He drew up his knees and locked his hands round them and stared out to sea and when he went on it was as if he were talking to himself. 'I suppose it all began to change when I was adopted when I was eleven. They were a middle-aged couple—Uncle John and Aunt Brenda, I call them—and they gave me something I didn't remember having before—a real home. They did everything for me. They hadn't a lot of money but they helped me in every way they could and when I left university Uncle John used an endowment policy to buy me a share in a small business making domestic machines—toasters and hand-whisks and hair-dryers.' He grinned reminiscently. 'I began in a small way sure enough, but I had developed this driving need to get to the top—perhaps in a way to repay them for what they had given me. In the years that followed it was simply hard work and possibly a knack for buying and selling at the right time.' He shrugged. 'Is that what you wanted to know?'
Karen said, 'And your aunt and uncle? They must be proud of you.'
'Sure enough they are. The funny thing is that they don't really want to take anything from me now that I could give them anything they ask for. I tried to persuade them to let me buy them a new house but no, they simply want to stay put where they've always lived, in a little bungalow in Cheltenham.' He chuckled. 'They did let me pay for a holiday cruise for them last year, though. They enjoyed that.'
Karen said, 'They sound like marvellous people.'
'They are,' he said quietly. He was silent for a time, smiling to himself, looking out over the sea. Then he stood up and held out his hands to her. 'Look, There's still the rest of the guided tour. I want to show you something quite different now, to prove that you have to take the rough with the smooth in Acapulco. Let's go.'
She put her hands in his and as soon as she felt his touch she knew that she would go with Saul wherever he took her.
After that the day was pure enchantment. 'I want you to see Revolcadero Beach,' Saul said. 'We could take the car on—there's a sort of dirt-track road across the peninsula, but there's a better way of getting there. You can hire a boat and a boatman to take you through a jungle river to get to Revolcadero. I've been that way once and I've always wanted to go again.'
After the glitter and sparkle of the beach the river was eerie and mysterious as the shabby little boat thrust its way through the densely overhanging jungle foliage. Sometimes the branches, with their huge shiny leaves, hung so low that you couldn't see six feet in front of you. And everywhere there was a sense of living things. It was as if the undergrowth was seething and moving with life, seen and unseen. Vividly coloured parrots squawked in the branches, monkeys chattered and bounced about overhead.
Suddenly Karen gave a little gasp and moved closer to Saul. 'What's that?' she squeaked.
A scaly, greenish, creature about a foot long lay on the bank, half hidden by leaves. A dewlap hung under its grinning jaws and a ragged serrated crest ran down its back. Deep-set eyes seemed to be peering malevolently at them.
'We're in luck—it's an iguana.' Saul rapped out a command to the boatman to stop, but it was too late.
The creature had turned and with a tweak of its long tail had disappeared into the undergrowth.
Karen lay back in Saul's arms. 'Phew! I wasn't expecting that. I thought we'd met a dinosaur.. Are they dangerous? It looked as if it would like to take a nip at us.'
He laughed. 'Not a bit of it—they're scared stiff of human beings.'
'Well, that's a relief.' She made to move away, but Saul held her fast, his cheek pressed against the top of her head and her inside began its now familiar churning.
'There aren't any crocodiles, are there?' she giggled nervously.
His arms tightened around her as the boatman guided them expertly to the end of the short journey. 'If there were I'd slay them for your protection, my lady,' he laughed.
They climbed out on to a rickety wooden landing stage. 'Oh, but that was simply wonderful,' Karen sighed. 'Thank you for showing it to me.'
'There's more to see yet,' he said. 'Half a mo' while I bribe the boatman to wait. You have to bribe everyone in this place—it's completely geared to tourism,' he grumbled.
Notes changed hands and the boatman pulled his hat over his eyes and settled down happily while Saul took Karen's hand and led her to the beach.
