class the world had ever seen, and she wanted everyone to know it, so she pretended that everything she was offered was not as good as what she had once been used to. She was going to be a bore.

The steward assigned to the rear half of the aircraft arrived to take orders for cocktails. His name was Davy. He was a small, neat, charming young man with fair hair, and he walked the carpeted aisle with a bouncy step. Diana asked for a dry martini. She did not know what it was, but she remembered from the movies that it was a chic drink in America.

She studied the two men on the other side of the compartment. They were both looking out of the windows. Nearest her was a handsome young man in a rather flashy suit. He was broad-shouldered, like an athlete, and wore several rings. His dark coloring led Diana to wonder whether he was South American. Opposite him was a man who looked rather out of place. His suit was too big and his shirt collar was worn. He did not look as if he could afford the price of a Clipper ticket. He was also as bald as a lightbulb. The two men did not speak or look at one another, but all the same Diana was sure they were together.

She wondered what Mervyn was doing right now. He had almost certainly read her note. He might be crying, she thought guiltily. No, that was not like him. He was more likely to be raging. But who would he rage at? His poor employees, perhaps. She wished her note had been kinder, or at least more enlightening, but she had been too distraught to do better. He would probably phone her sister, Thea, she guessed. He would think Thea might know where she had gone. Well, Thea didn’t. She would be shocked. What would she tell the twins? The thought upset Diana. She was going to miss her little nieces.

Davy came back with their drinks. Mark raised his glass to Lulu, and then to Diana—almost as an afterthought, she said to herself sourly. She tasted her martini and nearly spat it out. “Ugh!” she said. “It tastes like neat gin!”

Everyone laughed at her. “It is mostly gin, honey,” said Mark. “Haven’t you had a martini before?”

Diana felt humiliated. She had not known what she was ordering, like a schoolgirl in a bar. All these cosmopolitan people now thought she was an ignorant provincial.

Davy said: “Let me bring you something else, ma’am.”

“A glass of champagne, then,” she said sulkily.

“Right away.”

Diana spoke crossly to Mark. “I haven’t had a martini before. I just thought I’d try it. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“Of course not, honey,” he said, and patted her knee.

Princess Lavinia said: “This brandy is disgusting, young man. Bring me some tea instead.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

Diana decided to go to the ladies’ room. She stood up, said, “Excuse me,” and went out through the arched