High Water (1959) (8 page)

‘I hope you didn’t mind what David said about the boat, he doesn’t understand, and in any case, I think it’s lovely.’

‘Oh, the boat. Yes,’ stammered Vivian. ‘Yes, she’s a beauty.’ And again he stopped helplessly. From the corner of his eye he saw the dinghy rowing back.

She laughed suddenly, and shook back her hair. ‘You really are a strange man, Mr. Vivian,’ she said, standing back to look at him. ‘One minute you are a great talker, and the next,’ she looked very stern, ‘you look like this! Can it be that I have such a bad effect on you?’

‘Good Lord, no!’ answered Vivian gruffly. ‘I’m just a bit stupid today. Please forgive me.’

‘I shall do nothing of the kind. Look, why not come down to the house tonight. Uncle Nils is giving a little party, you know, and I’m sure he’d love to hear you talk about the sea again.’

Vivian rubbed his palm across the edge of the chart table, his eyes lowered. ‘I’d like that very much, Miss Jensen, if you’re sure it’ll be all right.’

‘I’m quite sure it will be all right,’ she mimicked, and he smiled, in spite of his emotions.

‘David likes to talk about business matters, you know!’ she laughed again. ‘I suppose, as he’s an up-and-coming
young
stockbroker, he feels it’s not right to be too flippant all the time!’

Lang’s body clambered up over the rail, his face split into a grin. ‘Hi there, Philip, all getting acquainted, I see?’

‘Philip is coming to the house tonight, Felix, can you bring him in your car?’

‘Sure, that’ll be fine.’

Vivian didn’t even listen to the conversation, his attention had been riveted by her use of his name, and again he felt the pain inside him.

‘We’ll leave the dinghy at the pier, David,’ Karen called, as she began to button her jacket. ‘We’ll call back for it in the week. Are you coming now, Felix?’

‘Righto. I only wanted to tell Philip he’s wanted for a trip across to France in a couple of days’ time.’ He darted a quick glance at Vivian. ‘Okay?’

Vivian nodded, aware only of the girl.

‘Well, that’s settled then.’ The boat moved away. ‘Call for you at eight, old boy!’

Vivian waved, and watched them out of sight.

He walked slowly aft, to lower his own dinghy in readiness, trying to concentrate on Lang’s news. Ah well, perhaps it didn’t matter after all. Felix didn’t appear to be worried anyway. He halted, his eyes fixed on a small wallet lying by the stern rail. He picked it up, and opened it. It was a driving licence case belonging to David Muir. He must have dropped it when he jumped up from the boat. I’ll give it to him tonight, he thought.

He was just going to stuff it into his picket, when he noticed another, thicker card, pushed behind the licence. By nature a curious man, he slid it casually into view, then froze, his heart pounding.

As he opened the card, he saw the coat of arms, Muir’s
name
and personal details, and across the top, the stamp of Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise.

The evening was quiet and warm, and only the merest breeze ruffled the thick leaves of the old oak trees that lined the road, which, apart from the late, home-going business man, and the occasional, pleasure-seeking car, was deserted and peaceful.

From beyond the banks of trees came the ageless peal of the great clock in Hampton Court Palace chiming the quarter hour, but the two men, seated motionless in the darkened, parked car by the roadside, showed no sign of having heard.

Lang leaned forward on the steering wheel, the reflection of his cigarette glowing in the windscreen, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead.

Vivian, half-turned in his seat, sucked on an empty pipe, and watched the other man with something like apprehension in his eyes.

‘Well, that’s the set-up as I see it, Felix,’ he concluded. ‘Your little racket has got a bit hotter than you anticipated. The question is, what do we do now?’

Lang turned slowly, the ash dropping on to his lap.

‘Not a stockbroker at all, eh?’ he mused, as if he had not heard the question. ‘Well, that is a turn-up for the book, that is.’

He flicked absently at the ash, then, with a quick change of mood, as if to announce that he had come to a decision, he turned the ignition key, and pressed the starter.

He laughed shortly. ‘We’ll have to get organized, but quick! I’ll have to get old Jensen on one side. After all, there’s not much we can do until he’s had his say.’

