Hit and Run

I

I got to the Gables just after eight o’clock.

While I drove to the house I wondered if I would see her again. The thought of her gave me a sick, dry feeling in my mouth and made my heart thump hard and unevenly.

When I reached the house I saw someone had turned off the flood-lighting in the garden and the swimming-pool, but the place still looked pretty impressive in the hard, white light of the moon.

I left the car before the front entrance, climbed the steps and rang the bell. After the usual delay, Watkins opened the door.

‘Good evening, sir,’ he said. ‘A fine night.’

‘Yes,’ I said, and moved past him into the hall. ‘How is Mr. Aitken?’

‘Fairly well, I would say. Perhaps he is a little nervous tonight. If I may suggest, I wouldn’t stay longer than necessary.’

‘I’ll cut it as short as I can.’

‘That would be good of you, sir.’

We rode up in the elevator. The old boy breathed heavily and I could hear the starched front of his shirr creaking every time he dragged down a breath.

Aitken was propped up in bed, a cigar gripped between his teeth. Across his knees lay a couple of financial papers, and a pencil and scratch pad lay by his side. He looked a little flushed, and the light from the bedside lamp showed up the sweat beads on his forehead. His mouth turned down at the corners and his eyes looked heavy. He didn’t look as good as he had done the previous night.

‘Come in, Scott,’ he said, and the growl in his voice warned me he could be irritable.

I came over to the bed and sat down in the easy chair.

‘How’s the leg?’ I asked, not looking at him, but concentrating on opening the brief-case I had brought with me.

‘It’s all right.’ He swept the financial papers off the bed on to the floor. ‘Hamilton called me. He said you did a good job at the meeting.’

‘I’m glad he thinks so. I didn’t handle Templeman too well,’ I said. ‘He gave me a rough ride.’

Aitken’s mouth twisted into a smile.

‘You handled him all right. Hamilton told me. The old fool went away with a flea in his ear. Got the minutes?’

I handed them to him.

‘While I’m reading them, have a drink, and give me one too.’ He waved to where a collection of bottles and glasses stood on a table against the wall. ‘Give me a whisky, and I mean, put some whisky in the glass.’

The note in his voice warned me not to argue with him, so I went over to the table and made two drinks. I came back and offered him one of the glasses. He stared at it and his brows came down. He looked a real bad-tempered hellion at that moment.

‘I said put some whisky in it! Didn’t you hear me?’

I returned to the table and sloshed more whisky into the glass and brought it back to him. He took the glass, stared at it, then drank the lot. For a long moment he held the glass while he stared over the top of my head, then he thrust the glass at me.

‘Fix me another and come and sit down.’

I repeated the dose, put the glass on the table at his side and sat down.

We looked at each other, and he suddenly grinned.

‘Don’t mind me, Scott,’ he said. ‘When you break a leg you’re helpless. There’s a plot going on in this house to treat me like a sick man. I’ve been waiting all day for you to come and give me a drink.’

‘I should have thought it was the worst thing you could have had.’ I said.

‘Think so?’ He laughed. ‘You leave me to judge that.’ He took up the minutes. ‘Smoke if you want to.’

I lit a cigarette and drank some of the Scotch. It took him about ten minutes to finish reading the minutes, then he dropped the papers on his knees, reached for his glass and took another drink.

‘A pretty good beginning,’ he said. ‘More than that: I couldn’t have handled them better myself. You go on like this, and the New York job is yours.’

This was praise indeed.

‘Now let’s see how you’re going to make use of concessions we’ve got from them,’ he went on. ‘Let’s have your ideas.’

I had thought he might ask this question, and I had discussed it with the heads of the departments before I had left the office so I was ready for him.

For the next half hour I explained my ideas. He lay still, listening, sipping his whisky, and every now and then nodding his head. I was pretty sure I was saying the right things. When I was through, he said: ‘Not bad; not bad at all. Now I’ll tell you a better way of handling it.’

It was my turn to listen to him and it was an object lesson. He used all my ideas, but in a slightly different way, and I saw at once where I had gone wrong. My way was just that much more expensive. His way gave us a saving of ten per cent, and made him a better businessman than I was.

By now it was a little after nine o’clock, and I remembered what Watkins had said about cutting the meeting short.

‘Okay, sir,’ I said and began to put the papers back into my brief-case. ‘I’ll take care of it. And now if it’s all right with you, I’ll run along. I have a date at ten.’

