1955 - You've Got It Coming (20 page)

“I may be hung up,” he said. “Don't wait lunch for me. You'll be all right, won't you?”

She said she would be all right in a quiet, flat voice that irritated him and he said good-bye and hung up.

He took the bus to the top of the beach road and sat down under a palm where he could watch for the Bentley.

He had thought a lot since he had left the motel. Glorie had been right. If Joan really meant business, he would have to be careful what he told her of his background: in fact the less he could tell her, the better. Her father would certainly make enquiries about him, and if Graynor found out why he had been sacked from the C.A.T.C. he would be sunk.

Then there was the problem of Glorie. Joan was calling her Mrs. Griffin, and that meant the dim-brain had told Joan she was married to him. Or was she being all that stupid? Glorie was smart. There was no doubt about that. Probably she took one look at Joan's beauty and had decided the competition wasn't a fair one and had come out with the Mrs. Griffin line as a form of defence—He's mine, hands off! Well, that wouldn't get her anywhere. He wasn't too bothered about Glorie. He could handle her. He had decided, not without a little qualm, that they must part. He refused to admit that Joan had anything to do with the decision. For all he knew, he told himself, Joan wouldn't show up. He might never see her again. It would be better for Glorie and him to part mainly because if Borg was after them it would be safer for both of them to split up. Anyway, she couldn't expect their association to go on forever. After all, she was five or six years older than he was. He told himself she couldn't object. He would put his cards on the table and tell her the truth. They had had fun, but now it would be safer and better for them to part. She must see that. He'd give her some dough to carry her over until she found something to do: five thousand should hold her. Five thousand? He frowned. Perhaps that was being a bit too generous. Five thousand would make a hole in his capital and if Joan did mean business he would need every nickel to put in the partnership. Perhaps two thousand would hold her.

Anyway, he would talk to her and explain the position. She would understand. She always had understood. That was the big thing about Glorie: you could talk to her. He felt she was the least of his difficulties. The C.A.T.C. was the biggest snag, and then there was Borg.

He didn't know quite what to do about Borg. He could only hope the fat thug had lost him. If he picked up his trail and came after him, he might have to stop running and fight.

The thought made Harry grimace. It was all very well to think like that now when Borg was a thousand miles away, but it wouldn't be quite so simple when Borg was within gun shot.

Harry remembered his fear when he thought Borg was hiding somewhere on the airfield. Borg was a professional killer. Harry didn't fancy his chances against him. But something had to be done about him. He wasn't going to stop Harry's plans. Maybe once he got his hands on some big money he would be able to afford a bodyguard who would take care of Borg. Harry brightened at the thought. That was an idea! Some tough, quick-shooting thug who'd handle Borg.

Then he saw the Bentley coming and he jumped to his feet.

So she had come! Did that mean she meant business? He approached the car, giving her his best and widest smile.

“You look a peach,” he said. “I apologize for being so personal, but I've got to say it. You really look good enough to eat.”

And she did too.

She was wearing a blue-and-white terylene frock with short sleeves. Her straw-coloured hair was caught back by a strip of blue ribbon. She looked as immaculate as if she had just stepped out of cellophane wrapping, and her big eyes were as alive and as bright as quicksilver.

“I'm glad you approve. But where is Mrs. Griffin?”

Harry opened the car door.

“May I get in?”

“Of course.”

He got in beside her and closed the door.

“Isn't your wife coming?”

Harry half turned so he could look directly into her eyes.

This was something that had to be explained and explained quickly.

“I hope I'm not going to shock you,” he said, “but she isn't my wife. It was stupid of her to say she was. The truth is I picked her up in Los Angeles. She was in trouble. She had no money and was on the verge of suicide. I was sorry for her. For the moment I'm landed with her, but not for long. I want her to find her feet, get well again and then we're parting.”

Joan looked at him. Her searching gaze disconcerted him.

“I see,” she said.

“I was at a loose end,” he went on, speaking hurriedly. “I wanted a vacation. I thought I'd take her along with me. There's nothing between us. She doesn't mean a thing to me.”

