THE SUN’S EFFECTS quickly make themselves felt. John sets himself a swift pace. His eyes are glued to the little house. “It’s true, it’s a nice house!” he tells himself. “But what is Becky doing in it? Maybe she wants to buy the place, keep it for a vacation home. Is she planning it as a surprise for me?” He has to admit he has no idea what Becky could be thinking. “She’s English, like me. We have both always lived in London. We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for going on fifteen years. We have had three magnificent children together. I call her ‘my sweet.’ She calls me ‘John.’ Funny that she’s never called me anything else. Diana”—his mistress—“calls me ‘my little toad.’ It’s stupid, but at least she makes an effort. That’s the thing, Becky never makes the least effort to create any kind of intimacy between us. At times I even get the feeling we’ve never made love together. The only things that really interest her are her horses. That perfectly composed expression at the height of our lovemaking (our monthly lovemaking), devoid of emotion, like the flame of a candle during a momentary lull in the wind. That’s the only Becky I’ve ever known in bed. It’s true that she takes perfectly good care of the children. But what the devil is she doing in that little house, which seems to get farther away the faster I approach it?”
SHE IS STANDING on the balcony, leaning lightly against its centre-post.
“What are you doing here?” John asks.
“Poor you, you’re completely covered in sweat! Come and sit down, I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”
She disappears into the house and returns almost immediately with a glass of ice-cold water.
“But what are you doing here, Becky?”
“You’re repeating yourself, John. I heard you the first time.”
“But you haven’t answered me.”
“Catch your breath. . That final slope is quite steep.”
“I don’t understand, Becky.”
“He built this house for me,” she says, using a voice he has never heard from her before.
“Whom are you talking about?”
“Do you remember, John, as soon as I saw this house I felt something like a punch in my solar plexus?”
“You want to buy it, is that it?”
“From this moment on, John, this is where I live.”
“Oh, right, I get it. . We’re going to spend the rest of our time here, just so that you. .”
“You are deliberately misunderstanding me. . I have a man in my life now, and this is where he lives.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What about the children?”
“Mother will help out with them. . She’s always dreamed of keeping them with her.”
“You would leave the children, Becky?”
“Don’t make this difficult, John, you won’t get me back with such talk. . I’ve done the math. I’m forty years old. In ten years, I’ll be fifty, and it’ll be too late for me. Whereas you, you’ll just be starting to chase after girls fresh out of school.”
“I won’t leave you, Becky.”
“Look, John, I have fifteen good years left in me, and I have no intention of spending them either with you or in London.”
“But the children? Do you think I’m going to look after them for you?”
“Put them in an orphanage, John. You pay enough in taxes, surely the government will allow you that privilege. .”
And she laughs. A laugh he has not heard before, either. Does he know her at all?
“Who is it? Someone who was in the plane with us, I’ll wager.”
“You’ve taken your time, John. . I expected that to be your first question.”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Becky. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Ah, so suddenly you’re an authority on what suits me. . You’ve seen him, yesterday afternoon. .”
“I didn’t see anyone yesterday afternoon.”
“Good heavens, John, you not only saw him, you pointed him out to me. You said he’d been following us for some time.”
“But that was just some peasant I saw. .”
“You are sitting in his house.”
“I don’t understand. Whose house?”
“My man’s house.”
“What are you saying? That peasant is your man? Since when?”
“Since last night. Don’t force me to supply you with details, John. In any case, here he comes. .”
“Where?”
“Turn around, you’ll see him.”
The man is climbing the final steep approach to the house. He moves with a certain agility. As he comes up he removes his jacket and greets John with a smile that is both timid and proud. The farmers in northern Haiti are known for their extreme politeness. John shakes his hand. Becky smiles.
Harry at Large
FOR ONCE, CHARLIE is on time. Fanfan has been waiting for him in the Rex Café, reading a Carter Brown.
“Sorry, old chum,” Charlie says when he arrives. “But the damn streets are impossible this morning. There’s a traffic jam stretching from the Au Beurre Chaud bakery all the way down to Firestone.”
“That’s not the way you come. .”
“I’m telling you what it’s like out there. Don’t you listen to the radio?”
“Never. In any case, you’re not late.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s eleven o’clock. I told you to be here at nine just to make sure you’d be here at eleven.”
“But it’s not even eleven yet, Fanfan. .”
“Exactly. . It’s five to eleven. So you see, you’re on time.”
Charlie sits down and signals the waiter to bring him his usual (a sandwich and a glass of papaya juice).
“I can’t believe you would do that to me. .” he says. “I cancelled quite a few meetings to be here. .”
“I don’t know what you’re going on about. . We were supposed to meet here at eleven, and you got here at five to. What time were you planning to get here?”
Charlie shakes his head sadly.
“You’ve just screwed up my entire schedule.”
“Since when have you had a schedule?”
“It’s all written down in here,” he says, pointing his index finger to his temple.
The waiter arrives with a cup of steaming coffee and sets it down in front of Fanfan, who takes three large sips from it at the risk of burning his tongue.
“What are we doing now?” Charlie asks.
“We’re waiting. . That’s what happens when you arrive someplace early.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. .”
Fanfan laughs quietly.
“What does this guy want, anyway?”
“What do you think he wants?”
“Sex?”
“Are you gassed up?”
“Good, when is he supposed to get here?”
“Don’t worry, he’s an American. . He’ll be on time. Here he is now!”
The man walks into the narrow café and heads straight towards the only two customers sitting at a table. He sits down without introducing himself.
“A friend told me about you.”
“About who?”
“Which one of you is Fanfan?”
“Bingo! I win! Am I allowed to know who my publicist is?”
“A woman you’ve been seeing.”
“So what do you want,” Charlie asks dryly.
“I gather you know a lot of girls. .”
“What makes you think that?”
“I’ve been watching you since. .”
The waiter comes over with a plate that he sets down in front of Charlie.
“Man, I’m starved.”
Harry watches him literally gulp his sandwich and wash it down with long swallows of papaya juice.
“I’ve bought a small house down by the sea,” Harry finally says, “and I want to invite a few friends over.”