Night Over Water

by Ken Follett

  The peace of the scene was disturbed by two cars that screeched up to the pier and disgorged seven or eight policemen. They went into the flight building in a hurry, and Nancy murmured to Mervyn: “They looked like they were planning to arrest someone.”

  He nodded and said: “I wonder who?”

  “Frankie Gordino, perhaps?”

  “They can’t—he’s already arrested.”

  They came out of the building a few moments later. Three went on board the Clipper, two set off along the beach and two followed the road. They looked as if they were searching for someone. When one of the Clipper’s crew emerged, Nancy asked: “Who are the cops after?”

  The man hesitated, as if he were not sure he should reveal anything; then he shrugged and said: “The guy’s calling himself Harry Vandenpost, but that’s not his real name.”

  Nancy frowned. “That was the boy sitting with the Oxenford family.” She had an idea Margaret Oxenford was developing a crush on him.

  Mervyn said: “Aye. Did he get off the plane? I didn’t see.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I thought he looked a bit of a wide boy.”

  “Really?” Nancy had taken him for a young man from a good family. “He’s got beautiful manners.”

  “Exactly.”

  Nancy smothered a smile: it seemed characteristic that Mervyn would dislike men with beautiful manners. “I think Margaret was quite interested in him. I hope she doesn’t get hurt.”

  “Her parents will be grateful for a narrow escape, I imagine.”

  Nancy could not be happy for the parents. She and Mervyn had witnessed the crass behavior of Lord Oxenford in the dining room of the Clipper. Such people deserved everything they got. However, Nancy felt sorry for Margaret if she had fallen for a bounder.

  Mervyn said: “I’m not normally the impulsive type, Nancy.”

  She was suddenly alert.

  He went on. “I met you only a few hours ago, but I feel completely certain that I want to know you for the rest of my life.”

  Nancy thought: You can’t be certain, you idiot! But she was pleased all the same. She said nothing.

  “I’ve been thinking about leaving you in New York and going back to Manchester, and I don’t want to do it.”

  Nancy smiled. This was just what she wanted him to say. She reached out and touched his hand. “I’m so glad,” she said.

  “Are you?” He leaned forward. “The trouble is, soon it will be next to impossible to cross the Atlantic, for anyone other than the military.”

  She nodded. The problem had occurred to her, too. She had not thought about it very hard, but she felt sure they would be able to find a solution if they were determined enough.

  Mervyn went on. “If we split up now, it may be years, literally, before we can see one another again. I can’t accept that.”

  “I feel the same.”

  Mervyn said: “So will you come back to England with me?”

  Nancy stopped smiling. “What?”

  “Come back with me. Move into a hotel, if you like, or buy a house, or a flat—anything.”

  Nancy felt resentment rise up inside her. She gritted her teeth and tried to stay calm. “You’re out of your mind,” she said dismissively. She looked away from him. She was bitterly disappointed.

  He looked hurt and puzzled by her reaction. “What’s the matter?”

  “I have a home, two sons and a multimillion dollar business,” she said. “You’re asking me to leave them to move into a hotel in Manchester?”

  “Not if you don’t want to!” he said indignantly. “Live with me, if that’s what you want.”

  “I’m a respectable widow with a place in society—I’m not going to live like a kept floozie!”

  “Look, I think we’ll get married—I’m sure we will—but I don’t imagine you’re ready to commit yourself to that, are you, after just a few hours?”

  “That’s not the point, Mervyn,” she said, although in a way it was. “I don’t care what arrangements you envisage. I just resent the casual assumption that I’m going to give up everything and follow you to England.”

  “But how else could we be together?”

  “Why didn’t you ask that question, instead of assuming the answer?”

  “Because there is only one answer.”

  “There are three. I could move to England; you could move to America; or we could both move, to somewhere like Bermuda.”

  He was nonplussed. “But my country is at war. I have to join the fight. I may be too old for active service, but the air force is going to need propellers by the thousand, and I know more about making propellers than anyone else in the country. They need me.”

