Believe This... You’ll Believe Anything

Three

I was met at el Aeropuerto de Ilopango by a stockily built, swarthy Indian who introduced himself as Roberto Rivera. He was in his middle forties with a Charlie Chan moustache, and he had the crafty eyes and the sly smile of the Latin American at his worst. I took a dislike to him at first sight.

‘Welcome, Señor Burden,’ he said, shaking hands and raising his straw sombrero. ‘Everything, is very fine. I meet Señor Vidal and the señora as arranged. No problems. I am at your disposal. You wish to go to the hotel?’

‘Yes, please. Is it far?’

‘No distance: perhaps a little way. Here is the beautiful car, full air conditioned, every comfort, much expense.’ He led me over to a dusty black Mercedes 200 parked in the sun and opened the offside door, again lifting his sombrero.

I was glad to get into the cool of the car. The sun must have been 96 in the shade.

He slid under the driving wheel.

‘Excuse my English, Señor Burden. Speak very fine American, but English more difficult.’

I said I understood.

He drove away from the airport and along a dusty road crowded with Indian peasants. Nearly all of them carried big metal pots on their heads or their shoulders.

‘What are they carrying?’ I asked.

‘Water, Señor Burden. Water is difficult here. Everyone carries water. It is the way of life.’ He blasted his horn as an Indian wandered aimlessly across the road. ‘Very stupid people. Sun makes them stupid.’ He laughed, showing a mouthful of gold teeth. ‘I have a fine schedule for you. Señora Vidal will be very pleased.’ He glanced slyly at me. ‘Señor Vidal is plenty rich, yes?’

‘He has enough,’ I said shortly.

‘Many poor people live here.’ He shook his head sadly.

‘Many, many. Rich too. More poor than rich, but rich very rich.’

We were now passing through a small village, crowded with Indians, Most of them wore battered sombreros, white shirts and dark, shapeless trousers. The women had on various coloured aprons, covering their light cotton dresses. The main street of the village was dirty with a litter of paper, discarded fruit skins, cigarette butts and other rubbish. The sight of this squalor depressed me.

It took us over half an hour to reach San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador. It was also swarming with Indians who mingled with well dressed, overfed men and women, obviously the wealthy citizens of the City.

‘Lovely city,’ Rivera said. ‘You like it, Señor Burden?’

‘Oh sure.’

‘You call me Roberto. Everyone calls me Roberto. I am a very well-known guide here. Many rich Americans ask for me.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘We approach the hotel.’ He drove up a steep hill, turned left and edged into a curved drive. ‘Beautiful hotel Señor Burden, the best. Everyone very satisfied.’

The doorman opened the car door and I got out. A porter took my bag.

‘You’d better come in, Roberto,’ I said. ‘I’ll look at your schedule. I must report to Mr. Vidal.’

Roberto showed me his gold teeth.

‘No hurry, Señor Burden. Señor Vidal and the señora are with friends for lunch. Jose — he works with me — took them to El Cuco. Very lovely place by the sea. They visit Señor Guzman who owns many coffee plantations, very rich: beautiful, beautiful house, cost two million dollars. They cannot be back here until 19.00. Plenty of time.’

I looked at my watch. It was just midday.

‘Okay Roberto. I’ll have lunch here. Suppose we get together around 15.00.’

‘I go home then.’ He looked happy. ‘Nice home: poor, but nice. My children see little of me. It will be a surprise for them.’ He lifted his sombrero, shook hands and climbed into the Mercedes.

After checking in, inspecting my room which was air conditioned and pleasant, I took a shower, changed into an open neck shirt and slacks and went down to the coffee shop for the best scampi cocktail I have ever eaten.

I took coffee on the terrace, overlooking the big pool. The Salvadorian children all swam like fish and all made a lot of noise. Their parents, solidly built, sat under sun umbrellas, eating ice cream or drinking beer.

Around 15.00, I went into the lounge to find Rivera waiting for me.

‘Fine food, Señor Burden. Everything satisfactory? Room beautiful?’

‘Everything’s fine. Let’s look at the schedule.’

We went over it together. It meant little to me, not knowing the country, but Rivera assured me there was nothing of interest he had omitted.

‘Very hot in the afternoons. I suggest morning drives, Señor Burden. Maybe something in the late afternoon when it is cooler. Good to take a little siesta after lunch,’ and he looked hopefully at me.

