Night Over Water

by Ken Follett

  “Come on, Eddie,” said the captain. “What’s it to be? On to Botwood or back to Foynes?”

  Eddie gritted his teeth. He could not bear the thought of leaving Carol-Ann with the kidnappers for another day. He would rather risk everything.

  “Are you prepared to change course and fly through the storm?” he asked.

  “Do we have to?”

  “Either that, or turn back.” Eddie held his breath.

  “Damn,” said the captain. They all hated turning back halfway across the Atlantic: it was such a letdown.

  Eddie waited for the captain’s decision.

  “Heck with it,” said Captain Baker. “We’ll fly through the storm.”

  PART IV

  MID-ATLANTIC TO BOTWOOD

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Diana Lovesey was furious with her husband, Mervyn, for board ing the Clipper at Foynes. She was, first of all, painfully embar rassed by his pursuit of her, and afraid people would think the whole situation highly comical. More important, she did not want the opportunity to change her mind that he was giving her. She had made her decision, but Mervyn had refused to accept it as final, and somehow that cast doubt on her determination. Now she would have to make the decision again and again, as he would keep asking her to reconsider. Finally, he had completely spoiled her pleasure in the flight. It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, a romantic journey with her lover. But the exhilarating sense of freedom she had felt as they took off from Southampton had gone for good. She got no pleasure from the flight, the luxurious plane, the elegant company or the gourmet food. She was afraid to touch Mark, to kiss his cheek or stroke his arm or hold his hand, in case Mervyn should happen to pass through the compartment at that moment and see what she was doing. She was not sure where Mervyn was sitting, but she expected to see him at every moment.

  Mark was completely flattened by this development. After Diana turned Mervyn down at Foynes, Mark had been elated, affectionate and optimistic, talking about California and making jokes and kissing her at every opportunity, quite his usual self. Then he had watched in horror as his rival had stepped on board the plane. Now he was like a punctured balloon. He sat silently beside her, leafing disconsolately through magazines without reading a word. She could understand his feeling depressed. Once already she had changed her mind about running away with him: with Mervyn on board, how could he be sure she would not change it again?

  To make matters worse, the weather had become stormy, and the plane bumped like a car crossing a field. Every now and again a passenger would pass through the compartment on the way to the bathroom, looking green. People said it was forecast to get worse. Diana was glad now that she had been feeling too upset to eat much at dinner.

  She wished she knew where Mervyn was sitting. Perhaps if she knew where he was she would stop expecting him to materialize at any moment. She decided to go to the ladies’ room and look for him on the way.

  She was in number 4 compartment. She took a quick look into number 3, the next one forward, but Mervyn was not there. Turning back, she walked aft, holding on to anything she could grab as the plane bucked and swayed. She passed through number 5 and established that he was not there either. That was the last big compartment. Most of number 6 was taken up by the ladies’ powder room, on the starboard side, leaving room for only two people on the port side. These seats were occupied by two businessmen. They were not very attractive seats, Diana thought: fancy paying all that money and then sitting outside the ladies’ toilet for the whole flight! Beyond number 6 there was nothing but the honeymoon suite. Mervyn must be seated farther forward, then—in number 1 or 2—unless he was in the main lounge, playing cards.

  She went into the powder room. There were two stools in front of the mirror, one already occupied by a woman Diana had not yet spoken to. As Diana closed the door behind her, the plane plunged again, and she almost lost her balance. She staggered in and fell into the vacant seat.

  “Are you all right?” the other woman said.

  “Yes, thanks. I hate it when the plane does this.”

  “So do I. But someone said it’s going to get worse. There’s a big storm ahead.”

  The turbulence eased, and Diana opened her handbag and started to brush her hair.

  “You’re Mrs. Lovesey, aren’t you?” the woman said.

  “Yes. Call me Diana.”

  “I’m Nancy Lenehan.” The woman hesitated, looking awkward, then said: “I got on the plane at Foynes. I came over from Liverpool with your ... with Mr. Lovesey.”

