“Yes.” He put his arm round her. “Would you marry me, Joan, in six months' time?”
“I'd marry you today,” she said. “Why wait six months?”
“No.” Harry was tempted, but he saw the danger. “We've got to think of your father. I've got to prove to him I can handle the business. If we marry now he'll think I'm after his money.”
“All right” She patted his hand. “What about Glorie, Harry.''
“Forget her, will you? I'll take care of her. She'll be all right. I told you, we mean nothing to each other now.”
“You really mean that, Harry? I'm sure she loves you.”
“She doesn't anymore. We've just got bored with each other. We were only talking last night that we'd better split up. She s got a brother in Mexico she wants to visit,” Harry lied. “I'll give her some money and that will be that.”
She leaned forward to kiss him, her arms going around his neck, her mouth opening against his.
He held her to him, her heart pounding again.
After a while, she said, “Let's go and look at the future airfield, shall we?”
“We have all day to look at that,” he said, his voice unsteady. 'See those palms over there? Let's go there and get to know each other better.”
She opened the car door and slid out on to the road. He joined her and they walked across the sand to the clump of palm trees that were only a few yards from the sea.
Later, when Harry lay beside her, staring up at the blue sky, he realized that for the first time in his life he was in love.
chapter six
I
It was dusk by the time Harry returned to the motel. At his request Joan had dropped him off at the top of the beach road.
“Are you sure it will be all right?” she asked him as he got out of the Bentley. “I have a guilty conscience about Glorie. I don't think you should have left her alone like this all day. You should have got back before now, Harry.”
“That's good coming from you,” Harry said, smiling. “I haven't had a chance to get away from you. Now look, don't worry about Glorie. I told her I'd be late. Forget her. When I've told her about us, she'll understand. She'll be gone by tomorrow. You don't know her the way I do. I'll give her some money and she'll go to her brother's place. Just get her out of your mind.”
Joan didn't seem convinced.
“Don't you think I should come with you? I have an idea she is going to be difficult.”
“Glorie?” Harry forced a laugh. “Of course she isn't. She knows how it is with me and her. She isn't kidding herself. I'll handle her. I'll meet you right here tomorrow morning at eleven. We'll go and talk to the agent about the land. Okay?”
“I’ll be here at eleven. You're sure it's going to be all right?”
“Of course I'm sure.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you, Joan. This has been a wonderful day. You're the first woman who has ever meant anything to me.”
She touched his face.
“You're the first man who's ever meant anything to me,” she said. “We're going to have fun, Harry.”
He stepped back and watched her reverse the big car, then, as she drove away, he waved.
He stood in the middle of the road watching the car until it was out of sight, then he took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one.
He had had a wonderful day. He couldn't remember ever having had a better one. They had gone to look at the future airport and he had seen at once her choice was right. The ground could be inexpensively converted into an airfield, and it was only four miles from the centre of the town. She told him he could get it cheap. It had been earmarked as a building site, but the company that was going to develop the land had gone smash and no one else seemed to want it.
They had had lunch together at a smart restaurant on Bay Shore Drive. During the meal they had gone into facts and figures. He had been impressed by her level business head. She had plans for an advertising scheme. She knew where he could buy two good-looking secondhand cars cheaply. He would have to have these cars, she pointed out, to pick up clients from their hotels and drive them to the airport. She said her father was the president of an aircraft factory that would supply Harry with the kind of aircraft he would need at a reduced price. She knew a company in which her father had a controlling interest who would lay the runways.
“Your job will be to organize the flights, look after the staff and the aircraft,” she had said. “The rest you can leave to me. I'll get the passengers. I know everyone here, and I know the managers of all the hotels. We'll get a monopoly on this business in time, Harry, and that's the only way to handle it.”
They had talked and talked. When they had left the restaurant, they had sat in the car and talked. It wasn't until the sun was sinking below the horizon that Joan had remembered her father was entertaining that evening and she was expected to act as hostess.
When she had driven away and Harry had started to walk down the beach towards the motel he began to have doubts. He had been glib enough when talking to Joan about Glorie, but he realized he had now to handle her, and not talk about handling her, and she might not be all that easy.
She must understand, he kept telling himself. This was his chance. There was no place for her. She must see that. He would have to be careful not to let her suspect that Joan and he were lovers. There was no need to rub her nose in it, he thought, slowing his pace. He would explain that this was a business deal.
There was nothing in it for her. It would be safer for her to clear out because of Borg. He must stress Borg. She was sensible. She would understand it would be safer not only for herself but also for him if they parted.
As he walked up the drive that led to the cabins, he saw with relief that his cabin was in darkness. She must have gone out somewhere, he thought. Well, it would give him more time to get the whole thing clear in his mind. He wasn't too sure how he was going to tackle her.
He reached the cabin, turned the door handle and opened the door. He stepped into semi-darkness, shut the door and groped for the light switch.
“Please don't turn the light on,” Glorie said from out of the darkness.
He saw her then, sitting in the armchair facing the window.
He could just make out the shape of her head against the white The tone of her voice gave him a creepy feeling. It didn't sound like Glorie's voice. It might have been a stranger speaking “What do you think you're doing—sitting in the dark? he said. He turned down the switch and kicked the door shut. If she was going to make a scene, he'd meet her halfway, he told himself. The one who got in the first punch won the battle.
The lamp above the mantelpiece sprang alight. Harry looked at her. In spite of his rising anger, the sight of her shocked him. She was as white as a fresh fair of snow. Her eyes had sunk into her head so that, against the light, he couldn’t see them. Her skin seemed to have shrunk, giving her a scraped, bony look.
He was about to ask her what was the matter, but checked himself, It would be fatal to give her the opportunity to start a row, he told himself.
“I'm sorry I didn't get back sooner,” he said, “but I got held up.” He lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the fireplace. “I've had a lot to do.”
She didn't say anything.
He suddenly wished the room wasn't so small, and that he wasn't so on top of her. He had to edge around her to get to the other armchair. He sat down and yawned elaborately. He realized this wasn't the moment to break the news to her that they were going to part. He had never seen her looking like this before It worried him. He swore in his mind. The best thing to do now was to be nice to her, to soften her up a little. He could break the news to her after dinner.
“We'd better get something to eat,” he said. What have you been doing with yourself all day? Did you go for a swim?”