Joan lifted her eyebrows. A jeering expression came into her eyes.

“You're like a big, protecting brother to her, is that it?”

Harry flushed.

“Well, maybe it's hard to believe, but that's more or less how it is.”

“More or less. I was under the impression she doted on you.”

Harry took out his pack of cigarettes and offered it.

“Well, you're wrong. Of course she's grateful, but I tell you there's nothing more to it than that.”

“If I had known that I wouldn't have taken you to that motel. They only have one-room cabins and they are strictly for married couples,” Joan said and laughed.

Harry grinned uneasily.

“Look, could we skip this? I wanted you to know I'm not married. The rest is my affair, isn't it?”

“Of course. I think it is very kind of you to let me know you're not married.”

He looked sharply at her.

“Do you have to rib me?” he said irritably. “All right, if you want the truth she and I used to live together, but we're washed up and we're parting.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I always prefer the truth.”

There was a pause while Harry lit their cigarettes, then he said, “How about looking at that land you were talking about last night—where an airfield could be built.”

“Yes. Let's go and look at it.”

She started the engine, slipped into gear, reversed the car and began to drive back the way she had come.

“I liked the way you handled my aircraft,” she said after a long silence. “You're much, much better than my pilot. Your wife—I mean your friend—told me you once were a pilot at the C.A.T.C.”

Harry went hot with rage.

Was there no end of the damage Glorie had done? He had planned to conceal the fact from Joan that he had worked for the C.A.T.C., and now the damned pea-brain had given it away.

“Yeah, that's right,” he said, not looking at her.

“Mr. Godfrey, the President, is a great friend of Daddy's. You've met him, of course?”

“Yes, I've met him.”

If Glorie had been within reach, Harry would have strangled her He was sunk now. If Graynor knew Godfrey he was certain to check on him, and Harry could guess what Godfrey would have to say about him.

They drove for the next half-mile in silence, then Joan suddenly began to laugh. She had to slow the car and finally stop, and for several seconds she continued to giggle while Harry glared through the windshield, not looking at her. , “I'm sorry,” she said at last, but she didn't sound sorry. “Don t look so livid. I'm not going to tell Daddy you've worked for the C.A.T.C. It'll be all right.” I Harry stiffened. He turned to stare at her.

“What is all this? What do you mean?”

She patted his hand. The touch of her fingers made his skin tingle. . .

“I called Mr. Herbert this morning and had a talk with him about you.”

“Herbert? The Personnel Manager?”

“Yes. I wanted to find out if you had a good or bad character.”

Harry was suddenly aware that his heart was thumping.

“Why?”

“Isn't it usual to find out about one's future partner? Joan said, smiling at him.

I believe she really means to go ahead with it, Harry thought.

But what had Herbert told her? He and Herbert had been good friends. He wouldn't have given him too black a character, but he would have hinted that he wasn't entirely a white-headed boy.

“Were you serious last night when you said you were interested in this idea of mine?” he said quietly. “You must see how important it would be to me if you were serious. It's nothing I can laugh about.”

She was instantly contrite.

“I'm sorry. I have a horrid sense of humour. Of course I was serious. I thought about it half the night. I've been looking for something to do for months. I'm bored to death being idle. I think your air-taxi idea is just what I would like to work at.”

“Maybe your father . . .”

“He's keen I should do something. He thinks everyone should have a job. I know he'll back me.”

“What did Herbert say about me?”

She smiled.

“He said exactly what I thought he would say. He said you were the best pilot they have ever had, that you knew your job inside out, you had a flair for organization and you got on well with your men and people liked you. He thought you would make a success of anything that really interested you.”

Harry drew in a long, slow breath.

“That was pretty decent of him. What else did he say?”

She laughed.

“You have a guilty conscience, haven't you? And so you should. He told me you were inclined to be reckless, you often drank too much and you had a fatal weakness for women. He said you were sacked because you were tight when in charge of an aircraft and for assaulting an air hostess.” She tried to suppress a giggle, but failed. “What did you do to the air hostess?”

