A Woman Involved Read online

  ‘Come today my love … ’

  She came in the middle of the day.

  He was sitting at the bar, in the dappled shade, where he could see the lobby. He saw her suddenly appear in the front door, a splash of blonde hair, her willowy silhouette against the outside light, and his heart turned over and all his self-caution was forgotten. He stood up; she walked through the lobby, out onto the verandah, and she took his breath away. She stood for a moment at the top step, tall and blonde and elegant, frowning slightly in the sunlight, looking about the shadowed garden with half a smile of expectation on her mouth; then she saw him striding towards her out of the shadows, and her lovely face broke into her dazzling Anna smile, and she started down the steps.

  He strode towards her, his heart pounding, and there was nothing else in the world but her coming towards him, smiling. Then his hands took hers, and then her face was next to his, for a fleeting moment their bodies touching as he kissed her cheek, and he got the delicious scent of her, and in that instant he felt all the passion of five long years. Then they were standing back from each other a laughy, shaky: ‘Hullo’ – she grinned, ‘–Hullo …’

  Afterwards, when he would try to remember the details, it was all confused, like a dream; he would remember just wanting to crush her in his arms, and her backing off, laughing, saying, ‘We better sit down, but I can only stay a moment …’ which was the most ridiculous statement in the world, because no way was this wonderful thing going to be stopped. He remembered taking her hand and leading her back up the steps into the hotel, laughy and shaky and saying God knows what, and she let him lead her through the lobby, up the staircase, and it did not occur to him that he was compromising her, they were just naturally hurrying away together to a private place to be alone with their excitement; then they were inside his room, and they just stood a moment, looking at each other, grinning, and it seemed the happiest thing in the world, he could hardly believe that this was happening at last, and she was more beautiful than he remembered her: she grinned: ‘I can hardly believe this …’

  ‘Nor can I …’

  And he took her in his arms, and she put her arms tight around his neck, and they kissed each other, mouths crushed together, and oh, God, God the sweet taste of her again, the glorious feel of her body against him again, the warmth, and she clawed him tight and cried: ‘Oh why didn’t you come back five years ago?’ – and he did not care about any of that, all he cared about was now, now, and his hand went joyfully to her breast and, oh, the wonderful feel of her, and she kissed him fiercely and then broke the embrace.

  She backed out of his arms, her hair awry, her face smouldering. He stepped after her, recklessly happy, to take her in his arms again, possess her, to carry her off and she held up her hand to stop him. ‘I didn’t mean this to happen …’

  She turned away and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Wow …’ she breathed, ‘Oh boy …’ She walked to the window shakily; then she turned to him. She said ardently:

  ‘Of course I want to make love to you! With all my heart! But I’m not going to … I came to tell you …’ She stopped, then shook her head. ‘I came to see you – I had to just see you again. And then tell you that you had to go away …’

  He was deliciously happy. ‘You love me.’

  She tried to say it seriously, but she could not help grinning. ‘Do I? Or am I only in love with that magic memory of you – those wonderful days? …’

  ‘You love me.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘I’m married, Jack. For better or worse …’

  He said relentlessly, ‘The magic is still there.’

  She ran her hand through her hair again and turned away.

  ‘And I want to keep it as magic, Jack. To be cherished …’ She turned back to him, then held out her hand to him: ‘Come,’ she appealed. ‘Walk with me. Openly, for all the world to see. Along the beach, in the sunshine. And tell me all about your wonderful life. Talk to me … Let me feast upon your story. So I can take it away with me …’

  He held out a happy finger at her: ‘No more Summa in Theological … ’

  They burst out laughing. It seemed the most tragically hilarious thing to say.

  5

  And oh he was in love!

  They walked out into the dappled sunshine of the garden, walking on air, out onto the long white beach, oh so happy. He wanted to remember every detail, each step beside her, each glance, each laugh, each word; they talked constantly, laughy, seriously, urgently, and he wanted to throw his arms wide to the sky and rejoice – He was here, back in paradise, and she was with him, just like in the dreams! And he knew with absolute certainty that it was nonsense that he was never going to see her again – she was his and this was just the beginning! And he wanted to fling his arms around her and laugh into her beautiful face that this business of her Catholic vows was absolute nonsense because she was going to be married to him every day for the rest of her beautiful life! She said, pacing along beside him, her hands locked behind her back:

  ‘I went to one of the best psychiatrists in New York. I said to him: I only want to ask you one question: “What does it mean when you keep dreaming repeatedly about one man?” And he said to me: “Tell me about him?”‘ She shot him a laughing glance. ‘So I told him. And he said: “Well, clear as day, you’re in love with this paragon of virtue. Describe these dreams,” he said. So I did. And do you know what he said?’

  ‘What?’ He was grinning.

  ‘He said: Correction: You don’t love this man – you’re obsessed by him!’ She flung her arms wide: ‘Obsessed!’

  And Morgan laughed and made to grab her and she skipped aside: ‘And I said, “So what the hell does one do about such an obsession, Doctor?”’ She was walking backwards in front of him: ‘He said: “It depends on how you look at it, Mrs Hapsburg … To sensible people it is just a romantic memory which they get into perspective … ”’

  And he tried to grab her again. ‘But to other lucky people?’

