Harlequin Rex (34 page)

After
all,
what
would
be
left
of
the
sense
of
achievement
if
everyone
went
up
in
the
world?

And
twice
a
week
he
had
a
run
to
Kaikoura
where
he
took
general
freight
for
the
stock
firms.
There
he
noticed
Rebecca,
who
was
a
hairdresser
in
the
small
salon
across
from
the
hotel:
next
to
a
second-hand
caryard
ringed
with
netting
and
aflutter
with
red
and
green
bunting,
where
the
salesman
played
his
fingers
into
the
tread
of
tyres
with
the
fervency
of
Thomas
exploring
the
wounds
of
Christ.

As
he
ate
his
quiche
and
fries,
drank
Old
Dark,
David
could
see
Rebecca
talking
to
the
middle-aged
women
as
she
washed
their
hair,
cut
it,
sat
them
under
the
driers
—
or,
rather,
responding
to
their
talk
with
a
smile
and
few
words
of
her
own.
She
had
a
round,
nondescript
face,
but
over
two
or
three
lunchtimes
David
noticed
that
she
was
tall
and
solid,
well
able
to
bear
the
weight
of
a
man,
and
the
signs
were
that
she
had
good
hips
and
tits
beneath
her
rather
loose-
fitting
smock.
Sometimes
at
a
slack
time
she
would
stand
looking
out
into
the
street,
and
catch
his
eye
across
the
thoroughfare.
Her
bland,
doughy
face
never
altered
its
expression,
but
neither
were
her
eyes
quick
to
disengage.
Long
hours
in
the
cab,
the
reviving
fitness
and
loneliness,
made
David
keen
to
get
to
know
her.

On
a
still
day,
when
the
heat
had
drawn
a
sea
mist
into
the
town,
he
crossed
the
road
after
his
lunch
and
stopped
in
the
doorway
of
the
hair
salon.
‘Any
chance
of
a
quick
cut?'
he
said.
‘It's
not
only
women,
is
it?'
He
spoke
to
Rebecca, 
but
she
transferred
the
question
with
a
glance
to
Jeanne,
who
owned
the
salon.
‘No
problem,'
said
Jeanne.
‘Rebecca
can
take
you
in
fifteen
minutes
or
so.'

David
knew
he
could
return
the
favour
in
a
good
deal
less
time,
but
he
just
smiled
and
thanked
them,
and
went
down
to
the
foreshore
shingle,
which
was
immediately
behind
the
shops.
He'd
never
found
playing
the
smart
arse
to
be
a
very
productive
line.
He
enjoyed
the
surge
of
the
sea
air
and
watched
the
whale
spotting
boats
at
a
distance.
He
thought
of
Jocelyn
Parks
whom
he'd
first
met
on
the
observation
platform
of
the
gondola
restaurant,
and
united
with
so
often
after:
the
strength
of
her
long,
pale
arms
on
his
buttocks
as
she
urged
him
into
her;
the
regretful
gasp
she
gave
when
he
drew
out
of
her
for
a
time
to
forestall
climax;
the
low
laugh
when
he
went
in
again.
The
greatest
aphrodisiac
is
a
partner's
pleasure.
In
Jocelyn
'
s
spare
bedroom
had
been
a
quality
print
of
Raeburn's
‘Mrs
Scott
Moncrieff',
and
so
often
was
it
in
his
line
of
sight
while
locked
in
extremis,
that
the
painting
became
utterly
suffused
with
an
almost
unbearable
eroticism.

How
many
loving
and
generous
women
could
he
expect?
Let
there
be
prayers
of
gratitude
for
Mrs
Parks,
but
he
didn't
dare
hope
that
Rebecca
would
be
any,
or
sufficient,
consolation.
He
knew
that
he
was
coming
down
in
the
world.

‘You
want
much
off?'
said
Rebecca
later.
She
was
washing
his
hair,
and
the
shaped
lip
of
the
basin
tipped
his
head
well
back.
The
swell
of
her
breasts
under
blouse
and
smock
bumped
his
cheek
in
a
practical
way
as
she
massaged
shampoo
in.

‘Just
a
good
trim,'
David
said.
There
were
all
the
warm,
blatant
scents
of
the
salon,
but,
when
she
was
closest,
a
slight
whiff
of
meat
pie
and
instant
coffee.
She
and
Jeanne
talked
together
as
if,
being
prone,
David
was
invisible,
and
only
when
he'd
been
placed
upright
in
front
of
a
mirror
did
he
have
any
opportunity
to
start
up
a
conversation.
Rebecca
obviously
found
his
tale
of
twice-weekly
visits
to
the
town
less
interesting
than
Jeanne's
account
of
the
Lucas
wedding
reception
at
which
the
cake
stand
had
collapsed
upon
the
bridesmaids.

‘Oh,
yeah?
'
Rebecca
said
when
David
told
her
how
he'd
seen
her
from
the
hotel
‘Is
that
right?
'
she
said,
after
he
offered
the
obvious
flattery
in
his
opinion
that
she
was
good
at
her
job.
When
there
wasn't
much
hair
left
to
be
cut,
he
asked
her
if
she
had
a
coffee
break
and
if
she'd
like
to
share
it.
‘I'm
married,'
she
said
matter-of-factly,
and
she
held
up
the
hand
with
the
ring,
as
if
it
would
make
some
difference
to
his
intention.

‘Just
a
coffee,'
David
said.
‘Someone
to
talk
to
before
I
start
back
again.'

‘No
thanks,'
she
said.

‘Maybe
next
time
I'm
up?'
but
Rebecca
began
to
talk
to
Jeanne
about
the
Lucas
wedding
again.
Mr
Lucas
paid
for
a
helicopter
to
take
the
couple
to
Hanmer
for
the
first
night
of
their
honeymoon,
and
the
bride
threw
her
bouquet
out.
It
burst
in
the
rotor
swirl
of
air
and
the
flowers
fell
over
the
guests,
Jeanne
said,
so
that
a
score
of
women
were
able
to
claim
they'd
be
next.

David
was
close
enough
to
Rebecca
to
confirm
that
she
had
a
plain,
heavy
face,
but
also
that
her
legs
and
arms
were
shapely
in
a
large-scale
way,
that
her
powerful
neck
rising
from
the
pale
blouse
and
worn,
blue
smock,
was
smoothly
white,
had
a
slightly
waxy
sheen,
like
the
core
of
a
fresh
leek.
He
imagined
his
mouth
there,
the
pulse
quickening,
a
slow
flush
rising.