The Good Life (24 page)

“A good man,” Billy said. Despite his natty clothes, more country-club than nautical, he managed to look completely at home. The shaded deck was comfortably furnished with upholstered outdoor chairs and conveniently spaced tables. “How nice to get back and find everything running smoothly. I hope you didn't mind my saying that you'd help with my housekeeping. I want them all to know that you have the authority to act for me. It's not a bad idea your getting some practice at managing a household. Maintenance is much higher at sea than it is ashore, but basically, the problem is the same — watching where the money's going.”

“How many do you have working for you?” Perry asked.

Billy sat and dropped his hat onto the table beside him. “Six plus the captain. We have three to take care of me and the guests and two for the dirty work, on deck and in the engine room. The cook looks after all of us. The captain lies back and gives orders. This is Henri,” he added, as one of the young men emerged from the door where most of the traffic had passed. “You could say he's the chief steward. I hope he's ready to give us a drink.”

Henri crossed the deck to them. “Excuse the delay,
patron,
” he said softly in accented English. “Sylvain is new. The cook wants to know if you have lunch on board.” He was dark-skinned and personable in an exotic way; Perry couldn't guess his nationality. He had added a black bow tie to his informal uniform of white shirt and black pants.

“Lunch on board, I should think,” Billy said, looking at Perry. “The port can be hot and crowded at lunchtime. Let's spend the evening ashore so you can see the sights and find your way around. Tell the cook no dinner, Henri, but first give us a drink for heaven's sake.”

They ordered Perry a beer and a gin drink for Billy, and Henri returned to the area around the door. Perry watched him opening cupboards, revealing a well-stocked bar. An ice chest was secured to the deck. On the other side of the door, there were things that presumably figured in running the boat — a wheel, levers, a panel of dials. Perry settled into a chair beside Billy.

“How big is the boat?” he asked. “Bigger than most yachts?”

“No indeed. Eighty feet. Bigger than the general run of sailing yachts, but she's not strictly for sailing. She's a motor sailer. I have two powerful engines. I could cross the Atlantic if I wanted to go mad with boredom.”

“It sounds sort of exciting. How long would it take?”

“Good God. A month, May be? You'd have to choose the season carefully. My heart sinks at the thought.”

Henri returned with the drinks. “You've been well, Henri?” Billy asked. “The news from home is good?”

“Yes, thank you,
patron
. My family is well. My sister got married.”

“Splendid. I remember she was about to. I must give you a present for her. That reminds me. I'll give you a note for the post office so you can pick up my mail from poste restante. Don't let me forget after lunch. I think we'll eat promptly in about an hour. We've been up since dawn. You can do the table up here. We'd like some of that white Montrachet. Have you got a bottle cooling?”

“I'll see to it,
patron
. I think you'll be pleased with Sylvain. He has some knowledge of wine.”

“That's always been useful. I'll talk to him.” He turned to Perry. “Is the beer cold enough? You must complain if it isn't. They sometimes forget we're not English.”

“It's pure ambrosia. I hope there's plenty of it. Where's he from?” he asked as Henri withdrew.

“Martinique. According to the captain, the new boy is too. I love his name. Sylvain. It must've been preserved in aspic in the Caribbean. They're a good-looking people and seem to enjoy their work. As soon as we've got our thirst under control, I'll take you on a tour of our floating palace. That'll take just long enough for Henri to fill our glasses again. You see — the port is beginning to get quite lively.”

Perry stretched and lay back indolently in the comfortable chair, watching cars drive up and park along the quay. People in smart summer clothes were beginning to fill the café tables. Strollers paused at the foot of their gangplank and gazed up at them. Perry hoped that he was giving a convincing performance as one of the idle rich. Living on a yacht was rather like the
Mauretania
on a reduced scale, all for them.

Catching sight of a couple who had stopped to peer at them with undisguised curiosity, he lifted his hand for service. Henri appeared at his side, and Perry ordered another beer but kept his glass to drain it. Henri returned with an icy bottle and filled it. Perry Langham at ease on the deck of his yacht. It was really he. He had it all.

