James Bond Anthology (152 page)

The girl laughed. ‘Will you be dressing?’

‘Certainly,’ said Bond. ‘Trousers.’

Quarrel said, ‘Cap’n, while dere’s henough light I’ll get dese tins open and get tings fixed for de night.’ He rummaged in the knapsack. ‘Here’s yo trousers and yo gun. De bread don’t feel so good but hit only wet. Hit eat okay an’ mebbe hit dry hout come de mornin’. Guess we’d better eat de tins tonight an’ keep de cheese an’ pork. Dose tins is heavy an’ we got plenty footin’ tomorrow.’

Bond said, ‘All right, Quarrel. I’ll leave the menu to you.’ He took the gun and the damp trousers and walked down into the shallow water and back the way they had come. He found a hard dry stretch of sand and took off his shirt and stepped back into the water and lay down. The water was soft but disgustingly warm. He dug up handfuls of sand and scrubbed himself with it, using it as soap. Then he lay and luxuriated in the silence and the loneliness.

The stars began to shine palely, the stars that had brought them to the island last night, a year ago, the stars that would take them away again tomorrow night, a year away. What a trip! But at least it had already paid off. Now he had enough evidence, and witnesses, to go back to the Governor and get a full-dress inquiry going into the activities of Doctor No. One didn’t use machine guns on people, even on trespassers. And, by the same token, what was this thing of Doctor No’s that had trespassed on the leasehold of the Audubon Society, the thing that had smashed their property and had possibly killed one of their wardens? That would have to be investigated too. And what would he find when he came back to the island through the front door, in a destroyer, perhaps, and with a detachment of marines? What would be the answer to the riddle of Doctor No? What was he hiding? What did he fear? Why was privacy so important to him that he would murder, again and again, for it? Who
was
Doctor No?

Bond heard splashing away to his right. He thought of the girl. And who, for the matter of that, was Honeychile Rider? That, he decided, as he climbed out on to dry land, was at least something that he ought to be able to find out before the night was over.

Bond pulled on his clammy trousers and sat down on the sand and dismantled his gun. He did it by touch, using his shirt to dry each part and each cartridge. Then he reassembled the gun and clicked the trigger round the empty cylinder. The sound was healthy. It would be days before it rusted. He loaded it and tucked it into the holster inside the waistband of his trousers and got up and walked back to the clearing.

The shadow of Honey reached up and pulled him down beside her. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘we’re starving. I got one of the cooking pots and cleaned it out and we poured the beans into it. There’s about two full handfuls each and a cricket ball of bread. And I’m not feeling guilty about eating your food because you made me work far harder than I would if I’d been alone. Here, hold out your hand.’

Bond smiled at the authority in her voice. He could just make out her silhouette in the dusk. Her head looked sleeker. He wondered what her hair looked like when it was combed and dry. What would she be like when she was wearing clean clothes over that beautiful golden body? He could see her coming into a room or across the lawn at Beau Desert. She would be a beautiful, ravishing, Ugly Duckling. Why had she never had the broken nose mended? It was an easy operation. Then she would be the most beautiful girl in Jamaica.

Her shoulder brushed against him. Bond reached out and put his hand down in her lap, open. She picked up his hand and Bond felt the cold mess of beans being poured into it.

Suddenly he smelled her warm animal smell. It was so sensually thrilling that his body swayed against her and for a moment his eyes closed.

She gave a short laugh in which there was shyness and satisfaction and tenderness. She said ‘There,’ maternally, and carried his laden hand away from her and back to him.

11 | AMIDST THE ALIEN CANE

It would be around eight o’clock, Bond thought. Apart from the background tinkle of the frogs it was very quiet. In the far corner of the clearing he could see the dark outline of Quarrel. There was the soft clink of metal as he dismantled and dried the Remington.

Through the bushes the distant yellow lights from the guanera made festive pathways across the dark surface of the lake. The ugly wind had gone and the hideous scenery lay drowned in darkness. It was cool. Bond’s clothes had dried on him. The three big handfuls of food had warmed his stomach. He felt comfortable and drowsy and at peace. Tomorrow was a long way off and presented no problems except a great deal of physical exercise. Life suddenly felt easy and good.

