The James Bond MEGAPACK®

by Ian Fleming

  ‘Something’s on your mind, Vesper,’ he said.

  She gave him a taut, bright smile. ‘It’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. I had a silly idea we were being followed. It’s just nerves, I suppose. This road is full of ghosts.’

  Under cover of a short laugh she looked back again.

  ‘Look.’ There was an edge of panic in her voice.

  Obediently Bond turned his head. Sure enough, a quarter of a mile away, a black saloon was coming after them at a good pace.

  Bond laughed.

  ‘We can’t be the only people using this road,’ he said. ‘Anyway, who wants to follow us? We’ve done nothing wrong.’ He patted her hand. ‘It’s a middle-aged commercial traveller in car-polish on his way to Le Havre. He’s probably thinking of his lunch and his mistress in Paris. Really, Vesper, you mustn’t think evil of the innocent.’

  ‘I expect you’re right,’ she said nervously. ‘Anyway, we’re nearly there.’

  She relapsed into silence and gazed out of the window.

  Bond could still feel her tenseness. He smiled to himself at what he took to be simply a hangover from their recent adventures. But he decided to humour her and when they came to a small lane leading towards the sea and slowed to turn down it, he told the driver to stop directly they were off the main road.

  Hidden by the tall hedge, they watched together through the rear window.

  Through the quiet hum of summer noises they could hear the car approaching. Vesper dug her fingers into his arm. The pace of the car did not alter as it approached their hiding-place and they had only a brief glimpse of a man’s profile as a black saloon tore by.

  It was true that he seemed to glance quickly towards them, but above them in the hedge there was a gaily painted sign pointing down the lane and announcing ‘L’Auberge du Fruit Défendu, crustaces, fritures.’ It was obvious to Bond that it was this that had caught the driver’s eye.

  As the rattle of the car’s exhaust diminished down the road, Vesper sank back into her corner. Her face was pale.

  ‘He looked at us,’ she said, ‘I told you so. I knew we were being followed. Now they know where we are.’

  Bond could not contain his impatience. ‘Bunkum,’ he said. ‘He was looking at that sign.’ He pointed it out to Vesper.

  She looked slightly relieved. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. ‘Yes. I see. Of course, you must be right. Come on. I’m sorry to be so stupid. I don’t know what came over me.’

  She leant forward and talked to the driver through the partition, and the car moved on. She sank back and turned a bright face towards Bond. The colour had almost come back to her cheeks. ‘I really am sorry. It’s just that... it’s that I can’t believe everything’s over and there’s no one to be frightened of any more.’ She pressed his hand. ‘You must think me very stupid.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Bond. ‘But really nobody could be interested in us now. Forget it all. The whole job’s finished, wiped up. This is our holiday and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Is there?’ he persisted.

  ‘No, of course not.’ She shook herself slightly. ‘I’m mad. Now we’ll be there in a second. I do hope you’re going to like it.’

  They both leant forward. Animation was back in her face and the incident left only the smallest question-mark hanging in the air. Even that faded as they came through the dunes and saw the sea and the modest little inn amongst the pines.

  ‘It’s not very grand, I’m afraid,’ said Vesper. ‘But it’s very clean and the food’s wonderful.’ She looked at him anxiously.

  She need not have worried. Bond loved the place at first sight — the terrace leading almost to the high-tide mark, the low two-storied house with gay brick-red awnings over the windows and the crescent-shaped bay of blue water and golden sands. How many times in his life would he have given anything to have turned off a main road to find a lost corner like this where he could let the world go by and live in the sea from dawn to dusk. And now he was to have a whole week of this. And of Vesper. In his mind he fingered the necklace of the days to come.

  They drew up in the courtyard behind the house and the proprietor and his wife came out to greet them.

  Monsieur Versoix was a middle-aged man with one arm. The other he had lost fighting with the Free French in Madagascar. He was a friend of the chief of police of Royale and it was the Commissaire who had suggested the place to Vesper and had spoken to the proprietor on the telephone. As a result, nothing was going to be too good for them.

  Madame Versoix had been interrupted in the middle of preparing dinner. She wore an apron and held a wooden spoon in one hand. She was younger than her husband, chubby and handsome and warm-eyed. Instinctively Bond guessed that they had no children and that they gave their thwarted affection to their friends and some regular customers, and probably to some pets. He thought that their life was probably something of a struggle and that the inn must be very lonely in winter-time with the big seas and the noise of the wind in the pines.

  The proprietor showed them to their rooms.

  Vesper’s was a double room and Bond was next door, at the corner of the house, with one window looking out to sea and another with a view of the distant arm of the bay. There was a bathroom between them. Everything was spotless, and sparsely comfortable.

  The proprietor was pleased when they both showed their delight. He said that dinner would be at seven-thirty and that Madame la patronne was preparing broiled lobsters with melted butter. He was sorry that they were so quiet just then. It was Tuesday. There would be more people at the week-end. The season had not been good. Generally they had plenty of English people staying, but times were difficult over there and the English just came for a week-end at Royale and then went home after losing their money at the Casino. It was not like the old days. He shrugged his shoulders philosophically. But then no day was like the day before, and no century like the previous one, and...