‘He must be a pretty cool customer, this Muir,’ said
Vivian,
as the car swung back on to the main road. ‘Fancy using Karen as the method of introduction.’ He paused. ‘You don’t suppose he’s on the level, do you? After all, he might not have wanted her to know his exact job.’

Lang snorted. ‘Nuts, old boy, if he was on the up-and-up, he’d no doubt have matrimony in mind, so deception is a bit useless, isn’t it? Oh no, my friend, I’ve had a feeling something would happen one day, as I told you, but Christ, I didn’t think it’d be in the family, so to speak!’

‘He must be a bit of a rat to use a girl like Karen for his dirty work.’

‘He’ll probably tell you, if you ask him,’ jerked Lang, ‘that he’s just doing his duty! They all do, you know.’

There was a crunch of gravel, as the tyres turned on a wide, curving drive, which passed through twin, wrought-iron gates, and between dark clumps of bushes and birch trees, and as the car slackened its pace, Vivian saw the lighted windows of the large, red-walled country house close at hand.

Lang nodded. ‘This is it, grand old place, built about the same time as the Palace. Wouldn’t mind it myself.’

As they were ushered into the long entrance hall by a pleasant, middle-aged servant-woman, Vivian glanced round in admiration at the huge raftered ceiling, the gleaming brasses, and polished wood floors. He noticed, too, that everywhere there were vast bowls of beautifully arranged flowers.

The lounge into which they were shown was also well supplied with cut flowers, and again Vivian was struck by the serene air of grace and comfort which seemed to pervade the whole house.

Nils Jensen began to lever himself from his chair, but Vivian stepped smartly across the room, and forestalled him.

‘I’m glad you could come, my boy,’ he nodded, with a gentle smile. ‘We will have another talk soon, yes?’

He sat looking dreamily at Vivian, his delicate hands beating a silent tattoo on the chair, and in his dark blue velvet jacket and old world cravat, he looked as if he and the house were part of each other.

Mason and his wife sat moodily on a sofa, sipping their drinks, and listening to a fat, red-faced little man, who Vivian later discovered was a local J.P. Janice Mason’s face brightened as he and Lang entered the room, and she raised her glass in welcome. She was apparently more than a little drunk.

There were several other people, local friends of Jensen, standing or sitting in small groups, sipping their drinks, and laughing gaily. Although informally dressed, the quiet elegance of their clothes made Vivian wish once more that he had been able to afford what, up to now, he had regarded as unnecessary luxury.

Karen was standing with one group by the long french windows, which overlooked a sloping lawn, that ran straight down to the river’s edge. She was dressed in a soft, pale blue cocktail dress, her slim shoulders bare, and he noted, with disgust, that Muir hovered attentively at her side.

There was a fresh burst of laughter, and she twisted slightly, the lights gleaming on her smooth skin. He smiled nervously, wondering what she would do, and to his intense delight she turned, spoke quickly to the others, and then crossed the room to confront him.

‘How nice, Philip,’ she said softly. ‘I’m glad you were able to come. Do you have a drink?’

He shook his head.

‘Come with me,’ she commanded, and he willingly followed her slight figure to a long table, well stocked with
bottles,
and little glass dishes of canapes of every size and description.

‘Quite a spread,’ murmured Vivian approvingly.

‘Come, we will drink a proper Danish toast together,’ she said, and, picking up a bottle, she filled two small glasses with a colourless liquid.

‘Schnapps?’ queried Vivian, and she nodded.

‘Do you enjoy our Danish speciality then?’

‘I had a little once, when I slipped across to Copenhagen from Germany,’ he answered, as he took the glass from her.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Everybody goes to Copenhagen, and then thinks he has seen Denmark. But it is just another rather nice town really, you know.’

‘I take it that where you come from is the real thing?’ Vivian grinned broadly.

‘Oh yes,’ she studied him seriously. ‘My home is in Vejle. A lovely part of the country on the Baltic, right at the end of a deep fjord.’ She smiled excitedly. ‘You would love it, there are plenty of little boats there, and clear, deep water, it is very beautiful.’ She stopped, and looked up at him, her eyes laughing. ‘But now we drink, to your
Seafox
. But don’t forget, you must drink it straight down, no cheating?’

