Dark teatree limbs drooped above the car. A twisted trunk beside the bonnet writhed up into the darkness.
They could hear the sea quite plainly. Little waves slapping the beach and retreating with a chuckle.
The accountant was smoking. At each draw his cigarette glowed and illuminated for a moment the live, warm face of Freda poised in the darkness close to his own.
She lay in the crook of his arm, her head against his shoulder. He listened to her breathing feeling its insignificant contribution to the sea’s sound transmuted into something precious.
She turned to face him. He threw away his cigarette and wrapped his arms around her. Words and expressions surged within him like crestless waves powerless to break into words.
He could only murmur incoherently.
She sought his mouth and finding it was one with him. Her lifted body, and the night, and the sea …
He thought, this is a Moment. Without a doubt she loves me. This is a Moment.
She held his face between her hands so that she might look at him.
‘I know you love me,’ she said. ‘I felt it when you kissed me then.’
He said, ‘I do.’
‘I love you, too,’ she said.
Their rapt expression slowly changed to smiles, and each delighting in the observed movement of feature, continued silently watching.
Content, he said: ‘Every life has high spots in it. I call them Moments. You never forget them. They seem to have the ring of truth in them. A girl told me once that her boy friend often told her he loved her; but she was never really convinced. Then one night when he had his arm around her he exclaimed, with a sort of rapture, “Ah! Judy,” and she could have shouted with joy. It was a Moment. She knew he loved her. I felt that way when you said you loved me just now. It was a Moment.’
She rubbed her cheek up and down against his sleeve.
A murmur of voices came from a sedan car that had drawn up in a clump of teatree beside them. A woman’s voice, rich, musical … ‘The trouble is that I love you and you only like me.’ A man’s voice, importunate, pleading, indistinguishable. The woman’s voice … ‘No … No …’ Then tragically, ‘I gave in to you before and I’ve been sorry ever since.’
Afraid of his reaction to the voice which played on him like music, the accountant stirred uncomfortably. The voice in the next car, he thought, and he repeated it again in his mind — The voice in the next car. Always charmed by the voice in the next car.
He changed his train of thought. He said. ‘I heard a girl say once, in commenting on an acquaintance of hers, “I’m sorry I ever let him kiss me,” and when I asked, “Why?” she replied, “Because he is one of those fellows that I would always like to remain a mystery to.”’ He nodded towards the sedan car. ‘That girl evidently feels something like that.’
Freda, looking up at him, said, ‘Why is mystery so attractive to men?’
‘The unknown always intrigues us,’ said the accountant. ‘Like a strange country to an explorer.’
‘Am I a mystery to you?’ she asked.
He laughed and tightened his arm. ‘Everybody is a mystery to me, including myself.’
‘Mr Rollow says I’m a mystery to him.’
‘Rollow!’ exclaimed the accountant. ‘Do you know him?’
He remembered Biddy Freeman — ‘Sadie Bryce and I looked for another job, once. Rollow was advertising for girls in his factory. So we went down there. When we got to the other door we met another girl looking for work. She said, “Don’t go in there. Rollow always puts it over his good looking girls.” Sadie asked what he was like to look at and she said he was a little, fat fellow with big lips. Sadie and I didn’t know what to do. So Sadie said, “I’ll go in and get the strength of this place. If he starts me you come in later.” So we waited and she came out after a while. She said Rollow took her into his office. He looked her over, then said, “I think I can place you. Come back here at eight o’clock tonight and I will see what I can do.” Sadie said, “What! Do you work at nights?” and he said, “Sometimes. Come in and see me and I’ll put a girl off and get you a good job.” Sadie said, “Good-o.” She said to us, “I’ve a good mind to come back and see what happens.” But the girl we had met said, “Don’t be a bloody fool. He’ll slam the door and put it across you. What chance would you have. If you don’t turn it up you won’t get a job.” So Sadie and I went back to the Modern again.’
‘I pass his factory on my way to work,’ replied Freda. ‘He is always sitting outside in his car. He says, “How are you today,” and that.’
‘Be careful of him, won’t you?’ warned the accountant, ‘He has a bad reputation.’
Freda snuggled closer to him. ‘I’ll be careful.’ She looked up into his face. ‘Do you love me?’
‘Very much.’
But like a sudden approach of darkness the thought enveloped him, ‘I am me,’ and he was stricken by the thought so that he sagged, and his gaze rested dully on his crippled legs bent loosely over the seat’s edge.
Some instinct moved her, and she said, with a quick, protecting movement, ‘I love your body.’
He clung to the words.
‘Would you marry me?’ he asked, almost wonderingly.
She whispered quickly, clinging to him, ‘Yes. Yes. Yes.’