  ‘Quite so,’ said Bond.

  Chapter 23

  Tide of Passion

  They were talking on the threshold of Vesper’s room.

  When the proprietor left them, Bond pushed her inside and closed the door. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks.

  ‘This is heaven,’ he said.

  Then he saw that her eyes were shining. Her hands came up and rested on his forearms. He stepped right up against her and his arms dropped round her waist. Her head went back and her mouth opened beneath his.

  ‘My darling,’ he said. He plunged his mouth down on to hers, forcing her teeth apart with his tongue and feeling her own tongue working at first shyly then more passionately. He slipped his hands down to her swelling buttocks and gripped them fiercely, pressing the centres of their bodies together. Panting, she slipped her mouth away from his and they clung together while he rubbed his cheek against hers and felt her hard breasts pressing into him. Then he reached up and seized her hair and bent her head back until he could kiss her again. She pushed him away and sank back exhausted on to the bed. For a moment they looked at each other hungrily.

  ‘I’m sorry, Vesper,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to then.’

  She shook her head, dumb with the storm which had passed through her.

  He came and sat beside her and they looked at each other with lingering tenderness as the tide of passion ebbed in their veins.

  She leant over and kissed him on the corner of the mouth, then she brushed the black comma of hair back from his damp forehead.

  ‘My darling,’ she said. ‘Give me a cigarette. I don’t know where my bag is.’ She looked vaguely round the room.

  Bond lit one for her and put it between her lips. She took a deep lungful of smoke and let it pour out through her mouth with a slow sigh.

  Bond put his arm round her, but she got up and walked over to the window. She stood there with her back to him.

  Bond looked down at his hands and saw they were still trembling.

  ‘It’s going to take so
me time to get ready for dinner,’ said Vesper still not looking at him. ‘Why don’t you go and bathe? I’ll unpack for you.’

  Bond left the bed and came and stood close against her. He put his arms round her and put a hand over each breast. They filled his hands and the nipples were hard against his fingers. She put her hands over his and pressed them into her, but still she looked away from him out of the window.

  ‘Not now,’ she said in a low voice.

  Bond bent and burrowed his lips into the nape of her neck. For a moment he strained her hard to him, then he let her go.

  ‘All right, Vesper,’ he said.

  He walked over to the door and looked back. She had not moved. For some reason he thought she was crying. He took a step towards her and then realized that there was nothing to say between them then.

  ‘My love,’ he said.

  Then he went out and shut the door.

  Bond walked along to his room and sat down on the bed.

  He felt weak from the passion which had swept through his body. He was torn between the desire to fall back full-length on the bed and his longing to be cooled and revived by the sea. He played with the choice for a moment, then he went over to his suitcase and took out white linen bathing-drawers and a dark blue pyjama-suit.

  Bond had always disliked pyjamas and had slept naked until in Hong Kong at the end of the war he came across the perfect compromise. This was a pyjama-coat which came almost down to the knees. It had no buttons, but there was a loose belt round the waist. The sleeves were wide and short, ending just above the elbow. The result was cool and comfortable and now when he slipped the coat on over his trunks, all his bruises and scars were hidden except the thin white bracelets on wrists and ankles and the mark of Smersh on his right hand.

  He slipped his feet into a pair of dark-blue leather sandals and went downstairs and out of the house and across the terrace to the beach. As he passed across the front of the house he thought of Vesper, but he refrained from looking up to see if she was still standing at the window. If she saw him, she gave no sign.

  He walked along the waterline on the hard golden sand until he was out of sight of the inn. Then he threw off his pyjama-coat and took a short run and a quick flat dive into the small waves. The beach shelved quickly and he kept underwater as long as he could, swimming with powerful strokes and feeling the soft coolness all over him. Then he surfaced and brushed the hair out of his eyes. It was nearly seven and the sun had lost much of its heat. Before long it would sink beneath the further arm of the bay, but now it was straight in his eyes and he turned on his back and swam away from it so that he could keep it with him as long as possible.

  When he came ashore nearly a mile down the bay the shadows had already engulfed his distant pyjamas but he knew he had time to lie on the hard sand and dry before the tide of dusk reached him.

  He took off his bathing-trunks and looked down at his body. There were only a few traces left of his injuries. He shrugged his shoulders and lay down with his limbs spread out in a star and gazed up at the empty blue sky and thought of Vesper.

  His feelings for her were confused and he was impatient with the confusion. They had been so simple. He had intended to sleep with her as soon as he could, because he desired her and also because, and he admitted it to himself, he wanted coldly to put the repairs to his body to the final test. He thought they would sleep together for a few days and then he might see something of her in London. Then would come the inevitable disengagement which would be all the easier because of their positions in the Service. If it was not easy, he could go off on an assignment abroad or, which was also in his mind, he could resign and travel to different parts of the world as he had always wanted.

  But somehow she had crept under his skin and over the last two weeks his feelings had gradually changed.

