Harry was lively during lunch, almost jovial, and Andreas listened gratefully to his anecdotes. It irritated her to see him lapping it all up like a good little puppy getting his reward and comfort after Harry had given his script the full treatment. She was still amazed that this was the same guy who had seemed so free and spontaneous when they strolled around the wild west village. She went downstairs for her siesta. While she lay in the dark she thought of Harry’s remark about her modest bikini and of his foxy face when she took off her top and Andreas averted his eyes. She pictured Harry’s boyish smile again when she rose from the sun-bed after he had taught Andreas how to write drama. It did not suit him, that smile. It was not at all like him. It had the effect of an indecent exposure, as if he had taken down his trousers and shown off his bare bottom. At the same time there was something conspiratorial in his expression, as if he wanted to enlist her confirmation that the two of them shared something, whether it was his bare bottom, her young breasts or the beaten expression in his disciple’s eyes.
Why did he put up with it? She came out with the question after a long pause in which neither of them had said anything. They followed the coast road past the bars and discothèques on the beach and the low white concrete buildings on the other side with boarding houses, shopping arcades and complexes of holiday apartments. It was still out of season and in most places the shutters were closed. He looked at her. He didn’t mind being criticised. She returned his gaze briefly. He spoke in a tired tone, neither evasive nor forthcoming, as an obvious statement. He knew why he had written his play the way he had. Even if he was not particularly good at explaining it. But the old man might well be right in some of his criticism.
She was surprised to hear him speak of Harry like that. Perhaps it was in return for Harry’s young guest. He laughed out loud. She looked at him again. What? He smiled in the same sudden way he had done when they drove from Almeria. He was all right, the old man… he was theatre, through and through! Andreas nodded his acknowledgement and seemed as he did so to shake off the humiliation, all Harry’s didactic and ridiculing words, rather as you shake your head to get snow out of your hair. They passed the fish restaurant where they had eaten the previous evening, down on the beach. She would have to forgive him for making a fool of himself. What did he mean? Look out for the dog! he said quickly. She managed to avoid a skinny dog running across the road. Yes, what he had said about the part…
They had sat inside the garishly lit place because the wind had got up. She was beside Andreas, Harry opposite. You could see the spray rising from the waves in the light from the open windows. Harry leaned back with crossed legs, smoking, while they waited for their food. He told her about the play Andreas had written, and it sounded like a story he himself was inventing. Now and again he looked inquiringly at Andreas as if to assure himself that he did not get anything wrong. She loved to hear him talking in his deep hoarse voice, and she was so involved in listening to him that she was startled when the waiter arrived with their plates. Harry asked for an ashtray and the waiter went away. He pointed to the champagne cooler beside Andreas. Now he must see that his lady companion had something to drink. Andreas had been listening as intently as she had and turned to the wine bottle in confusion. Only to the brim! said Harry drily as he went on pouring.
The waiter came back with the ashtray and Harry put out his cigarette. They raised a toast. Andreas cleared his throat. He had been thinking of something. The part of the young woman… might that be a role for Lucca? Harry looked at him for a long time, and his eyes grew even narrower, as if he was thinking hard. He had considered it, he said finally, but had come to the opposite conclusion. It might well be seen as a trifle… he lifted his hands from the table cloth… overdone… if he gave the leading role in Andreas’s play and in A Doll’s House to his partner as well. He started to cut up his fish with great care. In any case we should never discuss casting in the presence of actors. He raised his eyes and looked out at the waves in the darkness, chewing. Andreas looked down at his fish.
She turned off the coast road along a track beside the cliffs that sloped steeply down to the surf. The water was jade green and blue black further out. No need to think of that, she said. Sure? She smiled soothingly. Of course… She drove round a point and negotiated a series of sharp corners down to the beach where she usually swam. It was framed by cliffs on both sides, forming a small cove. No-one else was there. She parked in the shade of a group of tall cacti.
When they had gone to bed the night before she had asked Harry why he was so worried about what people would say if he gave her the parts of both Nora and the woman in Andreas’s play. Usually he did not care in the least what people said about him. She had been sitting up in bed, ready for a discussion. He stroked her gently under the chin. It wasn’t actually his own reputation he was worried about… Besides, he went on, it was not the right part for her. He could not understand where Andreas had got that idea from. It wouldn’t be right for her, and certainly not at this point in her career. She must trust him, after all he had read the play. Nora, on the other hand…
But what did she think of him, by the way? He raised himself on one elbow. She lay down on her back. He let a hand slide over her stomach and one breast. He seemed rather pleasant… and rather young. Harry smiled. He’s older than you are, he said. Handsome enough chap, isn’t he? She turned on her side, he withdrew his hand and pulled the sheet over his hip. Why did he say that? As soon as she had spoken the words she felt she had fallen into a trap. Harry smiled again and looked in front of him. Well, but he was, why did she make such a fuss about it? She didn’t! He looked at her and kissed her forehead. That’s all right then, he said and switched off the light.
She moved close to him, he laid a hand on her hip. I’m just an anxious old man, he said, and she could hear him smile in the dark. She gave him a push. Rather she was the one to be nervous. He turned onto his back, and she rested her cheek on his chest and let her fingertips circle over his stomach. Perhaps she was right… He sounded thoughtful. Did she know what his last wife had once called him? Her fingers had reached the hairs in his groin. No, not if he hadn’t told her… She played with his growing erection. Woman junkie, he said, lazily caressing her buttocks. But the strange thing, he went on, the really puzzling thing was that even if he knew it himself, he was still carried away every time he caught sight of an engaging girl’s face and a pair of lovely legs. She carefully weighed his hanging testicles in her hand. So when was he going to find a new young and unknown beauty? He laughed. She needn’t worry. She could go on for a long time yet. When her youth came to an end he would have long since kicked the bucket.
* * *
For a moment she considered putting on her bikini top, but decided not to. He must be used to the sight by now. He stood a little way off with a towel round his waist as he took off his underpants. He stumbled a bit and almost fell down. His skin was white and he was so thin she could see his ribs and the muscles moving under the skin of his calves. He looked comic in Harry’s bathing trunks, they flapped around him and she couldn’t help laughing. He didn’t seem to mind, he laughed himself as he pulled the drawstring to tighten them. She suggested they should swim out to the rock that reared out of the water at the end of the cove where the mountainside sloped vertically into the sea. He overtook her, he was a good swimmer. He crawled out with quick rhythmic strokes and soon disappeared round the point.