He grinned at me.

‘You’re a liar, Scott. You’ve been listening to that old fool, Watkins. But that’s all right. You get off. Come and see me tomorrow at eight.’ He finished his whisky, and as he set his glass down, he asked, ‘Have you got a girl, Scott?’

The question startled me. I let some papers slip out of my fingers on to the floor. As I bent to pick them up, I said: ‘No one in particular, if that’s what you mean.’

‘I don’t mean that. A man needs a woman every now and then. Don’t get yourself involved with them, but make use of them. That’s what they are here for.’ The cynical note in his voice riled me. ‘I don’t want you to be working all the time. I want you to get in some relaxation. Maybe you have lived long enough to know a woman can be a very satisfactory form of relaxation, providing you don’t let her get her hooks into you. Let her do that, and you’re a goner.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said and stuffed the papers back into the briefcase. I was surprised. I didn’t expect this kind of thing from him, and his cynicism made me angry. ‘I’ll be along tomorrow at eight.’

He lay back against his pillows, staring at me.

‘You’ll take the weekend off. I don’t want to see you on Friday night. Give me a call on Monday morning. What’s today—Tuesday? You make plans for the weekend, Scott. I want you to get some relaxation. Do you play golf?’

I said I played golf.

‘Finest game in the world if you don’t take it seriously. Golf is like a woman. Take either of them seriously, if either of them get a hook into you, and you’re sunk. What do you go around in?’

I said on my best days I shot 72.

He stared at me as if he were seeing me for the first time.

‘Why, you’re quite a golfer!’

‘I should be. I’ve played since I was five. My old man was wild about golf. He even got my mother to play.’

I started to drift towards the door. ‘I’ll be in tomorrow night at eight.’

‘Do that, Scott.’ He was still staring at me, his eyes quizzing. ‘And arrange to play golf over the weekend.’ His hard mouth twisted, into an ugly little smile. ‘Then find yourself a pretty girl for the night: golf and a woman are the two best relaxations in life.’

I was glad to get out of the room. His cynicism left a nasty taste in my mouth, and I was in two minds whether to take the elevator or walk down the stairs. Then the picture she had made, standing before that mirror, came surging into my mind, and I walked away from the elevator to the head of the stairs.

There I paused and looked down on the landing below. It was in darkness, and the pang of disappointment that stabbed me hurt. Then I realized that it was only ten minutes after nine o’clock. It wasn’t likely she would be in her bedroom at this hour.

I turned back and took the elevator down to the ground floor.

Watkins was waiting for me in the hall.

‘I don’t think Mr. Aitken looks so well tonight,’ I said as I walked with him to the front door.

‘He is a little feverish, sir. I imagine it is to be expected.’

‘Yes. I’ll be in again tomorrow night.’

‘I’m sure Mr. Aitken looks forward to your visits,’ he said as he opened the front door.

I said good night to him and stepped out into the hot moonlit night. The big door closed behind me.

I walked slowly down the steps to where I had left the Cadillac. When I reached the bottom step, I turned and looked up at the house. Except for Aitken’s room, which showed a light, the rest of the many windows were shiny, black eyes that stared down at me. I wondered where she was. Was she out or was she somewhere at the back of the house?

All day I had been waiting for this chance to see her again. I had to make a considerable effort not to remain there, staring up at the house in the hope a light would come up in one of the windows and I would see her.

For all I knew Mrs. Hepple or even Watkins was watching me from behind the darkness of one of the windows. This was no time to stand staring, so I went over to the car, opened the door, pitched by brief-case on to the back seat and slid under the driving wheel.

She was there, sitting beside me, her hands folded in her lap. Although it was dark in the car, I could just make out the shape of her head which she held a little on one side as she looked at me. I knew it was her. It had to be her. It couldn’t have been anyone else or I wouldn’t have felt the way I was feeling. My heart wouldn’t be pounding like this.

For perhaps five seconds I stared at her, aware of the faint smell of the perfume she was wearing and hearing her quick, gentle breathing, and in those five seconds everything around me went out of focus.

It was a moment in my life I will never forget.

II

‘HelIo,’ she said. ‘Did I startle you? I didn’t think you would be out so soon.’

‘Well, perhaps you did.’ My voice sounded husky. ‘I didn’t expect…’

She laughed.