  He found her companionship easy and unexacting. There was something enigmatic about her which was a constant stimulus. She gave little of her real personality away and he felt that however long they were together there would always be a private room inside her which he could never invade. She was thoughtful and full of consideration without being slavish and without compromising her arrogant spirit. And now he knew that she was profoundly, excitingly sensual, but that the conquest of her body, because of the central privacy in her, would each time have the sweet tang of rape. Loving her physically would each time be a thrilling voyage without the anticlimax of arrival. She would surrender herself avidly, he thought, and greedily enjoy all the intimacies of the bed without ever allowing herself to be possessed.

  Naked, Bond lay and tried to push away the conclusions he read in the sky. He turned his head and looked down the beach and saw that the shadows of the headland were almost reaching for him.

  He stood up and brushed off as much of the sand as he could reach. He reflected that he would have a bath when he got in and he absent-mindedly picked up his trunks and started walking back along the beach. It was only when he reached his pyjama-coat and bent to pick it up that he realized he was still naked. Without bothering about the trunks, he slipped on the light coat and walked on to the hotel.

  At that moment his mind was made up.

  Chapter 24

  Fruit Défendu

  When he got back to his room he was touched to find all his belongings put away and in the bathroom his toothbrush and shaving things neatly arranged at one end of the glass shelf over the wash-basin. At the other end was Vesper’s toothbrush and one or two small bottles and a jar of face-cream.

  He glanced at the bottles and was surprised to see that one contained nembutal sleeping-pills. Perhaps her nerves had been more shaken by the events at the villa than he had imagined.

  The bath had been filled for him and there was a new flask of some expensive pine bath-essence on a chair beside it with his towel.

  ‘Vesper,’ he called.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You really are the limit. You make me feel like an expensive gigolo.’

  ‘I was told to look after you. I’m only doing what I was told.’

  ‘Darling, the bath’s absolutely right. Will you marry me?’

  She snorted. ‘You need a slave, not a wife.’

  ‘I want you.’

  ‘Well, I want my lobster and champagne, so hurry up.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Bond.

  He dried himself and dressed in a white shirt and dark blue slacks. He hoped that she would be dressed as simply and he was pleased when, without knocking, she appeared in the doorway wearing a blue linen shirt which had faded to the colour of her eyes and a dark red skirt in pleated cotton.

  ‘I couldn’t wait. I was famished. My room’s over the kitchen and I’ve been tortured by the wonderful smells.’

  He came over and put his arm round her.

  She took his hand and together they went downstairs out on to the terrace where their table had been laid in the light cast by the empty dining-room.

  The champagne which Bond had ordered on their arrival stood on a plated wine-cooler beside their table and Bond poured out two full glasses. Vesper busied herself with a delicious home-made liver paté and helped them both to the crisp French bread and the thick square of deep yellow butter set in chips of ice.

  They looked at each other and drank deeply and Bond filled their glasses again to the rim.

  While they ate Bond told her of his bathe and they talked of what they would do in the morning. All through the meal they left unspoken their feelings for each other, but in Vesper’s eyes as much as in Bond’s there was excited anticipation of the night. They let their hands and their feet touch from time to time as if to ease the tension in their bodies.

  When the lobster had come and gone and the second bottle of champagne was half-empty and they had just ladled thick cream over their fraises des bois, Vesper gave a deep sigh of contentment.

  ‘I’m behaving like a pig,’ she said happily. ‘You always give me all the things I like best. I’ve never
been so spoiled before.’ She gazed across the terrace at the moonlit bay. ‘I wish I deserved it.’ Her voice had a wry undertone.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Bond surprised.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I suppose people get what they deserve, so perhaps I do deserve it.’

  She looked at him and smiled. Her eyes narrowed quizzically.

  ‘You really don’t know much about me,’ she said suddenly.

  Bond was surprised by the undertone of seriousness in her voice.

  ‘Quite enough,’ he said laughing. ‘All I need until tomorrow and the next day and the next. You don’t know much about me for the matter of that.’ He poured out more champagne.

  Vesper looked at him thoughtfully.

  ‘People are islands,’ she said. ‘They don’t really touch. However close they are, they’re really quite separate. Even if they’ve been married for fifty years.’

  Bond thought with dismay that she must be going into a vin triste. Too much champagne had made her melancholy. But suddenly she gave a happy laugh. ‘Don’t look so worried.’ She leaned forward and put her hand over his. ‘I was only being sentimental. Anyway, my island feels very close to your island tonight.’ She took a sip of champagne.

  Bond laughed, relieved. ‘Let’s join up and make a peninsula,’ he said. ‘Now, directly we’ve finished the strawberries.’

  ‘No,’ she said, flirting. ‘I must have coffee.’

  ‘And brandy,’ countered Bond.

  The small shadow had passed. The second small shadow. This too left a tiny question-mark hanging in the air. It quickly dissolved as warmth and intimacy enclosed them again.

  When they had had their coffee and Bond was sipping his brandy, Vesper picked up her bag and came and stood behind him.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

  He reached up and held it there and they stayed motionless for a moment. She bent down and lightly brushed his hair with her lips. Then she was gone and a few seconds later the light came on in her room.

  Bond smoked and waited until it had gone out. Then he followed her, pausing only to say good night to the proprietor and his wife and thank them for the dinner. They exchanged compliments and he went upstairs.