Reddening, he took it awkwardly, not knowing whether or not to open it.
“Go on, have a look,” Holbrook urged slyly. “It won’t bite.”
He opened the case, expecting to find some trivial souvenir. Instead it was a red gold wristlet watch, with a delicately plaited gold strap, a Patek Phillippe too, the best and most expensive hand-made Swiss movement. It must have cost the earth. He was speechless.
“You are quite the kindest and most generous people,” he stammered, at last. “It’s the very thing I want and need . . .”.
“Say no more about it, lad,” Holbrook broke in. “Our Dorrie happened to notice you didn’t wear one. ’Twas her that chose it for you.”
Looking suddenly towards her, Moray caught her gaze fixed directly upon him, that challenging, intimate look which somehow bound them together in a kind of conspiracy.
“Don’t make a song about it, Dad. Let it pass. Or I’ll tell how you asked about the belly dancers.”
Holbrook laughed, drained his glass, and stood up.
“I’m famished. Let’s have the steward move this stuff to the cabin and we’ll all go right down to dinner.”
When the ship was in port dinner became an elastic meal served at almost any hour, and they were the first to arrive at their table. The sense of intimacy begun in the smoke-room was thus maintained and they made a lively party, of which Doris was the liveliest. Her attitude towards her parents, that of a spoiled only daughter, always superior, and varying between sulky and tolerant contempt, was replaced by a sort of bantering raillery, directed mainly towards her father, who responded in the same style. At first Moray assumed, unkindly enough, that Holbrook had bought her something particularly nice ashore. But no, now he was teasing her for having refused all his offers. Some of her remarks, though perhaps too pointed, were very amusing, especially when she began to take off their absent table companions in malicious little impersonations. This, however, drew from her mother a restraining. “Now, Dorrie dear, remember . . . not too much.”
At this Doris did give up with a side glance at Moray, which made him party to the entertainment. Meanwhile the engines had started to vibrate and the ship was now clear of the dock. As it began the slow passage through the canal, Mrs Holbrook, obviously pleased by the resurgence of family harmony, suggested that they take their coffee on the upper deck and watch the sunset over the desert. A word from Holbrook to the head steward was enough to overcome every difficulty, and presently, sheltered by an awning on the starboard side, they were sipping hot coffee at a round table set out with a dessert of fresh fruit, chow-chow, and preserved ginger. As the great molten disc slid into that vast waste of sand, palm trees were outlined in the limitless light, a string of camels slowly plodding, Bedouin tents, a nomad tribe. Then in the indigo sky a moon was revealed, brightening as the night advanced. In the main lounge beneath them the ship’s orchestra began softly to play a medley of the popular tunes of the day. Moray, who was sitting next to Doris, heard her take a restless breath. Lying back in the deck chair with her arms behind her head, she moved about as though unable to find a relaxed position.
“Aren’t you comfortable?” he said. “Let me get you a cushion.”
“A cushion! Pardon me if I smile. I’ll be all right—just a bit worked up tonight.”
“Who wouldn’t be? You can feel we’re in the East. What a sky.”
“And with music,” She hummed a few bars of “My Heart Stood Still”, stopped, hummed again, then exclaimed: “If this goes on I’ll go half-cocked.”
He laughed.
“Before you do, let me thank you for choosing such a beautiful watch.”
“I know what I like. I liked the watch and quite frankly I like you. D’you mind?”
“Not at all. I’m pleased, and grateful.”
Neither spoke for a minute; then she broke out again.
“Doesn’t it do something to you up here? Like bathing in warm milk. Not that I ever have, though it’s an idea. The milky way. But you’d keep losing the soap. I wish we were going swimming. Not in the sickening little pool. On a deserted beach, where we’d have it to ourselves, no need to bother about bathing suits.” She laughed again. “Don’t look so shocked, you fool. Don’t you ever feel that you’re all wound up and excited, right on top of the world?” Tapping her shoe on the deck, she sang: “ ‘I’m sitting on top of the world, singing a song, rolling along . . .’. Such a marvellous sensa . . . shun. When I get it I’m ready for anything. I have it tonight, if you’re interested.” She stretched at full length, hummed again, then sat up. “I can’t get that damned tune out of my head. What a slouch you are! Surely you want to dance. Come on and take a turn.”
There was an awkward pause, then he said:
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much good to you.”
“Why not?”
“It will probably surprise you. I don’t dance.”
“What! Tell me another. You’re having me on.”
“No.” He had to smile at her expression. “I was too busy shoving myself through college to learn any parlour tricks.”
“Well, now’s your big chance. It’s dead easy if you have a good teacher. And that’s just what I am.”
“No, really. I’ll only walk all over your feet and make a complete ass of myself.”
“Who is there to see you up here? The old man’s gone to the bar and Mother’s dozed off. We’ve got the music, and the moon. It’s a perfect opportunity. And all free, gratis, and for nothing.” She stood up and held out her hand, “Come on, I’ll put you in the mood.”
He rose and, rather gingerly, placed his arm round her waist. They started off.
“It’s a foxtrot,” she told him. “Just keep time. Short steps. Now turn. Swing round. Hold me closer, I won’t break. Closer, I said. That’s better. Strange as it may seem, we’re supposed to do this together.”
It was surprisingly easy. The tune was so catchy, she was such a good dancer, so responsive, with such an easy laxness of posture, that he found himself instinctively following the beat of the rhythm, improvising steps, letting himself go. When the band below came to the end of the number she gave him a meaning, condescending nod.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“It’s tremendous,” he admitted. “I’d no idea. And good exercise too.”
She gave a short odd laugh. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“Of course, you’re an expert—wonderful, in fact.”
“It’s one of the things I’m really gone on. In my last year at school I used to sneak out with another girl on Saturday nights and go to the local Palais. We’d pretend we were pros, you know, sixpence-a-timers. We had some larks, I can tell you, kidding and carrying on—until one night there was a regular shindy . . .”.
“Was that why you had to leave school?”
Unexpectedly she tossed her head back with an injured air.
“That’s a very personal question. I don’t like it brought up just like that. It was no blame of mine. Actually, if you want to know, I’ve danced mostly with Bert, my own brother. And he’s respectable enough.” Suddenly she laughed. “Or is he? Well, never mind, I forgive you. Now get me a cigarette, and bring the lighter. They’re in my bag beside the chairs.”
She leaned against him while he flicked her gold lighter.
“You don’t use these?” He shook his head when she offered a cigarette. “What a lot of things you seem to have done without.”
“I’ll get them all one day.”
“Don’t put it off too long. I always go straight for what I want.”