‘That will depend on what Mrs. Vidal wants. She may not want a siesta.’

His face fell.

‘You explain to her, Señor Burden. Very hot and fatiguing in the afternoon.’

‘I’ll see what she says. You had better be here at 08.30 tomorrow morning. I want the car washed and polished, Roberto. These are V.I.P. That car isn’t good enough.’

‘The best there is, Señor Burden, but I will clean it.’ He looked even more gloomy. Getting to his feet, he went on, ‘Then tomorrow?’

When he had gone. I went over to the kiosk and bought a map of El Salvador, then going up to my room. I put on swim trunks and went down to the pool. After a swim, I sat in the shade and studied the schedule and the map. Tomorrow, we were to visit the Izcola volcano and return to the hotel for lunch. Nothing was suggested for the afternoons. I would have to discuss the afternoons with Mrs. Vidal, I told myself.

Around 18.00, after a final swim, I went to my room, shaved, put on a shirt and tie and a lightweight suit and went down to the bar.

An hour later, as I was on my second Scotch and was trying to get some news of interest out of the New York Tribune. Henry Vidal bounced into the bar.

Although I had been prepared by Bill Olson what to expect, I realised as Vidal came bustling towards me that no description of him would ever be adequate.

As Olson had said, Vidal was scarcely four foot ten inches high. He had massive shoulders, the shoulders of a wrestler, his short legs were thick and his feet small. He was wearing an open neck scarlet linen shirt, black trousers so tight they appeared to be painted on him and round his thick waist, a broad white belt with a gold buckle.

He wore his greying hair long to his collar. He was completely bald on the top of his head. His baldness emphasised his massive forehead. His beard, also greying, was wiry and thick, but it was his small, glittering eyes that held my attention. As Olson had said, they were hypnotic eyes, penetrating pale blue windows that revealed arrogance, confidence and power.

I got to my feet as he reached me.

‘You are Clay Burden? Of course you are.’ His voice was high pitched, almost squeaky. He caught my hand in a bone-crushing grip, shook it and discarded it.

The barman was at his side.

‘Fruit punch,’ Vidal said. ‘Be careful with the grenadine. It was too heavy last night.’ He turned to me. ‘Sit down.’ He took a chair opposite. ‘What are you drinking? Scotch?’ He wrinkled his thick nose. ‘I never touch alcohol. Never have. Smoking and drinking ruins a mind for business. You like your work? You must or you wouldn’t do it. I hear you are reliable. That is good. I insist on having reliable people around me.’ His squeaky voice rattled around my ears like machine gun bullets. ‘Dyer arranged for you to amuse my wife while I am busy. I am sure you can do it. She had to come with me. I warned her what to expect, but women are so obstinate once they have made up their minds.’ He gave a short barking laugh. ‘San Salvador is a filthy hole: badly run, no organisation. The Indians will revolt one of these days. You saw all the filth and poverty on the way from the airport? Of course you did. Disgraceful way to live.’

The barman set down a pint glass full of cracked ice and fruit juices. Vidal drank half the punch at a gulp.

‘Better. Still too much grenadine.’ He turned to me. ‘Mrs. Vidal has gone to bed. She says she is tired. I can’t understand her. I am never tired. I don’t know the meaning of the word. Women always have headaches or they are tired. You married? I can see you are. You look responsible. I have no time for a man who isn’t responsible. I am sure your wife gets tired too. They all get tired. It is an excuse.’ Again he laughed and finished his drink. ‘I must change. I have a business dinner.’ He jumped to his feet. As I stood up, slightly dazed, he went on, ‘Don’t disturb yourself. You know what to do tomorrow? I’m sure you do. There’s not much to see in this hole but that’s her look out. She had to come. Do your best.’ He crushed my hand again and bounced out of the bar.

I dropped into my chair, finished my drink and signalled to the barman for a refill. I needed it. Olson had said Vidal was a dynamo: that was an understatement. To have to spend a whole evening with him would have reduced me to a nervous wreck.

I thought of his wife and wondered. Did he treat her as he had treated me? If he did, she must be an extraordinary woman to survive.

A heavily built American tourist wandered into the bar. He looked around, spotted me and came over.

