Night Over Water (55 page)

A hundred and fifty miles! It would take him a week to walk that far. He might hitch a ride, but in this wilderness he would surely be remembered.

There was no speech for a few seconds. At last he heard receding footsteps.

He waited awhile, hearing nothing.

He took out his knife and poked it through one of the holes to undo the clasp.

This time it was harder still. His knees hurt so much that he could hardly stand, and would have fallen if there had been room. He became impatient, and poked the blade through the hole again and again. A panicky claustrophobia seized him and he thought I’m going to suffocate in here! He tried to be calm. After a moment he was able to blank out the pain while he carefully worked the blade through the hole so that it engaged the catch. He pushed the blade. It lifted the brass loop, then slipped. He gritted his teeth and tried again.

This time the catch came undone.

Slowly and painfully he repeated the process with the other catch.

At last he was able to push the two halves of the trunk apart and stand upright. The pain in his knees became excruciating as he straightened his legs, and he almost cried out; then it eased.

What was he going to do?

He could not get off the plane here. He was probably safe until they reached New York, but what then? He would have to stay in hiding on the plane and then slip out at night.

He might get away with it. He had no alternative, anyway. The world would know that he had stolen Lady Oxenford’s jewels. More important, Margaret would know. And he would not be around to talk to her about it.

The more he contemplated this possibility, the more he hated it.

He had known that stealing the Delhi Suite put his relationship with Margaret at risk; but he had always imagined that he would be around when she realized what had happened, so he could try to make it all right with her. Now, however, it might be days before he reached her; and if things went wrong, and he got arrested, it would be years.

He could guess what she would think. He had befriended her, made love to her and promised to help her find a new home; and it had all been a sham, for he had stolen her mother’s jewelry and left her high and dry. She would think the jewels had been all he wanted right from the start. She would be heartbroken, then she would come to hate and despise him.

The idea made him feel sick with misery.

Until this moment he had not fully realized what a difference Margaret had made to him. Her love for him was genuine. Everything else in his life had been faked: his accent, his manners, his clothes, his entire way of life was a disguise. But Margaret had fallen in love with the thief, the working-class boy with no father, the real Harry. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him. If he threw it away, his life would always be what it was now, a matter of pretending and dishonesty. But she had made him want something more. He still hoped for the country house with the tennis courts, but it would not please him unless she were there.

He sighed. Harry boy was not Harry boy anymore. Perhaps he was becoming a man.

He opened Lady Oxenford’s trunk. He took from his pocket the tan leather wallet containing the Delhi Suite.

He opened the wallet and took out the jewels once again. The rubies glowed like banked fires. I may never see anything like this again, he thought.

He replaced the jewels in their wallet. Then, with a heavy heart, he put the wallet back in Lady Oxenford’s trunk.

 

 

 

 

N
ancy Lenehan sat on Shediac’s long plank pier, at the shore ward end, outside the air terminal. This was a building like a seaside cottage, with flowers in window boxes and awnings over the windows; but a radio mast beside the house and an observation tower rising from its roof gave away its true function.

Mervyn Lovesey sat beside her in another striped canvas deck chair. The water shushed against the pier in a soothing way, and Nancy closed her eyes. She had not slept much. A faint smile twitched the comers of her mouth as she recalled how she and Mervyn had misbehaved in the night. She was glad she had not gone all the way with him. It would have been too sudden. And now she had something to look forward to.

Shediac was a fishing village and a seaside resort. To the west of the pier was a sunlit bay, on which floated several lobster boats, some cabin cruisers and two planes, the Clipper and a little seaplane. To the east was a wide sandy beach that seemed to go on for miles, and most of the passengers from the Clipper were sitting among the dunes or strolling along the edge of the shore.

The peace of the scene was disturbed by two cars that screeched up to the pier and disgorged seven or eight policemen. They went into the flight building in a hurry, and Nancy murmured to Mervyn: “They looked like they were planning to arrest someone.”

He nodded and said: “I wonder who?”

“Frankie Gordino, perhaps?”

“They can’t—he’s already arrested.”

They came out of the building a few moments later. Three went on board the Clipper, two set off along the beach and two followed the road. They looked as if they were searching for someone. When one of the Clipper’s crew emerged, Nancy asked: “Who are the cops after?”

The man hesitated, as if he were not sure he should reveal anything; then he shrugged and said: “The guy’s calling himself Harry Vandenpost, but that’s not his real name.”

Nancy frowned. “That was the boy sitting with the Oxenford family.” She had an idea Margaret Oxenford was developing a crush on him.

Mervyn said: “Aye. Did he get off the plane? I didn’t see.”

“I’m not sure.”

“I thought he looked a bit of a wide boy.”

“Really?” Nancy had taken him for a young man from a good family. “He’s got beautiful manners.”

“Exactly.”

Nancy smothered a smile: it seemed characteristic that Mervyn would dislike men with beautiful manners. “I think Margaret was quite interested in him. I hope she doesn’t get hurt.”

“Her parents will be grateful for a narrow escape, I imagine.”

Nancy could not be happy for the parents. She and Mervyn had witnessed the crass behavior of Lord Oxenford in the dining room of the Clipper. Such people deserved everything they got. However, Nancy felt sorry for Margaret if she had fallen for a bounder.

Mervyn said: “I’m not normally the impulsive type, Nancy.”

She was suddenly alert.

He went on. “I met you only a few hours ago, but I feel completely certain that I want to know you for the rest of my life.”

Nancy thought: You can’t be certain, you idiot! But she was pleased all the same. She said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about leaving you in New York and going back to Manchester, and I don’t want to do it.”

Nancy smiled. This was just what she wanted him to say. She reached out and touched his hand. “I’m so glad,” she said.

