Stephanie (3 page)

‘Not too agreeable yet. But improving.'

Mr Erasmus said: ‘May I please know the young lady's name.'

‘Of course,' Errol said. ‘Miss Locke. Miss Stephanie Locke.'

Mr Erasmus eyed her with cold, polite interest. His skin looked so smooth he might just have shaved, or did not need to shave. He spoke perfect English, but his eyes were too slanted to be European.

Presently the stinging antiseptic was on, and a plaster, dusted with antibiotic powder, over the cut.

‘You have had a tetanus injection?' Mr Erasmus asked.

‘Oh yes, thank you. Errol insisted before we left.'

‘Stop and have some coffee while you're here?' Errol suggested, dabbing his head with a damp towel. But it was a halfhearted invitation and she smilingly refused. Couldn't wait to return to the beach, she said.

‘You'll stay to lunch?' Errol said to the men, but again it was perfunctory. Mr Mohamed deferred to Mr Erasmus, who said: ‘Thank you, I must catch the afternoon plane to Delhi. Mohamed, I expect, will be returning to Bombay.'

The fat Indian bowed formally from the waist as she left. The tall man inclined his head.

She spent an hour in and out of the sea and then climbed the hill again to meet Errol for lunch. He was better but his normal friendly yet devilish smile was tight-lipped and, she thought, forced.

‘Have they gone?'

‘They've gone.'

‘Sorry I crashed in. I'd no idea.'

‘Neither had I.'

‘Who was the new man?'

‘Just a colleague.'

‘I didn't think he liked me.'

‘He's only interested in business.'

‘Well, I certainly didn't like him.'

They walked down the hill and through the hotel to one of the outside restaurants looking directly over the sea. They hadn't spoken on the way down.

When a waiter had taken their order she said: ‘Is he the sort of boss?'

‘Who?'

‘Mr Erasmus, of course.'

‘He's the head of the South Asian division of our group. That's all. We're only loosely associated.'

‘He gave me the creeps.'

‘Oh, lay off it. He's all right. In a business like ours you have to meet all sorts.'

‘Your business?'

‘The travel business, of course. We're expanding all the time. You have to be international these days if you want to move on.'

His voice was abrupt and unfriendly. He was clearly still out of sorts. They hardly spoke then for a time, but a bit later he rounded on the obliging young waiter who had not brought quite what was ordered.

When the man had gone scuttling away Errol said: ‘They're too slow. It does them good now and then to get a kick up the backside … I see you don't agree.'

‘Well … a lot of famous men have done it, I know, but …'

‘Done what?'

‘Been rude to waiters. It always seems to me unsporting because they can't answer back. Of course if they're
really
inefficient or rude to you …'

‘Which he wasn't? Maybe you're right. But you know with these cluster headaches I get very irritable, my dear.'

‘These what?'

‘Cluster headaches. It's a form of migraine. Due, I'm told, to changes in my indole-peptide metabolism. Haven't you noticed?'

‘Should I have?'

He laughed. ‘ Probably not. Except that I kept blowing my nose and scratching my head last night.'

‘So what can you do for it?'

‘Not much. Pain killers. But it's soon over – usually less than a day. And not serious … Does it put you off?'

‘Put me
off
? Why ever should it?'

‘My mother could never stand people with ailments. Said it made her feel unhealthy to mix with 'em.'

In fact she rather warmed to this confession of physical weakness in a man so dominant. No doubt it explained his brusqueness today and the lack of that impish humour she found so engaging.

She said: ‘Sorry I blundered in this morning.'

‘Sorry I glowered. I assure you they were no more welcome! I just wanted to lie in the dark!'

‘You're better now?'

‘Yep. Did you see the cash on the table?'

‘What? Cash? Yes. It's not my business.'

‘Nor is it. But you see we're thinking of opening a theme park in Agra, and –'

‘Ugh! … Sorry …'

‘It isn't as bad as it sounds. Just a development. The Indians themselves are in favour of it.'

‘But that surely means
big
money.'

