‘There’s nothing going on, Bill,’ I lied. ‘Okay, I made a mistake. Relax...it won’t happen again.’
He grinned.
‘Fine. Now I want you on the site tomorrow. These people are staying in ’Frisco, and it would be a smart idea for both of us to stay in their hotel and finalize the deal. How about it?’
I hesitated. I would have liked to be here when Glenda returned. Then seeing Bill’s inquiring stare, I nodded.
‘Okay, Bill. I’ll get my desk cleared. Tomorrow then...’
When he had gone to his office, I sat staring out of the window. The writing was on the wall, but I wanted Glenda. I wanted her as I had never wanted any other woman. I had to talk to her! I had to convince her that I loved her, and she meant everything to me. I was sure I could persuade her to let me buy her husband off. Once this was done, and she got her divorce, there would be no problem, and I was sure Brannigan, once he knew I was marrying her, would raise no objections.
But how to contact her? I now had to spend a couple of days in ’Frisco. She would be returning to Sharnville, probably tomorrow. I didn’t want her to think I had gone away to avoid her.
For some time, I wrestled with this problem, then I did the stupidest thing I have ever done. I reached for a sheet of notepaper and wrote to her.
Dearest Glenda,
I have to go to ’Frisco for a couple of days. I have tried to contact you, so I write.
I must talk to you: please don’t refuse me. Already there is gossip about us. Please be understanding about this. We must talk. I am sure we can fix this problem. Will you meet me on Sunday at eight o’clock a.m. at Ferris Point? It is about four miles from Sharnville and will be deserted at that time. We can then discuss our future without prying eyes.
Take the highway towards ’Frisco, then turn at the fifth intersection on your left. This will bring you to Ferris Point.
If you love me, as I love you, you will come.
I put this letter in an envelope, and when I returned to my apartment that evening, I pushed the envelope under her door.
Ferris Point is a tiny bay, hedged in by sand shrubs with sand dunes, and offers perfect swimming. I often went there when I wanted to be alone. Sharnville as yet hadn’t discovered it.
I drove down the sandy, uneven road to the bay, and leaving my car under the shade of a tree, I made my way through the sand shrubs and on to the stretch of golden sand.
Would she come?
I had had two hectic, but profitable days in ’Frisco. The deal had gone through, but we would need yet another loan from the bank. I was confident we would get it, and I told Bill I would talk to Brannigan this day while we played golf.
But first Glenda.
Then I saw her.
She was sitting on the sand, wearing an emerald-green bikini, her knees up to her chin, her hands gripping her ankles, the sun reflecting on her red hair.
I stopped and looked at her, and at this moment I thought she was the most desirable, wonderful woman on earth.
She looked towards me and smiled.
As I joined her, she said quietly, ‘So you see, Larry, the temptation was too great. All my good intentions of not seeing you again...’ She grimaced. ‘I have had you on my mind, night and day.’ She released her ankles and dropped back, stretching out. ‘Don’t let’s talk, darling... let’s make love.’
I threw off my shirt and slacks as she got rid of her bikini. I knelt over her, loving the sight of her body, wanting to kiss every inch of her.
‘No... quickly, Larry. Come into me.’
There was an urgency in her voice that set me on fire. As I covered her and she guided me into her, she gave a soft cry. Her legs wrapped around me. Her fingers dug into my flesh.
The sun, the sound of the sea and the rustle of leaves made a perfect background as, feverishly, we reached the climax. Her fingers moved down my back, holding me in her.
‘Again,’ she gasped. ‘Please... again!’
Then a voice from nowhere said, ‘Break it up, you sonofabitch,’ and a shoe thudded into my ribs. The kick was so violent, it threw me off her. Rolling on my back, I stared up.
A short, squat man was standing over me. I saw him as a nightmare, sharply in focus: bearded, suntanned, eyes like currants stuck in honey bread. A panama hat was pulled down, shading his bushy eyebrows. He wore a crumpled, dirty white suit.
As Glenda struggled to her feet, he hit her with the back of his hand, a vicious blow that sent her sprawling.
A murderous rage swept through me. I launched myself at him, my hands groping for his throat. We smashed down on the sand, and for a long moment, we fought like animals. His strength, was horrifying. Although I had a grip on his throat, he broke my hold. His fist smashed into my face, his knee came up into my groin. The hot sun suddenly turned dim as if there was a sudden eclipse. I clung on to his coat, and again his fist smashed into my face. Still this murderous rage gave me strength to throw him off. As he fell on his back, I heaved myself up and using both fists, I clubbed down on his face. My body was screaming with pain, but I didn’t care. All I wanted now was to kill him. As I raised my fists to club him again, a light exploded inside my head, and the sun snapped off like a fused light.
I swam out of unconsciousness, feeling the grit of sand on my skin. I moved, and a blinding flash of pain shot through my head. I heard myself groan. I lay still. My groin ached. My ribs ached. My face ached.
The sun burned down on me. I could hear the gentle lap of the sea on the beach, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Very slowly, I gathered myself together. Very slowly, my hands holding my head, I sat up. I rode the pain, hammering inside my skull, forced open my eyes and stared around the deserted beach.
No Glenda. No squat man. I had Ferris Point to myself.
I waited, my hands still holding my head, then I became aware that my hands were sticky, and with a shudder, I took them from my head and looked at them. They were red with drying blood.
Because every movement I made sent pangs of pain through me, I remained staring down at my bloodstained hands, motionless.
Maybe twenty minutes crawled by before my brain became activated.
Where was Glenda? What had happened?
I looked at my watch. The time now was 08.45. I had been unconscious for some thirty minutes. Making an effort, I struggled to my feet, t h e sea and die beach swirled around me, and I had to sit down again. I waited. Then I again made the effort, and this time, swaying like a drunk, I managed to stay upright.
The pain in my head raged. I set off slowly: each step as if I were wearing diver’s boots, until I reached the sea. Kneeling, I washed the blood off my hands and scooped salt water against my aching face. The salt stung, but the sting brought me alive. I got to my feet and looked up and down the empty beach, then plodded back to my clothes.
It took me some time to dress. Twice, I had to sit down and rest, but finally I got dressed, and by now I felt more or less alive.
What had happened? Where was Glenda? Where was the squat man in the crumpled white suit?
As if in a nightmare, I trudged across the hot sand to where I had left my car. I opened the car door and sank thankfully into the driving seat. I tilted the driving mirror and stared at myself. My right eye was puffy and black. The right side of my face was swollen, green and red, where the j squat man had hit me.