‘I couldn’t wait. I was famished. My room’s over the kitchen and I’ve been tortured by the wonderful smells.’
He came over and put his arm round her.
She took his hand and together they went downstairs out on to the terrace where their table had been laid in the light cast by the empty dining-room.
The champagne which Bond had ordered on their arrival stood on a plated wine-cooler beside their table and Bond poured out two full glasses. Vesper busied herself with a delicious home-made liver pat‚ and helped them both to the crisp French bread and the thick square of deep yellow butter set in chips of ice.
They looked at each other and drank deeply and Bond filled their glasses again to the rim.
While they ate Bond told her of his bathe and they talked of what they would do in the morning. All through the meal they left unspoken their feelings for each other, but in Vesper’s eyes as much as in Bond’s there was excited anticipation of the night. They let their hands and their feet touch from time to time as if to ease the tension in their bodies.
When the lobster had come and gone and the second bottle of champagne was half-empty and they had just ladled thick cream over their fraises des bois, Vesper gave a deep sigh of contentment.
‘I’m behaving like a pig,’ she said happily. ‘You always give me all the things I like best. I’ve never been so spoiled before.’ She gazed across the terrace at the moonlit bay. ‘I wish I deserved it.’ Her voice had a wry undertone.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Bond surprised.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I suppose people get what they deserve, so perhaps I do deserve it.’
She looked at him and smiled. Her eyes narrowed quizzically.
‘You really don’t know much about me,’ she said suddenly.
Bond was surprised by the undertone of seriousness in her voice.
‘Quite enough,’ he said laughing. ‘All I need until tomorrow and the next day and the next. You don’t know much about me for the matter of that.’ He poured out more champagne.
Vesper looked at him thoughtfully.
‘People are islands,’ she said. ‘They don’t really touch. However close they are, they’re really quite separate. Even if they’ve been married for fifty years.’
Bond thought with dismay that she must be going into a vin triste. Too much champagne had made her melancholy. But suddenly she gave a happy laugh. ‘Don’t look so worried.’ She leaned forward and put her hand over his. ‘I was only being sentimental. Anyway, my island feels very close to your island tonight.’ She took a sip of champagne.
Bond laughed, relieved. ‘Let’s join up and make a peninsula,’ he said. ‘Now, directly we’ve finished the strawberries.’
‘No,’ she said, flirting. ‘I must have coffee.’
‘And brandy,’ countered Bond.
The small shadow had passed. The second small shadow. This too left a tiny question-mark hanging in the air. It quickly dissolved as warmth and intimacy enclosed them again.
When they had had their coffee and Bond was sipping his brandy, Vesper picked up her bag and came and stood behind him.
‘I’m tired,’ she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.
He reached up and held it there and they stayed motionless for a moment. She bent down and lightly brushed his hair with her lips. Then she was gone and a few seconds later the light came on in her room.
Bond smoked and waited until it had gone out. Then he followed her, pausing only to say good night to the proprietor and his wife and thank them for the dinner. They exchanged compliments and he went upstairs.
It was only half past nine when he stepped into her room from the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
The moonlight shone through the half-closed shutters and lapped at the secret shadows in the snow of her body on the broad bed.
*
Bond awoke in his own room at dawn and for a time he lay and stroked his memories.
Then he got quietly out of bed and in his pyjama-coat he crept past Vesper’s door and out of the house to the beach.