  “Oh!” Diana felt her face go pink. “I didn’t realize he had a companion. ”

  “He helped me out of a jam. I needed to catch the plane, but I was stuck in Liverpool with no way of getting to Southampton in time, so I just drove out to the airfield and begged for a ride.”

  “I’m glad for you,” Diana said. “But it’s frightfully embarrassing for me.”

  “I don’t see why you should be embarrassed. It must be nice to have two men desperately in love with you. I don’t even have one.”

  Diana looked at her in the mirror. She was attractive rather than beautiful, with regular features and dark hair, and she wore a very smart red suit with a gray silk blouse. She had a brisk, confident air. Mervyn would give you a lift, Diana thought; you’re just his type. “Was he polite to you?” she asked.

  “Not very,” Nancy said with a rueful smile.

  “I’m sorry. His manners aren’t his strong point.” She took out her lipstick.

  “I was just grateful for the ride.” Nancy blew her nose delicately on a tissue. Diana noticed that she wore a wedding ring. “He is a little abrupt,” Nancy went on. “But I think he’s a nice man. I had dinner with him, too. He makes me laugh. And he’s terribly handsome.”

  “He is a nice man,” Diana found herself saying. “But he’s as arrogant as a duchess and he’s got no patience at all. I drive him mad, because I hesitate and change my mind and don’t always say what I mean.”

  Nancy ran a comb through her hair. It was thick and dark, and Diana wondered whether she dyed it to conceal gray streaks. Nancy said: “He seems willing to go a long way to get you back.”

  “That’s just pride,” Diana said. “It’s because another man has taken me away. Mervyn’s competitive. If I’d left him and gone to live at my sister’s house he wouldn’t have cared tuppence.”

  Nancy laughed. “It sounds as if he has no chance of getting you back.”

  “None whatsoever.” Suddenly Diana did not want to talk to Nancy Lenehan any longer. She felt unaccountably hostile. She put away her makeup and her comb and stood up. She smiled to cover her sudden feeling of dislike, saying: “Let’s see if I can cakewalk back to my seat.”

  “Good luck!”

  As she left the powder room, Lulu Bell and Princess Lavinia came in, carrying their overnight cases. When Diana got back to the compartment, Davy, the steward, was converting their seat into a double bunk. Diana was intrigued to see how an ordinary-looking divan seat could be made into two beds. She sat down and watched.

  First he took off all the cushions and pulled the armrests out of their slots. Reaching over the seat frame, he pulled down two flaps in the wall at chest level, to reveal hooks. Bending over the seat, he unfastened a strap and lifted out a flat frame. He hung this from the wall hooks to form the base of the upper bunk. The outward side slotted into a hole in the side wall. Diana was just thinking that it did not look very strong when Davy picked up two stout-looking struts and attached them to both upper and lower frames to form bedposts. Now the structure looked more sturdy.

  He replaced the seat cushions on the lower bed and used the back cushions as a mattress for the upper one. He took pale blue sheets and blankets from under the seat and made up the beds with fast, practiced movements.

  The bunks looked comfortable, but frightfully public. However, Davy broke out a dark blue curtain, complete with hooks, and hung it from a molding on the ceiling that Diana had thought was
merely decorative. He attached the curtain to the bunk frames with snap fasteners, making a tight fit. He left a triangular opening, like the entrance to a tent, for the sleeper to climb inside. Finally he unfolded a little stepladder and placed it convenient to the upper bunk.

  He turned to Diana and Mark with a faintly pleased look, as if he had performed a magic trick. “Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll make up your side,” he said.

  “Doesn’t it get stuffy in there?” Diana asked him.

  “Each bunk has its own ventilator,” he replied. “If you look just above your head you can see yours.” Diana looked up and saw a grille with an OPEN/CLOSED lever. “You’ve also got your own window, electric light, clothes hanger and shelf; and if you need anything else, press this button and call me.”