Smiling to himself, he rose and went to the top of the gangplank and leaned against the rail, looking out along the quay. From the slight eminence provided by the deck, he was the lord of all he surveyed, wonderfully removed from humanity and superior.

The yachts immediately next to them looked unoccupied. Farther along at the end of the row he could see people moving around on one or two of them, but they were smaller and didn't count.

He turned back to Billy and waved a glass at him. “I'm beginning to feel what it's like,” he said. “I can understand why you love it. You feel so independent and self-sufficient. Nobody can touch you. You can pull out whenever you feel like it and go anywhere you like.”

“Exactly. Here on deck in port, you might not have as much privacy as you like, but the minute you cast off, you have the whole world. There's nothing else like it. Henri's getting me another drink, and then I'll show you around.”

Perry carried his glass back to Billy's table, and Henri served them both. Billy stood. Perry put an arm around his shoulder and fell into step beside him as they started for the door. “Don't forget,” Perry said, “I've never been on a boat before aside from a rowboat or two. You've got to tell me what everything is.”

“Well, you may have noticed that you have to go through this door to go anywhere. First off, the living room. I suppose if I wanted to be properly nautical, I'd call it the main salon, but to me it's the living room. Come in.”

He waved Perry ahead. He went down a couple of steps to a pleasant room that would have done very well as a living room on dry land. It was thickly carpeted and handsomely furnished with nothing about it to suggest the sea. The windows were windows, not portholes, and there were books in built-in shelves and even a fireplace.

“A fireplace?” Perry wondered.

“Yes indeed. It's very pleasant when it's chilly. It's not advisable to light it in rough weather. Needless to say, this is the dining room.”

It was another handsome room but less roomy, primarily designed for sitting. There was a long table with twelve chairs around it and a lot of pictures on the walls. Billy led the way to a passage at the end of the room.

“Forward — that is, toward the bow — is the galley and even a wine cellar of sorts and various utility rooms. We don't have to bother with all that. Do you want me to explain about the port and starboard again? Starboard is to the right facing forward. This is the grand stairway.” They went down the stairs, which were just wide enough for two, and continued forward along a passage on the lower deck. Billy threw open a door at the end of it and stood aside. “My cabin. It's disgraceful for it to be so much better than all the others, but that's the way the designers planned it.”

It took the whole width of the boat, with portholes on both sides and an enormous bed in the middle. Built-in closets were painted gray, with details picked out in blue. There were several easy chairs upholstered in golden yellow with accents of white. The same material was used as curtains at the portholes. Perry realized that this was the first he'd seen of Billy's taste in furnishing and decoration, and he was impressed. The overall effect was of slightly severe elegance.

“It's fabulous, Billy. I guess we don't need that house.”

“The head, if we're going to stick to nautical terms, is in there.” Perry glanced through a door at a scaled-down but well-installed bathroom. “Your cabin isn't bad as yachts go,” Billy said, “but I can't pretend it matches mine. I'm almost ashamed to show it to you.”

They returned along the passage, and Billy opened the first door they came to. Perry stepped into a pleasant cabin that was more like what he expected accommodations on a boat to be. There was room for a comfortable chair but not much else. His bags were lined up in front of a built-in dressing table.

“Don't be ashamed, Billy. I might even go so far as to say I like it.”

“Well, you won't be spending much time in it. I console myself with that thought. Bet's is an almost exact twin. Emile will unpack you if he hasn't already. He knows how.”

They moved back to the passage. Billy waved ahead of them as they reached the stair. “Bet's cabin is along there. There're three more rather cramped cabins if anybody joins us briefly. I told you the tour wouldn't take long.”

Perry noticed that the passage made a private life almost impossible. They could all see who was visiting whom. “Is it all right if I ask the captain to take care of my watch?” he asked. “If I'm going to be swimming and lying around in the sun, I won't want it on me all the time.”

