New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [232]
So that is what she and Gretchen did. It was quite agreeable, feeling the cool of the water on her legs, and the sun on her face, and the salty sea breeze. The only thing she didn’t like was that the wet wool of her bathing dress felt heavy, and scratched her skin a little. Then they sat at the edge of the beach with their legs in the shallows, so that the little waves broke over them, and tiny shells jostled, and the ebbing sand made a funny feeling on her legs each time the wave receded, making her giggle.
And they were sitting like that when, to their great surprise, Theodore appeared.
Mary was so astonished that she gave a little gasp, and blushed.
“What are you doing here?” said Gretchen, which sounded almost unfriendly, though Mary was sure it must have been because Theodore had taken her unawares.
“They told me at the inn that I’d find you on the beach,” said Theodore cheerfully. He took off his wide-brimmed hat. “It was such a beautiful day when I woke up that I thought I’d get out of the city and join you here.”
He glanced at Mary and smiled. Mary was suddenly rather conscious that he was fully dressed while she was sitting there with her legs showing. It made her feel a little awkward, but he seemed quite relaxed. He gazed round at the other bathers on the beach. “Maybe I’ll take a dip later,” he said.
“We’re going back to the inn now,” said Gretchen. So Theodore walked back with them.
When they got to their room, Mary undressed with care. She’d done her best to get rid of the sand outside, and Gretchen had brushed her down, but you couldn’t get rid of all the sand, and she didn’t want to make a mess on the floor. Taking off her pantaloons and stockings slowly, she was able to keep most of the sand inside them, so that she could take them downstairs and hang them on a clothes line, and dust them off when they were dry.
Mary had always been rather modest. Though she had known Gretchen most of her life, she had stood behind her bed when she changed, and slipped her bathing dress on quickly. So she was just wondering how to take it off now, in a modest manner, when she saw Gretchen pull hers down easily and walk, quite naked, across the room to the washstand, where she poured some water from the jug into the big china bowl, and started to wash herself down, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
She had never seen Gretchen without any clothes on. Her friend had a nice body, not plump, but compact. Apart from a couple of little stretch marks, you wouldn’t know she’d had two children. Her yellow hair was still pinned up as she turned to Mary and smiled.
“Just as nature made me,” she remarked. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s how my husband sees me, after all.”
“He does?”
Gretchen laughed. “I know some wives always keep themselves covered—partly anyway. My mother did—she told me.” She shrugged. “My husband can see as much of me as he likes.”
“That was a surprise, Theodore coming,” Mary said.
“Nothing my brother does surprises me,” said Gretchen.
Since Gretchen had taken her bathing dress off, Mary thought she’d better do the same. What would Theodore think, she wondered, if he could see me like this? She washed the remaining sand off herself as quickly as she could, and dressed.
The inn served dinner at five o’clock. It was a family affair, with children present, under their parents’ watchful eyes.
The food was excellent: a cold salad, freshly made bread and a superb fish stew. The innkeeper prided himself on obtaining the best seafood—mussels, crabs, clams, and the many fish to be had in the Long Island Sound—all washed down with a cool white wine. To follow, he offered the first watermelons they’d seen that season, together with jellies and fruit trifle.
Theodore was in a very relaxed mood. At the start of the meal Gretchen asked him: “When’s the