Night Over Water - Ken Follett [189]
He hugged her hard and said: “By heck, is it always like that for you?”
She laughed breathlessly. She loved a man who could make her laugh.
Eventually he lowered her to the floor. She stood shakily on her feet, still leaning on him, for a few minutes. Then, reluctantly, she put her clothes back on.
They smiled at one another a lot, but did not speak, as they went out into the mild sunshine and walked slowly along the beach toward the pier.
Nancy was wondering if perhaps it was her destiny to live in England and marry Mervyn. She had lost her battle for control of the company: there was no way she could get to Boston in time for the board meeting, so Peter would outvote Danny Riley and Aunt Tilly, and carry the day. She thought of her boys: they were independent now; she did not need to live her life according to their needs. And she had now discovered that as a lover Mervyn was everything she longed for. She still felt dazed and a little weak after their lovemaking. But what would I do in England? she thought. I can’t be a housewife.
They reached the pier and stood looking over the bay. Nancy wondered how often trains ran from here. She was about to propose making inquiries when she noticed Mervyn staring hard at something in the distance. “What are you looking at?” she said.
“A Grumman Goose,” he said thoughtfully.
“I don’t see any geese.”
He pointed. “That little seaplane is called a Grumman Goose. It’s quite new—they’ve only been out for a couple of years. They’re very fast, faster than the Clipper....”
She looked at the seaplane. It was a modern-looking twin-engined monoplane with an enclosed cabin. She realized what he was thinking. In a seaplane she could get to Boston in time for the board meeting. “Could we charter it?” she said hesitantly, hardly daring to hope.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Let’s ask!” She hurried along the pier to the airline building, and Mervyn followed, his long stride easily keeping up with her. Her heart was pounding. She might yet save her company. But she kept her elation bottled up: there might be a snag.
They entered the building, and a young man in a Pan American uniform said: “Hey, you guys missed your plane!”
Without preamble, Nancy said: “Do you know who the little seaplane belongs to?”
“The Goose? Sure do. A mill owner called Alfred Southborne.”
“Does he ever rent it?”
“Yeah, whenever he can. You want to charter it?”
Nancy’s heart leaped. “Yes!”
“One of the pilots is right here—came to look at the Clipper.” He stepped back and called into an adjoining room. “Hey, Ned? Someone wants to charter your Goose.”
Ned came out. He was a cheerful man of about thirty in a shirt with epaulets. He nodded politely and said: “I’d like to help you folks, but my copilot ain’t here, and the Goose needs a crew of two.”
Nancy’s heart sank again.
Mervyn said: “I’m a pilot.”
Ned looked skeptical. “Ever flown a seaplane?”
Nancy held her breath.
Mervyn said: “Yes—the Supermarine.”
Nancy had never heard of a Supermarine, but it must have been a competition plane, for Ned was impressed and said: “Do you race?”
“I did when I was young. Now I just fly for pleasure. I have a Tiger Moth.”
“Well, if you’ve flown a Supermarine you won’t have any trouble being copilot on the Goose. And Mr. Southbome is away until tomorrow. Where do you want to go?”
“Boston.”
“Cost you a thousand dollars.”
“No problem!” Nancy said excitedly. “But we need to leave