‘Mind if I join you?’ he said, sitting down and waving to the barman. ‘My wife tells me it is a bad habit to drink alone,’ and he gave me a cheery wink.

I was glad to have company. We talked of this and that for an hour or so, then he heaved himself to his feet.

‘I guess the little lady is dressed by now,’ he said. ‘See you around, friend,’ and nodding he ambled out.

I decided to have dinner, then go to my room with a book.

There didn’t seem anything else for me to do. I went to the kiosk and found a lurid covered paperback. As I was paying for it, Henry Vidal came bouncing out of the elevator. He was wearing a black silk suit, white shirt and a sky blue tie. He hurried across the lobby without noticing me and climbed into a waiting Mercedes.

I turned and headed for the Coffee shop.

‘Señor Burden?’

The hall porter had come from behind his desk.

‘Yes?’

‘A message. Will you please go to suite seven on the fourth floor. Señora Vidal wishes to speak to you.’

I stared at him.

‘You mean Mrs. Vidal?’

He nodded.

Surprised, I stepped into the elevator and pressed button 4. As the cage ascended, it occurred to me that the evening might turn out better than I had anticipated. I was more than interested to see the kind of woman Vidal had married.

I walked down the corridor and paused outside room 7. I knocked.

‘Come in.’

The low voice, for no reason I could think of, set my nerves tingling.

I opened the door and walked into a big, comfortably furnished sitting room that contained so many flowers it looked like a florist’s shop.

The tall, dark haired, slim woman in a long white wrap was standing by the window.

Although six years had passed since I last saw her, I knew her immediately. My heart gave a little lurch. She was more beautiful now, more poised, more worldly, but still the woman I had never ceased to love.

‘Val!’ I stood staring at her. ‘It can’t be you! Val!’

‘At last,’ she said. ‘Darling Clay.’

She came to me, sliding her arms around my neck, her full breasts hard against my chest, her lovely mouth raised to be kissed.

The rising moon sent a pale band of light across the bed. Val lay on her back, her eyes half closed, her hands covering her breasts. I lay by her side, looking at her. I still believed I was dreaming as I had dreamed of her so often during the past long years.

We had both thrown away caution and conscience during the first kiss. We had found ourselves on the bed, naked and straining for each other.

I was aware as I watched her of an almost weightless feeling and being more relaxed than I had ever been, but also aware that my love for her was ever more acute.

She pressed her hands to her face.

‘Darling Clay, you don’t know how dangerous this is,’ she whispered. ‘We shouldn’t have done it. I should have kept away from you. I planned it all. You can’t imagine the trouble I’ve had. When I heard you had come to Paradise City, I couldn’t resist seeing you. There is so much to talk about.’ She turned her head swiftly and looked at the bedside clock. ‘But not now. Get dressed. We have five days in which to talk.’

The time was 20.40.

‘Let’s talk now,’ I said. I longed to hear what had been happening to her during the past six years. ‘It’s early still.’

‘No! Get dressed!’ The urgency in her voice made me reach for my clothes. ‘You don’t know what he is like. If he ever even suspected what has happened, he would ruin you. He is so vindictive and vicious and there’s nothing he can’t do once he has set his mind to it. He would keep after you so you would never be able to work again. I mean it Clay. You must believe me.’

Shocked, I stared at her.

‘Be careful when you leave,’ she went on. ‘Make sure there’s no one outside.’

I was dressed now. As I bent to kiss her, she pushed me away.

‘No... please go! We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘When tomorrow?’ The panic in her eyes made me uneasy.

‘When he goes. I don’t know. Wait for me in the lobby. As soon as he goes.’

‘Oh, Val... I can’t believe this has happened. I...’

‘Please go! Suppose he walked in...’ She shivered.

I went to the sitting room door, opened it silently and peered out into the long corridor, then drew hurriedly back as I saw a man and woman moving towards the elevators.

‘What is it?’ She had come to the bedroom door, still naked. Her whisper was loaded with fear.

I raised my hand to silence her, then peered out again. Aware that my heart was now thumping. Her fear had communicated itself to me. The couple entered the elevator. Without looking back, I moved into the corridor as the elevator doors slid shut. I walked quickly down the corridor to the stairs and down then to the third floor and to my room.

