with women in moods like this. It would be a damn nuisance if she refused to cooperate now. At last she said: “I suppose it’s no worse than what I’ve been doing all my life.” “That’s what I thought,” said Vandam with relief. She gave him a very black look. “You start tomorrow,” he said. He gave her a piece of paper with the address of the shop written on it. She took it without looking at it. “The shop belongs to Mikis Aristopoulos,” be added. “How long do you think this will take?” she said. “I don’t know.” He stood up. “I’ll get in touch willh you every few days, to make sure everything’s all rigbt-but you’ll contact me as soon as he makes an appearance, won’t you?” It “Yes. Vandam remembered something. “By the way, the shopkeeper thinks we’re after Wolff for forgery. Don! t talk to him about espionage.” “I won’t.,, The change in her mood was permanent. They were no longer enjoying each other’s company. Vandarn said: “I’ll leave you to your thriller.” She stood up. “I’ll see you out.” They went to the door. As Vandam stepped out, the tenant of the neighboring flat approached along the corridor. Vandam had been thinking of this moment, in the back of his mind, all evening, and now he did what he had been determined not to do. He took Elene’s arm, bent his head and kissed her mouth. Her lips moved briefly in response. He pulled away. The neighbor passed by. Vandarn looked at Elene. The neighbor unlocked his door, entered bis flat and closed the door behind him. Vandam released Elene’s arm. She said: “You’re a good actor.” “Yes,” he said. “Good-bye.” He turned away and strolled briskly down the corridor. He should have felt pleased with his evening’s work, but instead he felt as if he had done something a little shameful. He beard the door of her apartment bang shut behind him. THE KEY TO REBECCA 109
Elene leaned back against the closed door and cursed William Vandam. He had come into her life, full of English courtesy, asking her to do a new kind of work and help win the war; and then he had told her she must go whoring again. She had really believed he was going to change her life. No more rich businessmen, no more furtive affairs, no more dancing or waiting on tables. She had a worthwhile job, something she believed in, something that mattered. Now it turned out to be the same old game. For seven years she had been living off her face and her body, and now she wanted to stop. She went into the living room to get a drink. His glass was there on the table, half empty. She put it to her lips. The drink was warm and bitter. At first she had not liked Vandam: he had seemed a stiff, solemn, dull man. Then she had chang6d her mind about him. When had she first thought there might be another, different man beneath the rigid exterior? She remembered: it had been when he laughed. That laugh intrigued her. He had done it again tonight, when she said she would hit Wolff over the head with a bag of sugar. There was a rich vein of fun deep, deep inside him, and when it was tapped the laughter bubbled up and took over his whole personality for a momcnt. She suspected that he was a man with a big appetite for life-an appetite which he had firmly under control, too firmly. It made Elene want to get under his skin, to make him be himself. That was why she teased him, and tried to make him laugh again. That was why she had kissed him, too. She had been curiously happy to have him in her home, sitting on her couch, smoking and talking. She had even thought how nice it would be to take this strong, innocent man to bed and show him things he never dreamed of. Why did she like him? Perhaps it was that he treated her as a person, not as a girlie. She knew he would never pat her bottom and say: “Don’t you worry your pretty little head . . .” And he had spoiled it all. Why was she so bothered by this thing with Wolff? One more insincere act of seduction would do her no harm. Vandam had more or less said that. And in saying so, he had revealed that he regarded her as a whore. 110 Ken Follett