The Good Life (43 page)

“Stop it,” he ordered in an expressionless voice.

“What's the matter, darling?” she asked gently, still wooing him. He took her hand and removed it, expelling a long breath of relief at their having ended the dangerous silence.

“I guess it's beginning to seem pretty ordinary, but you must have noticed that you were just fucked. Was I supposed to think you were being raped?”

“But, darling, you let him stay.” She withdrew slightly from him and lifted her breasts, making him want her to come back to him. His body's indifference appeared to be passing. “You knew something would happen. That's what's wonderful. We can be open and truthful with each other about sex.”

“Christ,” Perry groaned. “Is that what you call it? I've never had whores, but I guess it's sort of like this. You line up and take your turn. It's not what I expect with a girl who says she wants to marry me.”

“That's a ghastly way to talk to me.” For an appalling moment she looked as if she were going to burst into tears. He lifted a hand to touch her breasts but hastily dropped it. Before he knew it she'd be expecting
him
to apologize.

“It's ghastly because that's the way it is. You let him have you in front of me. It's perfectly okay to have anybody we want?”

“Not just anybody. You practically gave me to him. He's young and handsome and much more attractive than my Swede. I had him, but you didn't mind him because he might make me a queen.”

“Who said I didn't mind? You still hadn't said anything then that made me think I had any right to object.”

“We've had to have time to learn things. Sylvain is very good-looking, but he isn't as thrilling as you. It's nothing
like
you. How would I know if you hadn't let it happen?”

“Oh, God. If I'm ever insane enough to marry you, I'd take that damn thing of yours and throw it in the fire.”

“You'd be sorry. Married couples are always unfaithful. Everybody knows it. They spend all their time inventing complicated double lives. We wouldn't do that. We can be honest with each other.”

“Damn right. Honest and faithful. That's the only way marriage makes any sense.”

“You sound like all the others. You're not really like that.What about boys you've had?”

“What about them?” he asked with a warning edge in his voice.

“Where do they fit into your ideal marriage?”

“They don't. They don't fit into anything. They're nobody's business but mine. I shouldn't have mentioned them.”

“I'm glad you did. It's one of the fascinating things about you. Please, darling. This is our last night in we don't know how long. I want you to be big and hard the way you always are.” Her hand crept back along his thigh.

“Not when you've just been fucked by somebody else.” He swept his arm back hard against her. It caught her under her breasts and sent her sprawling across the bed.

“Don't, darling. That hurt.” Her voice sounded tearful again. He exulted in the tingle of his arm where it had struck. His physical domination of her was unchallengeable. She felt fragile and helpless when he manhandled her. He could really hurt her if he felt like it.

“May be it'll give you an idea of how much you hurt me tonight.”

“How could I hurt you?” Her voice was becoming almost a wail. “You said you didn't care.”

“I don't remember saying anything like that, but May be we thought it didn't matter at first. Things change. Everything we do has become important to us. You know that. At least it was until tonight. I don't feel as if I'd ever care about anything again.”

“Oh, no, darling, don't say that. Please. Everything is new for us.” She pulled herself up and wrapped herself around his back. “Please, darling. You've got to teach me what you want me to be. Everything seemed so simple at first — just loving to be together and enjoying ourselves. I know it's more complicated now. We have to think about the future. We can't go away with something like this hanging over us.” Her hand strayed over his chest and abdomen, and she tried to run her fingers between his thighs. “Don't keep away from me, darling. I want to see it and hold it.”

He heard an unfamiliar note in her voice, an awareness of them as a pair, an acceptance of belonging with him. She sounded genuinely contrite, humbly beseeching, sweetly loving. He couldn't rebuff her, but outrage was still sufficiently alive in him to make it a reluctant capitulation. “Don't you understand?” he snapped. “I can't make love to you right after you've had another guy.”

“That's horrible. Tell me what I can do. I'll do anything, darling. We can't lose tonight. We won't be together tomorrow.”

“It's about time you thought about that. It didn't seem to occur to you at all a little while ago.”

“But it did. I wasn't going to let him stay. He was here only twenty-five minutes. I looked at the clock. Help me make it all right. Let me make love to you.”

She was ridiculous but utterly endearing. Infidelity boiled down to how long it took. How could he hope for them to make sense together? She could demolish any point he made with a look. May be being away from her for a little while would help him recover his independence. He had never before felt incapable of walking out on anybody who seemed to be taking advantage of him. There must be a better way of asserting himself than beating her.

She clung to him, her hands insidiously supplicating, making him feel that what had appeared to be passion for Sylvain had been an illusion.

“Do you think our being in love excuses everything else?” he demanded, still able to punish her with a cold, accusing voice although he was achingly aware that his body had unconditionally forgiven her.

“I don't know,” she said. “All I know is that I want to find out with you. Whatever you drink, it won't be for appearance's sake or because it's considered proper. If you say something's wrong, I know it means something. I can't deny it was exciting letting you see me. It would be exciting to watch you even if I hated your wanting somebody else. I feel as if we really belong to each other if we don't have to be secretive. I'll be right back.”

She withdrew from him with a lingering caress and went to the bathroom, leaving him to regret not having instantly accepted her peace overtures. She might think he meant he would never see her again. A misunderstanding could lead to a permanent rupture. There was no time to stand on ceremony. He was still seething with outrage, but he wanted her more than ever to reestablish his possession of her.

When she reappeared still looking forlorn, he sprang up and went to her, dreading any hint of withdrawal from the eager welcome of his hands. His heart was wrung by the unhesitating gratitude that sprang up in her eyes when their bodies met. She could see for herself that his desire hadn't waned.