“Are you?” He leaned forward. “The trouble is, soon it will be next to impossible to cross the Atlantic, for anyone other than the military.”

She nodded. The problem had occurred to her, too. She had not thought about it very hard, but she felt sure they would be able to find a solution if they were determined enough.

Mervyn went on. “If we split up now, it may be years, literally, before we can see one another again. I can’t accept that.”

“I feel the same.”

Mervyn said: “So will you come back to England with me?”

Nancy stopped smiling. “What?”

“Come back with me. Move into a hotel, if you like, or buy a house, or a flat—anything.”

Nancy felt resentment rise up inside her. She gritted her teeth and tried to stay calm. “You’re out of your mind,” she said dismissively. She looked away from him. She was bitterly disappointed.

He looked hurt and puzzled by her reaction. “What’s the matter?”

“I have a home, two sons and a multimillion dollar business,” she said. “You’re asking me to leave them to move into a hotel in Manchester?”

“Not if you don’t want to!” he said indignantly. “Live with me, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m a respectable widow with a place in society—I’m not going to live like a kept floozie!”

“Look, I think we’ll get married—I’m sure we will—but I don’t imagine you’re ready to commit yourself to that, are you, after just a few hours?”

“That’s not the point, Mervyn,” she said, although in a way it was. “I don’t care what arrangements you envisage. I just resent the casual assumption that I’m going to give up everything and follow you to England.”

“But how else could we be together?”

“Why didn’t you ask that question, instead of assuming the answer?”

“Because there is only one answer.”

“There are three. I could move to England; you could move to America; or we could both move, to somewhere like Bermuda.”

He was nonplussed. “But my country is at war. I have to join the fight. I may be too old for active service, but the air force is going to need propellers by the thousand, and I know more about making propellers than anyone else in the country. They need me.”

Everything he said seemed to make it worse. “Why do you assume that my country doesn’t need me?” she said. “I make boots for soldiers, and when the U.S. gets into this war, there are going to be a lot more soldiers needing good boots.”

“But I’ve got a business in Manchester.”

“And I’ve got a business in Boston—a much bigger one, by the way.”

“It’s not the same for a woman!”

“Of course it’s the same, you fool!” she yelled.

Right away, she regretted the word fool. A look of stony fury settled on his face: she had offended him mortally. He got up from his chair. She wanted to say something to stop him walking away in a snit, but she could not think of the right words, and a moment later he had gone.

“Damn,” she said bitterly. She was angry with him and furious with herself. She did not want to drive him away—she liked him! Years ago she had learned that nose-to-nose confrontation was not the right approach when dealing with men: they would accept aggression from one another but not from women. In business she had always tempered her combative spirit, softened her tone and got her way by manipulating people, not by quarreling with them. Now, just for a moment, she had stupidly forgotten all that and had a fight with the most attractive man she had come across in ten years.

I’m such a fool, she thought; I know he’s proud. That’s one of the things I like about him—it’s part of his strength. He is tough, but he hasn’t suppressed all his emotions the way tough men often do. Look at the way he followed that runaway wife half across the world. See how he stood up for the Jews when Lord Oxenford blew his top in the dining room. Remember how he kissed me....

The irony of it was that she felt very ready to think about a change in her life.

What Danny Riley had told her about her father had cast a new light over her entire history. She had always assumed that she and Peter quarreled because he resented her being cleverer. But that kind of sibling rivalry normally faded away in adolescence: her own two boys, having fought like cat and dog for almost twenty years, were now the best of friends and fiercely loyal to one another. By contrast, the hostility between her and Peter had stayed alive into middle age, and she could now see that Pa was responsible.

Pa had told Nancy that she was to be his successor, and Peter would work under her; but he had told Peter the opposite. In consequence, both of them thought they were intended to run the company. But it went back farther than that. Pa had always refused to lay down clear rules or define areas of responsibility, she realized. He would buy toys they had to share, then refuse to adjudicate the inevitable disputes. When they were old enough to drive, he had bought a car for them both to use: they had fought over it for years.

Pa’s strategy had worked for Nancy: it had made her strong-willed and smart. But Peter had ended up weak, sly and spiteful. And now the stronger of the two was about to take control of the company, in accordance with Pa’s plan.

And that was what disturbed Nancy: it was all in accordance with Pa’s plan. The knowledge that everything she did had been foreordained by someone else spoiled the taste of victory. Her whole life now seemed like a school assignment set by her father: she had got an A, but at forty she was too old to be in school. She had an angry wish to set her own goals and live her own life.

In fact, she had been in just the right mood to have an open-minded discussion with Mervyn about their future together. But he had offended her by assuming that she would drop everything and follow him half across the world; and instead of talking him around she had bawled him out.

She had not expected him to go down on his knees and propose, of course, but ...

She felt in her heart that he really should have proposed. She was not a bohemian, after all; she was an American woman from a Catholic family, and if a man wanted a commitment from her, there was only one kind of commitment he was entitled to ask for, and that was her hand in marriage. If he could not do that, he should not ask for anything.

She sighed. It was all very well to be indignant, but she had driven him away. Perhaps the rift would not be permanent. She hoped so with all her heart. Now that she was in danger of losing Mervyn, she realized how much she wanted him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another man she had once driven away: Nat Ridgeway.

He stood in front of her, took off his hat politely and said: “It seems you’ve defeated me—again.”

She studied him for a moment. He could never have started a company and built it up the way Pa had built Black’s Boots: he did not have either the vision or the drive. But he was very good at running a big organization: he was clever, hard-working and tough. “If it’s any consolation, Nat,” said Nancy, “I know I made a mistake five years ago.”