  ‘“To other unlucky people – it seems better than real life! Because it is unspoilt by life. But they’re unlucky because dreams never come true and if they’re not careful it can screw up their lives” –’

  ‘But ours are going to come true!’

  She walked backwards in front of him, the laughter suddenly gone out of her eyes.

  ‘No, darling Jack. Please believe me. But, yes, we are lucky, because we can cherish our dreams – they will stay with us forever …’

  And he wanted to laugh and holler, ‘Bullshit, Anna Valentine! …’

  She shook her head firmly as she paced beside him.

  ‘Please don’t ask me that. I want to talk about you.’

  He said, ‘I have a right to know.’

  ‘Do you? For better or worse, Jack. That’s what the preacher-man said.’

  He knew it was nonsense. ‘You also made a vow to me.’

  ‘Yes, I did. And I’m truly sorry.’

  ‘Because you still love me,’ he said.

  She looked at the horizon, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘You are entitled only to know what happened five years ago.’

  This was very important information but he cared about Now, not five years ago. She breathed deep and said:

  ‘I was a coward …’ She paced, formulating it. ‘You were so clever. So well-read, and … learned. And so damn … funny. You had done so much with your life. And we had such an intense, crazy time together. It seemed as if I had packed everything I had ever learned, and felt, into those three glorious months. All my worldly experience had been paraded and brought into service. And so when you were gone back to sea, and all the chips were down, and the pressure was mounting … I became afraid that when you came back you’d find that you’d burnt me out. That I had nothing new to offer you – that I wasn’t the soulmate you’d thought I was … And then you wouldn’t love me any more.’

  Morgan was truly amazed. And he did not believe her. She was one of the stron
gest-willed persons he had known. And she had spoken as if rehearsed. And as for him being more learned than her – they had had countless discussions about everything under the sun.

  ‘Bullshit, Anna.’

  She said resolutely: ‘And Max didn’t demand anything like that from me, you see. And I had known him for years – I was safe with Max. He’s very clever but he was no intellectual.’

  He did not believe for one moment that she would have married Max or anybody for those reasons. Something else had happened. ‘Nor was I an intellectual.’

  She insisted, ‘You were. Master of Science. Only twenty-nine years old and already second-in-command of one of Her Majesty’s submarines! Oh, that was a pretty tough act for poor Max to follow.’ She half-laughed. ‘And when I wrote and told him I was in love with you, he had the nerve to write back and say that it would not last because submariners are notoriously dull people.’

  He knew she was trying to get away from the question. ‘Well, maybe he was right.’

  ‘Dull? God, anything but dull! You were the funniest man alive! You made me laugh! And all that derring-do submarine stuff?’ She smiled, and her eyes smarted a moment. ‘Even Dad slapped Max down on that one. Dad didn’t want me to marry you, either, but he said to Max: “I’ll have you know that every submariner is an extremely likeable and absolutely first-class fella! He has to be – you can’t afford to have a dislikeable man on a dangerous job like that!”’

  He laughed. He knew that she had not told him the truth, that something else had happened to stop her marrying him, but right now he did not care. He was happy.

  She sat on the rocks, hugging her knees, her smoky-blue eyes feasting on him. He said:

  ‘That was the first thing you ever asked me. Between limbo dances and morbid interest in my soul. You see, all your crew are experts at their different jobs. And you rely on them completely, and you do your own job. It’s a matter of complete mutual trust.’

  She asked: ‘Are you still a Christian, Jack?’

  He smiled. ‘Of sorts. Thanks to you and Saint Thomas. In that order.’

  She smiled. ‘But a Catholic?’

  ‘Once a Catholic, always a Catholic, you can’t expect too much of us. I still live in fear secretly. It’s the only way I know how.’

  ‘Do you pray?’

  ‘I have a crack at it once a day.’ He added: ‘I don’t think I sound very convincing.’

  She grinned. ‘But why do you live in secret fear?’

  ‘The Jesuits say, Give me a child till age seven, and you’ve got him for life.’

  ‘But you weren’t brought up by Jesuits.’

  ‘My father was.’

  She smiled and got back to her original question. ‘But now that you’re the commander of the submarine, all that responsibility for this multi-multi-million-pound machine. So huge, in that dark, hostile environment – sailing blind … How do you feel?’

  He said: ‘I still rely completely on my crew. And our equipment is so very sophisticated. I know exactly where we are. I know the depth to the ocean bed, my charts and radar tell me what obstacles lie ahead, the contours of the sea bed, even if there’s a shoal of fish. Our nuclear fuel and oxygen will keep us going for months. And it’s always calm down there, even if there’re mountainous waves on the surface. It’s really very safe.’

  She sighed, unconvinced. ‘And what about the Special Boat Service you’re in?’

  He was surprised again that she knew.