He laughed. ‘ Today we were only dealing with their commission. In India transactions can't be arranged any other way.'

After lunch they dozed for a while in a couple of the chaises longues, the Caryota palms and the banana trees wafting sun and shadow over them as the fronds moved in the breeze. Presently he threw his paperback down and said he thought he'd like to see Krishna again.

‘He was looking for you this morning.'

‘I'll bet.'

She went with him; the sun was still hot as they strolled across the beach. There were a few more people about than in the morning but unless you walked at high-water mark you didn't meet anybody.

A group of dark-skinned native boys were hauling in their fishing boat on wooden rollers. It was a primitive craft, long and very narrow, with a high prow, and it did not look as if any nails or screws had been used in its construction. Everything was lashed together with thongs. Stephanie and Errol stood watching while the catch was brought in in baskets and separated out and assayed. They laughed and talked with the men – Errol was very good at this. He took a lot of photographs, and then they went on their way.

A mile further along was the beach encampment, which closed down and was carried away every night, and brought back and erected every morning. Here the beach sellers congregated in tents or behind raffia screens, or stood beside trestle tables full of carefully arranged trinkets. Old pewter pots and pans and inkwells and bubble pipes, copper bells from Benares, wooden idols from Khajraho, silk scarves from Madras, silver bangles and brass rings from Delhi, carpets from Kashmir, endless saris and rugs and paintings and cheap skirts and shirts and sandals.

They had no need to ask for Krishna; the bush – or beach – telegraph had been at work and he came trotting to meet them, his battered old suitcase under his arm. He squatted on a sandhill away from the others, and soon the three of them were fingering his wares.

The brooch Errol fancied had three rubies in it and was the prize of Krishna's collection and for which he wanted eight thousand rupees. That was about four hundred pounds, and if the stones were as good as they looked it was dirt cheap. Even if they were not as good as they looked, it could hardly be expensive. (Always supposing the rubies were not pieces of glass. Krishna swore on his mother's grave that they were not.) Errol was pretty sure the stones were real, so bargaining began. Eventually at 5,250 rupees Krishna would go no further, so Errol tentatively agreed the price.

‘Mind, I'm not at all certain I shall have it,' he said, putting the brooch back among the others.

‘Take it,' said Krishna eagerly. ‘Take it, eh? Keep it tonight, eh? Pay in morning.'

At a second attempt Errol lit a cigarette. The smoke blew swiftly away. ‘Okay, I'll pay you in the morning – or let you have it back. In the morning, about midday, eh?'

Although it was not for her, Stephanie wore the brooch home. The setting was ornate but nicely worked.

‘You said you'd meet Krishna at twelve,' she said. ‘Aren't you going off photographing churches?'

‘Oh, well … Well, what the hell. These little men are here to please us. They're used to waiting. I say …' He stopped. ‘That stall. They're selling hash cookies. I can smell 'em from here.'

‘You mean – it's what it sounds like?'

‘Yes. You must have tried them at St Martin's, surely.'

She pushed her hair back. ‘ I've smoked a joint now and then. Not had anything in this form.'

‘Let's try 'em. We'll keep them, have them for dessert. I'm getting tired of ice cream. May add a touch of the exotic to our lovemaking.'

‘I haven't noticed anything lacking so far!'

He laughed again, his good humour restored, and kissed her neck and went to buy a box.

Next morning it was she who had the headache, he who was bright and cheerful. It had been a strange adventure in the night, when substances seemed to float and vision was enhanced and laughter and hysteria were interchangeable. Mischievously he had persuaded her to take more than she wanted, and to humour him after the day's embarrassments she had eaten too many. She not infrequently took a fair amount to drink: it came from inner impulses of recklessness, a sudden sharp pleasure in kicking over the traces; but in these flurries of alcohol she had never been altogether without control of herself. Last night she had been, and this morning the aftermath was unpleasant.

It had been a strange sexual encounter too, in which angels and devils seemed equally to scream and moan, in which sensations became double sensations and perversity was all. One floated, half-drowned, on a butterfly sea of orgasm which was deliriously beautiful but wayward and tormented. At the very edges of ecstasy was pain.