Nothing could have made a more striking contrast to the lazy sun-baked protected beach they had just left. Here there were fewer people, and quite a stiff breeze blew from the sea. Great breakers thundered down on to a bone-white stretch of sand, flinging up spumes of spray into the air. Saul and Karen walked along at the edge of the tide, the breeze in their faces, skipping back squealing like children as the waves curled over and threatened to soak them, and it seemed quite natural to twine their arms round each other's waists, in the age-old fashion of sweethearts. Karen threw back her head and laughed with the sheer joy of it all. 'I see what you mean about taking the rough with the smooth,' she shouted above the boom of the waves.
She looked up at Saul, striding along beside her, head thrown back, dark hair ruffled, cheeks damp with spray and her inside twisted painfully. Heavens, she thought, I'm not falling in love with the man, am I? No, I can't be—not after a couple of days.
It was as if he knew what she was thinking for he lowered his head and kissed her as they walked along, a fleeting kiss that brushed her lips tantalisingly and brought the taste of salt to her mouth, and made her inside shake.
And later, as they climbed back into the boat for the return journey she had an odd feeling that she was entering jungle country in more ways than one.
The sun had set and the lights of the hotels were beginning to twinkle out as they got back to Acapulco. They had a drink in the bar and chatted with some others of the group and then Karen escaped up to her room. Saul went into his room next door and a moment later there was a cheerful rat-a-tat on the dividing wall.
She put her head to the wall. 'Hullo.'
His voice came back quite clearly. 'I'll give you an hour to get ready.'
'O.K.,' she called back. She felt oddly excited, like a teenager preparing for her first date, not what Saul had called an up-and-coming young woman executive.
After she'd showered she lay down on the bed to relax but was up again after less than five minutes.
Resting was impossible, she was thoroughly jittery. She could hear Saul moving about in the next room and she had a sudden appalling need to open the door and rush into his arms. She had to pace up and down and breathe deeply in an effort to steady herself. It was a relief when it was time to put on her dress and do her face.
It was the turn of the little ivory satin number tonight. She smoothed the clinging material down over her hips and her nicely flat stomach. Her suntan had deepened in two days, which helped the general effect. The dress wasn't at all outrageous but at home she would have felt conscious of showing quite so much front and back. Here in Acapulco, however, anything went. This dress was positively coy in comparison with some of the womens' outfits she'd seen last night. She tweaked the narrow chiffon ruffle round the low-cut neck and giggled. No bra— shameless, that's what Acapulco did for a girl.
She had three attempts at doing her face before she was satisfied, but at last she looked in her mirror and approved the effect. Not bad, not bad at all. Her skin had a silky brown sheen, her eyes smiled back at her, satisfactorily deep and mysterious, her lips were touched with a pale pink gloss, her dark freshly-washed hair was brushed loosely back over one shoulder. She smiled secretly at herself and admitted that, whatever the outcome, she had dressed to please Saul.
As soon as she saw him she knew that she had succeeded. He tapped at the door at exactly eight o'clock and this time he waited until she called 'Come in.'
'I'm a quick learner,' he grinned. 'See how I took the hint.' His eyes widened as they looked over her.
'My goodness, you knock me for six, you look— exquisite.'
'Thank you.' She smiled at him. 'You look very pretty yourself.' He was wearing
fitted black jeans and an ecru embroidered lawn shirt with a frill down the front. His dark hair was brushed and gleaming, his chin newly-shaved but still with a faint shadow that reminded Karen of tough guys in Western movies. He should be wearing leathers with a holster slung round his waist instead of that fashionable shirt.
He came closer. 'Is it permitted to touch? Very carefully?' She felt his hands at her waist, so gently that there seemed a gap between where electric sparks were flashing. He leaned forward and his mouth brushed hers in a butterfly kiss that sent little shivers all through her.
He stepped back with a sigh. 'That will have to do— for the moment,' he said. 'Shall we go—are you ready?'
She picked up her bag and a lazy white shawl. The chiffon ruffles of her dress passed over her shoulders and down her back to meet at waist-level in the centre, leaving a deep triangle of sun-browned skin. As they walked out to the lift she felt the warmth of Saul's hand on her back and her knees went weak. This was building up to an explosion, she knew that. She didn't know how the evening was going to end, and she didn't dare think about it. Perhaps Annie Goodall's company would provide a calming influence. You couldn't imagine plump little Annie letting her hair down.
