younger, and you haven’t been beaten by life.’
She got up and kissed him.
‘What are you talking about?’ she said. ‘Darling, what are you talking about? How could I have let you go by yourself?’ She strained herself against him. ‘It was my idea as much as yours. I think I talked you into it. Everything you say is right. Too much depends on the next few days. We can’t take chances. After that …’ She kissed him again, sighing. ‘I can’t really believe it – I suppose that’s the trouble.’
He stroked her head for a few moments, without talking. Then he said:
‘We mustn’t let ourselves get too much under strain, though. Perhaps you were right in the first place. Thorsen wouldn’t have the nerve to open the case, even if he did notice the lock. Let’s go ashore, have a few drinks and a decent meal somewhere – forget the whole thing for a few hours. Well?’
‘No.’ She left him and bent down beside the typewriter case. She put her arms round it, touching it with fascination and loathing. ‘No, we’ll stay.’
Mouritzen saw Mary and Annabel on deck and hurried after them. He caught up with them just as they reached the gang-plank.
‘Going ashore?’ he asked.
Mary gave him a small formal smile. ‘Yes.’
‘May I come with you?’
‘No, thank you. You will have things of your own to do.’
He looked down towards Annabel.
‘What do you say, Annabel? Shall I come with you? I know a place where we can play games, and a place where we can buy lemonade. Would you like that?’
‘I like Coca-Cola,’ Annabel said.
‘That, too! Well, may I come?’
‘Yes,’ Annabel said. ‘What kind of games?’
Mouritzen assisted them down the gang-plank. ‘You will see.’
‘I feel sure that your time could be better occupied,’ said Mary. ‘But thank you.’
He fell into step beside them. ‘No thanks. There is not much that one can find to do, in a strange port in a foreign country, when one is alone.’
They came to the end of the sheds and crossed the railway lines towards the road leading into the town.
‘It’s not a complaint I would have expected to hear,’ Mary said. ‘I thought sailors were more resourceful.’
‘Sailors can be as lonely as other men. Perhaps they are more lonely.’
She made no answer to that. They walked on into the town, and he found a café, after rejecting one that had no Coca-Cola. He consulted gravely with Annabel on these matters; and she replied with matching gravity and courtesy. The two of them got on well together. When they were finally sitting at a table together, Mary felt that they had the look of a family party, and the thought pleased and disturbed her. There was nothing to regret, she told herself, and nothing now to pine for. In two days she would be meeting Jan Volkmar, and he – dark and solid in the photograph he had sent her, with a heavy chin and worried, serious eyes – would give them both all the security they could want.
She drank her tea, smiling, thinking that at last Annabel would have a home like other children, a chance to be more child-like. Watching her, Mouritzen said:
‘What makes you smile?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘If I knew,’ he said, ‘I would strive to repeat it. I like to see you smile.’
With sudden conscious cruelty, she said: ‘I suppose I was smiling out of happiness – that the journey will be over so soon.’
‘Yes,’ Mouritzen said. He picked up his glass of beer. ‘You are right.’
He took them into a pin-table arcade, and played a game of mechanical football with Annabel, manipulating the rows of metal players with enthusiasm. After allowing himself to be beaten he insisted on another game, with Annabel and he on one side and Mary on the other. The two of them scored an overwhelming victory.
Afterwards they walked down to the beach, and Mouritzen showed Annabel how to build the pebbles into cairns and fortifications. They were still engaged in this as it began to
She got up and kissed him.
‘What are you talking about?’ she said. ‘Darling, what are you talking about? How could I have let you go by yourself?’ She strained herself against him. ‘It was my idea as much as yours. I think I talked you into it. Everything you say is right. Too much depends on the next few days. We can’t take chances. After that …’ She kissed him again, sighing. ‘I can’t really believe it – I suppose that’s the trouble.’
He stroked her head for a few moments, without talking. Then he said:
‘We mustn’t let ourselves get too much under strain, though. Perhaps you were right in the first place. Thorsen wouldn’t have the nerve to open the case, even if he did notice the lock. Let’s go ashore, have a few drinks and a decent meal somewhere – forget the whole thing for a few hours. Well?’
‘No.’ She left him and bent down beside the typewriter case. She put her arms round it, touching it with fascination and loathing. ‘No, we’ll stay.’
Mouritzen saw Mary and Annabel on deck and hurried after them. He caught up with them just as they reached the gang-plank.
‘Going ashore?’ he asked.
Mary gave him a small formal smile. ‘Yes.’
‘May I come with you?’
‘No, thank you. You will have things of your own to do.’
He looked down towards Annabel.
‘What do you say, Annabel? Shall I come with you? I know a place where we can play games, and a place where we can buy lemonade. Would you like that?’
‘I like Coca-Cola,’ Annabel said.
‘That, too! Well, may I come?’
‘Yes,’ Annabel said. ‘What kind of games?’
Mouritzen assisted them down the gang-plank. ‘You will see.’
‘I feel sure that your time could be better occupied,’ said Mary. ‘But thank you.’
He fell into step beside them. ‘No thanks. There is not much that one can find to do, in a strange port in a foreign country, when one is alone.’
They came to the end of the sheds and crossed the railway lines towards the road leading into the town.
‘It’s not a complaint I would have expected to hear,’ Mary said. ‘I thought sailors were more resourceful.’
‘Sailors can be as lonely as other men. Perhaps they are more lonely.’
She made no answer to that. They walked on into the town, and he found a café, after rejecting one that had no Coca-Cola. He consulted gravely with Annabel on these matters; and she replied with matching gravity and courtesy. The two of them got on well together. When they were finally sitting at a table together, Mary felt that they had the look of a family party, and the thought pleased and disturbed her. There was nothing to regret, she told herself, and nothing now to pine for. In two days she would be meeting Jan Volkmar, and he – dark and solid in the photograph he had sent her, with a heavy chin and worried, serious eyes – would give them both all the security they could want.
She drank her tea, smiling, thinking that at last Annabel would have a home like other children, a chance to be more child-like. Watching her, Mouritzen said:
‘What makes you smile?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘If I knew,’ he said, ‘I would strive to repeat it. I like to see you smile.’
With sudden conscious cruelty, she said: ‘I suppose I was smiling out of happiness – that the journey will be over so soon.’
‘Yes,’ Mouritzen said. He picked up his glass of beer. ‘You are right.’
He took them into a pin-table arcade, and played a game of mechanical football with Annabel, manipulating the rows of metal players with enthusiasm. After allowing himself to be beaten he insisted on another game, with Annabel and he on one side and Mary on the other. The two of them scored an overwhelming victory.
Afterwards they walked down to the beach, and Mouritzen showed Annabel how to build the pebbles into cairns and fortifications. They were still engaged in this as it began to
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