‘Is this your car?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a lovely car. I’m crazy about cars. When I saw it, I just had to get in. I like it better than Roger’s Bentley. I bet it’s fast.’

‘Yes: it’s pretty fast.’

She leaned back against the cushion of the seat and stared up at the roof. The moonlight coming in through the open window lit up her profile. She looked breathtakingly beautiful.

‘Roger was telling me about you,’ she said. ‘He says you’re going to be his new partner.’

‘It’s not absolutely fixed.’

I was sitting bolt upright, my clenched fists resting on my knees, my mind still stupid with the surprise of finding her here, talking to me as if she had known me all her life.

‘He told me it was. Will you like living in New York?’

‘Very much.’

‘I wish I could live there.’ She lifted her arms and clasped her hands behind her head. I could see her breasts lift and strain against the thin wool of the sweater she was wearing. ‘Palm City is dreadfully dull, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose it must be for someone your age.’

She turned her head and stared at me.

‘You sound as if you’re old, but you’re not. You’re not thirty yet, are you?’

‘I’m thirty-one.’

‘You must be awfully clever. Roger says you are putting twenty thousand dollars into the business. How did you get all that money when you’re only thirty-one?’

‘My father left me most of it. The rest I’ve saved.’

‘Do you want to put all that money into Roger’s business?’

I was bewildered by her calm, direct questions.

‘You sound very interested,’ I said.

‘I am.’ She turned her head and smiled at me. ‘I’ve always been interested in the way men make money. The only certain way a girl can become rich is to get married. Men can go out and make money. I think it’s a much more satisfactory way. Of course you were lucky to have a father to leave you something, weren’t you?’

‘I guess I was.’

She sat up and, reaching out, she rested her hand on the dashboard.

‘I love this car. Will you teach me to drive?’

‘There’s nothing to teach.’ My voice was unsteady. ‘It’s an automatic drive. You press the starter and it drives itself.’

She looked at me.

‘Believe it or not, I’ve never driven a car. Roger won’t let me touch any of his, and he has four.’

‘Why is that?’

‘He’s terribly possessive. If I want to go anywhere, I go on a bicycle. It’s fantastic, isn’t it? His excuse is I can’t drive. If I learned, then he would have to lend me a car. Will you teach me?’

I didn’t hesitate.

‘Why, yes. If that’s what you want.’

She clasped her hands around her knees and pulled her knees up to her chin. I could see now she was wearing light-coloured slacks. ‘I want that more than anything else in the world. Will you teach me now or have you something else to do?’

‘You mean right now?’

‘Yes, if you can spare the time.’

‘Well, all right. We’d better change places,’ and I began to get out of the car, but she put her hand on my coat sleeve, stopping me. The feel of her fingers sent a hot wave of blood crawling up my spine.

‘Not here. They’ll see us and they’ll tell Roger. Let’s go somewhere where no one can see us.’

‘They? Who do you mean?’

‘Mrs. Hepple and Watkins. Have you met Mrs. Hepple?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t like her. She’s sneaky. Don’t you think she’s sneaky?’

‘I wouldn’t know. I just saw her last night. I haven’t spoken to her.’

‘She doesn’t approve of me. She likes to get me into trouble. Roger listens to her.’

I suddenly saw the danger of this.

‘If Mr. Aitken doesn’t want you to learn to drive…’

She put her hand on my arm, and that stopped me short.

‘Don’t tell me you’re another one of them who is afraid of him. If you are, I’ll find someone else to teach me to drive.’

‘It’s not that I’m afraid of him, but I can’t very well do something that is against his wishes.’

She put her head a little on one side and looked searchingly at me.

‘Don’t my wishes mean anything, then?’

We looked at each other, then I turned on the ignition.

‘If you want to learn how to drive, I’ll teach you,’ I said, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I moved the gear lever to ‘drive’ and trod down on the gas pedal. The car went down the long driveway like a bullet out of a gun. At the gates, I stood on the brake pedal and, when the tyres bit, I swung the car on to the main highway and again gave it the gun.

For about five minutes I drove fast with the speedometer needle flickering around the nineties, then I slowed and turned off on to a secondary road and pulled up.

‘My!’ she exclaimed, and she sounded a little breathless. ‘You can drive! I’ve never been driven as fast as that before.’

I got out and walked around the car.

‘Move over,’ I said, opening the off-side door. ‘You can’t drive where you’re sitting.’

