Her voice faltered.
The mention of the villa had made Bond’s eyes flicker.
She continued bravely, refusing to be defeated by Bond’s lack of response.
‘The doctor says it won’t be long before you’re allowed up. I thought perhaps . . . I thought perhaps I could take you down to this beach later on. The doctor says that bathing would be very good for you.’
Bond grunted.
‘God knows when I’ll be able to bathe,’ he said. ‘The doctor’s talking through his hat. And when I can bathe it would probably be better for me to bathe alone for a bit. I don’t want to frighten anybody. Apart from anything else,’ he glanced pointedly down the bed, ‘my body’s a mass of scars and bruises. But you enjoy yourself. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy yourself.’
Vesper was stung by the bitterness and injustice in his voice.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I just thought . . . I was just trying . . .’
Suddenly her eyes filled with tears. She swallowed.
‘I wanted . . . I wanted to help you get well.’
Her voice strangled. She looked piteously at him, facing the accusation in his eyes and in his manner.
Then she broke down and buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘I’m really sorry.’ With one hand she searched for a handkerchief in her bag. ‘It’s all my fault,’ she dabbed at her eyes. ‘I know it’s all my fault.’
Bond at once relented. He put out a bandaged hand and laid it on her knee.
‘It’s all right, Vesper. I’m sorry I was so rough. It’s just that I was jealous of you in the sunshine while I’m stuck here. Directly I’m well enough I’ll come with you and you must show me your beach. Of course it’s just what I want. It’ll be wonderful to get out again.’
She pressed his hand and stood up and walked over to the window. After a moment she busied herself with her make-up. Then she came back to the bed.
Bond looked at her tenderly. Like all harsh, cold men, he was easily tipped over into sentiment. She was very beautiful and he felt warm towards her. He decided to make his questions as easy as possible.
He gave her a cigarette and for a time they talked of the visit of Head of S and of the reactions in London to the rout of Le Chiffre.
From what she said it was clear that the final object of the plan had been more than fulfilled. The story was still being splashed all over the world and correspondents of most of the English and American papers had been at Royale trying to trace the Jamaican millionaire who had defeated Le Chiffre at the tables. They had got on to Vesper, but she had covered up well. Her story was that Bond had told her he was going on to Cannes and Monte Carlo to gamble with his winnings. The hunt had moved down to the South of France. Mathis and the police had obliterated all other traces and the papers were forced to concentrate on the Strasbourg angles and the chaos in the ranks of the French Communists.
‘By the way, Vesper,’ said Bond after a time. ‘What really happened to you after you left me in the night club? All I saw was the actual kidnapping.’ He told her briefly of the scene outside the Casino.
‘I’m afraid I must have lost my head,’ said Vesper, avoiding Bond’s eyes. ‘When I couldn’t see Mathis anywhere in the entrance hall I went outside and the commissionaire asked me if I was Miss Lynd, and then told me the man who had sent in the note was waiting in a car down on the right of the steps. Somehow I wasn’t particularly surprised. I’d only known Mathis for a day or two and I didn’t know how he worked, so I just walked down towards the car. It was away on the right and more or less in the shadows. Just as I was coming up to it, Le Chiffre’s two men jumped out from behind one of the other cars in the row and simply scooped my skirt over my head.’