is that he is back in Dougal Munro’s clutches.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Genevieve asked.
“He is, I think, a man who looks for death,” Julie said. “Sometimes I think he would not know what to do with himself if he survived this war.”
“That’s nonsense,” Genevieve told her, but shivered all the same.
“Perhaps,” Julie shrugged. “But your letter—you haven’t opened it.”
She was right, of course, and Genevieve did so. When she was finished reading, she crumpled it into a ball.
“Bad news?” Julie asked.
“Invitation to a party this weekend, so I couldn’t have gone anyway. An RAF boy I met last year—a bomber pilot.”
“You fell in love?”
“Not really. I don’t think I ever have, not in a lasting sort of way. It makes one feel like a lifelong wanderer.”
She laughed. “At your age, chérie ?”
“We went around together for a while. That’s all there was to it. Mutual loneliness, I think, more than anything else.”
“And then?”
“He asked me to marry him, just before he was posted to the Middle East.”
“And you wouldn’t?”
“He’s just back. On leave at his parents’ house in Surrey.”
“And still hoping?”
Genevieve nodded. “And I can’t explain. What a rotten way to leave it.”
“But you don’t really care, I think?”
“Yesterday morning, perhaps yes, but now,” Genevieve shrugged. “I find there are things in me I never knew existed. The possibilities are suddenly somehow limitless.”
“So, you are saved from what would have been a very bad mistake. You see, out of every unfortunate situation, something good always comes. And you will understand Craig a little better now, I think.”
The door opened before Genevieve could reply and Edge came in. “Women at the kitchen sink. A lovely sight and so proper.”
“Why don’t you go away and play with your toys, Joe. That’s all you’re good for,” Julie told him.
“Plenty to play with here, darling.” He moved in behind Genevieve and slipped his arms about her waist, holding her close. She could sense his excitement as he nuzzled her neck and ran his hands up to her breasts.
“Leave me alone!” she said.
“Look, she likes it,” he taunted.
“Like it? You make my flesh crawl,” Genevieve told him.
“Really? Oh, that’s good, sweetie. I’d like to make your flesh crawl.”
She continued to struggle and then Edge gave a cry of pain and Martin Hare was there, had him by the arm, which he continued to twist even after Edge had released Genevieve. “You really are a worm, Joe. Go on, get out of it.”
Schmidt appeared from nowhere, darted around him and got the back door open. Hare simply threw Edge through it and the pilot fell to one knee. He got to his feet and turned, his face contorted.
“I’ll pay you back for this, Hare and you, you bitch.”
He hurried away. Schmidt closed the door. “A real bad boy, if I may say so, sir.”
“Couldn’t agree more. Get out to the boat and find Miss Trevaunce a pair of sea boots.”
“Zu befehl, Herr Kapitän,” Schmidt said cheerfully and went out.
Genevieve was still shaking with rage. “Sea boots?” she demanded. “What for?”
“We’ll go for a walk.” He smiled. “Salt air, the beach. Nothing like the beauties of nature to get things into perspective.”
AND HE WAS right, of course. They followed the narrow beach beyond the end of the quay where the inlet widened into the sea in a maelstrom of white water, spray lifting high into the air.
Genevieve said, “God, this is wonderful. Every breath you take in London at the moment is tainted with smoke. The whole city stinks of war. Death and destruction everywhere.”
“The sea washes things clean. Ever since I was a boy vacationing at Cape Cod, I’ve sailed,” Hare told her. “No matter how bad things are, you leave everything behind on the shore at your point of departure.”
“Your wife?” Genevieve said. “Does she think the same
“What’s wrong with him?” Genevieve asked.
“He is, I think, a man who looks for death,” Julie said. “Sometimes I think he would not know what to do with himself if he survived this war.”
“That’s nonsense,” Genevieve told her, but shivered all the same.
“Perhaps,” Julie shrugged. “But your letter—you haven’t opened it.”
She was right, of course, and Genevieve did so. When she was finished reading, she crumpled it into a ball.
“Bad news?” Julie asked.
“Invitation to a party this weekend, so I couldn’t have gone anyway. An RAF boy I met last year—a bomber pilot.”
“You fell in love?”
“Not really. I don’t think I ever have, not in a lasting sort of way. It makes one feel like a lifelong wanderer.”
She laughed. “At your age, chérie ?”
“We went around together for a while. That’s all there was to it. Mutual loneliness, I think, more than anything else.”
“And then?”
“He asked me to marry him, just before he was posted to the Middle East.”
“And you wouldn’t?”
“He’s just back. On leave at his parents’ house in Surrey.”
“And still hoping?”
Genevieve nodded. “And I can’t explain. What a rotten way to leave it.”
“But you don’t really care, I think?”
“Yesterday morning, perhaps yes, but now,” Genevieve shrugged. “I find there are things in me I never knew existed. The possibilities are suddenly somehow limitless.”
“So, you are saved from what would have been a very bad mistake. You see, out of every unfortunate situation, something good always comes. And you will understand Craig a little better now, I think.”
The door opened before Genevieve could reply and Edge came in. “Women at the kitchen sink. A lovely sight and so proper.”
“Why don’t you go away and play with your toys, Joe. That’s all you’re good for,” Julie told him.
“Plenty to play with here, darling.” He moved in behind Genevieve and slipped his arms about her waist, holding her close. She could sense his excitement as he nuzzled her neck and ran his hands up to her breasts.
“Leave me alone!” she said.
“Look, she likes it,” he taunted.
“Like it? You make my flesh crawl,” Genevieve told him.
“Really? Oh, that’s good, sweetie. I’d like to make your flesh crawl.”
She continued to struggle and then Edge gave a cry of pain and Martin Hare was there, had him by the arm, which he continued to twist even after Edge had released Genevieve. “You really are a worm, Joe. Go on, get out of it.”
Schmidt appeared from nowhere, darted around him and got the back door open. Hare simply threw Edge through it and the pilot fell to one knee. He got to his feet and turned, his face contorted.
“I’ll pay you back for this, Hare and you, you bitch.”
He hurried away. Schmidt closed the door. “A real bad boy, if I may say so, sir.”
“Couldn’t agree more. Get out to the boat and find Miss Trevaunce a pair of sea boots.”
“Zu befehl, Herr Kapitän,” Schmidt said cheerfully and went out.
Genevieve was still shaking with rage. “Sea boots?” she demanded. “What for?”
“We’ll go for a walk.” He smiled. “Salt air, the beach. Nothing like the beauties of nature to get things into perspective.”
AND HE WAS right, of course. They followed the narrow beach beyond the end of the quay where the inlet widened into the sea in a maelstrom of white water, spray lifting high into the air.
Genevieve said, “God, this is wonderful. Every breath you take in London at the moment is tainted with smoke. The whole city stinks of war. Death and destruction everywhere.”
“The sea washes things clean. Ever since I was a boy vacationing at Cape Cod, I’ve sailed,” Hare told her. “No matter how bad things are, you leave everything behind on the shore at your point of departure.”
“Your wife?” Genevieve said. “Does she think the same
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