She slid across the bench seat and I got in and sat in her place. I could feel the slight warmth of her body still on the seat and that made the blood quicken in my veins.

‘Look, it’s simple. Here’s the gear lever. All you have to do is shift it down a notch, like this, then

you press down on the pedal by your right foot. When you want to stop, you take your foot off that pedal and put it on the big one here on your left. That’s the brake. Got it?’

‘Why, it’s easy,’ she said, and in one movement she flicked down the gear lever and trod down hard on the gas.

The car took off like a crazy thing. She had absolutely no idea how to steer a car. I doubt if she looked where she was going.

For two or three seconds I was so startled I couldn’t do anything. In those seconds we shot off the road, mounted the grass verge, skated along it with the off-side wheels skidding, and then we slammed back on to the road again. As we tore towards a hedge on the other side of the road I grabbed the wheel and got the car straight.

‘Take your foot off the gas!’ I yelled at her and I managed to kick her shoe off the pedal. Still holding the wheel, I stamped down on the brake and brought the car to a violent stop.

Those had been hectic seconds. In another moment we could have been wrecked.

I turned off the ignition and turned to look at her.

The moonlight was coming through the open car window and I could see her clearly. She was completely unruffled and she was smiling. She looked so lovely she took my breath away.

‘It’s got power,’ she said. ‘I was a little heavy-footed, wasn’t I? I shouldn’t have pressed down so hard. Let’s try again.’

‘Now, wait a minute,’ I said. ‘That’s a terrific way to attempt suicide. You don’t stamp down…’

‘I know,’ she said impatiently. ‘You don’t have to tell me. I pressed down much too hard. Let’s try again.’

‘Will you watch the road when the car is moving? The idea is to keep straight.’

She looked quickly at me and laughed.

‘I was taken by surprise,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think it had so much power.’

‘That makes two of us,’ I said and turned on the ignition. ‘Take it dead easy: gently with the gas.’

‘Yes, I know.’

She moved the gear lever into position and we took off around twenty miles an hour. Again she showed she hadn’t an idea how to steer a car. We bounced up on the grass verge and then back on to the road, only this time we were going at a reasonable speed and I could control the car. I kept my hand on the steering wheel and, for fifty yards, we kept a straight course.

‘I don’t see how I can possibly learn if you do everything,’ she said and pushed my hand away.

We promptly darted towards the hedge. I got my foot on the brake pedal and stopped the car just in time.

‘You don’t seem to have the knack of this,’ I said. ‘Did Mr. Aitken ever try to teach you to drive?’

‘Roger?’ She laughed. ‘Oh, no, he wouldn’t have the patience.’

‘You’re trying to drive too fast and you’re not watching the road. Let’s start again, and let’s go a lot more slowly.’

This time she succeeded in driving a hundred yards at fifteen miles an hour, dead in the centre of the road.

‘That’s the idea,’ I said. ‘That’s fine. Keep going like that and you’ll get the feel of the thing.’

Then I saw, coming towards us, the headlights of a fast-moving car.

‘Pull over to your right,’ I said, ‘and go slow. Watch the road.’

She pulled in too sharply and too far, and the off-side wheels mounted the grass verge. The approaching car dipped its headlights and kept coming. I was sure she was going to pull the car off the verge and that would take her right into the path of the other car, so I stamped on the brake pedal and brought the Cadillac to a jerking stop. The other car swept past and went roaring on into the darkness.

‘I wish you would let me do it,’ she said a little impatiently. ‘I could have managed.’

‘Yeah, but it’s the only car I’ve got.’

She turned to me and laughed.

‘This is fun. I’m loving it. I know in a little while I’ll be able to drive. Will you lend me your car sometimes if Roger won’t let me use any of his?’

‘You’ll have to have a few more lessons before you go solo.’

‘But when I can—will you lend me this car?’

‘All right, but it will be difficult to fit in a time. I take it to work every day.’

‘Perhaps when I want it, you could take the bus.’

‘That’s a thought, but I’m not wild about taking a bus. Besides, I use the car quite a lot when I’m at work.’

‘On very special occasions, you could take a taxi, couldn’t you?’

‘I suppose I could.’

She peered at me.

‘What you are trying to say is you don’t want to lend me the car,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s the truth, isn’t it?’

If she had but known it, I would have given her the car if she had asked me for it: that’s how far gone I was.

