Mark picked up his case and went out, going forward toward the men’s room. As he left the compartment, he passed Mervyn coming the other way. They looked at one another like cats across a fence, but they did not speak.

Diana was startled to see Mervyn dressed in a coarse flannel nightshirt with broad brown stripes. “What on earth have you got on?” she asked incredulously.

“Go on, laugh,” he said. “It was all I could find in Foynes. The local shop has never heard of silk pajamas— they didn’t know whether I was queer or just daft.”

“Well, your friend Mrs. Lenehan won’t fancy you in that getup.” Now why did I say that? Diana wondered.

“I don’t suppose she’d fancy me in anything,” Mervyn said crossly, and he passed on out of the compartment.

The steward came in. Diana said: “Oh, Davy, would you make up our beds now, please?”

“Right away, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She picked up her case and went out.

As she passed through number 5 compartment, she wondered where Mervyn was sleeping. None of these bunks was made up yet, nor any in number 6; and yet he had disappeared. It dawned on Diana that he must be in the honeymoon suite. An instant later she realized that she had not seen Mrs. Lenehan seated anywhere when she walked the length of the plane a few moments earlier. She stood outside the ladies’ room, with her bag in her hand, frozen still with surprise. It was outrageous. Mervyn and Mrs. Lenehan must be sharing the honeymoon suite!

Surely the airline would not allow it. Perhaps Mrs. Lenehan had already gone to bed, and was out of sight in a curtained bunk in a forward compartment.

Diana had to know.

She stepped to the door of the honeymoon suite and hesitated.

Then she turned the handle and opened the door.

The suite was about the same size as a regular compartment, and had a terra-cotta carpet, beige walls and the blue upholstery with the pattern of stars that was also in the main lounge. At the rear of the room was a pair of bunks. On one side were a couch and a coffee table, and on the other a stool, a dressing table, and a mirror. There were two windows on each side.

Mervyn stood in the middle of the room, startled by her sudden appearance. Mrs. Lenehan was not present, but her gray cashmere coat was draped over the couch.

Diana slammed the door behind her and said: “How could you do this to me?”

“Do what?”

It was a good question, she thought in the back of her mind. What was she so angry about? “Everyone will know that you’re spending the night with her!”

“I had no choice,” he protested. “There were no other seats left.”

“Don’t you know how people will laugh at us? It’s bad enough your following me like this!”

“Why would I care? Everyone laughs at a chap whose wife runs off with another fellow.”

“But this is making it worse! You should have accepted the situation and made the best of it.”

“You ought to know me better than that.”

“I do—that’s why I tried to prevent you following me.”

He shrugged. “Well, you failed. You’re not clever enough to outwit me.”

“And you’re not clever enough to know when to give in gracefully!”

“I’ve never pretended to be graceful.”

“And what kind of tramp is she? She’s married—I saw her ring!”

“She’s a widow. Anyway, what right have you got to be so damn superior? You’re married, and you’re spending the night with your fancy man.”

“At least we’ll be in separate bunks in a public compartment, not tucked away in a cozy little bridal suite,” she said, suppressing a guilty pang as she recalled how she had planned to share a bunk with Mark.

“But I’m not having an affair with Mrs. Lenehan,” he said in an exasperated tone, “whereas you’ve been dropping your drawers for that playboy all bloody summer, haven’t you?”

“Don’t be so vulgar,” she hissed; but she felt somehow he was right. That was exactly what she had been doing: whipping her panties off as quick as she could every time she got near Mark. He was right.

“If it’s vulgar to say it, it must be worse to do it,” he said.

“At least I was discreet—I didn’t flaunt it and humiliate you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I’ll probably find I was the only person in Greater Manchester who didn’t know what you were up to. Adulterers are never as discreet as they think.”

“Don’t call me that!” she protested. It made her feel ashamed.

“Why not? It’s what you are.”

“It sounds vile,” she said, looking away.

“Be thankful we don’t stone adulteresses like they did in the Bible.”

“It’s a horrible word.”

“You should be ashamed of the deed, not the word.”

“You’re so bloody righteous,” she said wearily. “You’ve never done anything wrong, have you?”

“I’ve always done right by you!” he said angrily.

She became thoroughly exasperated with him. “Two wives have run away from you, but you’ve always been the innocent party. Will it ever occur to you to wonder where you might be going wrong?”

That got to him. He grabbed her, holding her arms above the elbow, and shook her. “I gave you everything you wanted,” he said angrily.

“But you don’t care how I feel about things,” she shouted. “You never did. That’s why I left you.” She put her hands on his chest to push him away—and at that moment the door opened and Mark came in.

He stood there in his pajamas, staring at the two of them, and said: “What the hell is this, Diana? Are you planning to spend the night in the honeymoon suite?”

She pushed Mervyn away and he let her go. “No, I’m not,” she said to Mark. “This is Mrs. Lenehan’s accommodation—Mervyn’s sharing it.”

Mark laughed scornfully. “That’s rich!” he said. “I have to put this in a script sometime!”

“It’s not funny!” she protested.

“But it is!” he said. “This guy comes chasing his wife like a lunatic. Then what does he do? He shacks up with a girl he meets on the way!”

Diana resented his attitude, and found herself unwillingly defending Mervyn. “They’re not shacked up,” she said impatiently. “These were the only seats left.”

“You should be glad,” Mark said. “If he falls for her, maybe he’ll stop chasing you.”

“Can’t you see I’m upset?”

“Sure, but I don’t understand why,” he said. “You don’t love Mervyn anymore. Sometimes you talk as if you hate him. You’ve left him. So why do you care who he sleeps with?”

“I don’t know, but I do! I feel humiliated!”

Mark was too cross to be sympathetic. “A few hours ago you decided to go back to Mervyn. Then he annoyed you and you changed your mind. Now you’re mad at him for sleeping with someone else.”

“I’m not sleeping with her,” Mervyn put in.

Mark ignored him. “Are you sure you’re not still in love with Mervyn?” he said angrily to Diana.

“That’s a horrible thing to say to me!”

“I know, but is it true?”

“No, it isn’t true, and I hate you for thinking it might be.” She was in tears now.

“Then prove it to me. Forget about him and where he sleeps.”

“I was never any good at tests!” she shouted. “Stop being so bloody logical! This is not the debating society!”

“No, it’s not!” said a new voice. The three of them turned around and saw Nancy Lenehan in the door, looking very attractive in a bright blue silk robe. “In fact,” she said, “I believe this is my suite. What the hell is going on?”

Вы читаете Night Over Water
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