of foam, and the excitement was over. The crowd drifted away, still
laughing and chattering and congratulating the amateur firefighter on
his virtuoso performance with the extinguisher, while the three of them
regarded the scorched and blackened shell of the Citroen ruefully.
I suppose it was a kindness really, the poor old thing was very tired,
the girl said at last. It was like shooting a horse with a broken leg.
Are you insured? David asked, and the girl's companion laughed.
You're joking, who would insure that? I only paid a hundred U. S.
dollars for her. They assembled the small pile of rescued possessions,
and the girl spoke quickly to her companion in foreign, slightly
guttural language which touched a deep chord in David's memory. He
understood what she was saying, so it was no surprise when she looked at
him.
We've got to meet somebody in Barcelona this evening. It's important.
Let's go, said David.
They piled the luggage into the Mustang and the girl's companion folded
up his long legs and piled into the back seat. His name was Joseph, but
David was advised by the girl to call him Joe. She was Debra, and
surnames didn't seem important at that stage. She sat in the seat
beside David, with her knees pressed together primly and her hands in
her lap. With one sweeping glance, she assessed the Mustang and its
contents. David watched her check the expensive luggage, the Nikon
camera and Zeiss binoculars in the glove compartment and the cashmere
jacket thrown over the seat. Then she glanced sideways at him, seeming
to notice for the first time the raw silk shirt with the slim gold
Piaget under the cuff.
Blessed are the poor, she murmured, but still it must be pleasant to be
rich.
David enjoyed that. He wanted her to be impressed, he wanted her to
make a few comparisons between himself and the big muscular buck in the
back seat.
Let's go to Barcelona, he laughed.
David drove quietly through the outskirts of the town, and Debra looked
over her shoulder at Joe.
Are you comfortable? she asked in the guttural language she had used
before.
If he's not, he can run behind, David told her in the same language, and
she gawked at him a moment in surprise before she let out a small
exclamation of pleasure. Hey! You speak Hebrew! Not very well, David
admitted. I've forgotten most of it, I and he had a vivid picture of
himself as a ten-year-old, wrestling unhappily with a strange and
mysterious language with back-to-front writing, an alphabet that was
squiggly tadpoles and in which most sounds were made in the back of the
throat, like gargling.
Are you Jewish? she asked, turning in the seat to confront him. She
was no longer smiling; the question was clearly of significance to her.
David shook his head. No, he laughed at the notion. I'm a
half-convinced non-practising monotheist, raised and reared in the
Protestant Christian tradition_a__ Then why did you learn Hebrew? My
mother wanted it, David explained, and felt again the stab of an old
guilt. She was killed when I was still a kid. I just let it drop. It
didn't seem important after she had gone. Your mother, Debra insisted,
leaning towards him, she was Jewish? Yeah. Sure, David agreed. But my
father was a Protestant. There was all sorts of hell when Dad married
her. Everyone was against it, but they went ahead and did it anyway.
Debra turned in the seat to Joe. Did you hear that he's one of us. 'Oh,
come on! David protested, still laughing.
Mazaltov, said Joe. Come and see us in Jerusalem some time. 'You're
Israeli? David asked, with new interest.
Sabras, both of us, said Debra, with a note of pride and deep
satisfaction. We are only on holiday here. 'it must be an interesting
country, David hazarded.
Like Joe just said, why don't you come and find out some time, she
suggested off handedly. You have the right of return Then she changed
the subject. Is this the fastest this machine will go? We have to be
in Barcelona by seven.
There was a relaxed feeling between them now, as though some invisible
barrier had been lowered, as though she had made some weighty judgement.
They were out of the city and ahead the open road wound down into the
valley of the Ebro towards the sea.
Kindly extinguish cigarettes and fasten your seat belts, David said, and
let the Mustang go.
She sat very still beside him with her hands folded in her lap and she
stared ahead when the bends leapt at them, and the straights streamed in
a soft blue blur beneath the body of the Mustang. There was a small
rapturous smile on her mouth and the golden lights danced in her eyes,
and David was moved to know that speed affected her the way it did him.
He forgot everything else but the girl in the seat beside him and the
need to keep the mighty roaring machine on the ribbon of tarmac.
Once when they went twisting down into a dry dusty valley in a series of
tight curves and David snaked the Mustang down into it with his hands
darting from wheel to gear leaver, and his feet dancing heel and toe on
the foot pedals, she laughed aloud with the thrill of it.
They bought cheese and bread and a bottle of white wine at a village
cantina and ate lunch sitting on the parapet of a stone bridge while the
water swirled below them, milky with snow melt from the mountains.
David's thigh touched Debra's, as they sat side by side. He could feel
the warmth and resilience of her flesh through the stuff of their
clothing and she made no move to pull away. Her cheeks were flushed a
little brighter than seemed natural, even in the chill little wind that
nagged at them.
David was puzzled by Joe's attitude. He seemed to be completely
oblivious of David's bird dogging his girl, and he was deriving a
childlike pleasure out of tossing pebbles at the trout in the waters
below them. Suddenly David wished he would put up a better resistance,
it would make his conquest a lot more enjoyable, for conquest was what
David had decided on.
He leaned across Debra for another chunk of the white, tangy cheese and
he let his arm brush lightly against the tantalizing double bulge of her
bosom. Joe seemed not to notice.
Come on, you big ape, David thought scornfully. Fight for it. Don't
just sit there. He wanted to test himself against this buck. He was
big, and strong, and David could tell from the way he moved and held
himself that he was well coordinated and self-assured. His face was
chunky and half ugly, but he knew that some women liked them that way,
and he was not fooled by Joe's slow and lazy grin, the eyes were quick
and sharp.
You want to drive, Joe? he asked suddenly, and the slow grin spread
like a puddle of spilled oil on Joe's face - but the eyes glittered with
anticipation.
Don't mind if I do, said Joe, and David regretted the gesture as he
found himself hunched in the narrow back seat. For the first five
minutes Joe drove sedately, touching the brakes to test for grab and
pull, flicking through the gears to feel the travel and bite of the
stick, taking a burst of power through a bend to establish stability and
detect any tendency for the tail to break out.
Don't be scared of her, David told him, and Joe grunted with a little
frown of concentration creasing his broad forehead. Then he nodded to