Betty enjoyed the meal and enjoyed his company. He helped her with her chair and gave her the choicest of little pancakes. He got the coffee on the boil and cleared away the plates. “You’re remarkable,” she laughed. “Grant is useless in the kitchen. And you’re almost miraculous.”
“Nothing to it.” He grinned. “Coffee on the terrace?”
It was still hot outside, but it was less hot than inside the house. And the view from the veranda was wonderful.
“Oh how I wish I was up in the Blue Mountains, right now. Have you been there, Mike?”
“No.”
“It’s wonderful. Like the Alps, I suppose, though,” she laughed, “I’ve never seen them. But it’s always cool and the mountains are a sort of hazy blue. We have a little cottage up there, but to save money, I rented it.”
“You go up there summers? I mean in normal times?”
“Yes. Grant built it on his weekends. It has just a wonderful view and there’s a little stream nearby. It’s a paradise. But, you have to be careful. There are a lot of black mambas around!” Her laugh was sweet and gay. “It’s a crazy life we lead down under. When we rent the place we rent Milly along with it. Milly’s our mongoose. That’s certainly the only way to be safe from snakes!”
“I hate snakes.”
“Me too.” She settled back happily in her long chair.
He stretched out his legs and sighed. “Great. Say, thanks, thanks for making me feel at home. I haven’t felt so good for months. Home cooking does it.”
“Just as well you cooked. Perhaps you wouldn’t say the same if I’d done it.”
“It’s got to be better. Got to be.”
They sat in comfort. then he broke the silence. “You’re very pretty, Elizabeth.”
There was a touch in his voice and her genes registered it. But then, there was no harm, surely, in a man paying a little compliment. Or for a girl to accept it. Was there?
“Thanks.” She looked at him and to hide that the touch had registered so hard, she got up. “Can I get you some more coffee?”
“No, no, thanks. Sit down. If I want some, I’ll get it. You take it easy.”
Betty sat down and looked out at the sprawling city beneath them. Pearls of light in a vastness of velvet.
Watch your step, Betty told herself. This is one awfully nice man and you could easily make a mistake. He’s married and you are married and though your husband is away, and has been away for three, four years, that is no excuse for you to tempt yourself to tempt him. And this is no time to flirt, and you have been flirting. Oh yes. That’s true. But I didn’t flirt to hurt. I didn’t. I only wanted to please him and make him want to see me again. My God, I’m so lonely. So lonely. What a curse loneliness is! Of all things in the world that starves a woman — the greatest is loneliness. And Mike is so nice, and so attentive. The little gifts, the thoughtfulness. Opening the car door, and the “I like the dress” even though he had seen it many times, and the flowers that he had brought me when we went to the flicks, and the way I feel safe when I’m with him, belonging. Oh my God! I know I want to go to bed with him. And that’s rotten. Rotten to think. What a bitch you’ve become! You wait and wait and wait and now you need to go to bed with a man. But not with any man — perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad — but you want to go to bed with Mike. What a rotten thing to do to his wife. She’s there, and he’s here, and you are tempting him. You know you are.
Betty did not want to keep the thought pattern so she got up and said she’d heat the coffee and almost ran into the safety of the kitchen, away from his presence, the presence she suddenly felt so much. As the coffee heated she bathed her face with cold water yet still the chess game moved inexorably in her mind. Where — and how? The cottage. The Masons were leaving at the end of the month. Maybe there. Certainly it couldn’t be here, not in Grant’s house. Oh Grant, why in Christ’s name aren’t you here? So the cottage. But the neighbors would be bound to know if Mike stayed the week. Then they would tell Grant, certainly, and why shouldn’t they. When a man is forced to go to war he expects his woman to be virtuous. And she had been, all these years, but now there was this furnace in her.
So not the cottage. The beach. A midnight swim. It would be easy, so easy. To tempt him. On the beach under the stars. There’s that cove that Grant took you to just after you were married…. Grant, always Grant. Dear, wonderful Grant.
The coffee spilled over the stove and hissed and bubbled. She burned her hand taking it off, quickly mopping up the mess. The hurt of her hand gladdened her. That’ll teach you! That’ll teach you for thinking that way. You goddam bloody bitch.
She carried the fresh coffee out onto the veranda. Mike got up and took the cups while she sat and curled her legs underneath her.
“Nothing like a cup of Joe,” he said. “Um, that’s so good.”
She was glad of the darkness, glad that she could hide, and hoped and prayed that he had not noticed. Then at length she broke the silence.
“Mike, I think, I think it’s best that I don’t see you again.” Now that the words were out she felt better.
Mike didn’t reply for a long time then he got up and stood over her. “Why?” he asked quietly. “What’s the matter?”
It was difficult to find the words. “I just think it’s better, that’s all. Look. You’re married and so am I. My husband’s well, I think it’s best. Safer.”
Oh Christ, he laughed to himself, they’re all alike. No matter what. A dame is a dame and you can get any dame if you’ve the right technique. And he knew his technique was perfect. Oh yes, Mike. You’re near perfect. The trick is to be patient. Very patient. Now tonight that broad was just about ready to tear your clothes off. Just about. And you haven’t even kissed her yet.
Let’s see. I’ll give her a week. Then I’ll run into her. “Why, Betty,” I’ll say. “How nice to see you.” And then a little of the act. Set-faced, grave, and very patient. “I’ve missed you.” Then the clincher — “Maybe you’d like dinner sometime? When you’ve nothing better to do. Gets a bit lonely. You ever feel lonely?”
A couple more dates, then she’ll be ripe. You won’t have to do a thing. She’ll fix it. Maybe the place in the mountains. Or on the beach. A broad like that’d be careful. But I’ll bet my last buck that I’ll make her inside four weeks. And once she’s going, why hell she’s the type to be the lay of lays. Let them seduce you — that’s the ticket! Yeah. You’ve never failed yet, and you never will, not while a dame’s a dame.
Actually, he told himself, now that he was sure of her — it almost wasn’t worth the trouble. When they say, “We’d better not see each other,” well, that means hop into bed. The chase is over.
Dames. All alike. Well, Betty Larkin, you’ll give me a time. Suppose I might as well. Chrissake, I got a few weeks invested and a couple of nylons. So I’ll lay you a couple of times, then the final clincher — I pretend to get posted to Brisbane.
When he got back to his room he checked for messages. There was one. He dialed the number.
“Hello, honey. Gee, how nice to hear your voice. Just got in. Been working late. I’ll bet you look pretty as a picture.”
“Oh Mike, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Where are you now, you sound so low?”
“At home.”
“Are you tired? I mean would you like to go out on the town or go for a drive? I can’t have a beautiful girl like you unhappy. That’d be terrible.”
He waited for the inevitable pause, then the usual words — half hesitant, half shy, half bold, half hopeful — of rejection, half hateful lest he did reject. “If — if it isn’t too much trouble. I’d like that, very much, would you like to pick me up in half an hour?”