The Englishman's Bride. Sophie Weston
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looked back at the hotel. He had to go back; the banquet was just another stage in the peace negotiations. He had to chair it, just as he had chaired the meeting for the last three days. Just as he would chair the next week’s round upon round of talks.
But the girl’s uninhibited game in the water reminded him that it was a long time since he had done anything for the sheer joy of doing it.
He turned his back on the talk and the banquet and went out along the palm-fringed spur of impacted sand. It curved round the lagoon like an embracing arm. As he walked he could see the stardust trail that the swimmer was making above the water. She was streaking back to land. They would reach the end of the sand bar at the same time.
Just five minutes, he promised himself.
The girl got there first. She must have heard his approach. She trod water, turning towards the sound.
‘Who’s there?’ Her voice was husky, hurried, a little alarmed. ‘Lisa?’
It was not fair to alarm her, just for the pleasure of watching her carefree play in the water. And he was, he reminded himself with faint bitterness, always fair. Wasn’t he?
Suppressing his reluctance, Philip stepped out of the shadow of the palm trees. ‘No.’
She drew a little startled breath. He supposed she would be justified in being fearful at the sudden appearance of a solitary stranger. This hotel was on the edge of a war zone, after all, for all its international luxury.
He said in his calmest voice, ‘Don’t be afraid. I’m staying here. Just taking a walk before dinner.’
‘Oh.’
The calm tone worked its usual magic. Her alarm appeared to subside. She trod water, her head on one side.
‘Are you a naturalist?’
Philip hesitated. It was a long time since he had been with anyone who didn’t know exactly who he was, why he was here and what his attitude was going to be to any subject that might be raised. Now he realised that he would relish anonymity, however brief. He didn’t answer her question.
She swam towards him. Her languorous strokes set up sparkling fireworks in the water. He went onto one knee and leaned down to stir the lagoon as it lapped softly against the sand bar. It glittered, swirling.
The girl reached him. She looked down at the underwater sparklers, laughing.
‘Crazy, isn’t it? I don’t know what makes it do that.’
‘Bio-luminescence,’ said Philip.
She stood up. The water reached her waist, rocking gently. She moved with it, seeming wholly at one with the water.
‘What?’
‘Micro-crustacea. They give off light the way fireflies do on land.’
‘Really?’ She was polite but not quite certain that he knew what he was talking about.
Philip grinned unseen and decided to pull the stops out to impress her.
‘Unless they’re euphausiacea. In that case they have built-in searchlights,’ he told her, deadpan.
She was not easy to impress.
‘Are you laughing at me?’
Good girl, thought Philip, surprising himself.
‘No. You can look it up. Try eucarida in the encyclopaedia and work from there.’
He could see that she would do exactly that.
‘Eucarida,’ she said, committing it to memory. ‘How do you know that? Are you here with the conservation group?’
Conservation group? Philip hesitated. He vaguely remembered the security report on the other groups in the hotel. Now he thought about it, he was not surprised. This was an area that was rich in uncodified species as well as wild men and wars.
‘No,’ he said regretfully, ‘I’m not with the conservation group. But once—a hundred years ago—I thought I might be a marine biologist.’
She tilted her head in the darkness. It was a perfect shape, under the long mermaid’s hair that curved onto her shoulders. Her shadowed body looked as if it had turned smooth and streamlined in the sea, so that was the element to which it now naturally belonged. He had a sudden almost overwhelming longing to run his hand down that smooth curve from the crown of her head to her unseen toes.
But she was saying, amused, ‘A hundred years ago? You don’t sound that old.’
Philip was disconcerted. In spite of the darkness—or maybe because of it—she seemed to sense it. She laughed again and began to dance a little in the water.
‘You’re not that old, are you?’ she teased.
She had a husky voice with a slight catch in it, as if she was constantly on the brink of tears or laughter. It fascinated him.
‘What makes you say that?’ he parried, wanting to keep her talking. Even though she could not see him, he smiled at the beguiling shadow.
‘Well, if you were, you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me, wishing you were in the water too,’ she said softly.
This time he was more than disconcerted. He was struck to the heart. He had not known he was wishing any such thing. But he was. He was.
Philip’s smile died.
I can’t afford this, he thought.
The girl did not pick up his turmoil. She did a little boogie on the spot. Those unseen toes were deliberately stirring a thousand shooting stars into zipping through the turbulent water.
‘Come on in. It’s lovely and warm.’
Oh, but he was tempted. He could not remember ever being so tempted before. To slip out of the grey suit, the tie and the good manners and slide into the water with her. To swim and play like seals. Not responsible to anyone. Not responsible for anyone. Just abandoning himself to the moment and the lovely, uncomplicated girl.
He was already discarding the lightweight grey jacket, standard garb for negotiators in tropical climates, when she put both hands on the sand bar and lifted herself out of the water. The water streamed off her in an unearthly glow. Long legs, long hair, limbs that were supple and warm and headily female. Philip’s body responded instantly and unequivocally.
She was unaware of that too.
‘They leave the swimming stuff in a hut under the trees.’
‘Do they?’ His voice sounded odd even to himself.
‘Yes, it’s amazing. Like a tree house only on the ground. There were a lot of sky-blue birds with tails like saloon dancers’ skirts zipping around it earlier.’
‘The Asian fairy bluebird,’ said Philip, in his most detached tone. His palms were wet. He clenched them, fighting for self-control. ‘You’re very observant.’
How long before she observed the effect she was having on him?
He saw a flash of white teeth in the darkness. ‘Thank you,’ said the husky voice, laughing. ‘Come on. I’ll show you where it is.’
For a moment he had a vision of them both swimming, playing out in the bay as she had been doing earlier. It was so clear, that vision. It was as if he had always known there would be this night, this moon, this girl.
If only—
Then the accustomed discipline struck. It staked him to the ground like fallen masonry after an earthquake. Remember your duty, his grandfather would have said.
Duty. Dignity. Appropriate behaviour. Good judgement. Responsibility.
‘No,’ he said in a strangled voice.
‘But it’s just over there.’
‘No.’