Night Over Water - Ken Follett [182]
The man hesitated, as if he were not sure he should reveal anything; then he shrugged and said: “The guy’s calling himself Harry Vandenpost, but that’s not his real name.”
Nancy frowned. “That was the boy sitting with the Oxenford family.” She had an idea Margaret Oxenford was developing a crush on him.
Mervyn said: “Aye. Did he get off the plane? I didn’t see.”
“I’m not sure.”
“I thought he looked a bit of a wide boy.”
“Really?” Nancy had taken him for a young man from a good family. “He’s got beautiful manners.”
“Exactly.”
Nancy smothered a smile: it seemed characteristic that Mervyn would dislike men with beautiful manners. “I think Margaret was quite interested in him. I hope she doesn’t get hurt.”
“Her parents will be grateful for a narrow escape, I imagine.”
Nancy could not be happy for the parents. She and Mervyn had witnessed the crass behavior of Lord Oxenford in the dining room of the Clipper. Such people deserved everything they got. However, Nancy felt sorry for Margaret if she had fallen for a bounder.
Mervyn said: “I’m not normally the impulsive type, Nancy.”
She was suddenly alert.
He went on. “I met you only a few hours ago, but I feel completely certain that I want to know you for the rest of my life.”
Nancy thought: You can’t be certain, you idiot! But she was pleased all the same. She said nothing.
“I’ve been thinking about leaving you in New York and going back to Manchester, and I don’t want to do it.”
Nancy smiled. This was just what she wanted him to say. She reached out and touched his hand. “I’m so glad,” she said.
“Are you?” He leaned forward. “The trouble is, soon it will be next to impossible to cross the Atlantic, for anyone other than the military.”
She nodded. The problem had occurred to her, too. She had not thought about it very hard, but she felt sure they would be able to find a solution if they were determined enough.
Mervyn went on. “If we split up now, it may be years, literally, before we can see one another again. I can’t accept that.”
“I feel the same.”
Mervyn said: “So will you come back to England with me?”
Nancy stopped smiling. “What?”
“Come back with me. Move into a hotel, if you like, or buy a house, or a flat—anything.”
Nancy felt resentment rise up inside her. She gritted her teeth and tried to stay calm. “You’re out of your mind,” she said dismissively. She looked away from him. She was bitterly disappointed.
He looked hurt and puzzled by her reaction. “What’s the matter?”
“I have a home, two sons and a multimillion dollar business,” she said. “You’re asking me to leave them to move into a hotel in Manchester?”
“Not if you don’t want to!” he said indignantly. “Live with me, if that’s what you want.”
“I’m a respectable widow with a place in society—I’m not going to live like a kept floozie!”
“Look, I think we’ll get married—I’m sure we will—but I don’t imagine you’re ready to commit yourself to that, are you, after just a few hours?”
“That’s not the point, Mervyn,” she said, although in a way it was. “I don’t care what arrangements you envisage. I just resent the casual assumption that I’m going to give up everything and follow you to England.”
“But how else could we be together?”
“Why didn’t you ask that question, instead of assuming the answer?”
“Because there is only one answer.”
“There are three. I could move to England; you could move to America; or we could both move, to somewhere like Bermuda.”
He was nonplussed. “But my country is at war. I have to join the fight. I may be too old for active service, but the air force is going to need propellers by the thousand, and I know more about making propellers than anyone else in the country. They need me.”
Everything he said seemed to make it worse. “Why do you assume that my country doesn’t need me?” she said. “I make boots for soldiers, and when the U.S. gets into this war, there are going to be a lot more soldiers needing good boots.”
“But I’ve got