“The usual things,” Harry said, grinning. “If Godfrey hadn't been on the kite and caught us at it, there would have been no blow back. She claimed assault to save her own skin.”

Joan nodded.

“That's what Herbert said. Have you a weakness for women?”

“Some women,” Harry said, looking straight at her. “Young straw blondes always make a big impression on me.”

She studied him.

“Even if they haven't a rich father?”

Harry's face tightened.

“That's a rotten thing to say, isn't it?”

“Perhaps, but it's a sensible question to ask.”

“It would depend on the blonde,” Harry returned. He glanced up and down the long, deserted road, then leaned closer. “If she had grey eyes like yours and a mouth as lovely as yours money wouldn't matter.”

She didn't draw back. Their faces were only inches apart.

“I wonder if I can believe you,” she said.

He reached for her and his mouth covered hers.

For a long moment they remained like that. He could feel her breath against the back of his throat and her tongue against his teeth. The fire that was in that kiss sent his heart hammering. Then she pulled away, her hands moving to his chest to push him back.

“The moment I saw you,” she said unsteadily, “I knew this had to happen.” She was trembling and there was a lost look in her eyes. “I do hope we're not going to land ourselves in a mess. Why do you have to be so attractive? I've only known you three hours and look at me.”

Harry put his hand on hers.

“That's the way it is,” he said. “It happens like that when it's the real thing. I'm crazy about you, Joan. We could have fun together.”

She smiled at him. . . .

“Do you want me to help you in this air-taxi business or would you rather work it out on your own?”

Harry hesitated. .

“I'd like to give it a trial first, Joan, before we sink a lot at money in it. I've got about fifty thousand dollars. If I could buy two kites and get this land you're talking about and give it a try out, then if it clicks we could dig up capital and go to town.”

“Yes that's right,” she said. “But fifty thousand isn't enough, Harry I've got money of my own. I'll put fifty thousand into the kitty as well. Then if it comes off, we'll ask Daddy to help us form a company. We should know how we go in six months, shouldn't we?”

“Yes.” He put his arm round her. “Would you marry me, Joan, in six months' time?”

“I'd marry you today,” she said. “Why wait six months?”

“No.” Harry was tempted, but he saw the danger. “We've got to think of your father. I've got to prove to him I can handle the business. If we marry now he'll think I'm after his money.”

“All right” She patted his hand. “What about Glorie, Harry.''

“Forget her, will you? I'll take care of her. She'll be all right. I told you, we mean nothing to each other now.”

“You really mean that, Harry? I'm sure she loves you.”

“She doesn't anymore. We've just got bored with each other. We were only talking last night that we'd better split up. She s got a brother in Mexico she wants to visit,” Harry lied. “I'll give her some money and that will be that.”

She leaned forward to kiss him, her arms going around his neck, her mouth opening against his.

He held her to him, her heart pounding again.

After a while, she said, “Let's go and look at the future airfield, shall we?”

“We have all day to look at that,” he said, his voice unsteady. 'See those palms over there? Let's go there and get to know each other better.”

She opened the car door and slid out on to the road. He joined her and they walked across the sand to the clump of palm trees that were only a few yards from the sea.

Later, when Harry lay beside her, staring up at the blue sky, he realized that for the first time in his life he was in love.

chapter six

I

I
t was dusk by the time Harry returned to the motel. At his request Joan had dropped him off at the top of the beach road.

“Are you sure it will be all right?” she asked him as he got out of the Bentley. “I have a guilty conscience about Glorie. I don't think you should have left her alone like this all day. You should have got back before now, Harry.”

“That's good coming from you,” Harry said, smiling. “I haven't had a chance to get away from you. Now look, don't worry about Glorie. I told her I'd be late. Forget her. When I've told her about us, she'll understand. She'll be gone by tomorrow. You don't know her the way I do. I'll give her some money and she'll go to her brother's place. Just get her out of your mind.”