  While he had been working, the two passengers on the port side, handsome Frank Gordon and bald Ollis Field, had picked up their overnight bags and trooped off to the men’s room; and now Davy began to make up the bunk on that side. The arrangement was slightly different over there. The aisle was not in the center of the plane, but nearer to the port side, so on that side, there was only one pair of bunks, placed lengthwise rather than across the width of the plane.

  Princess Lavinia returned in a floor-length navy blue peignoir trimmed with blue lace, and a matching turban. Her face was a mask of frozen dignity: obviously she found it painfully uncomfortable to appear in public in her nightclothes. She looked at the bunk in horror. “I shall die of claustrophobia,” she moaned. No one took any notice. She stepped out of little silk slippers and climbed into the lower bunk. Without saying good night, she pulled the curtain shut and fastened it tight.

  A moment later Lulu Bell appeared in a rather flimsy pink chiffon ensemble that did little to conceal her charms. She had been stiffly polite with Diana and Mark since Foynes, but now she seemed to have suddenly forgotten her pique. She sat down beside them on the divan and said: “You’ll never guess what I just heard about our companions!” She jerked a thumb at the seats vacated by Field and Gordon.

  Mark looked nervously at Diana and then said: “What did you hear, Lulu?”

  “Mr. Field is an F.B.I. man!”

  That was not so startling, Diana thought. An F.B.I. agent was only a policeman.

  Lulu went on: “And what’s more, Frank Gordon is a prisoner!”

  Mark said skeptically: “Who told you this?”

  “Everyone’s talking about it in the ladies’ room.”

  “That doesn’t make it true, Lulu.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t believe me!” she said. “That kid overheard a row between Field and the captain of the plane. The captain was mad as hell because the F.B.I, didn’t warn Pan American that they had a dangerous prisoner on board. There was a real set-to and in the end the crew took away Mr. Field’s gun!”

  Diana recalled thinking that Field seemed like Gordon’s chaperon. “What do they say Frank did?”

  “He’s a mobster. He shot a guy and raped a girl and torched a nightclub.”

  Diana found that hard to believe. She had talked to the man herself! He was not very refined, it was true; but he was handsome and nicely dressed, and he had flirted with her politely. She could see him as a confidence trickster or a tax dodger, and she could imagine his being involved in illegal gambling, say; but it did not seem possible that he had deliberately killed people. Lulu was an excitable person who would believe anything.

  Mark said: “It’s kinda hard to credit.”

  “I give up,” Lulu said with a deprecating wave of her hand. “You guys have no sense of adventure.” She stood up. “I’m going to bed. If he starts raping people, wake me up.” She climbed the little stepladder and crawled into the top bunk. She pulled the curtains, then looked out again and spoke to Diana. “Honey, I understand why you got ticked off at me back there in Ireland. I been thinking about it, and I figure I asked for what I got. I was kind of all over Mark. Dumb, I know. I’m ready to forget it as soon as you are. Good night.”

  It was close enough to an apology, and Diana did not have the heart to reject it. “Good night, Lulu,” she said.

  Lulu closed the curtain.

  Mark said: “It was my fault as much as hers. I’m sorry, baby.”

  By way of reply, Diana kissed him.

  Suddenly she felt comfortable and at ease with him again. Her whole body relaxed, and she slumped back on the seat, still kissing him. She was conscious that her right breast was pressing up against his chest. It was nice to be getting physical with him again. The tip of his tongue touched her lips and she parted them a fraction to let him in. He began to breathe harder. This was going a bit too far, Diana thought. She opened her eyes—and saw Mervyn.

  He was passing through the compartment, going forward, and he might not have noticed her, but he turned and glanced over his shoulder, and froze, almost in midstride. His face paled with shock.

  Diana knew him so well that she could read his mind. Although he had been told that she was in love with Mark, he was too downright stubborn to accept it, and so it came as a blow to him to see her actually kissing someone else, almost as bad as if he had had no warning.

  His brow darkened and his black eyebrows contracted in an angry frown. For a split second Diana thought he was going to start a fight. Then he turned away and walked on.

  Mark said: “What’s the matter?” He had not seen Mervyn—he had been too busy kissing Diana.