I went immediately to the bathroom and stared at myself in the minor. There was a smudge of lipstick by my mouth. I stared at my pale, excited face. There was a different look about me that was hard to define. Could it be I now looked younger and was that guilty fear in my eyes?

I ran cold water and bathed my face, then going into the bedroom, I opened the french windows and stepped out on to the balcony.

The night air was hot and humid. The big moon rose high above the distant city lights. I could hear the soft strains of the dance band and somewhere under the palms, a girl laughed.

With unsteady hands, I took out my pack of cigarettes and sat down in the lounging chair. I lit the cigarette and stared up at the moon.

Now drained of desire and alerted by Val’s warning, I realised that I had been crazy to have given way to that overpowering sexual urge. Val had been crazy too. Both of us were to blame. We had completely lost control of ourselves.

I remembered what she had said, you don’t know what he is like. If he found out, he would ruin you. He is so vindictive and vicious. It had been the frightened tone of her voice more than her words that sent a chill up my spine. I knew from past experience that Val wasn’t easily frightened. I had seen enough of Vidal to know she hadn’t been talking heedlessly nor as an alarmist. Those arrogant, confident eyes told me as nothing else could that if he ever found out about us, he would exact a vicious revenge.

Then my mind switched to Rhoda. If she ever found out! I was sure she would be nearly as vindictive as Vidal. She would never forgive me for preferring another woman.

My conscience was now tormenting me. I thought of tomorrow. Should I make an excuse, say I was ill, say anything to avoid spending the next five days with Val, knowing the danger of giving myself away when with her to some sharp eyed onlooker? Could I spend whole days with her with Rivera at the wheel without alerting his suspicions that she had taken me as her lover?

I pulled myself together.

This was stupid, panicky thinking. It had happened and it mustn’t happen again. It had been, I told myself, an explosive madness and it was now over. But even as I told myself this, even after loving her but an hour ago and drained of desire, I knew it wasn’t and couldn’t be over. No matter how great the risk, if she wanted me, I knew I wouldn’t and couldn’t resist her.

So I sat on the balcony, unaware of the passing hours, thinking of her.

Val! Married to Vidal! It was unbelievable. How had they met? Then I remembered Olson had told me that Vidal was once a client of his. Maybe she had met Vidal when she had been working with Olson.

But why had she married this balding dwarf? According to Olson, at that time, Vidal was far from rich. She couldn’t have married him for his money. Then what had induced her to prefer him to me?

That was something that disconcerted and hurt me far more than finding her tied to this now wealthy tycoon and so obviously frightened of him.

I took these thoughts to bed with me. I scarcely slept and when the waiter brought me coffee at 07.30 I was glad to get up.

I went down to the lobby at 08.30. The hall porter bowed to me.

‘Roberto is waiting, señor,’ he said.

‘I’ll have a word with him.’ I paused, then asked, ‘Is Mr. Vidal in the hotel?’

‘Señor Vidal left at eight.’

I went out to where Rivera was lounging in the shade. He came over to me, smiling, his gold teeth flashing in the sun.

‘Good morning, Señor Burden. Beautiful morning. You had a fine night?’

‘Thank you. Where is the car?’

He pointed. I went over and inspected it. He had had it cleaned and it now looked reasonably presentable.

‘Much hard work,’ Rivera said mournfully. ‘Very big car.’

‘I’ll see if Mrs. Vidal is ready.’

Returning to the lobby, I picked up one of the telephones and asked to be connected to suite 7.

Val came on the line almost immediately. The sound of her voice again made my nerves tingle.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Vidal,’ I said, aware the hall porter was listening. ‘The car is waiting. We can leave whenever you are ready.’

‘Thank you. I will be down in a few minutes.’

I hung up and wandered over to the kiosk where I bought a pack of cigarettes.

Val appeared from the elevator ten minutes later. She was wearing a blue and white flowered shirt, white stretch pants and her hair was caught back with a white bandeau. She looked breathlessly beautiful.

‘Good morning, Mr. Burden,’ she said brightly. Her eyes were impersonal and her smile remote. ‘Where are we going this morning?’

‘Would you step over here for a moment, please? I would like to show you the schedule.’

I moved to an isolated settee and she followed me. We sat down, out of earshot of the hall porter and the reception desk.

