by Ciaran Nagle
‘Thank you Nancy, that’s very kind of you,’ said Pete.
‘Yeah, I think that’ll work well. That’s really er, er, fair,’ agreed Martin rather lamely.
‘Fine,’ said Nancy. It felt good to be fancied by 100% of the men present with no abstentions. ‘In that case, so that there’s no favouritism, I think we should begin in alphabetical order. Andy, could you help me with my case?’
Heaven's Shore
Jabez had his hands on his head. Inside the globe suspended in front of him was the scene inside the Eilat apartment.
'Eeeh! I never saw that coming, not in the life of a galaxy. Not from her, that was totally out of character. Wasn't it? What's going on, Luke?'
Luke had also been watching the scene unfold.
'Let me see what I can find out,' he flicked to another view within his own sphere, one that gave him more information about the environment around the Eilat apartment. 'The enemy's airwaves are all over this,' he reported. 'There are passive violations of neutrality everywhere. The atmosphere around Nancy reeks of enemy observation.'
'You don't surprise me. You know that I don't have much experience of this, Luke. But even I know this is unusual.'
Luke was still checking his scopes.
'The matter that worries me,' continued Jabez, 'is that Infernals seemed to know this was coming. Nancy has gone from carefree innocent to dedicated seductress in an instant. They saw it coming and we didn't. This should concern us. Their usual pattern is to watch someone who shows signs of going wrong and encourage them to do more. But with this girl, I mean woman, Nancy, it's different. There was no indication that she would behave like this. This means that Hell has just got a lot more sophisticated than they have ever been up to now.'
'Yes,' replied Luke. 'Also, they know we're watching. They know we can see that they're following Nancy. And they don't seem to care.'
'If their level of competence has leapt up the scale, we'll have to raise our game too,' exclaimed Jabez. 'These are no bumbling beelzebubs. Bezejel is all over this. And I still don't know how to beat her.'
Eilat
‘Sure.’ Andy jumped up and followed Nancy into the bedroom. He tried to look as though he was just heading off for another day of lectures at uni. Privately he felt as though he’d just won the lottery.
Martin watched him go while Pete, who had just realised the misfortune of the letter ‘P’ being so low down the alphabet, looked forlorn.
Nancy led Andy to the room she had chosen. As he entered carrying both their cases she shut the door behind him.
‘Could you lift my case onto the chest of drawers?’ she said breezily, as though talking to a husband she’d been married to for twenty years.
‘Sure thing,’ said Andy who was trying not to look at Nancy lest he appear over-eager.
For several minutes they worked in silence, opening drawers and wardrobes and putting clothes on hangers. Eventually Nancy pushed her empty case under her bed and stood up and turned towards him. She placed her right foot behind her left, clasped her hands behind her back and pushed her chest forward ever so slightly. She waited for him to become aware of her.
Andy closed the wardrobe door where he had hung the last of his shirts and faced her, all of four feet away. Nancy was smiling invitingly.
‘Oh, er, you’re there,’ he said shyly.
Nancy made no move and Andy stood there awkwardly, waiting for instructions. Both knew who was in charge.
‘Come closer.’ Nancy.
Andy found himself taking the two steps to stand right in front of her. He looked into her eyes and then placed his left hand on her shoulder and his right hand on her hip. He moved in for the kiss.
Nancy stopped him with a finger on his chest.
'First, I need a small favour.'
'Oh?'
'I need you to drive me somewhere.'
'Oh? Where?'
'A kibbutz. Near Jerusalem. In a few days' time. When I've sorted out a car.'
'Nancy, Jerusalem's hours away,' he spluttered. 'We came past it on the way here. It must be five hours. Each way. It would mean a whole day away from the dig. I can't. I'll never get permission.'
'That's a shame.'
'Anyway, can't you drive?'
'Yes. But not legally.' Nancy shrugged. 'Long story.'
'Is that…Is that why you invited me in?' Light dawned in his eyes. 'You asked me if I had a driving licence. Of course.'