Errol was almost too much on form this morning, and took another hash cookie after breakfast to keep up the euphoria. He examined the brooch in the bright light of morning, then scrabbled in a suitcase and took out a jeweller's glass. After a bit he shook his head.

‘They're rubies all right, but they're not top class. Too dark. He swears they're Burmese, but they probably come from Thailand. And there's a flaw in the middle one. I doubt if I'd be asked to pay more than four hundred pounds for the brooch in Bond Street.'

‘So you'll not buy?'

‘Doubt it. Unless I could beat him down to two hundred. These people have an exaggerated idea of values.'

‘Shall you let him have it back this morning before you go?'

‘No. Make him wait. I should be back by four.' He ruffled his hair, looking her over appreciatively, at the casual feminine grace with which she sprawled in her chair. ‘And what mischief will you get up to while I'm gone?'

‘Wish there was some. No, I've got books to read. Actually
read
, darling, to improve myself – you know – in the hope that I might get a second in June.'

‘If there were some other things you could graduate in,' he said, ‘you'd certainly get a first.

It wasn't easy to concentrate on Cervantes in the original Spanish with the brilliant glitter of the sun and the sea. Soon she would be back in Oxford in a petrochemical atmosphere and under draughty skies – with Schools not far away. At eleven she bathed in the pool and then, still wet, with a thin beach coat over her arm walked across the beach to dry. At once Krishna appeared.

‘Mr Colton has gone out for the morning taking photographs,' she said. ‘He'll be back this afternoon and will see you then.'

Krishna trotted beside her for a while, his face anxious. He explained that the brooch was really his father's, and his father blamed him for having let it out of his sight. The value was so great – to them – that it represented the family fortune. If anything should happen to it …

‘Nothing will happen to it,' she said; ‘ it is quite safe.'

He was not able, Krishna explained, he was not allowed into the hotel and he did not even know their names.

‘Colton,' she repeated. ‘C.O. L.T.O. N.'

‘Col-toon.'

‘He will be home by five.' All the same she wished Errol had not taken the brooch on approval. Had he ever really had any intention of buying it? Certainly Krishna, having come down so far in price, could never reduce it again, by half. Errol had a mischievous streak, she well knew. It didn't matter much if he played tricks on her; it was a bit callous to practise them on this ragged young Goan.

She lunched at one of the other restaurants today – it was hotter than usual, and one sought the breeze. The menus at all the restaurants were very much the same, and she had tiger prawns, for which she was developing an insatiable taste.

The hotel was preparing for some sort of jamboree. Endless streams of waiters and workmen were carrying and rearranging tables and putting up balloons round the swimming pool. Monstrous effigies, inflatable and grotesque, were being erected on poles and swung gently in the warm air. Long barbecue trestles were rattling into place. There would, of course, be dancing. Every night there was dancing to a live band, but this was obviously some special occasion. The Indians – and the Goans – never lacked for an excuse to make merry.

A fairly cosmopolitan bag of guests at the hotel: English, French, German, Swiss, Indian; none, fortunately, in a special majority over the others. Being a gregarious type, she would have chatted to most of them, but Errol seemed to want to keep all his laughter and high spirits for her, and have other people stay at a distance. Now that they saw her on her own, two English couples separately came across to talk to her, and she had a very unstudious afternoon. Tea came and went, and it was five before she walked up to her bungalow and realised that Errol was overdue. She hung about a bit and thought, well, damn it, he might have telephoned. Another bathe? In the afternoon breeze the sea was prancing; it would probably be unsafe to swim because of the undertow, but jumping through the breakers was always exhilarating. She must be careful not to be rescued, though. Young Goan lifeguards were usually on the watch with an old tyre and a length of rope, and they seemed particularly eager to rescue ladies who appealed to their sense of the aesthetic.

As soon as she came out of the sea and saw Krishna waiting she wished she had used the pool instead.