Saul seemed to latch on to her thoughts. Going down in the lift he said wryly, I'm afraid this "do" tonight may get a bit tiresome. I wish we could have just gone off somewhere together, but Annie Goodall's a nice little soul, I wouldn't want to disappoint her.'
Four of the party were already ensconced round a table in a corner of the restaurant when Saul and Karen arrived. The two men got to their feet and Annie jumped up, holding out her hands to Karen, beaming with pleasure. 'Oh, here you both are—how splendid. I was getting worried that you couldn't make it. Now, you sit next to me Saul and Karen next to Bill, with Raymond on your other side.'
Raymond was a tall gaunt man who had grilled her unmercifully yesterday about the work that went on at Lessington. He was evidently partnering Mrs Bradley, the only woman director at the conference who, with her short-cropped grey hair, severe black silk dress and incisive voice, seemed to be trying too hard to establish herself in a man's world.
Annie was wearing a fluffy pink dress and looked flushed and pretty. She leaned across her husband and whispered, 'Karen, you look absolutely smashing. Doesn't she, Bill?'
'Indeed she does, my dear.' The look that Bill Goodall turned on Karen's cleavage expressed rather more than his words.
The dinner ploughed its way through several courses. Annie had played safe and ordered American food and the steaks were huge and surrounded by mounds of sauté potatoes, carrots and cut green beans. Karen couldn't finish more than half of it. The conversation was heavy going, with Raymond Dobson, apparently unable to leave the subject of business, on one side of her and Bill Goodall, trying rather feeble little pleasantries on the other. She kept meeting Saul's what-did-I-tell-you expression across the table and having to look away in case she started to giggle.
It was a relief when Bill Goodall said, 'I believe the diving exhibition is going to start. Yes, it is. We'd better go and have a look. It's supposed to be quite spectacular.'
Karen found Saul beside her as all the diners in the room rose and moved across the floor, jockeying to get the best position on the balcony. Saul pushed her in front of him and put both his arms round her, holding her against him. She felt the inevitable reaction of her body to the hardness of his and chattered nervously, 'W-where do they dive from?'
Saul pointed. 'From that ledge, up there.'
Karen peered upwards at the two sheer faces of rock with the narrow crevice between them. The moon had risen and in its light the rocks looked black and forbidding. Surely, surely, they couldn't be going to dive down into that abyss of—of nothingness. She felt her stomach heave.
Annie Goodall leaned towards her. 'Isn't it thrilling?' Her voice was awed. 'Those dare-devil boys! I've just heard that they dive a hundred and thirty feet down between those awful rocks and if they misjudge it or get the tide wrong it ‑' her voice sank dramatically as she added with a kind of relish '—it would be instant death.' She paused for effect and then added, 'But of course they never do make a mistake, do they, Saul?'
'I hope not,' he said drily.
Karen was icy cold. She could make out the ledge high above and see bodies moving on it, three or four of them. One seemed to be carrying a lighted torch. She stared down—down—down—into the inky blackness of the sickeningly narrow crevice between the rocks and her stomach turned over and over.
It was years since she'd felt this awful clammy terror, not since a holiday in Cornwall with her parents. A little boy had fallen from the edge of a cliff and been dashed to death on the rocks below. The hotel was buzzing with the details of the tragedy, although the child's family had not been actually staying there. For days Karen had to be persuaded and bullied into going out at all. In her imagination she kept seeing every detail, the child playing happily, the treacherous edge of the cliff, the long-drawn-out horror of his fall, the sea foaming over the spiky, cruel rocks far below, and the tears would pour down her cheeks.
Now it was all happening again and she was going to make a fool of herself. It's all right, she told herself, her fingernails digging into her palms, they know what they're doing, they won't be hurt. She stared up towards the ledge, making herself look, because if she saw what was happening it wouldn't be so bad, would it?
A gasp went round the crowd on the balcony and Annie Goodall's voice rose squeakily. 'Oh look, he's going to dive with that torch in his hand. Ooh—he's going ‑'
A tiny, doll-like figure fell from the ledge down into the inky blackness below, arms extended holding the lighted torch. Another, then another ... Karen twisted round and pushed her face against Saul's shirt like a terrified child. 'I—can't—look any more,' she muttered. 'I think I'm going to be sick.' She was icy cold now, shuddering convulsively, her breath coming in gulps.