  Everything he said seemed to make it worse. “Why do you assume that my country doesn’t need me?” she said. “I make boots for soldiers, and when the U.S. gets into this war, there are going to be a lot more soldiers needing good boots.”

  “But I’ve got a business in Manchester.”

  “And I’ve got a business in Boston—a much bigger one, by the way.”

  “It’s not the same for a woman!”

  “Of course it’s the same, you fool!” she yelled.

  Right away, she regretted the word fool. A look of stony fury settled on his face: she had offended him mortally. He got up from his chair. She wanted to say something to stop him walking away in a snit, but she could not think of the right words, and a moment later he had gone.

  “Damn,” she said bitterly. She was angry with him and furious with herself. She did not want to drive him away—she liked him! Years ago she had learned that nose-to-nose confrontation was not the right approach when dealing with men: they would accept aggression from one another but not from women. In business she had always tempered her combative spirit, softened her tone and got her way by manipulating people, not by quarreling with them. Now, just for a moment, she had stupidly forgotten all that and had a fight with the most attractive man she had come across in ten years.

  I’m such a fool, she thought; I know he’s proud. That’s one of the things I like about him—it’s part of his strength. He is tough, but he hasn’t suppressed all his emotions the way tough men often do. Look at the way he followed that runaway wife half across the world. See how he stood up for the Jews when Lord Oxenford blew his top in the dining room. Remember how he kissed me....

  The irony of it was that she felt very ready to think about a change in her life.

  What Danny Riley had told her about her father had cast a new light over her entire history. She had always assumed that she and Peter quarreled because he resented her being cleverer. But that kind of sibling rivalry normally faded away in adolescence: her own two boys, having fought like cat and dog for almost twenty years, were now the best of friends and fiercely loyal to one another. By contrast, the hostility between her and Peter had stayed alive into middle age, and she could now see that Pa was responsible.

  Pa had told Nancy that she was to be his successor, and Peter would work under her; but he had told Peter the opposite. In consequence, both of them thought they were intended to run the company. But it went back farther than that. Pa had always refused to lay down clear rules or define areas of responsibility, she realized. He would buy toys they had to share, then refuse to adjudicate the inevitable disputes. When they were old enough to drive, he had bought a car for them both to use: they had fought over it for years.

  Pa’s strategy had worked for Nancy: it had made her strong-willed and smart. But Peter had ended up weak, sly and spiteful. And now the stronger of the two was about to take control of the company, in accordance with Pa’s plan.

  And that was what disturbed Nancy: it was all in accordance with Pa’s plan. The knowledge that everything she did had been foreordained by someone else spoiled the taste of victory. Her whole life now seemed like a school assignment set by her father: she had got an A, but at forty she was too old to be in school. She had an angry wish to set her own goals and live h
er own life.

  In fact, she had been in just the right mood to have an open-minded discussion with Mervyn about their future together. But he had offended her by assuming that she would drop everything and follow him half across the world; and instead of talking him around she had bawled him out.

  She had not expected him to go down on his knees and propose, of course, but ...

  She felt in her heart that he really should have proposed. She was not a bohemian, after all; she was an American woman from a Catholic family, and if a man wanted a commitment from her, there was only one kind of commitment he was entitled to ask for, and that was her hand in marriage. If he could not do that, he should not ask for anything.

  She sighed. It was all very well to be indignant, but she had driven him away. Perhaps the rift would not be permanent. She hoped so with all her heart. Now that she was in danger of losing Mervyn, she realized how much she wanted him.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another man she had once driven away: Nat Ridgeway.

  He stood in front of her, took off his hat politely and said: “It seems you’ve defeated me—again.”

  She studied him for a moment. He could never have started a company and built it up the way Pa had built Black’s Boots: he did not have either the vision or the drive. But he was very good at running a big organization: he was clever, hard-working and tough. “If it’s any consolation, Nat,” said Nancy, “I know I made a mistake five years ago.”

  “A business mistake, or a personal one?” he said, and there was an edge to his voice that betrayed underlying resentment.

