Garden of Eden (11 page)

"I'm
fine."

"Let
me feel your hair girl. Who cut it? Was it Jean? It's cut so full and has so
much body and it's the same as mine. Let me kiss you girl. Oh you have lovely
lips. Shut your eyes girl."

He
did not shut his eyes but it was dark in the room and outside the wind was high
in the trees.

"You
know it isn't so easy to be a girl if you're really one. If you really feel
things."

"I
know."

"Nobody
knows. I tell you so when you're my girl. It's not that you're insatiable. I'm
satiable so easily. It's just some feel and others don't. People lie about it I
think. But it's so nice just to feel and hold you. I'm so happy. Just be my
girl and love me the way I love you. Love me more. The way you can now. You
now. Yes you. Please you."

They
were dropping down the slope toward Cannes and the wind was heavy as they came
onto the plain and skirted the deserted beaches, the tall grass bending and
flattening as they crossed the bridge over the river and picked up speed on the
last stretch of fast road before the town. David found the bottle, which was
cold and wrapped in a towel, and took a long drink and felt the car leave the
work behind and move away and up the small rise the black road was making. He
had not worked this morning and now when she had driven them through the town
and back into the country, he uncorked the bottle and drank again and offered
it to her.

"I
don't need it," Catherine said. "I feel too good."

"Very
well."

They
passed Golfe-Juan with the good bistro and the small open bar and then were
through the pine woods and moving along the raw yellow beach of Juan-les-Pins.
They crossed the small peninsula on the fast black road and passed through
Antibes driving beside the railway and then out through the town and beyond the
port and the square tower of the old defenses and came out again into open
country. "It never lasts," she said. "I always eat that stretch
too fast."

They
stopped and ate lunch in the lee of an old stone wall that was part of the ruin
of some building hard by the side of a clear stream that came out of the
mountains and crossed the wild plain on its way to the sea. The wind came hard
out of a funnel in the mountains. They had spread a blanket on the ground and
they sat close together against the wall and looked out across the waste
country to the sea that was flat and scoured by the wind.

"It
wasn't much of a place to come to," Catherine said. "I don't know
what I thought it would be like."

They
stood up and looked up at the hills with their poised villages and the gray and
purple mountains behind. The wind whipped in their hair and Catherine pointed
out a road that she had once driven into the high country.

"We
could have gone somewhere up in there," she said. "But it's so closed
in and picturesque. I hate those hanging villages."

"This
is a good place," David said. "It's a fine stream and we couldn't
have a better wall."

"You're
being nice. You don't have to be."

"It's
a good lee and I like the place. We'll turn our back on all the
picturesque."

They
ate stuffed eggs, roast chicken, pickles, fresh long bread that they broke in
pieces and spread Sovora mustard on and they drank rosé.

"Do
you feel good now?" Catherine asked.

"Sure."

"And
you haven't felt bad?"

"Not
even about anything I said?"

David
took a drink of the wine and said, "No. I haven't thought about it."

She
stood up and looked into the wind so that it blew her sweater against her
breasts and whipped her hair and then she looked down at him with her black
brown face and smiled. She turned around then and looked out toward the sea
that was flattened and wrinkled by the wind.

"Let's
go get the papers in Cannes and read them in the cafe," she said.

"You
want to show off."

"Why
shouldn't I? It's the first time we've been out together. Do you mind if we
do?"

"No,
Devil. Why would I?"

"I
didn't want to if you didn't."

"You
said you wanted to."

"I
want to do what you want. I can't be more compliant than that can I?"

"Nobody
wants you to be compliant."

"Can
we stop it? All I wanted to be was good today. Why spoil everything?"

"Let's
clean up here and go.

"Where?"

"Anywhere.
The god damn cafe."

They
bought the papers in Cannes and a new French Vogue, the Chasseur Francais and
the Miroir des Sports and sat at a table in front of the cafe out of the wind
and read and had their drinks and were friends again. David drank Haig pinch
bottle and Perrier and Catherine had Armagnac and Perrier. Two girls who had
driven up and parked on the street came over to the cafe and sat down and
ordered a Chambery Cassis and a fine à l'eau. It was the beauty of the two who
took the brandy and soda. "Who are those two?" Catherine said.
"Do you know?" "I've never seen them." "I have. They
must live around here somewhere. I saw them in Nice." "The one girl's
handsome," David said. "She has fine legs too." 'They're sisters,"
Catherine said. "They're both nice looking really." "But the
one's a beauty. They're not Americans." The two girls were arguing and
Catherine said to David, "It's a big row, I think." "How did you
know they were sisters?" "I thought they were in Nice. Now I'm not
sure. The car has Swiss plates." "It's an old Isotta."
"Should we wait and see what happens? We haven't seen any drama for a long
time."

"I
think it's just a big Italian row. "It must be getting serious because
it's quieter." "It will flare up. The one is a damned handsome
girl." "Yes, she is. And here she comes over. David stood up.
"I'm sorry," the girl said in English. "Please forgive me.
Please sit down," she said to David. 'Will you sit down?" Catherine
asked. "I shouldn't. My friend is furious with me. But I told her you
would understand. You will forgive me?" "Should we forgive her?"
Catherine said to David. "Let's forgive her."

