Run Before the Wind (39 page)

WHEN MARK HAD GONE, a change came over Annie that astonished and delighted me. I knew that she had been tightly wound for a long time, but I don't think I understood how tightly until I saw her unwind. We partyed with the other competitors until they, too, began to sail away, hurrying back to jobs and families in England. In a few days we were alone, and then a transformation that had already begun to take place was completed.

Always affectionate with me, sometimes to my consternation and guilt, Annie now became loving. It was evident to me in every moment we spent together, and we were never apart. We became a couple, a state of being I had never really experienced. We ate, drank and walked together, drinking in the lushness of our surroundings, enjoying the green beauty of the island and the charm and friendliness of the people of Horta. We sat in the little park in the town square and watched the black swans glide to and fro in the ponds; we took the ferry to Pico and climbed the 7,000foot volcano, marveling at the view; we drove to the west side of the island, to the area called Costa Brava, climbed down the high cliffs, and swam in the sea, naked and alone. And then, on a hot and sunny afternoon, we found our way to the crater at the top of Faial.

As the little car chugged up the steep roads, clouds enveloped us, and I had to turn on the windshield wipers to deal with the clinging moisture. At the top of the road we parked and came to the tunnel that had been dug through the side of the old, extinct volcano; we ran through it, laughingly dodging the water dripping from the stone ceiling. We emerged into the large crater, now partly filled, with tropical plant life growing at its bottom. Annie began to climb; I followed, and as we neared the top sunlight began to dapple the grassy slope. We found an indentation in the green, crater wall, like a huge palm cupped to receive us. The coolness of the clouds gone, Annie quickly stripped off her clothes and lay on her back in the sun, making little noises as the cool grass touched her body. In a moment, I was lying beside her, making my own noises as I got used to the wetness.

Annie turned and put her head on my shoulder; I felt her breasts against me.

"Oh, Willie," she said, "I can't remember a time when I felt so absolutely carefree. You've made me so happy this week."

I couldn't say anything. She had seemed so perfectly, naturally happy that it never occurred to me that I might have had anything to do with it. I put my arm around her and hugged. She turned until her leg was over mine, then reached up and turned my head toward hers. Annie had kissed me many times before, but never quite this way. It was sweet, tender and oddly consuming for so light a touch. Then her tongue found mine and, while still gentle, the kiss grew into an embrace that no part of us avoided. Soon, she pulled me on top of her. Our bodies effortlessly found each other. And for a single hour that afternoon, in that surpassingly beautiful place, with that perfect girl, I knew what it was to be one with another human being.

That night, back in the flat, we made love again, then lay, sweating, in each other's arms. In a few hours we had a plane to catch, and it seemed to me we had to sort some things out.

"Listen, Annie ..."

"Mmmm?"

"The land outside Kinsale."

"Mmmm?"

"You remember, my Christmas present from my grandfather?"

"Oh, yes, I remember."

"There's a cottage, too. It's not really habitable, but I could get it together in a couple of months, if I hired some help."

"Sounds nice." She sounded very sleepy.

"I think it could be. I've still got some money in the bank in Cork, too. It's not a lot, but it's some sort of start for us."

She sat up, abruptly.

"Willie .. . you're not ... what are you saying, exactly?"

"Look, I know I don't have a career, exactly, but my grandfather's place is big, and .. . well, it's there, and I'm sure he'd be delighted if I wanted to join him."

"Willie ..."

"There's our place in Georgia, too. I'm an only child, and someday that's going to be mine. It wouldn't be a bad ..."

"Willie, stop."

I stopped.

"Willie, you know I love you dearly, and we've finally done something we've both wanted to do since that day in Cowes, but .. ."

"But what?" I thought I knew what was coming, and I didn't like it.

She turned and hugged her knees.

"This has been marvelous for me, this time with you; I've loved it, I really have ..."

I was right, she was going to tell me we couldn't go on this way. In fact, she told me a great deal more.

"If it hadn't been for you, and for Derek, of course ..."

"Derek?" Now I sat up.

"What do you mean?"

She looked at me. There was just enough light in the room for me to tell that she was surprised.

"But surely, you knew. That day in the car ... you saw me."

I groped for her meaning for just a moment, and then it flashed before me; a car passing on the Carrigaline road, a chauffeur-driven car--a woman in the back seat who, when I looked a second time wasn't there--and then the cow had stepped into the road, throwing me into a spin, and in my fear and excitement I had forgotten.

She read my face quickly.

"You didn't know. Oh, my God, I thought you did, I thought you were being kind, not making me explain."

"Tell me. Tell me all of it."

She turned back and rested her forehead on her knees.

"Oh, Jesus, it started in London before I even met you, before Mark met Derek. It was when Mark was still in hospital the first time. I was going mad in Plymouth, and I went up to London to see my mother for a few days. I met Derek in Harrod's Food Halls, of all places, buying smoked salmon. We had lunch; we had dinner; we .. ."

"I see," I said dully.

"It was just something I needed at that moment in time. Mark was hardly speaking; I was married to a man who seemed to be headed for a mental hospital."

Now I was beginning to see it all.

"So you introduced Derek to Mark."

"It seemed ideal ... it was ideal. Derek wanted a boat; Mark was going insane because nobody would sponsor the boat he wanted to build. I told Derek what Mark wanted to do, and it suited him very well. He came to Cowes, and I got Mark to the Royal London Ball, and, well, it wolked out beautifully."

"And then, whenever you got fed up in Cork you hopped over to England and Derek."

