Maiden Voyage

SIXTY

When George Weltennan opened the door of his stateroom and found Catriona standing there, with Alice beside her, his eyes widened in displeased surprise; but that was all. He was too experienced to show how unexpected her visit was, too experienced and too vain.

"Miss Keys," he said, a little hoarsely. He was holding a glass of seven-year-old Golden Wedding whisky in his hand. ''This is a pleasure. Well, I hope it is."

Catriona found herself unable to speak for one throat-tightening moment, but then she managed to say, "I think we still have unfinished business, Mr Welterman."

"Come in," said George, opening the door wider. Catriona hesitated, and then walked in, with Alice keeping unnaturally close behind her, and glaring at George with unabashed distaste. George tried to smile at her, but gradually his smile collapsed into a melting snarl.

"You'll have a drink?" he asked. "I'm afraid my man is out running an errand for me at the moment."

"A gin and bitters, please,' said Catriona.

"And your—?" indicating Alice.

"Nothing for me, thanks very much, sir," snapped Alice, clutching her bag tightly and tilting up her nose.

"Sit down," George invited them. "You know something, I've been hoping that we could get back together on speaking terms before the voyage ended. There really isn't any way I can express how sorry I feel. It was all a terrible misunderstanding, I hope you realise that."

"Well, perhaps it was," Catriona replied, sitting down and crossing her legs tidily. "But in any case, you and I are going to have to work together, aren't we, if we decide to sell Keys to IMM?"

"That's right," George agreed. He brought over her drink and held it out for her. "I'm glad you see it that way. A lot of girls would have been hysterical."

Catriona sipped her drink. George had mixed it too strong, with too much Gordon's. "I'm all kinds of things, Mr Welterman, but I'm never hysterical."

"Can't you find it in your heart to call me George?"

"Perhaps."

George sat down, uncomfortably close. "You're feeling... well, you're feeling okay? No harm done?"

"Not so far," said Catriona.

"But you haven't just called by for the sake of your health."

"No, I've called by to talk about the Orange."

George slowly sat back hi his chair, cupping his whisky glass in both hands. Catriona watched him tensely; this was the only card that she had to play against him, apart from the sheer surprise of a visit, and if he were to deny all knowledge of the Orange then she wasn't at all sure what she was going to do next.

"Have you discussed it with Edgar?" asked George, pronouncing his words with care.

"Not yet."

"But I assume that you know all about it?"

Catriona nodded.

There was a long silence. George stared at her intently for a while, and then stood up and paced across the room. "How much do you know?" he asked her.

"I know about a remarkably similar ship called the Funabashi."

"Well... do you now?" George replied. "You're better informed than I thought."

"I own a quarter of Keys Shipping, Mr Welterman. Don't you think It's my business to know?"

George shrugged. Then he said, "You understand now why you have to sell Keys Shipping to me."

"Of course."

"Your father's reputation... poor old Edgar's reputation... and, of course, my own reputation, although I would always have been able to protest that we bought the Orange in good faith, not realising that she was supposed to have been sunk. They refitted her at Calcutta, you know, in Edgar Deacon's own yards. And did a fine job on her, too."

"Obviously I'm going to have to agree to give you my support," said Catriona, more coldly than she had meant to.

George looked at her narrowly. "I don't want you to feel that I'm exerting any undue pressure on you, Catriona. I don't want you to go away saying that you've been blackmailed, or anything unpleasant like that. Because, you know, it simply wouldn't be true."

"No," said Catriona. "I know."

He came and sat down again, just as close as before. "I'm offering eighteen million for the entire fleet; and that's an excellent price, considering how old most of your ships actually are. My accountants will go through the books and reconcile any little problems that might have cropped up in the past, and that will be that."

"And you'll keep the fleet together?"

"As far as commercially possible."

Catriona lowered her eyes. George raised a hand for a moment, a little way above her knee, but then Alice sniffed loudly, and fixed him with a stare like an outraged peregrine falcon, and he withdrew it.

"I don't want you to tell Edgar what we've discussed," said Catriona. "He likes to think of himself as my guardian, you know, now that my father's gone. If he knew that I'd found out about the Orange... well, I think it would embarrass him terribly. So, please don't say anything. I'll go and talk to him later and tell him that I've decided to support the sale to IMM."

George couldn't help smiling. "You're a brave, intelligent girl. I misjudged you. I admit it. You have style. Do you mind if I kiss you?"

"You can kiss me."

George leaned forward and, with difficulty, pecked Catriona's cheek. The feeling of his lips against her face made her skin tighten with coldness; but she was determined this time that he was going to dance to her tune; yes, and Edgar, too.

"Ill have to go now," she said. "But it's the fancy-dress ball tonight, and I'm sure I'll see you there. Have you decided on a costume?"

"I thought it was supposed to be a surprise."

"It is. But I rather saw you as Cyrano de Bergerac."

George let out a short, uncomfortable laugh. "Did you?" he said loudly. Then, more reflectively, "Did you?"