The sea was smooth and quiet in the sunrise. The small pink waves idly licked the sand. It was cold, but he took off his jacket and wandered naked along the edge of the sea to the point where he had bathed the evening before, then he walked slowly and deliberately into the water until it was just below his chin. He took his feet off the bottom and sank, holding his nose with one hand and shutting his eyes, feeling the cold water comb his body and his hair.
The mirror of the bay was unbroken except where it seemed a fish had jumped. Under the water he imagined the tranquil scene and wished that Vesper could just then come through the pines and be astonished to see him suddenly erupt from the empty seascape.
When after a full minute he came to the surface in a froth of spray, he was disappointed. There was no one in sight. For a time he swam and drifted and then when the sun seemed hot enough, he came in to the beach and lay on his back and revelled in the body which the night had given back to him.
As on the evening before, he stared up into the empty sky and saw the same answer there.
After a while he rose and walked back slowly along the beach to his pyjama-coat.
That day he would ask Vesper to marry him. He was quite certain. It was only a question of choosing the right moment.
CHAPTER 25 – ‘BLACK-PATCH’
As he walked quietly from the terrace into the half-darkness of the still shuttered dining-room, he was surprised to see Vesper emerge from the glass-fronted telephone booth near the front door and softly turn up the stairs towards their rooms.
‘Vesper,’ he called, thinking she must have had some urgent message which might concern them both.
She turned quickly, a hand up to her mouth.
For a moment longer than necessary she stared at him, her eyes wide.
‘What is it, darling?’ he asked, vaguely troubled and fearing some crisis in their lives.
‘Oh,’ she said breathlessly, ‘you made me jump. It was only . . . I was just telephoning to Mathis. To Mathis,’ she repeated. ‘I wondered if he could get me another frock. You know, from that girl-friend I told you about. The vendeuse. You see,’ she talked quickly, her words coming out in a persuasive jumble, ‘I’ve really got nothing to wear. I thought I’d catch him at home before he went to the office. I don’t know my friend’s telephone number and I thought it would be a surprise for you. I didn’t want you to hear me moving and wake you up. Is the water nice? Have you bathed? You ought to have waited for me.’
‘It’s wonderful,’ said Bond, deciding to relieve her mind, though irritated with her obvious guilt over this childish mystery. ‘You must go in and we’ll have breakfast on the terrace. I’m ravenous. I’m sorry I made you jump. I was just startled to see anyone about at this hour of the morning.’
He put his arm round her, but she disengaged herself, and moved quickly on up the stairs.
‘It was such a surprise to see you,’ she said, trying to cover the incident up with a light touch. ‘You looked like a ghost, a drowned man, with the hair down over your eyes like that.’ She laughed harshly. Hearing the harshness, she turned the laugh into a cough.
‘I hope I haven’t caught cold,’ she said.
She kept on patching up the edifice of her deceit until Bond wanted to spank her and tell her to relax and tell the truth. Instead he just gave her a reassuring pat on the back outside her room and told her to hurry up and have her bathe.
Then he went on to his room.
*
That was the end of the integrity of their love. The succeeding days were a shambles of falseness and hypocrisy, mingled with her tears and moments of animal passion to which she abandoned herself with a greed made indecent by the hollowness of their days.
Several times Bond tried to break down the dreadful walls of mistrust. Again and again he brought up the subject of the telephone call, but she obstinately bolstered up her story with embellishments which Bond knew she had thought out afterwards. She even accused Bond of thinking she had another lover.