As I took the schedule from my pocket, I said, keeping my voice low, ‘There’s a complication, Val. We have a chauffeur. It’s my own damn fault. I didn’t know it would be you. It would be dangerous to get rid of him. He might talk.’

I saw the disappointment in her eyes, but she kept her face expressionless as she said, ‘So what do we do?’

‘He doesn’t want to work in the afternoons. He says it would be too hot. We could meet in my room after lunch. I must talk to you, Val!’

She thought about this, then she nodded.

‘All right. Let’s go now. Where are we going?’

‘To see the Izalco volcano. He’ll tell you about it. I’ll sit up front with him. Be careful Val. He’s a Maya and no fool. Don’t make any slips.’

Together, we went out into the sunshine. Seeing us come Rivera scrambled out of the car and opened the rear door, sweeping off his sombrero as he did so.

‘Good morning, señora. A beautiful day. We go on a beautiful excursion. Very, very interesting. I tell you the history as we go.’

Val thanked him and got in the car. I went around and got in beside Rivera.

I don’t think either Val nor I heard more than a few words of Rivera’s drone. All I could think of was the coming afternoon when we would be alone together. The drive to the volcano was long, dusty and tortuous. Parts of the road were so bad we had to crawl.

Eventually we arrived at Hotel de Montana which stands empty but from which Rivera assured us, we would have a fine view of the crater. At any other time, the perfect shaped cone, dark grey in colour, would have been an impressive sight to me, but my mind was too occupied with the thought of the coming afternoon to be anything but impatient as Rivera praised its magnificence. He was sharp enough to see that neither Val nor I were showing sufficient interest.

‘You don’t like?’ he asked, looking searchingly at Val. ‘You are not satisfied, Señora Vidal?’

‘I think it is perfectly marvellous, but it is hotter than I thought. Let us return to the hotel.’

His little eyes brightened.

‘Midday too hot. After lunch, it would be wise to take a siesta. The evening will be cooler. If you wish, señora, I drive you around the city in the evening.’

‘I think this will be enough for today. We will see the city tomorrow.’

He positively beamed.

‘Very wise. Better to swim in beautiful pool. Then we go back now?’

‘Yes, please.’

We reached the hotel a little after 13.00. Val thanked Rivera for his careful driving and for showing her the volcano.

Leaving him, we entered the lobby.

‘Let us have a light lunch together, Mr. Burden,’ Val said. ‘Then I’ll take a siesta.’ This was for the benefit of the hall porter who was bowing to her.

We went into the crowded coffee shop and had a hamburger each I left half mine and we scarcely exchanged a word.

As we were leaving, I said, ‘Don’t hand in your key, Val.’

She nodded.

‘Third floor. Room 346,” and screening the move with my body, I gave her my key.

Smiling at me, she went across to the elevators. I walked to the far end of the lobby, lit a cigarette and sat down. After a ten minute wait, I got casually to my feet and took the elevator to the 3rd floor.

Val was lying on my bed, naked.

I hurriedly shut and locked the door.

‘Val! We mustn’t. We...’

She held out her arms. The flush on her face and the brightness of her eyes swept away all caution. I threw off my clothes and joined her.

This time our lovemaking was without the violent urgency of the previous night. This time we were gentle with each other, letting the climax build slowly until we reached the crest, then, together, we surged down the long lane of light, swiftly and silently, feeling the world blotted out in the moment of ecstasy that left us breathless.

In the air conditioned room, with the sun blinds drawn against the heat of the afternoon, Val, lying by my side on the bed, told me something of the six years she had spent with Henry Vidal.

She puzzled me by saying that she wasn’t expecting me to understand everything she was going to tell me and I would have to be patient with her. It would be difficult, she said, for her to explain why she had written that letter and why she had returned the ring, but in fairness to us both, she had to try.