They clinked their glasses. ‘
Skal!
’ she said, smiling.

The drink seemed to run straight through him, like liquid fire, and he spluttered, gasping for breath.

‘Phew, I’d forgotten how potent it was!’ he gasped.

‘But very nice, yes?’

‘Oh hallo, Vivian,’ drawled a voice at his elbow, and he turned, trying to erase the resentment from his face. Muir, immaculate in a light gabardine suit, was regarding him with interest.

‘All ready for that trip you’re making?’ His voice was casual.

‘Practically,’ answered Vivian shortly.

‘Where are you off to, this time?’

‘Don’t know yet.’ He hoped he, too, sounded casual.

Muir appeared to have lost interest, and he turned to the girl.

‘Coming, Karen?’ he inquired. ‘Betty and Paul are just leaving, and I think they want to talk about that dance for next week.’

She put down her glass, and Vivian felt he wanted to seize her, and take her away from everyone, then and there.

‘I hope I shall see you for another talk this evening, Philip.’ Her voice was soft. ‘Don’t slip away like you usually do, will you?’

She left him, and he watched the group move into the next room, his heart filled with uncontrollable emotions.

A slim hand slid through his arm, and he looked down into the face of Janice Mason, who gave him a mock salute with her free hand.

‘Care to fix me a drink, Captain?’ Her words were slightly slurred.

He frowned, and shook his head. ‘You’ve had enough, my girl, but I’ll get you just a little one.’

She downed the gin he handed her without effort, and smiled at him sadly. ‘I see that you were thwarted again?’ As he made no comment, she nodded towards the other room. ‘That man Muir, I mean.’

Vivian shrugged. ‘I’m not giving up hope.’

She beamed. ‘Good boy! After all, remember that envy always walks hand-in-hand with extreme joy.’

He looked at her in amazement. ‘You must be more sober than I thought, to come out with a mouthful like that!’

‘H’m, just a bit depressed, that’s all.’ And she deftly refilled her glass.

It was then he noticed that her husband and Lang had disappeared, and turning to find Jensen, he saw that his chair was also empty. So the conference had started apparently.

He turned back to the girl. ‘Well, I’ll look after you till the others come back.’

‘To hell with the lot of them,’ she muttered. ‘I’d give my arms and legs to be like all these people here.’ She waved vaguely about the room. ‘Nice, ordinary, simple, honest little people,’ she said vehemently, her eyes flashing. ‘No bloody rackets, no big deals, no nothing!’

Vivian glanced round nervously, but the other guests appeared to be happily occupied.

‘Here, keep control of yourself,’ he hissed. ‘No point in busting up the party.’

She looked at him in contempt, or was it plain misery. He couldn’t be sure.

‘Philip,’ her voice was so husky, he could hardly hear her. ‘I hate the sight of my husband. Does that surprise you?’

‘I rather gathered that——’ he began.

‘But Felix will be able to help me, won’t he?’ Her voice was imploring.

‘I guess Felix’d fix anything, if he wanted it badly enough,’ he said firmly. ‘Come on, we’ll go for a stroll round the lawn, till you feel a bit better.’ And steering her by the elbow, he guided her out through the french windows, and into the moonlight.

He was quick to realize his mistake, for as the cool air struck Janice, she reeled heavily against him, giggling foolishly, and as he grabbed her roughly, to stop her from falling, she clung about his neck, her eyes swimming.

They were both suddenly bathed in light, as one of the french windows opened behind them, and before Vivian realized what was happening, Mason stepped quickly down
on
to the lawn, and seized her arm, dragging her heavily back into the shadows.

His face was livid, as he stared from her to Vivian, his thin lips working with pent-up rage.

‘You little fool,’ he hissed. ‘Can’t you keep away from any man for a few minutes?’ And with a sudden jerk, he struck her across the face with the flat of his hand. She staggered back, her hands to her cheek, sobbing quietly, while Mason stood glowering at her, his breath heaving.