Maiden Voyage

SIXTY-SIX

After dinner that evening, she sat with Mark in the cocktail lounge while a somnambulent pianist played slowed-down selections from the show Big Boy, including "If You Knew Susie". Catriona wore a shimmering Poiret dress like a silver waterfall, and a glittering headband with a silver-sparkling plume in it. They drank the special cocktail of the evening, Atlantic Punch.

"'You haven't seen Philip Carter-Helm, have you?" asked Catriona.

"He wasn't at dinner," said Mark. "But I did see Marcia playing footsy with that fellow Sabran. And believe me, that Polish baroness lady didn't care for it one bit. I think she could have bitten his head off."

Catriona reached across the table and took Mark's hand. "Anyway," she said, "I have something to say to you, something really remarkable, and a proposition to make, too."

"Do you know something," smiled Mark. "I just love that clipped British way you say remarkable."

"Listen," Catriona insisted; but Mark shushed her.

"You listen first," he told her. "I have something really re-mark-able to say, too; and I have a proposition to make. And since I'm the guest around here, and you're the hostess, I think I have first bite at it, don't you?"

Catriona looked into his eyes, and his eyes were sparkling with affection and good humour; and so she said, "Very well. But don't take all night over it."

"Okay," said Mark, adjusting his necktie. "You see, the truth is, I've been giving this business some careful consideration. Normally, I'm impetuous. I take a fancy to something and I have to have it straight away, no arguments, no poodle-dogging around. But this is one of those decisions that is going to affect my whole life, and maybe yours, too, and so I've really got to think this one out."

"Go on," said Catriona. She couldn't think why her heart was rising so high. She couldn't think why she felt so tense, and thrilled.

Mark reached into his pocket and produced a black ring box. He opened it; and there, nestling in black silk, was a gold ring set with a trio of diamonds, the largest of which must have weighed three or four karats.

"Catriona, I want you to marry me, that's my proposition. I don't believe that I'm a particularly bad catch. I'm extremely rich, and not too ugly, and apart from that I've fallen in love with you like I've never fallen in love with anybody before. Let me tell you something, Catriona, when you come out in the evening, the stars have to hide themselves in shame, and that's a scientific fact."

Catriona suddenly found that there were tears in her eyes.

"You're not upset, are you?" asked Mark worriedly.

Catriona shook her head. "I'm delighted," she choked.

"You mean—"

She nodded. "Yes, you idiot. Of course I do."

Mark picked the ring carefully out of the box, held Catriona's hand, and slid the ring on to her finger. Then he sat back, took out his handkerchief, and mopped at his forehead. "Phew," he said. "I thought for one moment there..."

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand tight.

"Shall we make an announcement?" asked Mark. "We could at least persuade the pianist to play something less dreary."

"Not yet," Catriona asked him. "Let me tell you my proposition first."

"You mean you weren't going to ask me to marry you?"

"I don't know. Sort of. Listen."

She talked to him for almost a quarter of an hour, while he listened intently, his head slightly lowered. Then, later, they walked hand in hand to the first-class staircase, where they stood for a moment under the towering illuminated funnels, and under the stars, which like the stars in Yeats' poem had been blown across the sky like sparks from a smithy. There was a scent in the air which was peculiar to luxury Atlantic liners—of expensive fragrances, of fuel-oil, and of Turkish tobacco, all mingled with ozone and salt.

"If only my father could have been here tonight," said Catriona, although not regretfully; for in a strange way she felt that he was.