The speedboat was unwrapped from its coverings, the trailer unhooked and run down to the water’s edge where Rae was helped into the boat while Matt, Stag and Irene held it steady. Stag climbed in and started the motor while he and Irene fended it off the slipway.
‘Aren’t you coming?’ he asked as she stood back She shook her head.
‘I’ll take a line from you when you come in.’
The boat was now a little way off. Stag signalled to him to get in. There was nothing else to do but to step into the freezing water to his knees and clamber aboard beside Rae. The motor roared as the gear was let in and the faces dropped away from them behind. They raced through the inner harbour towards the outer where Stag turned parallel with the shore and slowed down sufficiently to turn her head and hold a shouted conversation with them against the wind.
‘I like to get out here away from everything. I find it very relaxing just to cruise up and down out in the harbour. If it isn’t too rough you can take her beyond the wall out into open sea there but it’s a bit choppy for that today. We’ll do a few bumps shall we? You’re not seasick or anything?’ He shook his head. ‘I know Rae loves it.’
Matt saw her smile behind her sunglasses and then they were off bounding across the tops of the waves, heading straight into them at speed so that they hit the boat with a dull vicious smack that seemed as if it would smash the bottom to fragments. The boat bucked and fell between the crests with no attempt to avoid them. Back and forth they planed, the slipway shrunk to a blur with distance, the coastline a satisfying curve of sand and clifftop and waves creaming towards the beach. ‘Would you like to have a go?’ Stag called back. He shook his head.
‘Yes, go on,’ Rae urged.
‘It’s quite easy. You can’t go wrong.’
Suddenly he found himself in the position of being unable to refuse without losing face and yet he had no desire at all to drive this flimsy plaything anymore than it would have occurred to him to take the wheel of Stag’s expensive saloon. There was no pleasure for him in it only the fear of making a costly mistake. He was glad he had insisted that Rae should wear a lifejacket. Precariously he climbed over into the bows and tried to attend while Stag explained the simple controls. Then she took his place behind with Rae so that the bows would lift better and he was on his own.
He felt his way at first and then encouraged from behind went a little faster, managing a couple of dull thuds but constantly aware that he was going at half-cock, putting up a very tame show beside Stag’s earlier performance.
‘Take her a bit faster, you get a better bump.’
It seemed to Matt that the water was getting rougher and the sky darkening as he turned to run along the coast again this time at fuller throttle. Once, twice he smacked successfully through and then the third time the boat caught the wash of a small cargo ship that was heading in to harbour, staggered crabwise, throwing a heavy curtain of spray over the stern. Looking back to apologise he saw that Rae was soaking, her dark hair plastered in wet strands against her cheek. She laughed back at him to show that everything was alright.
‘Sorry,’ he shouted, ‘that was a bad one. It seems to be getting rougher.’
‘It doesn’t look too good,’ Stag said, ‘I think we’d better take her in. I’ll come over shall I? You needn’t come back into the stern.’
Expertly she swung the speedboat round and headed her towards the quay. The figures drew nearer, resolved themselves into separate colours bounded by a distinct shape, became people watching and last Irene waiting to catch the rope Matt threw. The boat drew in towards the slip. Irene pulled on the bow rope while Matt grappled with the boat hook. Then he let himself down into the cold water and heaved the boat up the slip til it rested in a couple of feet of water. Stag jumped over the side and turning to Rae before he had a chance to intervene helped her on to the gunwale and then on to her back and carried her ashore. Irene ran the trolley down into the water and the speedboat was half floated, half pushed back into its moorings. Between them they hauled it up the steep, slippery stone ramp and hooked it on behind the Jaguar.
‘That’s the easiest I’ve ever known it come up that slope,’ Stag said.
‘You never had me on the back before that’s why,’ Matt laughed though feeling that in some way he was re-establishing himself. ‘What about a cup of tea in that café over there before we all start to shiver.’
‘A good idea,’ Stag said. ‘Irene and I often do that if it’s been a chilly run.’ She led the way. As they went Matt spotted a stall selling shellfish and half out of bravado, but also because he could never get enough of them in town, he stopped to buy prawns and brown shrimps and cockles, entering the café with them triumphantly and persuading the rest to try some with their bread and butter and cups of strong tea. The woman behind the counter smiled at them benevolently not seeming to care that they were eating someone else’s delicacies on her premises.
‘Now we’d better get home and changed before we all catch cold.’ Stag stood up, paid the small bill and led them out to the car. ‘You drive Irene, I’ve had enough.’ She gave her the keys and then sat back watching the girl’s profile as they flipped through the clean, wide streets.
‘What about your hair?’ Matt asked when they were in their own room again. ‘I’m sorry about that. It caught me off guard. Will it be alright?’
‘Oh yes. Don’t worry. I’ll give it a rub, comb it and push it back into place.’
He took her in his arms. ‘Are you cold? You’d better get changed.’ But he did not let her go at once and she made no move away. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too. Now I must get out of these things. Don’t watch me will you?’