The girl lay beside him in the sleeping-bag. She was lying on her back with her head cradled in her hands, looking up at the roof of stars. He could just make out the pale pool of her face. She said, ‘James. You promised to tell me what this is all about. Come on. I shan’t go to sleep until you do.’

Bond laughed. ‘I’ll tell if you’ll tell. I want to know what you’re all about.’

‘I don’t mind. I’ve got no secrets. But you first.’

‘All right then.’ Bond pulled his knees up to his chin and put his arms round them. ‘It’s like this. I’m a sort of policeman. They send me out from London when there’s something odd going on somewhere in the world that isn’t anybody else’s business. Well, not long ago one of the Governor’s staff in Kingston, a man called Strangways, friend of mine, disappeared. His secretary, who was a pretty girl, did too. Most people thought they’d run away together. I didn’t. I …’

Bond told the story in simple terms, with good men and bad men, like an adventure story out of a book. He ended, ‘So you see, Honey, it’s just a question of getting back to Jamaica tomorrow night, all three of us in the canoe, and then the Governor will listen to us and send over a lot of soldiers to get this Chinaman to own up. I expect that’ll mean he’ll go to prison. He’ll know that too and that’s why he’s trying to stop us. That’s all. Now it’s your turn.’

The girl said, ‘You seem to live a very exciting life. Your wife can’t like you being away so much. Doesn’t she worry about you getting hurt?’

‘I’m not married. The only people who worry about me getting hurt are my insurance company.’

She probed, ‘But I suppose you have girls.’

‘Not permanent ones.’

‘Oh.’

There was a pause. Quarrel came over to them. ‘Cap’n, Ah’ll take de fust watch if dat suits. Be out on de point of de sandspit. Ah’ll come call yo around midnight. Den mebbe yo take on till five and den we all git goin’. Need to get well away from dis place afore it’s light.’

‘Suits me,’ said Bond. ‘Wake me if you see anything. Gun all right?’

‘Him’s jess fine,’ said Quarrel happily. He said, ‘Sleep well, missy,’ with a hint of meaning, and melted noiselessly away into the shadows.

‘I like Quarrel,’ said the girl. She paused, then, ‘Do you really want to know about me? It’s not as exciting as your story.’

‘Of course I do. And don’t leave anything out.’

‘There’s nothing to leave out. You could get my whole life on to the back of a postcard. To begin with I’ve never been out of Jamaica. I’ve lived all my life at a place called Beau Desert on the North Coast near Morgan’s Harbour.’

Bond laughed. ‘That’s odd. So do I. At least for the moment. I didn’t notice you about. Do you live up a tree?’

‘Oh, I suppose you’ve taken the beach house. I never go near the place. I live in the Great House.’

‘But there’s nothing left of it. It’s a ruin in the middle of the cane fields.’

‘I live in the cellars. I’ve lived there since I was five. It was burned down then and my parents were killed. I can’t remember anything about them so you needn’t say you’re sorry. At first I lived there with my black nanny. She died when I was fifteen. For the last five years I’ve lived there alone.’

‘Good heavens.’ Bond was appalled. ‘But wasn’t there anyone else to look after you? Didn’t your parents leave any money?’

‘Not a penny.’ There was no bitterness in the girl’s voice – pride if anything. ‘You see the Riders were one of the old Jamaican families. The first one had been given the Beau Desert lands by Cromwell for having been one of the people who signed King Charles’s death warrant. He built the Great House and my family lived in it on and off ever since. But then sugar collapsed and I suppose the place was badly run, and by the time my father inherited it there was nothing but debts – mortgages and things like that. So when my father and mother died the property was sold up. I didn’t mind. I was too young. Nanny must have been wonderful. They wanted people to adopt me, the clergyman and the legal people did, but Nanny collected the sticks of furniture that hadn’t been burned and we settled down in the ruins and after a bit no one came and interfered with us. She did a bit of sewing and laundry in the village and grew a few plantains and bananas and things and there was a big breadfruit tree up against the old house. We ate what the Jamaicans eat. And there was the sugar cane all round us and she made a fishpot which we used to go and take up every day. It was all right. We had enough to eat. Somehow she taught me to read and write. There was a pile of old books left from the fire. There was an encyclopedia. I started with A when I was about eight. I’ve got as far as the middle of T.’ She said defensively, ‘I bet I know more than you do about a lot of things.’

