‘Every time I look at you, it will be difficult to see you other than as naked as in those photographs.’
‘Wizard! I know. I’ll sit there, and watch you squirming. I told you you’re much more fun at arm’s length. Coffee or tea?’
We drank tea and toasted hot cross buns that somebody’s maid had made too many of. Then we drank gin with limes. It wasn’t the make-believe rough stuff, so maybe a stock had come in from somewhere. When it was late she lit the fire in their small sitting room. Not because it was cold, but to make us cosy. I said, ‘Another woman told me that Oliver only had to look at you for you to want to take your clothes off for him.’
‘Mmm, she was probably right. It didn’t seem to take long before I was in the buff.’
‘What can I do to achieve the same effect? It would make life much easier for me.’
‘I don’t think you can, Charlie. Anyway, you have a very different effect on women; hasn’t anyone told you?’
‘No, and if it’s nasty, don’t you tell me either.’
‘It’s not. It’s rather sweet.’
‘Well, then?’
‘The way you look at me sometimes makes me want to make love: desperately, violently and quickly; sometimes you actually make my stomach churn – funny isn’t it? If I was married to someone else, I suspect I’d want you even more.’
‘So why don’t we for heaven’s sake? I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘I don’t know, but speaking for my sex as it were, our response to you scares us; so we back off. Then, having escaped your evil clutches we inevitably jump straight into the arms of the next man who asks. Maybe for a kind of emotional safety.’
‘Are you saying that not long ago you wanted me so badly you went to bed with someone else?’
‘Precisely.’
I stood up, and probably pouted like Brigitte Bardot.
‘I’m bloody well going home,’ I told her.
‘Don’t be silly. You’ve missed the last bus, so there’s no safe way of getting back to AS. Anyway, you’ve already made love today . . . so don’t be greedy.’
‘How can you possibly tell that?’ I asked grumpily.
‘Because your eyelids are still blue. Everyone’s eyelids are blue afterwards, haven’t you noticed? It makes me want to kiss them.’
That’s what she did. I loved the soft pressure of her lips against my eyes, but it didn’t make much difference: I slept on the settee. Her Aussie pal came off duty at three, and woke me up coming in. I got up and wrapped a sheet around my body.
She said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.’
‘That’s all right. I wasn’t sleeping deeply. Are you going to have a cuppa before you go to bed?’
‘Yes. Do you fancy sitting up for half an hour and letting me natter? I’ve had a terrible day.’
I’d had rather a good one, so a bit of payback wouldn’t be all that out of order,
‘OK,’ I said.
Susan did something I hadn’t seen before. She heated milk in a pan on the stove and poured it over our breakfast cornflakes. They immediately went soggy, but the creamy yellow smell that lifted from them was sublime.
‘Good?’ she asked: mouth full.
‘Very good.’ Mouth even fuller.
‘Did I rather brutally turn down a request to sleep with you last night? Sorry; those words came out mixed up a bit, but you know what I mean.’
‘Yeah. You didn’t give the suggestion much thought.’
‘Never say die, Charlie. There’s always a next time!’
‘You’re a cow.’
‘God, and don’t I know it; but I enjoy it so much.’ Big, big wicked smile. I believed her. Maybe she was a mornings person after all.
‘Can we talk about something serious?’ I still had something on my mind.
‘If you must . . .’
‘Do you remember us once talking about the things you could do, and couldn’t do to get someone into bed? If you were staying honest, that is.’
‘I remember you wanting to talk about it. What of it?’
‘If one of the women who I returned Oliver’s photographs to took me to bed as a finder’s reward, which side of the moral border would that lie on?’
‘I should say . . .’ She paused, and gave it a thought. ‘I should say that it sat exactly on the border, Charlie. Could be OK; could be pretty bad. It would all depend what you thought of each other afterwards. Any good?’
‘It will have to be, won’t it?’
‘Is that what happened?’
‘I’m not going to tell you.’
I turned down her offer of lazing around for the morning, and walked back down to the main gate for a secure bus. Outside the Holroyds’ bungalow I dropped a step, and Jill stepped out on to the veranda. She was dressed the same as the day before, and smiled. That was a relief.
She said, ‘No point you coming in: this is the maid’s day.’
I grinned, ‘You warned me “only once”, anyway.’
‘Would it be OK to change our minds occasionally?’ Of course it bloody would.
‘It would make me the happiest guy out here. I’d sign on again!’
‘Good, that’s settled. Wait here a minute. I have something for you.’ When she came back, she handed me one of the photographs. When I turned it over there was a lipstick imprint on the back: perhaps that was fashionable all of a sudden. ‘Make sure that no one else sees it. I don’t know why I’m taking such a silly risk.’
‘No risk at all. It’ll be in my shirt pocket every minute of the day.’
‘You don’t love me, or anything messy like that, do you?’
‘No, not yet. If it becomes inevitable, do you want me to run away?’
‘Yes, Charlie. As quickly as you can.’
There’s nothing quite like being told, is there?
I did some shopping on Main Street: ordered a couple of linen suits made up. They would be delivered to the Kettle before I left the next day. An MP spotted me in