‘I’ll try not to or you might never get dressed again this evening.’ He turned his back on her and began to peel the sodden jeans from his legs. ‘I’d better put these in the basin to soak or the seawater will ruin them.’ He went through into the private bathroom and amused himself steeping his old pants in the elegant shell-pink basin. Then he wandered back into the bedroom in his underwear.
‘I love your legs. What a pity you can’t walk about like that all the time. They’re much better than Stag’s but that never was one of her strong points, most attractive features I mean.’
Matt stood in front of the long wardrobe mirror and looked at himself, positioning his legs in various stances to get an all-round view. ‘What do you like about them particularly?’ It was curiosity rather than vanity that made him ask, part of his long search for what attracted her, what she responded to in himself and others, and, from this, what went on in that hidden country behind the eyes.
‘They’re so strong, muscular and furry but not too much so, like the boy in Flandrin’s picture. They’re just right somehow, very much you.’
‘I like yours better.’
‘So then we’re both satisfied which is how it should be.’
‘It’s not fair you know. If I can’t look at you, you shouldn’t look at me.’
She laughed and took a towel from their case. ‘Will you rub my hair for me?’
He pulled her towards him, conscious of her warmth and the smell of her wet hair. ‘Now you’re just being deliberately provocative. They ought to lock you up. However, I refuse to be distracted or we shall be late and then I’ll be blamed.’ He towelled vigorously and unsentimentally. ‘There.’
She shook her head. ‘You’ve almost taken my head off.’
‘Serves you right for trying to seduce me. Go and get dressed. I’m nearly ready.’
‘You don’t have as much to do.’
He went to the window and stood staring out over the sea that had grown rougher still since their return and ran in sharp corrugations the colour of molten lead across the sweep of the bay. ‘So you and Stag met in the army. Like Jonnie always says it must have been full of it. Were you worried when it first happened?’
‘No, just curious. I was involved in a rather hit and miss way with an R.A.F. boy at the t
ime and so I was a bit surprised at first but I never had any moral scruples if that’s what you’re after. I simply thought that if it exists then it exists so where’s all the fuss. Besides I was among people who took it for granted without a lot of heart-searching and that always helps.’
‘Like the fairy story of The Ugly Duckling?’
‘Yes, that’s it exactly. As soon as he got among others of his kind he stopped being miserable. There was a whole crowd of us and anyway these things didn’t matter so much when everyone was living with questions of should they get married and should they have children, and this may be the last time we see each other and so let’s have what we can.’
‘Would you say it was an immoral time?’
‘Well war is pretty well always immoral isn’t it? You’d agree surely? People just go on as best they can under those circumstances, making the decisions that seem right to them.’
‘You were very young. Didn’t you ever feel you’d been ‘taken advantage of’ is the phrase I believe?’
‘Good heavens no. You see it’s so difficult to explain how differently one looked at things then. Most of the girls were sleeping with their boy friends and nobody thought anything of it. In fact you’d have been thought hard and self-seeking if you hadn’t, if you’d insisted on security, marriage and a home first.’
‘Were you sleeping with the R.A.F. lad?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then you went off and slept with Stag?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘Oh I was very unhappy for a long time after that. Then I got engaged as I’ve told you.’
‘And did you sleep with him?’
‘You know I did. I’ve told you all about that.’
‘Then that broke up and what did you do?’
‘Oh next comes my long list of gentleman friends of various ages, professions and states. But I didn’t sleep with them; that’s before you ask.’
‘The post-war reaction was well under way by this time. Must have rather hampered your style. You know you make my chaste youth seem very dull. Makes me wish I’d sewn a few more wild oats in my time. All those lovely women I’ll never go to bed with.’
‘Oh they’re not all that fruitful, wild oats. The point is as I was telling you, we never thought much about them.’
‘Still you must have some exciting memories; all those lovers. Does your life now seem dull by comparison?’
‘Not particularly. After all I must have been looking for something rather different from what they offered me or I’d have stayed with them.’
‘When you say a whole crowd of you what does that mean?’
‘Just what I say. There were ambulance drivers and medical people as well as those who were in the forces. There’s rather a nice couple I’d like you to meet who live quite near here and before you ask I haven’t slept with either of them. I thought we might drive over tomorrow afternoon and see them. I wonder if Stag sees much of them. She used to be very friendly with Billie at one time. They’re quite a bit older than us but very lively and Feathers is a great character. You’d like her. She’s been an actress, not straight but variety, that’s where she got her name from one of her acts. I always think she’s a little like Hermione Gingold, same voice and mannerisms; her generation of course. There, how’s that?’
‘Worth waiting for. You look marvellous. Let’s go and astound them all.’