  She decided not to tell him. “Someone might see,” she murmured.

  Reluctantly he drew away from her.

  She was relieved for a moment; then she began to feel angry. Mervyn had no right to follow her across the world and frown at her every time she kissed Mark. Marriage was not slavery: she had left him, and he had to accept that. Mark lit a cigarette. Diana felt the need to confront Mervyn. She wanted to tell him to get out of her life.

  She stood up. “I’m going to see what’s happening in the lounge,” she said. “You stay there and smoke.” She left without waiting for a reply.

  She had established that Mervyn was not seated to the rear, so she went forward. The turbulence had eased enough for her to walk without holding on. Mervyn was not in number 3 compartment. In the main lounge the cardplayers were settling down to a long game, their seat belts fastened, clouds of smoke around them and bottles of whiskey on the tables. She went into number 2. The Oxenford family took up one side of the compartment. Everyone on the plane knew that Lord Oxenford had insulted Carl Hartmann, the scientist, and that Mervyn Lovesey had sprung to his defense. Mervyn had his good points: she had never denied that.

  Next she came to the kitchen. Nicky, the fat steward, was washing dishes at a tremendous pace while his colleague was making beds farther back. The men’s room door was opposite the kitchen. After that was the staircase to the flight deck, and beyond that, in the nose of the plane, number 1 compartment. She assumed Mervyn had to be there, but in fact it was occupied by off-duty flight crew.

  She went up the stairs to the flight cabin. It was as luxurious as the passenger deck, she noticed. However, the crew all looked terrifically busy, and one of them said to her: “We’d love to show you around at another time, ma’am, but while we’re flying through this bad weather we have to ask you to remain seated and fasten your safety belt.”

  Mervyn had to be in the men’s room, then, she thought, as she went down the stairs. She still had not found out where he was sitting.

  When she reached the foot of the staircase, she bumped into Mark. She gave a guilty start. “What are you doing?” she said.

  “I was wondering that about you,” he said, and there was something unpleasant in his tone of voice.

  “I was just looking around.”

  “Looking for Mervyn?” he said accusingly.

  “Mark, why are you angry with me?”

  “Because you’re sneaking off to see him.”

  Nicky interrupted them. “Folks, would you return to your seats, please? We’re ge
tting a smooth ride for the moment, but it’s not going to last.”

  They made their way back to their compartment. Diana felt foolish. She had been following Mervyn and Mark had been following her. It seemed silly.

  They sat down. Before they could continue their conversation, Ollis Field and Frank Gordon came in. Frank wore a yellow silk dressing gown with a dragon on the back, Field a grubby old woolen one. Frank took off his dressing gown to reveal red pajamas with white piping. He stepped out of his carpet slippers and climbed the little ladder to the top bunk.

  Then, to Diana’s horror, Field took a pair of gleaming silvery handcuffs from the pocket of his brown robe. He said something to Frank in a low voice. Diana could not hear the reply, but she could tell that Frank was protesting. However, Field insisted, and in the end Frank offered one wrist. Field clapped one cuff on him and attached the other to the frame of the bunk. Then he drew the curtain on Frank and fastened the snaps.

  It was true, then. Frank was a prisoner.

  Mark said: “Well, shit.”

  Diana whispered: “I still don’t believe he’s a murderer.”

  “I hope not!” Mark said. “We would have been safer paying fifty bucks and traveling steerage in a tramp steamer!”

  “I wish he hadn’t put the handcuffs on. I don’t know how that boy can sleep chained to his bed. He won’t even be able to roll over!”

  “You’re softhearted,” Mark said, giving her a hug. “The man is probably a rapist and you’re feeling sorry for him because he might not be able to sleep.”

  She put her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair. He had been mad at her a couple of minutes ago, but that seemed to have passed. “Mark,” she said, “do you think two people can get into one of these bunks?”

  “Are you frightened, honey?”

  “No.”

  He gave her a puzzled look; then he understood and grinned. “I guess you could get two in—though not side....”

  “Not side by side?”

  “It looks too narrow.”