‘It’s not that,’ I said. ‘I’m just scared you’ll hit something or someone will hit you. You will want a lot more practice before you can go out alone. Anyway, where do you want to go to on your own?’

‘No particular place. I just want to drive. I want to feel the wind rushing by and to move fast. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.’

‘Well, okay, when you can handle this car safely, you can borrow it.’

She put her hands on mine. The touch of her cool flesh really got me going.

‘Do you mean that?’

‘Yes, I mean it.’

‘I can have the car when I want? All I have to do is to telephone and tell you when I want it and you’ll let me have it?’

‘That’s all you have to do.’

‘Honest?’

‘Yes—honest.’

She sat staring at me for a long moment, then she gently patted my hand.

‘I think you’re the nicest man I have ever met.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ I said, and my voice was husky. ‘If you want the car you can have it. Now let’s have another try at driving. Let’s see if you can handle her better than last time.’

‘Yes,’ she said and turned on the ignition.

We drove along the road, and this time she was really pretty good, and even when two fast-moving cars snarled past her, she managed to keep the Cadillac on a straight course.

‘I’ve got the hang of it now,’ she said. ‘I feel it,’ and she increased speed.

I shifted a little closer to her so I could grab the wheel if I had to. My foot moved near the brake pedal, but she was keeping a straight course, and after a few moments, she really gunned the engine. The speedometer needle moved into the eighties.

‘Better ease off,’ I said. ‘You’re going too fast.’

‘It’s wonderful,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve always wanted to drive like this. What a car! What a beauty!’

‘Ease off now!’ I said sharply and put my foot gently on the brake pedal.

A car came out of the night with blazing headlights and stormed towards us. We were bang in the centre of the road. I trod on the brake.

‘Get to your right!’

She swung the car to the right too sharply. If I hadn’t trod down hard on the brake we would have hit the grass verge and we could have turned over. I grabbed the wheel and straightened the car as the other car stormed past us with a loud blast of its horn.

I stopped the Cadillac.

‘Did you have to do that?’ she asked, looking at me. ‘I was going fine.’

‘You certainly were.’ I had had enough for one night. My nerves were sticking out of my skin. ‘All you want is practice. That’ll do for tonight. I’ll take over now.’

‘Well, all right.’ She peered at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Goodness! I must get back. He’ll be

wondering where I am.’

Those words made a conspiracy out of our association. They gave me a queer, bitter-sweet sensation.

‘Will you drive really fast?’ she went on as we changed places. ‘Really fast?’

I pressed down on the gas pedal. In a few seconds, the Cadillac was tearing along at ninety miles an hour.

She hugged her knees and stared through the wind-shield at the two big blobs of light from the headlamps as they raced ahead of us. I had an idea she was surrendering herself to the sensation of speed and was revelling in it.

We reached the gates of the Gables at twenty minutes to eleven.

As I pulled up, she let out a long, deep sigh.

‘You can drive,’ she said. ‘You really can. I loved that. I could have gone on at that speed forever. When am I going to have my second lesson?’

I hesitated for a brief moment. At the back of my mind, I knew this could be dangerous.

‘Now look,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble. If your husband really doesn’t want you to drive…’

She put her cool fingers on my wrist.

‘He won’t ever know—how could he know?’

Feeling her flesh on my flesh made me light-headed and utterly reckless.

‘I’ll be here at eight tomorrow night,’ I said. ‘I should be through just after nine.’

‘I’ll wait in the car.’ She opened the door and got out. ‘You don’t know how much I’ve enjoyed this. I get so bored, but this has been the nicest and most exciting evening I’ve ever spent. I’ve really loved it.’

The hard white light of the moon showed me she was wearing lemon-coloured slacks and a bottlegreen sweater. She had a shape on her under that sweater that made me catch my breath.

‘My name is Lucille,’ she said. ‘Will you remember that?’

I said I would remember it.

She smiled at me.

‘Then we meet tomorrow. Good night.’

She waved to me and then started to walk up the long drive towards the house.

I watched her go, my hands gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles white. I sat there, breathing unevenly and quickly, watching her until I lost sight of her.

She was now in my blood like a virus: as deadly and as dangerous as that.

I didn’t remember the drive back to the bungalow. I didn’t remember getting into bed.

All I know of that night was I didn’t sleep.

How could I sleep when my mind was on fire and the hours that separated our next meeting seemed like a hundred years?