“Very sensible. It's also a good idea not to leave money lying around. I don't mean you have to lock it up. Just make it look as if you're paying attention. We've never had any trouble, but there's no need to ask for it.”

“You know me, Billy. I can't get used to being careless with stuff. I always know every penny I have in my pocket.”

They went through the living room and stepped out on deck again. Coming from inside, Perry could feel the sun stinging through the awning, but the pleasant breeze continued. Mr. Canetti was installed at the table they had left with a milky pastis in front of him. Billy chatted with him and handed Perry a couple of keys on a ring.

“He says you're a very good driver and he hopes you have no trouble with fourth. He says he'll be around if the car needs any attention. He'll take charge of it again if we go away for any length of time.”

Mr. Canetti finished his drink, and they all shook hands, and then the visitor went ashore. The Bugatti was once more drawn up at the foot of the gangplank. Henri was standing by to freshen their drinks.

The summer that Perry had not quite been able to believe would happen had actually started. He was glad he and Billy had a day at least without Bet so that they could make their realignments with each other and their surroundings without the distraction of an unknown element.

“Hello there,
Belle Époque,”
a voice called from the quay.

Perry looked out and saw a tall young man with a mane of golden hair standing beside the gangplank. Billy was immediately on his feet, calling across the few yards of water. “Alexis. Lovely to see you. Come aboard.”

Billy continued his greeting while the man called Alexis climbed nimbly up the gangplank. “I thought you must be here,” Billy said. “The house looked open when we passed. Hilda's with you?”

The newcomer stepped onto the deck, and he and Billy embraced. Billy introduced him as Alexis von Auersburg. Close up, Perry could see that his youthful appearance owed a great deal to artifice. He was ruddily tanned, but his eyes were liberally made-up. His hair was suspect; it was more brilliantly golden than was usual with mature men. His body was almost boyishly trim, but loose folds of withered skin hung from his arms where they emerged from his short-sleeved shirt. Perry wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he was older than Billy but for some reason found his attempts at youthfulness foolishly appealing rather than distasteful. He bore a marked resemblance to the British royal family.

“I'm glad you didn't let the war scare you off, sport,” Alexis said blithely. “Your people told me you were due today. I brought something along in case I caught you.”

An odd look crossed Billy's face that Perry couldn't interpret, compounded of reluctance and furtive anticipation. Their eyes met, and Billy hastily returned his attention to his guest. “Sit, old thing,” Billy said. “I want to hear everything that's been going on behind my back.”

“Not now, Billy.” He was carrying a voluminous straw basket overflowing with vegetables that he didn't put down, and he refused a drink. “Hilda's waiting to make one of her ghastly soups. I'm counting on the hot weather to free me from her cooking. Next time I'll drink you under the table. Shall we have a word?”

They exchanged a look. There was a beat of silence. Billy seemed to be overcoming some resistance. He smiled absently.

“By all means,” he said. “Come along. Excuse us a moment, my dear.” He touched Perry's arm and crossed the deck with Alexis to the door. They disappeared.

Perry settled down again in his chair with his beer. Billy was coming home. He was picking up his life where it had left off. Perry expected to feel a bit lost until he fitted himself into it.

They were back in a matter of minutes, laughing together like intimate friends. Perry noticed that a fish that hadn't been there before now lolled on top of the visitor's basket of vegetables. Had Billy given him a fish? Perry rose and went with Billy to the top of the gangplank to see him off.

“I like him,” he said. “Is Hilda his wife?”

“You wouldn't have asked a month ago. You'd have leaped to obvious conclusions. It's best to check first. She's an old friend who shares his house. Alexis is related to every crowned head in Europe, quite closely in most cases. He's a quite legitimate prince except that his principality has ceased to exist. I wish he didn't do those ridiculous things to his eyes.”

“It probably would have shocked me a month ago. Now I just wonder why he bothers. That's a step in the right direction, isn't it? Seriously, what difference can it make to anybody?”