"No, he took a place in Ireland. He came whenever I could get away, even after all the trouble in England. He could get in from France to a private landing strip. I just thought when you saw the chauffeur you knew immediately. I'm sorry to burden you with all this, now."

I felt hollow inside, but my mouth still worked.

"Let me sum this up: you couldn't handle it when Mark was hurt, so you went to London and started screwing Derek Thrasher. Then, you kept screwing him to buy Mark his boat, or was it the other way around--you got Mark to take the sponsorship so you could keep screwing Derek? Jesus, my summer job was nothing more than the fruit of a little casual prostitution ..."

"Willie ..."

"That's what it was, wasn't it? One way or the other, you were buying something and paying for it with a little fucking. And me, I was just kept around, like a steak in the freezer, until you wanted to fuck somebody again ..."

She slapped me, hard, then leapt from the bed, winding the sheet around her.

"Willie, I don't need this from you ..."

I pursued her across the room.

"Just what the hell do you need from me, then?"

"A little understanding might help," she said, backing away from me. I think she was afraid I was going to hit her.

I was afraid I was going to hit her, too. I turned away and started pulling on clothes.

"Oh, I think I understand," I muttered. Then, still stuffing in my shirttail, I grabbed a jacket and slammed out of the flat.

It was nearly dawn. I stalked down the narrow, cobbled street, my deck shoes slapping against the stones, echoing down the hill.

I reached the waterfront and headed for the Estalagem, the ruined fort on the harbor. Having gone as far as I could go without getting wet, I sat on the wall overlooking the sea and wept, grateful for the privacy of the time of day. I had wanted to give her everything, and she had wanted nothing from me but a roll in the hay.

My righteousness made my pain sharper and my weeping longer.

I let myself forget that I had been trying to take my best friend's wife. I was a wronged man.

I sat there until midmorning, then went back to the flat. Annie was gone, but her bags were there, packed. I packed my own. Our plane was to leave in little more than an hour. She came back at the last possible moment, and I threw our stuff into the car without a word. The rent-a-car man drove us to the airport and took the car away. The flight to London and the change for Cork passed in hostile silence on both sides. We both tried to sleep on the plane.

I couldn't.

"BOTH THE BISHOP and the mon signor were very pleased with your work in the West Country," Pearce said.

"Why haven't you been in touch? It's been almost three weeks."

"It seemed a good idea to lie low for a bit," Maeve replied.

"And we weren't so happy with the Plymouth results."

"Considering who you got, I don't think you should be worried about who you missed. He's not that important, anyway."

Maeve looked at the newspaper in her hand again and ground her teeth.

"I wanted to let you know it'll be a week or ten days before we'll be ready for further instructions. We've some personal business to attend to."

"Personal business? You must be joking. The mon signor wouldn't like it."

"Fuck the mon signor she said.

"I'll call you when we're ready again." She hung up the phone and read the brief article on the sports page again.

Former Royal Marine Captain Mark PembertonRobinson, accompanied by his wife and one other crew in his new, 60foot yacht. Wave, has won the Azores Race in just under ten days, finishing only seconds ahead of the 49-foot trimaran Three Cheers. Captain Pemberton-Robinson, who built the yacht for the 1972 Singlehanded Transatlantic Race, is returning singlehanded from the Azores to Ireland, where the yacht was built, thereby greatly exceeding the required 200mile qualifying cruise for the Transatlantic. "I want to see she has a real workout," he was quoted as saying. Wave departed

Horta, on the island of Faial, on August 3, and her skipper expects the sail to Ireland to take only eight or nine days, since the return passage should be downwind.

She drove back to the caravan park.

"We're taking a little Irish Holiday," she said to Denny, tossing him the paper.

He read it quickly, smiling.

"So we'll get another go at him, then."

"At him and the boat, too, with what I've got in mind." She briefly explained her plan.

"Red will be all for it, I know he will, but how are we going to get weapons over? The ferry ports are crawling with Special Branch types."

"We can manage with what's available locally," she said.

"We'll take the Swansea-Cork ferry as foot passengers, do the job, and take it right back. Call Red and tell him to meet us the day after tomorrow. That should put us there a day or so ahead of time.

And tell him to keep his mouth shut; you know how he talks."

WE MISSED OUR CONNECTION in London, spent an uncomfortable night at Heathrow, and got a noon plane for Cork the following day, still talking only when absolutely necessary. As we came out of customs at Cork Airport, I was surprised to see Connie. She rushed up.

"Come on," she said urgently, "My car's outside."

She hustled us to the car park.

"What's going on, Connie?" I asked, puzzled.

"I'm to get you down to the Royal Cork. Finbar's waiting for you there."

I was exhausted and annoyed.

"What is going on?"

"I heard on the grapevine that Red O'Mahoney and some friends of his are planning to intercept Mark before he sails into the harbor," she said.

"I called Finbar, and he told me you were expected. I've met the last three planes. Finbar's got a boat waiting at the club. He reckons we should try to head off Mark and divert him to England."

"Swell," I said and tried to nap on the short drive to the club.

Finbar was, indeed, waiting for us with a boat--a very nice, old pre-war, wooden cabin cruiser of about thirty-five feet that I knew belonged to a Cork dentist. Finbar had done a lot of work on it.

"Is Mark's ETA the same?" Finbar asked as we came aboard.

"Yes. Today or tomorrow, he thought, depending on weather," Annie replied.

"Well, Connie's put some grub aboard. I reckon our best bet is to go out a few miles and try to raise him on the VHP."

Once out of the river and into the harbor, Finbar put the throttles down, and we moved along at about fifteen knots.