‘To begin at the beginning,’ she said, ‘I first met him when he came to the office at the Statler Hilton. Bill Olson was at lunch. I was on my own. He wanted a flight to London. While I was checking the flight and preparing the ticket, I was aware that he was staring at me so intensely that he embarrassed me. It was the busy season and I kept being interrupted by telephone calls. I apologised for keeping him waiting, but he said he was in no hurry. I’ve often thought about that first meeting. I believed then and I know now that he was trying to hypnotise me. While he was with me I felt some tremendous energy and dynamic power stifling me. Does that sound nonsense to you? I assure you that was how I felt. He paid for the ticket and still staring at me, he said he would see me again. I kept thinking of him. It was as if he had taken hold of part of my mind.’ She made a helpless little gesture. ‘I began to dream about him. I kept imagining he was following me. I became nervy and I ceased to go out once I was back home from the office, but that didn’t stop the dreams.’ She touched my wrist. ‘The dreadful thing about this was that I no longer thought of you, but always of him. Your letters arrived so faithfully. Some I didn’t even read. I know this will hurt you, but you must try to understand that at that time I was fighting desperately not to be possessed. Evil spirits do try to possess people.’ She looked fixedly at me.

‘Do you believe that Clay?’

I had never thought about evil spirits. To me, Vidal was just an arrogant, self-opinionated tycoon.

‘I don’t know, but go on. What happened?’ I said.

‘When he returned from London he came to the office nearly every day, on some pretext or other. I even changed lunch hours with Bill so I could avoid him, but it made no difference. But why go on? I fought him for two dreadful months, but he was too much for me. I finally gave up and he took possession of me.’

‘Are you telling me that he forced you to marry him?’ I asked, staring at her.

‘He didn’t force me. He took possession of me. I knew that unless I submitted to him, I would never have any peace nor rest again. I was so tired and so frightened. It was easier to marry him than to continue the struggle.’

‘But why didn’t you tell me what was happening? I would have come back and helped you.’

‘No one could help me. When you are faced with that kind of struggle you either save yourself or you go under. This was a personal battle which I lost. Besides, Clay, I loved you as I love you still. I knew he would sweep you away if you tried to interfere. You would have had no weapon against his power. I did think of telling you, then I thought. Why spoil two lives? I told myself I wasn’t worth putting you in danger. So I wrote to you and returned your ring.’

I looked at her, baffled. How could anyone be expected to believe this rigmarole?

‘You still don’t understand, do you Clay? He is evil! He is a devil! You don’t believe in devils, do you?’

Her fear and the wildness in her eyes alarmed me.

‘Surely devils went out in the last century,’ I said. ‘No. I don’t believe in devils nor evil spirits, but I can understand a man of his energy and power sweeping you off your feet. I grant you he is dynamic, but this talk about being hypnotised, possessed... about spirits... no. I can’t go along with mumbo jumbo like that.’

She nodded as if telling herself this was what she expected me to say.

‘All right Clay, let us say he swept me off my feet. Let us agree about that. It is much less complicated, although it is not fair to me. Never mind. Don’t let’s waste time. I once asked him why he married me. I remember his exact words: “I am going to be rich,” he said, staring at me with those frightening eyes. “Money is power and I want power. You are going to help me. I have chosen you as my partner because you have a quick, intelligent mind and you are thoroughly efficient. You also have looks. The moment I saw you I knew you were the ideal woman I was looking for. Together, we will work and achieve.”’ She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes cloudy. ‘In four years, with me by his side, he has become what he is. He has unlimited power and unlimited money. There is in him a ruthless evil drive that won’t ever let him stop. He will go on amassing money and power until he dies. A year after I married him he made his first million. It didn’t even give him pleasure, let alone satisfaction. “This is just the beginning,” he said. “This is nothing!” How we worked! We never stopped travelling, meeting people, bribing people. How I hated it! But I was a Trilby to his Svengali. He told me what to do, I did it.’

There was a long pause while she continued to stare up at the ceiling,

‘And now... after six years?’ I was depressed. I couldn’t accept this extraordinary story. Trilby and Svengali! (What did she mean?) Spirits. Devils. I would much rather she told me that she had fallen madly in love with Vidal and now that love had turned sour. I could have accepted that but not this nonsense about being possessed and hypnotised.

