Isvik by Hammond; Innes

porter and a great mound of baggage. He also had a woman with him. I hadn’t expected that. ‘Mrs Fraser,’ he said. ‘Otherwise Kirsty – my secretary.’ She gave me a little nod and a perfunctory smile. She had the tickets in her hand and moved into line to wait her turn at the desk. He turned to me. ‘Ye got the passports?’
    I nodded. ‘There are one or two questions …’ I began.
    â€˜Later.’ He took the manilla envelope I handed him, slit it open and ran quickly through the pages, turning them with the thumb of his left hand as he checked the visas. ‘Good.’ He slipped it into the pocket of his Norfolk jacket. His secretary was by then handing the tickets to the BA receptionist and the porter was swinging the baggage, item by item, on to the scales. ‘You are overweight,’ the girl at the desk said, and he grinned. ‘Of course Ah’m overweight. Always have been since Ah could afford to eat well.’
    The girl didn’t smile. Maybe she’d had a long day already, or perhaps it was just that she didn’t have a sense of humour. ‘Your baggage,’ she said. ‘You will have to pay excess.’ I don’t know what nationality she was, but her English was very precise.
    â€˜Of course.’ He left his secretary to deal with that. ‘Must have a leak before we board. See you in a minute.’
    â€˜We haven’t much time,’ I said,
and he waved his hand as he disappeared into the mêlée, his head, with its dark unruly hair, raised as he sniffed around like a bloodhound in search of the toilet indicator.
    They were already announcing the final call for the Madrid flight when he rejoined us and we hurried along the passageway to the boarding gate. His secretary was still in attendance. Apparently she was coming with us as far as Madrid, and when I asked him why, he said curtly, ‘Business.’ And then, apparently thinking I was due some explanation, he added, ‘Spain is becomin’ important industrially. Ah’ve been developin’ some contacts there. Kirsty’s very good at that.’
    She was just ahead of me, and looking at the trimness of her figure and the swing of her hips, I couldn’t help it – I said, ‘I can just imagine.’
    He looked at me and grinned. ‘It helps,’ he muttered. ‘But she’s also a clever businesswoman.’
    She turned with a quick smile. ‘I’ll have that in writing, please.’ There was the trace of an accent, but it wasn’t Scots, and though the blonde hair gave her a Scandinavian look, she was too small and it was bleached anyway. It was difficult to guess her origins and I wondered what their relationship really was. The easy familiarity between them suggested a long association, at least a close one, and when we had boarded the plane I found myself in an aisle seat separated from them by two rows.
    It was the same in Madrid. I don’t know where they went, but I was on my own in a hotel near the airport. ‘See ye tomorrow on the plane. Fourteen-thirty take-off. Iberia.’ And with a nod and smile the two of them disappeared into the crowd, heading for the exit. I had a feeling he didn’t want to be alone with me, even for a moment, or was it that they wanted to be on their own, a last night together before he took off for the Antarctic?
    Sitting in the hotel bar, drinking Fundador on my own, I felt as though I were in limbo, waiting for something to happen, a sense of unreality taking hold. I looked at the ticket I had been given – Madrid, Mexico, Lima, Santiago, Punta Arenas. And after that …?
    I had some more brandy, and that seemed to do the trick – I had a good night’s sleep. And in the morning, when I got to the airport, they were already there. ‘Look, I’ve got to talk to you, before we depart.’ It was my last chance. I couldn’t afford the fare