From somewhere above her head she heard Saul's voice, low and infinitely comforting. 'It's all right, Karen, it's all right baby. I'll get you out of here.'
Somehow—she never knew how—Saul got her out of the restaurant and into the car. She slumped back, weak and shivering, tears rolling down her cheeks. 'Silly ‑' she hiccupped. 'I'm so sorry—I'll be all right in a minute ‑'
'Shut up, love,' he said, putting his arms round her and mopping her cheeks with a soft handkerchief. 'Just relax.'
He held her in his arms until the sobbing ceased. She dried her eyes and blew her nose and pushed his handkerchief away in her handbag. Then she smiled up at him tremulously. 'I did make a fool of myself, didn't I?'
He shook his head and in the shadowy dimness of the hotel car-park his face seemed to have softened so that she would hardly have recognised him. 'Vertigo,' he said. 'It can hit anyone, even at second-hand. Especially an imaginative type like you, Karen.'
She managed a small laugh. 'Am I an imaginative type? I didn't think I was.'
'Perhaps you don't know yourself very well. Perhaps you're just a mixed-up kid.' He chuckled softly. 'You need a helping hand to sort yourself out. Let's make our way back and I'll see what I can do to hasten the process.' He tipped up her chin and peered down into her tear-stained face. 'O.K.?' He brushed her mouth with his.
'O.K.,' Karen said. 'I'm fine now.'
Fine. And terrified. And thrilled. And vaguely guilty. A mixed-up kid was right.
But as Saul drove back through the town to their hotel she knew that she had never been so strangely excited in all her life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'We'll have a drink, you need something to pull you together:' Saul made for the downstairs bar as soon as they were inside the hotel.
Karen hung back. 'No, I can't. There might be some of our party in there. I must look a sight.' Her hand went to her tear-stained cheeks.
He stopped and pretended to examine her face in the brightly-lit reception hall. 'No, my lovely, you couldn't look a sight if you tried. Still, I
don't particularly want to meet anyone either. So we'll go up to my room, I've got some brandy there, that'll do you good.'
In the lift Karen parroted to herself, I mustn't. I mustn't go into his room and drink brandy. It's madness. It would only end one way, feeling like I do. I need time to think ‑
Saul put his key into the lock, threw open the door and stepped aside with a little mocking bow. 'Enter, madame. Come into my parlour, as the spider said to the fly.'
It was so close to what she was thinking—he must have guessed. If she didn't want to appear a naive little schoolgirl she must go along with his jokey approach.
But when she still hesitated in the doorway, he put a hand on her arm and drew her gently inside the room. 'Come on, girl, you do need a pick-me-up after that fright. I haven't got rape on my mind, you know. If you're worried, I promise faithfully not to try anything on, or make you do anything you don't want to do. Is that good enough?'
'I suppose so,' she muttered uneasily. She went inside the room and he closed the door behind them.
The room was similar to her own only larger. Instead of an easy chair there was a small sofa, instead of a single bed there was a large double one. Karen averted her eyes from that quickly and shrank into one corner of the sofa. Saul brought her a glass. 'Here you are, one small brandy and water.' He sat down in the other corner of the sofa, leaning back, drink in hand, eyeing her.
She sipped the brandy and coughed nervously. 'I'm afraid I've spoilt your evening, I'm so sorry.'
'Don't be,' he said. 'I've seen the Quebrada divers before. And anyway, I much prefer to be here with you. Tell me, have you always been afraid of heights?'
She shook her head slowly. 'I'm not exactly afraid of heights—not for myself. It's difficult to explain. I just can't bear to see anyone else standing on an edge with a sheer drop below. It's so stupid—I feel such a fool ‑' she laughed shakily at herself '—but I have to go out of the room if there's one of those old comic films on where people stand on high ledges outside windows and look down ‑' Her throat clenched as the terror struck again, gripping her inside, and she began to shiver convulsively.
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