liking and an opportunity to avoid the Sunday visit to the cinema. He would drive her out into the country: they would have lunch: they would kiss in a manner more consistent with friendship than with desire. Sometimes, on the return journey in the car, she would almost regret not having gone to the cinema with her mother. It was the cinema that now came to mind, images of other kisses, other bodies.
‘You seem quite happy here,’ she said with an effort.
‘Oh, I’m not happy all the time.’
He picked a blade of grass and slid it between his lips. Inside the open collar of her blouse he could see her breast rising and falling. He stood up abruptly, but lingered. She waited, bracing herself for disappointment.
He held out a hand. ‘Come on. I want to show you something.’
She took his hand, touching him for the first time. He led the way across the parched lawn, into the cool of the house, up the stairs and along the upper corridor. He took her to a door at the very end which was always kept locked, turned the key and pointed to another, dustier staircase which she had not known existed. It was very dark. When he pushed open a door at the top the sudden glare confused her until her eyes adjusted to the light and she saw that they were under the roof. It was very hot, very silent. She walked to the dormer window and rested her head against the glass. She knew without looking that he stood behind her. Then he turned her round, put his hands on her waist, and laid her down gently on to the bare boards.
‘I have never done this before,’ she said.
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘That’s all right.’
It was over too soon. It was she who reached up to him and encouraged him to start again. When a distant clock chimed four she put out a hand and reached for her clothes. ‘I love you, Tyler,’ she said. He said nothing.
They locked the door at the bottom of the stairs behind them, stood for a moment looking at each other, then parted without a word. When she slipped into the room she shared with her mother she merely noted that her mother was asleep, then stretched out on her bed and fell asleep herself.
That evening, at dinner—stuffed peppers and pancakes—they were all in a better mood. All, it seemed, had slept and were refreshed. Nadine noted that her daughter looked better, had lost that air of haughty composure that occasionally made her look too old for her years, a fact apparently also noted by Harrison, who gazed at Maud with frank admiration. How simple he is, thought Nadine, who appreciated quite another kind of simplicity in men. Tyler was at his most charming, waiting on his hostess with the most delicate attentions, making her laugh, even teasing her. Germaine, her colour high, attempted to tease him back, without, it must be said, a great deal of success. Our generation is no good at this sort of thing, thought Nadine, who was not altogether unhappy to discover this. She is making herself look ridiculous, she thought; then, in an excess of sisterly solidarity, resolved to put a stop to it.
‘Maud must think about leaving,’ she said. ‘She is expected in London next week. When did you tell Jean to meet you, Maud?’
‘Next Monday. It will mean a very early start if I am to catch the train. Or perhaps I should leave here on Sunday and spend the night somewhere in Paris. I could ring up a friend … My friend Julie,’ she explained. ‘Julie is studying in Paris.’
‘But will she be there?’ enquired her mother. ‘I think you said she will be in Corsica until September.’
‘Well, it is nearly September,’ said Maud calmly.
‘I have a better idea,’ said Tyler. ‘Noddy and I must be going too. You have been too kind and we have had a marvellous time. I can’t thank you enough. But we should be moving on. Maud can come with us tomorrow and spend some time at the Vermeulens’. I know they’d be delighted. Armand Vermeulen is a friend of my parents.’
‘I don’t think …’
‘You seem quite happy here,’ she said with an effort.
‘Oh, I’m not happy all the time.’
He picked a blade of grass and slid it between his lips. Inside the open collar of her blouse he could see her breast rising and falling. He stood up abruptly, but lingered. She waited, bracing herself for disappointment.
He held out a hand. ‘Come on. I want to show you something.’
She took his hand, touching him for the first time. He led the way across the parched lawn, into the cool of the house, up the stairs and along the upper corridor. He took her to a door at the very end which was always kept locked, turned the key and pointed to another, dustier staircase which she had not known existed. It was very dark. When he pushed open a door at the top the sudden glare confused her until her eyes adjusted to the light and she saw that they were under the roof. It was very hot, very silent. She walked to the dormer window and rested her head against the glass. She knew without looking that he stood behind her. Then he turned her round, put his hands on her waist, and laid her down gently on to the bare boards.
‘I have never done this before,’ she said.
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘That’s all right.’
It was over too soon. It was she who reached up to him and encouraged him to start again. When a distant clock chimed four she put out a hand and reached for her clothes. ‘I love you, Tyler,’ she said. He said nothing.
They locked the door at the bottom of the stairs behind them, stood for a moment looking at each other, then parted without a word. When she slipped into the room she shared with her mother she merely noted that her mother was asleep, then stretched out on her bed and fell asleep herself.
That evening, at dinner—stuffed peppers and pancakes—they were all in a better mood. All, it seemed, had slept and were refreshed. Nadine noted that her daughter looked better, had lost that air of haughty composure that occasionally made her look too old for her years, a fact apparently also noted by Harrison, who gazed at Maud with frank admiration. How simple he is, thought Nadine, who appreciated quite another kind of simplicity in men. Tyler was at his most charming, waiting on his hostess with the most delicate attentions, making her laugh, even teasing her. Germaine, her colour high, attempted to tease him back, without, it must be said, a great deal of success. Our generation is no good at this sort of thing, thought Nadine, who was not altogether unhappy to discover this. She is making herself look ridiculous, she thought; then, in an excess of sisterly solidarity, resolved to put a stop to it.
‘Maud must think about leaving,’ she said. ‘She is expected in London next week. When did you tell Jean to meet you, Maud?’
‘Next Monday. It will mean a very early start if I am to catch the train. Or perhaps I should leave here on Sunday and spend the night somewhere in Paris. I could ring up a friend … My friend Julie,’ she explained. ‘Julie is studying in Paris.’
‘But will she be there?’ enquired her mother. ‘I think you said she will be in Corsica until September.’
‘Well, it is nearly September,’ said Maud calmly.
‘I have a better idea,’ said Tyler. ‘Noddy and I must be going too. You have been too kind and we have had a marvellous time. I can’t thank you enough. But we should be moving on. Maud can come with us tomorrow and spend some time at the Vermeulens’. I know they’d be delighted. Armand Vermeulen is a friend of my parents.’
‘I don’t think …’
Similar Books