'There's something you want. And there's something I need. I think that's a fair exchange, don't you?' Nancy was looking up directly into Andy's eyes, her face just a few inches from his. 'Anyway, won't you help a maiden in distress? I'm trying to contact a long-lost relative. Before he dies.'
'You certainly know how to pull all the levers, don't you? said Andy, smiling. Then he became serious again. 'Look, it's not just about getting permission. I could probably get that. I'm sure the professor will give me a day off. It's something else. You see, I'm the first in my family to go to university. We're not educated folk. Quite humble really. I don't want people to know because it's embarrassing. That's why it's really important to my mum and dad that I succeed. They borrowed the money for me to come on this trip. Taking a day off to drive someone around Israel isn't really respecting them. All that they've given up for me. I'm sorry.'
But Nancy held him fast. She tapped again on his chest.
'Supposing,' she said slowly. 'Just supposing, I could arrange for you to have half an hour with the former Head of Israeli Antiquities. A man who knows more about archaeology in this country than just about anyone else. On your own. How would that help your studies?'
Andy's eyes opened wide. 'That would be incredible. If I could tell my tutors I'd done that, they'd be impressed. Really impressed. It would raise my profile incredibly. It would be incredible. Can you really do that?'
'I'll try and fix it.'
'The Head of Antiquities, you say?'
'Former Head.'
'How will you do it?'
'I know somebody.'
'Well that would be incredible, Nancy.'
'Well I'll try to make it happen. Then it'll be credible. Not incredible.'
Andy laughed. 'OK then, miss,' he said finally. 'I'll drive you to Jerusalem.'
'Thank you. You're a gentleman,' she said. 'Let's go and tell the others.' She unhooked herself from Andy's hands and began walking to the door.
'Hold on Nancy. Didn't we..er..didn't you want to..I mean…can you…?'
Nancy turned around. 'Aren't I doing enough for you already?' she asked with a puff of impatience that she hoped was convincing. 'I'm pulling strings to help you with your studies. And all you want to do is take advantage of me.'
'If I remember rightly, Nancy, it was your suggestion.'
She sighed and pursed her lips with an air of suffering. Impatience turned to resignation. 'Oh yes. I did say that, didn't I?' She walked slowly back until she was standing directly in front of him, her eyes raised to his. She took Andy's right hand and placed it back on her hip where it was before. Then she put her arms around his neck and pulled herself close to him. 'All right then,' she said softly. 'But it had better be incredible.'
In the TV lounge Martin and Pete looked at each other.
'Is this really happening?' Pete.
'I didn't think she…' Martin couldn't finish his sentence.
They continued in silence, both trying to be nonchalant while listening for any tell-tale sounds from the bedroom.
‘Thank you, Andy,’ said Nancy politely, kissing him on the cheek. ‘I’m going to take myself off to the shower.’
She got up and reached for her dressing gown. Andy felt a draught of air on his cheek as the heavy cotton swirled about him. Then she reached for the door and was gone.
Nancy stood at the small sink and looked in the mirror. She turned around and opened the door to the shower cubicle behind her. Beside her was a closed window of frosted glass that was allowing plenty of early evening ligh
t into the room. She reached into the cubicle and fiddled with the controls until the shower kicked into life. She turned back and gazed again at her reflection in the mirror.
'Well, you've started something now girl. So you'll have to see it through.'
The steam from the shower was obscuring the mirror in front of her. She raised her hand and wiped a space clear till she could see herself again. Nancy liked what she saw.
She tore herself away from her reflection and entered the shower. She felt the luxury of the hot water stream over her as she sluiced away love's vestiges and thought about her next moves.
But as Nancy towelled herself down and stepped out of the shower she saw something quite startling. On the mirror in front of her the capital letter R had mysteriously appeared in the middle of the area that she had previously wiped with her hand. She checked the window. It was securely fastened on the inside. She carefully turned the door handle and pulled it. The key was still in the lock. Nothing. The door didn’t move. Nancy turned back towards the mirror again. The last guest must have written on it with their finger before she came in, she mused, and the heat from the water vapour had only just revealed it. Nancy told herself that there must be a logical explanation. No-one had been in, she would have known it. She’d had her eyes open all the time and would’ve seen the door open. Nancy vigorously wiped the R from the mirror with the side of her fist and blocked it from her mind. She wrapped herself in her towel, unlocked the door and returned to her room. She was glad to see it was empty. Andy had thoughtfully dressed and left the bedroom free for her. She could hear the boys talking in low tones in the lounge. She opened up her case and pulled out her make-up bag.
