“Hal!” Her pink-flushed face showed surprise and concern. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to….” Tarrant paused, deciding against saying he had not anticipated seeing her. “What are you doing here?”
“Having a day off work. To help Mum get ready for her anniversary party.”
“I see.” Tarrant tried not to look at Beth’s bosom, well-defined within a blouse of glistening nylon. “I’d like to speak to your mother.”
“She isn’t here.”
“Oh.” Tarrant rearranged his plans. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Beth gave him a roguish smile. “Do you promise not to try anything?”
“No.”
“In that case—come in.”
Tarrant closed the front door behind him and his heart began to pound in a slow, powerful rhythm as he saw that Beth was not retreating to one of the inner rooms. They were alone together—for the first time in their lives—in the shady privacy of the hall. He had half-expected that Cissy Kircher would by this time have succeeded in poisoning her daughter’s mind against him, instead of which Beth gave the impression of being more approachable and interested than ever before. The hammering in his chest grew fiercer as it crossed his mind that hearing he was an unprincipled lecher might have served to kindle some previously dormant fire within Beth. He opened his arms to her, and she smiled her very white smile and moved closer to him. His head swimming with gratification, Tarrant savoured the moist pressure of her lips against his own.
“I love you, Beth,” he whispered.
“I … I love you, Hal.” She spoke without breaking the kiss.
Tarrant strove to contain himself, to consolidate the ground he had gained before venturing any further. He was swamped by the warmth of her breasts against his chest, the movement of her thighs on his, and in between these zones of sensation a coy nuzzling which was shooting fountains of pleasure into him. He slid his hands down the firm, fluted flesh of her back, drew her more tightly against him and made one gentle, yearning thrust against her belly. Beth seemed to respond for an instant, then her body went rigid.
“What are you doing, Hal?” she said in a small, cold voice. “What do you think I am?”
“I think you’re a woman,” he replied automatically, his mind still submerged.
“What sort of woman?”
“How many sorts are there?” Tarrant tried to slide his hands up to her breasts, but suddenly Beth and he were apart and she was staring at him in anger.
“In spite of what you think, there are different kinds of girls,” she said. “And I’m not the sort you’re obviously used to.”
Tarrant was jolted back into reality. “I’m not used to any sort of girl, for God’s sake! I’ve been hanging around here for six months and this is the first time I’ve even got touching you.”
“Is that the only thing you wanted?”
“No! It’s not the only thing, but it’s important.” Tarrant exhaled loudly in frustration. “I want to go to bed with you, Beth. It’s perfectly natural, you know—even your mother and father must have done it at least once.”
“Don’t talk about them like that.”
“Sorry! Sorry! I shouldn’t have implied that they’re normal.”
“You’d better go, Hal.” Beth was growing pale.
“Will you marry me?”
“I said you’d better go.”
“And I asked you to marry me,” Tarrant shouted. “I’m not going until you say yes or no.”
“I have no intention of marrying you or anybody like you,” Beth said in her mother’s voice.
Tarrant swore at her in desperation, incoherently, stringing together every shock word he knew, causing her to shrink back like a woman being beaten. When he had finished, knowing he had closed one door for ever, he turned and strode out of the house, jarring his heels on the ground with every step. He paused at the end of the short avenue, trying to think of some physical outlet for the fury which was surging through him. In the end he realised there was only one activity which was compatible with his mood, and he went further up the hill to fetch his rifle.
As he walked, he prayed that the big squid would come to the surface in daylight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In the morning they decided to keep the habitat inflated and to swim alongside it like small fish attendant on some greater creature of the sea. Lennar’s reasoning was that, as well as making it more convenient to eat and rest, the bulk of the expanded habitat would discourage many life forms from coming too close. There was a lesser possibility that it might serve to attract the attention of some monstrous predator which did its feeding on a huge scale, but this was something they chose not to dwell on at any length.
Myrah knew they had travelled a considerable distance while she was asleep, because the return of day manifested itself as only a slight lessening of the general murk. Her eyes were adapting better than she had expected, however, and she had no trouble in seeing and capturing air bubbles as she swam with economical strokes, holding the habitat’s outer net with one hand and keeping her spear at the ready with the other.
There was little conversation among the other members of the group and she guessed that, like herself, they were intensely aware of the vast and uninterrupted reaches of dark water through which they were moving. This was the natural element of the Horra, a creature whose large and well-developed eyes would function efficiently in the dysphotic conditions. Lennar, Harld and Dan were equipped with small cages containing shiverfish—tiny, nervous creatures who became agitated when a Horra came within range of their acute senses—but Myrah was not convinced they could give a sufficiently timely warning of danger in the present circumstances. There was, for instance, no guarantee that the band of humans were not under constant surveillance from afar by nameless and unknown entities whose vision was even more penetrating than that of the Horra.
Myrah kept her head turning constantly. Occasionally she made a sudden movement with her spear to frighten off small fish, some of them decorated with luminous spots, which came flitting in to investigate the party of strangers. This had to be done with discretion and only when a fish was particularly troublesome, because of the danger of creating an irregular pattern of movements—suggestive of a creature in difficulties—which might invite the attention of barracudas or sharks. Once she did see a shark nearby and froze into immobility, but it turned out to be a harmless variety which the people of the Clan knew as the gurry and sometimes netted for food. Its meat produced a strange intoxication when eaten fresh, which some of the young men occasionally did in spite of the danger of poisoning, but it became a useful food when allowed to dry or partly decompose.
As the elongated shape wove its sleepy way back into the gloom, Myrah noticed that Geean had turned her back to it and had pressed her face into the pliant surface of the habitat. New doubts about the girl’s presence on the journey sprang into her mind and she decided to remind her of the basic rules for survival as soon as they were alone together. Although Geean’s life was her own to dispose of as she wished, she had no right to endanger the others by not remaining on the alert.