‘I thought we could go out to dinner,’ Stag said when they joined her. ‘We could have it here of course but I do get rather tired of my own food. So much of it has to be good plain cooking because that’s what the customers like best. It doesn’t upset their poor old stomachs. Most of them are getting on and like to be pandered to. I sometimes think I’m running an expensive geriatric ward instead of a hotel except that they can all get about and can up and leave when they like. Most of them don’t, thank God. There comes the day when they feel they’re getting too feeble and then they transfer to a proper home or else go and live with their relatives but they mostly like to stay on here as long as they can so I suppose they must be satisfied. The trouble is one gets rather tired of the foods one ate in the nursery, however wholesome and well-cooked one knows them to be. Sometimes I think I’ll give it all up and go and do something really valuable though it’s getting a little late for me to become a starry-eyed idealist.’
‘You still go on buying them though. How many have you got now?’
‘Just the three still though I am vaguely interested in something in Scotland at the moment. I’m not sure yet whether it will do but it has definite possibilities properly organised and with a bit of money put into it. You’ll be able to go for fishing holidays and it’s good for walking and shooting too.’
‘Perish the thought,’ Matt said. ‘I should die of boredom after a couple of days!’
‘Fortunately for me not everyone feels the same. I’ve booked us a table or at least I believe you did Irene, for seven. I thought we’d need to eat early after that light lunch and the fresh air. What about a drink first? There’s rather a nice little pub down by the harbour.’
‘I was hoping someone might mention the magic words. Whose car?’
‘Oh mine I think then we need only take one. I’ll drive there and Irene can bring us back. You can’t get too tight on Cinzano.’
Stag beat him to the bar on the first round and before he’d had time to savour the long pint she was on her feet again lining them up. He sank the second without really tasting it and there was a third in front of him, this time keeping company with a double scotch. He began to long for seven o’clock and reflected a little hazily that he’d never enjoyed a drink less. Once again he was at a disadvantage, forced into a position of dependence by being unable to buy his round, and plied with drink while everyone else stayed sober, all under the assumption of hospitality. He wanted to get up from the table and walk away down to the quay and watch the unmoved, ever shifting waters unfolding on the beach but he knew that he must sit it out for Rae’s sake. She had brought him here for reasons of her own and a pretty poor showing he was making of it. Well it was her own fault and if she regretted it now, regretted him it was too bad, there was nothing he could do. He was on foreign ground knowing neither the terrain nor the rules of the game, aware only of the hostility between himself and Stag. There was only one thing for it. He would have to go out the back and ditch the lot if he was to make it through the evening. He got up and nodded to Rae to excuse himself. Now he was on his feet he reckoned he’d have little difficulty in getting rid of the problem. His mind was quite clear now. Remembering the boat bellyflopping across the outer harbour would help.
When he got back there was a movement towards the car. No one seemed to have remarked anything and if Rae had noticed, knowing him so much better, she said nothing. His head was clearing; soup and bread and a careful eye on the wine should see him into that state of objective detachment that follows an early evening drunk as if the body has built up an immunity after an overdose, withdrawing the senses to leave the mind in a state of depressed clarity.
It was certainly a good meal. Matt concentrated on building up his resistance, choosing tagliatelli verdi to lay down a solid base and then chicken with rice. ‘Let’s have an Italian wine for a change. I always think they go better with Italian food.’
Stag passed him the wine menu. ‘I’ll leave the wine to you then.’ He began to feel a little more cheerful. The evening might not turn out to be such a shambles after all.
‘What shall I have?’ Rae asked him. ‘Choose something for me. I don’t know what half these things are. I’m not used to having to decide for myself.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well when you get taken out to dinner it’s usually all done for you.’
‘Poor darling. It just shows how rarely I’ve been out anywhere decent in the last few years. I’ve forgotten how to behave.’
‘Oh I’m not complaining just I’d rath
er you said that’s all.’
‘Let me see then. It depends how hungry you are.’
‘So-so. You know, not starving but just healthily hungry.’ He suggested a clear soup with egg and little bits of toast bobbing gently in the liquor, and to follow escallopes of veal in marsala.
The waiter was a rather dour man. Matt saw straightaway that he was in a mood to be irritated by the vacillating English and that Stag’s patronising attempts to make him join in the party were making things worse. He became slow and boorish, refusing to explain or answer questions except with a shrug and an indifferent spreading of his palms. ‘I’m damned if I’ll come here again if he’s going to be like this. I’ve been a good customer here and I expect a bit more cheerful service than this.’
Privately Matt thought that even money couldn’t buy good humour. He leaned forward. ‘E troppo lungo il giorno eh? E stancato lei?’
The man smiled. ‘Lei capisc’ Italiano signorina?’
‘Sono stato sei mesì vicino Roma. E una bella città.’ He smiled at his own mistake, reflecting that the Romance languages were even more inexorable in matters of sex, but the man took it to himself and smiled back, whisked up the menus and set off for the kitchens. ‘I think we’ll do better now.’
‘What did you say to him?’ Rae asked.
‘I asked him if he were tired and said it was a long day. Then I said I’d spent six months in Rome and that it was a beautiful city. I think that cheered him up though he’s from the South himself.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘Digging. It was outside Rome actually. Mostly Etruscan stuff, at least that was what we were after. I was a carefree student in those days.’
‘And what did they think of all this?’ Stag said. ‘Ah good, here’s the wine.’
The Microcosm Page 27