Nancy carefully applied some black eyeliner and bright lipstick. She pursed her lips as she looked in the mirror making sure the coverage was even and neat. Then she dressed in some new underwear bought as a treat for her holidays and on top of that a short pink skirt and a pink woollen blouse with short sleeves and a low neckline. Finally she pulled on a pair of medium high heels and then paused to look at herself in the long mirror on the room’s only wardrobe.
It was the same Nancy as before and yet, though nothing had changed, everything had changed. As she turned sideways left and right to regard her neat figure in profile it seemed to her that she was a different person. Her bust was just the same size as before and her legs were no longer. They were all just…working harder. She opened the bedroom door, stepped into the corridor and walked slowly down into the lounge. The boys had heard her approach and had stopped talking. As Nancy stood before them, one smooth leg carefully placed behind the other, they gaped at her, waiting for her to make the first move.
Nancy paused before speaking, enjoying the moment. She moved her front foot slightly so that her body swayed, delicate and sinewy in front of them. Her big toe traced a short arc on the rug beneath her, teasing the fibres this way and that. Was this how matadors tormented their raging prey, with small insolent movements? How could cruelty be so delicious? For a moment of exquisite pleasure she felt power and control that had never been hers before. Always too much competition. Always someone with a deeper cleavage. Not now.
Earlier Nancy had talked about calling the boys in alphabetical order. But that wouldn't meet the need. If she was going to travel five hours each way to Jerusalem she wanted to do it in style.
She looked from Pete to Martin and back again, smiling. 'Pete, my wardrobe door is stuck. Could I borrow you a minute?'
'Sure.' Pete stood up obediently. He was only human.
Nancy turned and walked back to her bedroom. The boys followed her with their eyes, their gazes fixed on her lilting hemline. Pete looked at the other two for a moment without expression and then followed Nancy down the corridor. He was walking surprisingly fast.
Nancy stood by one of the beds. The corner of the duvet was turned back, invitingly. She was smiling and had her hands behind her back, feet together. They both knew who was calling the shots.
Nancy looked gorgeous and knew it. She held out her hand. It was part invitation and part order. Pete was glad to obey. He stepped forward and took her hand and she drew him to her, surprisingly firmly. His lips bore down on hers and his hands searched for landing places on her body.
She stopped him.
'I need a small favour.'
'Oh, what's that?'
'I need you to hire me a car.'
'What? Are you kidding?' He pulled his head back.
'No. Not kidding. I want you to hire me a car. Just for one day. Can you do that for me?'
'No. Of course I can't. I'm just a poor student. I'm borassic. Skint. I can barely afford this study tour.'
'Really? Haven't you got any money?'
'No. I'm broke. Truly. Is that what this…?'
Nancy placed her finger on his chest, tapping gently. 'Because, you know, I was convinced, absolutely convinced,' she looked up earnestly into his eyes, 'that you were the son of the Duke of Buckinghamshire. First and only son. Isn't that odd? You've heard of the Duke of Buckinghamshire, haven't you? He owns half the county. Filthy rich, apparently.' She gazed at him with wide-eyed sincerity like a young daughter mesmerised by her dad.
Pete rushed his hands to the top of his head. Then he pulled them down over his ears, squashing his face. His lips puckered out like a blowfish. 'How did you find out?'
'Oh, I just keep my eyes open.'
'No-one must ever know,' he hissed. 'If they do, if they find out at uni that I'm a toff, I'll be meat. I'll lose all my friends. How did you find out?'
'Well, let's see,' said Nancy tilting her head up to the left. 'Was it your perfectly manicured finger nails that gave you away?' Pete looked down at his fingertips. 'No. Was it your upper-class accent that occasionally slips through when you forget to talk common?' She hesitated playfully. 'No.' Nancy pretended to ponder.