‘My life is becoming my own again,’ she said. ‘He has less use for me. I have become redundant. He is too busy to entertain much, but when he does, then I have to arrange everything. He spends weeks locked in his office. He has many people working for him. For a year now he hasn’t told me what he is doing, what he is planning. He likes to have me around. I am an ornament... nothing else. He doesn’t need my help anymore and I am thankful. I have leisure now. This has given me time to think, and my thoughts, Clay, have been of you. You don’t know how I have regretted sending your ring back, but please try to understand, at that time, I was half out of my mind. Even when life was most hectic and we were rushing from one city to another, one country to another, I found time to think of you. Then last month I saw in the papers that A.T.S. were opening at the Spanish Bay hotel and you were to be in charge. I went to Dyer. He is nervous of me He isn’t sure if I have influence or not. He knows I once worked for the A.T.S. It wasn’t difficult to persuade him to transfer the account to you. I said I wanted to do my old firm a favour. He accepted that, and made no difficulty about the change. Then when I heard Henry was going on a business trip here, I persuaded him to let me come with him. I hadn’t been on a trip with him for some time. I said I wanted a change, that I would have a guide and see the country while he worked. I told Dyer you were to be the guide.’ She patted my hand. ‘You resisted, didn’t you? I got my way in the end and here we are.’ She rolled towards me, sliding her arms around me. ‘Forgive me for hurting you, darling, and do try to understand how it happened.’ I gently stroked her hip.

‘Although I have never forgotten you, Val. I really believed I had lost you for good. You know I’m married?’

She nodded.

‘Dyer told me. Does she make you happy Clay?’

‘We are married.’

‘I’ve been honest with you Clay, please be honest with me. Does she make you happy?’

‘No. We get along. We have really nothing in common. You’ve met her. She works at The Trendie Miss.’

‘Rhoda? Is she your wife?’

‘Yes.’

‘But she’s pretty and so gay. Have you been married long Clay?’

‘Two years. It was a mistake.’

She looked searchingly at me.

‘You don’t love her?’

‘I love you.’

She rested her face again mine.

‘You don’t know how good it is to hear you say that. I don’t think I can live without you now Clay.’

‘I thought about you all last night. I can’t bear the thought of losing you again. What can we do!’ Would he divorce you?’

I felt her stiffen.

‘No! I wouldn’t dare even ask him. If he thought I wanted to leave him for you, God knows what he would do!’

‘But what can he do?’ I said impatiently. ‘Tell him you love me and I’ll tell Rhoda I love you. They must give us a divorce.’

‘Clay! I told you he is evil. I told you he is a devil. He has thugs working for him. He has only to give them instructions and they follow out those instructions. A man once tried to cheat him. That man was attacked by these thugs. He is going about in a wheelchair now. He is half an idiot.’ I stared at her.

‘Didn’t the police...’

‘A dark night, a vicious blow... what can the police do? If he found out we are lovers he would turn his thugs loose on you and on me. There was a stupid, greedy girl who tried to threaten him with a paternity case. She hoped to get money out of him. She was crazy. One of his thugs threw acid in her face. She is now blind.’

Fear laid cold hands on me.

‘So when I said God knows what he would do to you and to me if I asked him for a divorce I’m stating a fact. He might even have us killed.’

‘I can’t believe...

‘I’m telling you!’ Her voice became shrill. She half sat up, glaring at me, the fear in her eyes was chilling. ‘He’ll have us killed!’

Her fear was so real I could only stare helplessly at her.

‘Does that mean...’

‘There is a way. I’ve been thinking and thinking for the past week and I have found a solution that would be safe. Always providing you really don’t want to be parted from me as I can’t bear the thought of being parted from you. It is a solution that won’t even interfere with your marriage.’

‘What is it?’

‘I will persuade him to employ you to look after his travel affairs. You would be like Dyer, a member of the staff. You would have an office in the house. When he is away; there would be no danger.’ She looked questioningly at me. ‘What do you think?’

I shook my head doubtfully.

‘Why should he be persuaded?’

‘He would agree for two reasons. He would save agency fees and I would be occupied. He is continually telling me to find something to do. You see darling, we would work together, I would again be your secretary,’ She gripped my arm, her eyes shining. ‘Of course we would have to be careful, but we would have moments like this again when he goes away.’

I was still doubtful but I could see the possibility of such a plan.

‘But what about Dyer?’

‘He is overworked as it is. He would be glad to be rid of the travel business. There would be no problem with him.’ I was beginning to get excited.

‘It sounds too good to be true!’

‘It’s better than that. What are you earning now?’ I told her.

‘He would pay you twice as much and even then save money. You would work office hours. You would return home as you always do.’ She brushed my cheek with her lips. ‘Neither he nor Rhoda would ever know.’

And stupidly, I believed her.