“It'll be all right, honey,” he assured her tenderly. “I can sort of understand why you thought I wouldn't mind. I've heard of people — married couples — who think that experimenting is good to keep from getting into a routine. I suppose it could work with people we're really fond of but not with a bastard like Sylvain. Anyway, getting into a routine together is the last thing we have to worry about.”

“Take me so I'll know I belong to you while I'm waiting for Christmas and New York.”

Their mouths met. Her lips were sufficient compensation for the torture she'd inflicted on him. His need of her was too great to fight. They fell onto the bed together. Their bodies blindly found the connections he had taught her offered the fulfillment of their mutual passion. He remained in total command. The wonder of it made him almost glad she had tried it with others. Nobody would ever find any secrets in her that he hadn't been the first to discover.

They saw the night fade and light slowly fill the cabin. They had nothing to worry about today; they had bought Sylvain's protection.

Perry returned to his cabin to be where he belonged when he ordered coffee from the morning shift.

When he rejoined her, she was wearing a smart summer dress and was immaculately groomed, bearing no resemblance to the waif he had first seen wandering along the quay. They talked distractedly, repeating themselves, promising to write, promising to love each other, promising to have the best Christmas of their lives in New York.

“You should know about your monthly thing when I'm still in Paris,” Perry reminded her. “For God's sake, wire. You don't have to say much. ‘All well' is all I really want to hear. If it's not, I still want to know. I'll go crazy if you have to have something done, especially if it happens while I'm still at sea.”

“You don't have to worry about that, darling. I don't think they like to do abortions too soon. It probably wouldn't be for another month or more. They try other things first.”

“Thank God you sound so cool and collected about it.”

“It's nothing. Only men get hysterical about it.”

The time approached for the car from Monique's family to arrive. Bet gathered up a few last-minute things and told Perry he could close her bags while she went to say good-bye to Billy. When she reappeared, the boys reported that the car was there, and they were spared a nerve-racking wait. The moment they had dreaded was suddenly upon them.

They reached for each other's hands and exchanged a long, agonized look while the boys bustled around them and bags were carried up the stairs. They followed hand in hand. Perry hardly noticed that Sylvain had joined the workforce. Perry kept Bet beside him at the head of the gangplank while the driver supervised the loading of the car. He didn't dare look at her for fear of being reduced to tears by her yearning eyes. They had said everything they could say at least a dozen times. They had already parted.

“This is too awful,” Bet burst out. “Don't wait, darling. Get some sleep before lunch. Monique doesn't seem to know where we'll be for the next week, but I'll call you in Paris if I can. Don't let anybody change their minds in New York, no matter what Hitler does. That's all the baggage. I'm going to get in the car.”

They exchanged a hasty kiss, and she pulled away and ran down the gangplank. He watched her say good-bye to the boys, satisfied that Sylvain received no more attention than the others, and smiled to himself as she climbed nimbly into the sleek little European car. The driver closed the door behind her.

He didn't mind seeing her go as much as he'd expected. Somehow the night had left him feeling securely in possession of her and in control. Sylvain had been nothing but a pawn in an excruciatingly painful game that only he knew how to play with her. He at last had something of his own that couldn't be taken away from him.

He went below and shed his clothes and was asleep by the time he had stretched out.

He returned to deck in his swimming trunks feeling as if he were starting another day. Billy was there going through the mail.

“Good morning, my dearest. Did Bet get away in good order?”

“Hours ago. Well, two hours, but I've been so sound asleep that it seems like yesterday.” A signal brought Emile hurrying with beer.

“It's been a smashing success,” Billy said appreciatively. “You've made it a perfect summer for all of us. I know Bet has never enjoyed it so much. We're going to miss her.”

“I'll say. I'm sort of glad we're going away too. It wouldn't be the same here without her.”

“Did you finally fall a little in love with her?”

“How do I know, Billy? I've fallen in love with everything. I'd have fallen in love with my old maiden aunt if I had one. I can't discriminate against Bet. Sure. I've fallen in love with her too.” He had said it. Billy could take it as a joke, but he felt less of a Judas.

“Well, my responsibility is at an end, and my conscience is clear. I've provided an adequate flow of eligible young men, none of whom seems to have dangerously upset her equilibrium. I daresay she could have fallen madly in love with you without my noticing, but if we finally get her to New York, don't expect to keep any secrets from Arlene. She's a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out romance.”

“Why do you say ‘if'?”

“If we get her to New York? I still hope the war will blow over. Arlene won't agree to our New York plans unless there's a real crisis. I've written to the school asking about passage in December. There's nothing more to do but wait and see.”

“I suppose so,” Perry agreed grudgingly.

“Mr. Canetti will drive us to Fréjus at 6,” Billy said. “We'll have plenty of time for a few final pipes after lunch. I've rather cleverly stretched the supply right up to the last day. It'll be our final indulgence in Europe.”

“Don't think of anything as final, Billy. I'm going to come back.”

“I'm so glad. I'll count on you next summer even if I come back ahead of you. You might find that a few months of New York winter is enough to send you fleeing to the south of France.”

“I wouldn't be surprised, but I've got to get used to living like an ordinary mortal again. Vacations end. I've got to find something to do. If there's no war to spoil our fun, it would be awfully easy to settle for a life like yours.”

“You'll find the right solutions,” Billy said with sweeping confidence. “When we get back and you start handling money for yourself, you might discover that you want to make more. You aren't easily satisfied, thank heavens. If there
is
a war, I can think of a worse fate than being forced to stay in New York and watch you take charge of your life. It'll be fascinating to see what you make of your opportunities now that you have some choice.”

PART THREE

NEW YORK CITY, 1939–1943

They were still two days out of New York when Hitler ordered his army into Poland and Europe was finally at war.