A sand track showed on their left. The girl took it and pulled up in front of a ruined stone warehouse against which leant a pink clapboard house with white window-frames and a white Adam style doorway over which hung a brightly painted inn sign of a powder keg with a skull and crossbones on it. The girl drove the MG into the shade of a clump of casuarinas and they got out and went through the door and through a small dining-room with red and white checked covers and out on to a terrace built on the remains of a stone wharf. The terrace was shaded by sea-almond trees trimmed into umbrellas. Trailed by a shuffling coloured waiter with soup stains down his white coat, they chose a cool table on the edge of the terrace looking over the water. Bond glanced at his watch. He said to the girl, ‘It’s exactly midday. Do you want to drink solid or soft?’
The girl said, ‘Soft. I’ll have a double Bloody Mary with plenty of Worcester sauce.’
Bond said, ‘What do you call hard? I’ll have a vodka and tonic with a dash of bitters.’
The waiter said, ‘Yassuh,’ and mooched away.
‘I call vodka-on-the-rocks hard. All that tomato juice makes it soft.’ She hooked a chair towards her with one foot and stretched out her legs on it so that they were in the sun. The position wasn’t comfortable enough. She kicked off her sandals and sat back, satisfied. She said, ‘When did you arrive? I haven’t seen you about. When it’s like this, at the end of the season, one expects to know most of the faces.’
‘I got in this morning. From New York. I’ve come to look for a property. It struck me that now would be better than in the season. When all the millionaires are here the prices are hopeless. They may come down a bit now they’re gone. How long have you been here?’
‘About six months. I came out in a yacht, the Disco Volante. You may have seen her. She’s anchored up the coast. You probably flew right over her coming in to land at Windsor Field.’
‘A long low streamlined affair? Is she yours? She’s got beautiful lines.’
‘She belongs to a relative of mine.’ The eyes watched Bond’s face.
‘Do you stay on board?’
‘Oh no. We’ve got a beach property. Or rather we’ve taken it. It’s a place called Palmyra. Just opposite where the yacht is. It belongs to an Englishman. I believe he wants to sell it. It’s very beautiful. And it’s a long way away from the tourists. It’s at a place called Lyford Key.’
‘That sounds the sort of place I’m looking for.’
‘Well, we’ll be gone in about a week.’
‘Oh.’ Bond looked into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘If you’ve got to flirt, don’t be obvious.’ Suddenly the girl laughed. She looked contrite. The dimples remained. ‘I mean, I didn’t really mean that – not the way it sounded. But I’ve spent six months listening to that kind of thing from these silly old rich goats and the only way to shut them up is to be rude. I’m not being conceited. There’s no one under sixty in this place. Young people can’t afford it. So any woman who hasn’t got a harelip or a moustache – well not even a moustache would put them off. They’d probably like it. Well I mean absolutely any girl makes these old goats get their bifocals all steamed up.’ She laughed again. She was getting friendly. ‘I expect you’ll have just the same effect on the old women with pince-nez and blue rinses.’
‘Do they eat boiled vegetables for lunch?’
‘Yes, and they drink carrot juice and prune juice.’
‘We won’t get on then. I won’t sink lower than conch chowder.’
She looked at him curiously. ‘You seem to know a lot about Nassau.’
‘You mean about conch being an aphrodisiac ? That’s not only a Nassau idea. It’s all over the world where there are conchs.’
‘Is it true?’
‘Island people have it on their wedding night. I haven’t found it has any effect on me.’
‘Why?’ She looked mischievous. ‘Are you married?’
‘No.’ Bond smiled across into her eyes. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’
‘Then we might both try some conch soup some time and see what happens.’
‘That’s only a little better than the millionaires. You’ll have to try harder.’
The drinks came. The girl stirred hers with a finger, to mix in the brown sediment of Worcester sauce, and drank half of it. She reached for the carton of Dukes, broke it open, and slit a packet with her thumbnail. She took out a cigarette, sniffed it cautiously, and lit it with Bond’s lighter. She inhaled deeply and blew out a long plume of smoke. She said doubtfully, ‘Not bad. At least the smoke looks like smoke. Why did you say you were such an expert on giving up smoking?’
‘Because I’ve given it up so often.’ Bond thought it time to get away from the small-talk. He said, ‘Why do you talk such good English? Your accent sounds Italian.’
‘Yes, my name’s Dominetta Vitali. But I was sent to school in England. To the Cheltenham Ladies’ College. Then I went to R.A.D.A. to learn acting. The English kind of acting. My parents thought that was a ladylike way to be brought up. Then they were both killed in a train crash. I went back to Italy to earn my living. I remembered my English but’ – she laughed without bitterness – ‘I soon forgot most of the rest. You don’t get far in the Italian theatre by being able to walk about with a book balanced on your head.’
‘But this relative with the yacht.’ Bond looked out to sea. ‘Wasn’t he there to look after you?’
‘No.’ The answer was curt. When Bond made no comment she added, ‘He’s not exactly a relative, not a close one. He’s a sort of close friend. A guardian.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘You must come and visit us on the yacht.’ She felt that a bit of gush was needed. ‘He’s called Largo, Emilio Largo. You’ve probably heard. He’s here on some kind of a treasure hunt.’
‘Really?’ Now it was Bond’s turn to gush. ‘That sounds rather fun. Of course I’d like to meet him. What’s it all about? Is there anything in it?’
‘Heaven knows. He’s very secretive about it. Apparently there’s some kind of a map. But I’m not allowed to see it and I have to stay ashore when he goes off prospecting or whatever he does. A lot of people have put up money for it, sort of shareholders. They’ve all just arrived. As we’re going in a week or so, I suppose everything’s ready and the real hunt’s going to start any moment now.’
‘What are the shareholders like? Do they seem sensible sort of people? The trouble with most treasure hunts is that either someone’s been there before and sneaked off with the treasure or the ship’s so deep in the coral you can’t get at it.’
‘They seem all right. Very dull and rich. Terribly serious for something as romantic as treasure hunting. They seem to spend all their time with Largo. Plotting and planning I suppose. And they never seem to go out in the sun or go bathing or anything. It’s as if they didn’t want to get sunburned. As far as I can gather, none of them have ever been in the tropics before. Just a typical bunch of stuffy businessmen. They’re probably better than that. I haven’t seen much of them. Largo’s giving a party for them at the Casino tonight.’
‘What do you do all day?’
‘Oh, I fool around. Do a bit of shopping for the yacht. Drive around in the car. Bathe on other people’s beaches when their houses are empty. I like underwater swimming. I’ve got an aqualung and I take one of the crew out or a fisherman. The crew are better. They all do it.’