  ‘I was never in the Special Boat Service. Max’s detective got that one wrong. The Special Boat boys are far too hot-shot for me. They’re the crack underwater warriors, Navy’s equivalent to the SAS. But they sometimes work in conjunction with submarines, and a couple of years ago I was made Submarine Liaison Officer for a year, at Poole, where the Special Boat Service has its headquarters. Submarine Liaison Officer is a boring desk job, nothing to do most of the time. So I asked if I could join in some of the training the Special Boat boys do, for the hell of it. My admiral thought it was a good idea. But I wasn’t much good. I’m a submariner, not a commando.’

  She looked unconvinced. ‘What did you learn?’

  ‘Oh, some parachuting. Water jumps. Then some ground jumps. Then a few night jumps.’ He shook his head. ‘I got my little certificates, but I didn’t like it, I’m scared of heights.’

  She smiled. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Then I went back to Lympstone, where I’d done my basic training years ago. I joined in some commando courses with the SBS boys. Assault courses. Unarmed combat. Weaponry. That was good fun.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘That’s it. I applied to learn to fly, but they thought that was a bit extravagant for a submariner. So I tried to take my private pilot’s licence, at my own expense. I got halfway through, but had to go back to sea before I finished.’

  ‘What a pity. Will you finish it?’

  ‘Yes, but only because I don’t like leaving jobs half-done. I don’t like flying.’

  ‘Oh, I love it. I’ve got my private pilot’s licence, now.’

  He was impressed. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Max has a plane. A Cessna. I decided to do it, and it’s great fun. However – what else did you learn?’

  ‘That’s it. My year ashore was up and I went back to my nice safe submarine.’

  She smiled. ‘Safe, huh? And what are your submarines doing for their living?’

  ‘Defence patrols. Shadowing Russian fleets. And shadowing Russian submarines that are shadowing NATO fleets.’

  ‘And isn’t there a Russian submarine shadowing you?’

  ‘Yes, but there’s usually another of our submarines shadowing him.’

  ‘And if there’s a war you all bang torpedoes into each other?’

  ‘Ah, war,’ he said. ‘Well, we’re all afraid of war, that’s why we’re all shadowing each other, to prevent it.’

  She said, ‘Were you in the Falklands War?’

  ‘Yes, my sub was down there.’

  She sighed deeply. ‘I thought you were. Was it you who sank the Belgrano?’

  He grinned. ‘No.’

  ‘And? Were you afraid?’

  ‘At times. It was the first time I’d gone to war, you see.’ He added: ‘Not that I saw much of it, from down there.’

  She sighed deeply. ‘Oh God, war … What a terrible way to die, deep under the hostile ocean, the water pouring in. At least in ordinary ships you have lifeboats.’ She sighed again. ‘You know, I’ve said a prayer for you every night for five years.’

  ‘Have you? …’ And oh, he was so happy, and he knew with absolute certainty that she was going to be his.

  She walked beside him, her hands clasped behind her back.

  ‘Very well. I’ll try. What do you want to know?’

  He said: ‘Why did he put you through that ordeal with the dolphins?’

  She paced. She did not want to talk about it.

  ‘We’d had another row. He did it to punish me.’

  ‘Jesus. What a terrible thing to do. What about?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘You were very courageous.’

  ‘Not really. I didn’t have time to think, I just thought I had to do it, to save the others. I was stupid. I should have realized he wouldn’t send me back if they were sharks.’

  ‘But he sent you back knowing you were terrified. And so? Have you forgiven him?’

  She said: ‘I understand him.’

  ‘What is your understanding?’

  She took a breath.

  ‘In some ways he is insecure. In other ways he is a charming, mature, brilliant man. It is the insecure man who has the tantrums. Who sent me back into the water.’

  ‘Has he done similar things to you?’

  ‘Please, Jack. I’m only talking about the dolphin incident because Janet told you.’

  He let it go, for the time being.

  ‘And does Max love you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Of that I have no doubt.’


  ‘Or just want to possess you?’

  ‘Both. No doubt. But he certainly loves me, in his demanding way.’ She added: ‘He’s always had everything his own way, you see. Complete success. School. Business. High-finance. Everything. You were the only one who ever stood in his way for long.’

  ‘For long? Only for six months. Five years ago. Why is he still insecure?’

  She said firmly: ‘It’s a long story, Jack. And I don’t want to tell it.’

  He frowned. ‘Are you saying he’s impotent?’

  ‘He’s certainly not that. But we haven’t made love for years.’

  He wanted to say For God’s sake, don’t live like this any more! – come live with me! ‘And? Do you love him?’

  ‘I married him for better or worse.’

  He did not believe this determined Catholic loyalty. There was some other reason why she stayed with him. She said, getting away from the question:

  ‘God, he’s a clever man with money. I’ve never known him to lose on a deal. Before the revolution, the old government relied on him enormously. He could have been Minister of Finance if he’d wanted, despite his youth and white skin. But he saw the New Jewel revolution coming. He sold everything he owned in Grenada. And now the revolutionary government also relies on him. His know-how. Or the Prime Minister does, Maurice Bishop. And the banks rely on him. The overseas banks and the International Monetary Fund.’

  ‘But how does he reconcile his wealth with being a socialist? He’s a hot-shot capitalist.’