‘I bet you do.’ Bond was lost in the picture of the little flaxen-haired girl pattering about the ruins with the obstinate old negress watching over her and calling her in to do the lessons that must have been just as much a riddle to the old woman. ‘Your nanny must have been a wonderful person.’

‘She was a darling.’ It was a flat statement. ‘I thought I’d die when she did. It wasn’t such fun after that. Before, I’d led a child’s life; then I suddenly had to grow up and do everything for myself. And men tried to catch me and hurt me. They said they wanted to make love to me.’ She paused. ‘I used to be pretty then.’

Bond said seriously, ‘You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.’

‘With this nose? Don’t be silly.’

‘You don’t understand.’ Bond tried to find words that she would believe. ‘Of course anyone can see your nose is broken. But since this morning I’ve hardly noticed it. When you look at a person you look into their eyes or at their mouth. That’s where the expressions are. A broken nose isn’t any more significant than a crooked ear. Noses and ears are bits of face-furniture. Some are prettier than others, but they’re not nearly as important as the rest. They’re part of the background of the face. If you had a beautiful nose as well as the rest of you you’d be the most beautiful girl in Jamaica.’

‘Do you mean that?’ her voice was urgent. ‘Do you think I could be beautiful? I know some of me’s all right, but when I look in the glass I hardly see anything except my broken nose. I’m sure it’s like that with other people who are, who are – well – sort of deformed.’

Bond said impatiently, ‘You’re not deformed! Don’t talk such nonsense. And anyway you can have it put right by a simple operation. You’ve only got to get over to America and it would be done in a week.’

She said angrily, ‘How do you expect me to do that? I’ve got about fifteen pounds under a stone in my cellar. I’ve got three skirts and three shirts and a knife and a fishpot. I know all about these operations. The doctor at Port Maria found out for me. He’s a nice man. He wrote to America. Do you know, to have it properly done it would cost me about five hundred pounds, what with the fare to New York and the hospital and everything?’ Her voice became hopeless. ‘How do you expect me to find that amount of money?’

Bond had already made up his mind what would have to be done about that. Now he merely said tenderly, ‘Well, I expect there are ways. But anyway, go on with your story. It’s very exciting – far more interesting than mine. You’d got to where your nanny died. What happened then?’

The girl began again reluctantly.

‘Well, it’s your fault for interrupting. And you mustn’t talk about things you don’t understand. I suppose people tell you you’re good-looking. I expect you get all the girls you want. Well you wouldn’t if you had a squint or a hare-lip or something. As a matter of fact,’ he could hear the smile in her voice, ‘I think I shall go to the obeahman when we get back and get him to put a spell on you and give you something like that.’ She added lamely, ‘Then we should be more alike.’

Bond reached out. His hand brushed against her. ‘I’ve got other plans,’ he said. ‘But come on. I want to hear the rest of the story.’

‘Oh well,’ the girl sighed, ‘I’ll have to go back a bit. You see all the property is in cane and the old house stands in the middle of it. Well, about twice a year they cut the cane and send it off to the mill. And when they do that all the animals and insects and so on that live in the cane fields go into a panic and most of them have their houses destroyed and get killed. At cutting time some of them took to coming to the ruins of the house and hiding. My nanny was terrified of them to begin with, the mongooses and the snakes and the scorpions and so on, but I made a couple of the cellar rooms into sort of homes for them. I wasn’t frightened of them and they never hurt me. They seemed to understand that I was looking after them. They must have told their friends or something because after a bit it was quite natural for them all to come trooping into their rooms and settling down there until the young cane had started to grow again. Then they all filed out and went back to living in the fields. I gave them what food we could spare when they were staying with us and they behaved very well except for making a bit of a smell and sometimes fighting amongst each other. But they all got quite tame with me, and their children did, too, and I could do anything with them. Of course the cane-cutters found out about this and saw me walking about with snakes round my neck and so forth, and they got frightened of me and thought I was obeah. So they left us absolutely alone.’ She paused. ‘That’s where I found out so much about animals and insects. I used to spend a lot of time in the sea finding out about those people too. It was the same with birds. If you find out what all these people like to eat and what they’re afraid of, and if you spend all your time with them you can make friends.’ She looked up at him. ‘You miss a lot not knowing about these things.’