passengers had all come out on deck, and stood there looking up at the plane and waving. They were so close that Margaret could see their clothes: the men wore white dinner jackets and the women long gowns. The ship was moving fast, its pointed bows knifing through the huge waves effortlessly, and the plane passed it quite slowly. It was a special moment: Margaret felt enchanted. She glanced at Harry and they smiled at one another, sharing the magic. He rested his right hand on her waist, on the side shielded by his body where no one could see it. His touch was featherlight, but she felt it like a burn. It made her hot and confused, but she did not want him to take his hand away. After a while the ship receded, and its lights were dimmed, then extinguished altogether. The Clipper passengers returned to their seats and Harry moved back.
More people drifted off to bed, and now only the cardplayers were left in the main lounge with Margaret and Harry. Margaret was bashful and did not know what to do with herself. She felt so awkward that she said: “It’s getting late. We’d better go to bed.” Why did I say that? she thought; I don’t
Harry looked disappointed. “I guess I’ll make a move in a minute.”
Margaret stood up. “Thank you so much for your offer of help,” she said.
“Not at all,” he said.
Why are we being so formal? Margaret thought. I don’t want to say good night like this! “Sleep well,” she said.
“You too.”
She turned away, then turned back. “You do mean it, about helping me, don’t you? You won’t let me down.”
His face softened and he gave her a look that was almost loving. “I won’t let you down, Margaret. I promise.”
Suddenly she felt terribly fond of him. On impulse, without thinking about it, she bent down and kissed him. It was a fleeting brush of her lips on his, but she felt desire like an electric shock when they touched. She straightened up immediately, startled by what she had done and the way she felt. For an instant they stared into one another’s eyes. Then she stepped into the next compartment.
She felt weak-kneed. Looking around, she saw that Mr. Membury had taken the top bunk on the port side, leaving the lower one free for Harry. Percy had also taken a top bunk. She got into the one below Percy’s and fastened the curtain.
I kissed him, she thought; and it was nice.
She slid under the covers and turned off the little light. It was just like being in a tent. She felt quite cozy. She could see out of the window, but there was nothing to look at: just clouds and rain. All the same it was exciting. It reminded her of times when she and Elizabeth had been allowed to pitch a tent in the grounds and sleep out, on warm summer nights when they were little girls. She had always felt she would never go to sleep, it was so exciting; but the next thing she knew it would be light, and Cook would be tapping on the canvas and handing in a tray of tea and toast.
She wondered where Elizabeth was now.
Just as she was thinking that, there was a soft tap on her curtain. At first she thought she had imagined it because she was thinking of Cook. Then it came again, a sound like a fingernail, tap, tap, tap. She hesitated, then lifted herself, leaning on her elbow, and pulled the sheet up around her throat.
Tap, tap, tap.
She opened the curtain a fraction and saw Harry.
“What is it?” she hissed, although she thought she knew.
“I want to kiss you again,” he whispered.
She was both pleased and horrified. “Don’t be silly!”
“Please.”
“Go away!”
“No one will see.”
It was an outrageous request, but she was sorely tempted. She remembered the electric tingle of the first kiss and wanted another. Almost involuntarily, she opened the curtain a little more. He put his head through and gave her a pleading look. It was irresistible. She kissed his mouth. He smelled of toothpaste. She intended a quick kiss like the last one, but he had other ideas. He nibbled her lower lip. She found it exciting. She instinctively opened her mouth a fraction, and she felt his tongue brush her lips dryly. Ian had never done that. It was a weird sensation, but nice. Feeling depraved, she put out her own tongue to meet his. He began to breathe heavily. Suddenly Percy moved in the bunk over her head, reminding her of where she was. She felt panicked: how could she do this? She was publicly kissing a man she hardly knew! If Father should see, there would be hell to pay! She broke away, panting. Harry pushed his head in farther, wanting to kiss her again, but she pushed him away.
“Let me in,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she hissed. “Please.”
This was impossible. She was not even tempted: she was scared. “No, no, no,” she said.
He looked crestfallen.
She softened. “You’re the nicest man I’ve met for a long time, perhaps ever, but you’re not that nice,” she said. “Go to bed.”
He realized she meant it. He gave a rueful half smile. He seemed about to speak, but Margaret closed the curtain before he could.
She listened intently and thought she heard a soft footfall as he went away.
She turned off the light and lay back, breathing hard. Oh my God, she thought, that was dreamy. She smiled in the dark, reliving the kiss. She had really wanted to go farther. She caressed herself gently as she thought about it.
Her mind went back to her first lover, Monica, a cousin who had come to stay the summer Margaret was thirteen. Monica was sixteen, blond and pretty, and seemed to know everything, and Margaret adored her from the beginning.
She lived in France, and perhaps because of that, or perhaps just because her parents were more easygoing than Margaret’s, Monica naturally walked around naked in the bedrooms and bathroom of the children’s wing. Margaret had never seen a grown-up naked, and she had been fascinated by Monica’s big breasts and the bush of honey-colored hair between her legs: she herself had only a small bust and a little downy hair, at that age.
But Monica had seduced Elizabeth first—ugly, bossy Elizabeth, who had spots on her chin! Margaret had heard them murmuring and kissing in the night, and she had been by turns mystified, angry, jealous and finally envious. She saw that Monica became very fond of Elizabeth. She felt hurt and excluded by the little glances that went between them and the apparently accidental touch of hands as they walked in the woods or sat at tea.
Then, one day, when Elizabeth went to London with Mother for some reason, Margaret came upon Monica in the bath. She was lying in the hot water with her eyes closed, touching herself between the legs. She heard Margaret, and blinked, but she did not stop, and Margaret watched, scared but fascinated, while Monica masturbated to a climax.
That night Monica came to Margaret’s bed instead of Elizabeth’s; but Elizabeth threw a tantrum and threatened to tell all, so in the end they shared her, like wife and mistress in a jealous triangle. Margaret felt guilty and deceitful all summer, but the intense affection and the new-found physical delight was too wonderful to give up, and it ended only when Monica went back to France in September.
After Monica, going to bed with Ian had been a rude shock. He had been awkward and clumsy. She realized that a young man such as him knew next to nothing about women’s bodies, so naturally he could not give her pleasure as Monica had. She soon got over the initial disappointment, however; and Ian loved her so desperately that his passion made up for his inexperience.
Thinking of Ian made her want to cry, as always. She wished with all her heart that she had made love to him more willingly and oftener. She had been very resistant at first, although she longed for it as badly as he did; and he had pleaded with her for months before she finally gave in. After the first time, although she wanted to do it again, she had made difficulties. She had been unwilling to make love in her bedroom in case someone should find the door locked and wonder why; she had been frightened of doing it in the open air, even though she knew lots of hiding places in the woods around their home; and she had been uncomfortable about using his friends’ flats for fear she would get a bad reputation. Behind it all had been the terror of what Father would do if ever he found out.