"I
knew you would understand," the girl said. "It's only to tell me
where you had your hair cut." She blushed. "Or is it like copying a
dress? My friend said it was more offensive." "I'll write it down for
you," Catherine said. "I'm very ashamed," the girl said.
"You're not offended?" "Of course not," Catherine said.
"Would you have a drink with us?" "I shouldn't. May I ask my
friend?" She went back to her table for a moment and there was a short and
vicious low-pitched exchange. "My friend regrets very much but she cannot
come over," the girl said. "But I hope we will meet again. You have
been so very kind." "How about that?" Catherine said when the
girl had gone back to her friend. "For on a windy day." "She'll
be back to ask where you had your slacks cut." The row was still going on
at the other table. Then the two of them stood up and came over. "May I
present my friend the—" "I am Nina." "Our name is
Bourne," David said. "How very pleasant of you to join us. "You
were very nice to let us come over," the handsome one said. "It was
an impudent thing to do." She blushed. "It's very flattering,"
Catherine said. "But he's a very good coiffeur." "He must
be," the handsome one said. She had a breathless way of speaking and she
blushed again. "We saw you in Nice," she said to Catherine. "I
wanted to speak to you then. I mean ask you. She can't blush again, David
thought. But she did. "Who's going to have their hair cut?" Catherine
asked. "I am," the handsome one said. "I am too, stupid,"
Nina said. "You said you weren't." "I changed my mind."
"I really am," the handsome one said. "We must go now. Do you
come here to this cafe?" "Sometimes," Catherine said. "I
hope we'll see you sometime then," the handsome one said. "Goodbye
and thank you for being so gracious. The two girls went to their table and Nina
called the waiter and they paid and were gone. "They're not Italian,"
David said. "The one is nice but she could make you nervous
blushing." "She's in love with you." "Sure. She saw me in
Nice." "Well I can't help it if she is with me. It isn't the first
girl that ever was and a lot of good it did them." "How about
Nina?" "That bitch," Catherine said. "She was a wolf. I
suppose it should be amusing." "I didn't think it was amusing,"
Catherine said. "I thought it was sad." "So did I."
"We'll find another cafe," she said. "They're gone now
anyway." 'They were spooky." "I know," she said. "For
me too. But the one girl was nice. She had beautiful eyes. Did you see?"
"She was an awful blusher though." "I liked her. Didn't
you?" "I suppose so." "People that can't blush are
worthless." "Nina blushed once," David said. "I could be
awfully rude to Nina."

"It
wouldn't touch her." "No. She's well armored." "Do you want
another drink before we go home?" "I don't need one. But you have
one." "I don't need one. "Have another. You usually have two in
the evening. I'll take a small one to keep company. "No. Let's go
home." In the night he woke and heard the wind high and wild and turned
and pulled the sheet over his shoulder and shut his eyes again. He felt her
breathing and shut his eyes again. He felt her breathing softly and regularly and
then he went back to sleep.

IT
WAS THE SECOND DAY of the wind and it had not slackened.

He
left the ongoing narrative of their journey where it was to write a story that
had come to him four or five days before and had been developing, probably, he
thought, in the last two nights while he had slept. He knew it was bad to
interrupt any work he was engaged in but he felt confident and sure of how well
he was going and he thought he could leave the longer narrative and write the
story which he believed he must write now or lose.

The
story started with no difficulty as a story does when it is ready to be written
and he got past the middle of it and knew he should break off and leave it
until the next day. If he could not keep away from it after he had taken a
break he would drive through and finish it. But he hoped he could keep away
from it and hit it fresh the next day. It was a good story and now he
remembered how long he had intended to write it. The story had not come to him
in the past few days. His memory had been inaccurate in that. It was the necessity
to write it that had come to him. He knew how the story ended now. He had
always

known
the wind and sand-scoured bones but they were gone now and he was inventing all
of it. It was all true now because it happened to him as he wrote and only its bones
were dead and scattered and behind him. It started now with the evil in the
shamba and he had to write it and he was very well into it.

He
was tired and happy from his work when he found Catherine's note that she had
not wanted to disturb him, had gone out and would be back for lunch. He left
the room and ordered breakfast and, as he waited for it, Monsieur Aurol, the
proprietor, came in and they spoke about the weather. Monsieur Aurol said the
wind came this way sometimes. It was not a true mistral, the season guaranteed
that, but it would probably blow for three days. The weather was insane now.
Monsieur had undoubtedly noticed that. If anyone kept track of it they would
know that it had not been normal since the war.

David
said he had not been able to keep track of it because he had been travelling
but there was no doubt that the weather was strange. Not only the weather, said
Monsieur Aurol, everything was changed and what was not changed was changing
fast. It might very well all be for the best and he, for one, did not oppose
it. Monsieur, as a man of the world, probably saw it in the same way.

Undoubtedly,
said David, seeking for a decisive and terminal idiocy, it was necessary to
review the cadres.