'Hmm. Maybe it was the..'
'Oh no, the cheque for this trip,' wailed Pete. 'My mum.'
'…the cheque. Drawn on Barings Bank of London. A bank for toffs. In the name of Sir Edmund Temple-Grenville. Your father, I believe.'
'My dad always signs a few cheques and leaves them for my mum. For shopping in Harrod's and such like. She's not supposed to use them for me.'
'And then I simply cross-checked your dad's name with Who's Who and it gave me his title and all his details. And there you were too. Pete Temple. First son.'
'Oh no, I'm ruined.'
'No-one need ever know.'
'You mean that? Can you really keep a secret?
'Mum's the word.' Nancy tapped her nose twice with her finger.
'Very funny. Oh, Nancy. Thank you so much. I'm so grateful.'
'The car, Pete.'
'Oh yes, the car. OK, no problem. Yes. I can take care of that. So long as the others don't know it's me. I'm sure I can sort you out a little Polo. For a day.'
'No.'
'What do you mean, no?'
Nancy looked at him patiently.
'OK, a Golf. But that's it. That's all I can manage.'
'No.'
'What do you want?'
'Jaguar. XJ12. Automatic. With air-conditioning and FM radio. And electric windows. And a full tank of petrol.'
'No. You're mad. They'll cut me off. My parents will cut my inheritance.'
Nancy went to the door and grasped the handle.
'All right. It's a deal.' Pete dragged her back. 'It's a deal,' he repeated. 'I'll do it.'
'Thank you,' said Nancy. 'You're a gentleman. And in your case, you're not only a gentleman, you're probably a knight. Or an earl. Or a baronet. Or something.' She smiled conspiratorially and walked to the door again. 'Won't say a word,' she whispered with a grin. She grasped the handle a second time.
'Hang on,' said Pete grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back into the middle of the room. 'What about your side of the bargain?'
'I'm fulfilling my side. I promised to keep your secret.'
'I think there was something else.'
Nancy sighed. 'Oh, very well.' She placed her hands on his shoulders and flicked her hair back. 'But you owe me, OK?'
Lev's Bistro, Eilat
Nancy swallowed a small sip of wine and reflected on the second spooky event that had happened shortly before. Was there a ghost in the apartment?
The evening was deliciously warm and the candles on the tables added a magic glow to the knots of people who had come out to dine. Barely thirty yards away the sea lapped onto the fine sandy beach and here and there upturned fishing boats awaited the next day's work. Desert cicadas chirruped away noisily on nearby trees. There was a hubbub of conversation all around that occasionally surged as people on one table or another exploded in mirthful exuberance or engaged in the type of loud discussion that Israelis so delighted in. The mood was joyful as if everyone had their own reason for celebration.
Martin was recounting an anecdote from one of his university rugby club's outings.
'So there I was in the front row of the scrum, we've locked arms and we're just about to engage with the other team. There's onIy a minute to the final whistle and we're just one point ahead. I was face to face with one-tooth Tarrant, the dinosaur of Durham, and he's seriously unchuffed that they're losing. Now bear in mind, that morning I'd washed my hair and I couldn't do a thing with it. I'd tried rollers, curlers, crimping, you name it, nothing worked.' Pete and Andy are rocking in their chairs laughing.
'Then the referee shouts 'engage' and we all crash against each other. One-tooth Tarrant sees his opportunity and he grabs my hair and starts pulling it. I shouted 'ouch, let go' and he shouts in his gritty Glaswegian accent 'your hair's a mess anyway' - a sentiment I could hardly disagree with, to be fair. Totally illegal, of course, grabbing my hair, but the referee's on the other side of the scrum watching their hooker, so he can't see what Tarrant's doing. Anyway, the ball comes out and someone kicks it into touch and then the whistle goes. We've won. So I get back in the changing room and happen to look at myself in the mirror and I see he's totally succeeded where I'd completely failed. One-tooth Tarrant has managed to make me look amazing. It's the best hairstyle I've ever had. I'm never going to wash my hair again. So I have this big dilemma, do I go into Durham's changing room to thank him or not?'