  “Business,” she said lightly. His departure had ended a romance that had hardly begun: she did not want to talk about that. “Congratulations on your marriage,” she said. “I saw a picture of your wife—she’s very beautiful.” It was not true: she was attractive at best.

  “Thank you,” he said. “But to revert to business, I’m rather surprised that you’ve resorted to blackmail to get what you want.”

  “This is a takeover, not a tea party. You said that to me yesterday.”

  “Touché.” He hesitated. “May I sit down?”

  Suddenly she was impatient with formality. “Hell, yes,” she said. “We worked together for years, and for a few weeks we dated, too; you don’t have to ask my permission to sit down, Nat.”

  He smiled. “Thanks.” He took Mervyn’s deck chair and moved it around so that he could look at her. “I tried to take over Black’s without your help. That was dumb, and I failed. I should have known better.”

  “No argument here.” That sounded hostile, she realized. “And no hard feelings, either.”

  “I’m glad you said that—because I still want to buy your company.”

  Nancy was taken aback. She had been in danger of underestimating him. Don’t let your guard down! she told herself. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’m going to try again,” he said. “Of course, I’ll have to make a better offer next time. But more important, I want you on my side—before and after the merger. I want to come to terms with you, and then I want you to become a director of General Textiles and sign a five-year contract.”

  She had not expected this, and she did not know how she felt about it. To gain time she asked a question. “A contract? To do what?”

  “To run Black’s Boots as a division of General Textiles.”

  “I’d lose my independence—I’d be an employee.”

  “Depending on how we structure the deal, you might be a shareholder. And while you’re making money, you’ll have all the independence you want—I don’t interfere with profitable divisions. But if you lose money, then yes, you’ll forfeit your independence. I fire failures.” He shook his head. “But you won’t fail.”

  Nancy’s instinct was to turn him down. No matter how he sugared the pill, he still wanted to take the company away from her. But she realized that instant refusal was what Pa would have wanted, and she had resolved to stop living her life by her father’s program. However, she had to say something, so she prevaricated. “I might be interested.”

  “That’s all I want to know,” he said, standing up. “Think about it and figure out-what kind of deal would make you comfortable. I’m not offering you a blank check, but I want you to understand that I’ll go a long way to make you happy.” Nancy was faintly bemused: his technique was persuasive. He had learned a lot about negotiating in the last few years. He looked past her, toward the land. “I think your brother wants to talk to you.”

  She looked over her shoulder and saw Peter coming. Nat put on his hat and walked away. This looked like a pincer movement. Nancy stared resentfully at Peter. He had deceived her and betrayed her, and she could hardly bring herself to speak to him. She would have liked to mull over Nat Ridgeway’s surprising offer, and think about how it fitted in with her new feelings about her life; but Peter did not give her time. He stood in front of her, put his head on one side in a way that reminded her of his boyhood, and said: “Can we talk?”

  “I doubt it,” she snapped.

  “I want to apologize.”

  “You’re sorry for your treachery, now that it’s failed.”

  “I’d like to make peace.”

  Everyone wants to do a deal with me today, she thought sourly. “How could you possibly make up for what you’ve done to me?”

  “I can’t,” he said immediately. “Never.” He sat down in the chair vacated by Nat. “When I read your report, I felt such a fool. You were saying I couldn’t run the business, I’m not the man my father was, my sister could do it better than me, and I felt so ashamed because in my heart I knew it was true.”

  Well, she thought, that’s progress.

  “It made me mad, Nan—that’s the truth.” As children they had called each other Nan and Petey, and his use of the childhood name brought a lump to her throat. “I don’t think I knew what I was doing.”

  She shook her head. That was a typical Peter excuse. “You knew what you were doing.” But she was sad now, rather than angry.

  A group of people stopped near the door to the airline building, chatting. Peter looked irritably at them and said to Nancy: “Come and walk along the shore with me?”

  She sighed. He was, after all, her little brother. She got up.

  He gave her a radiant smile.

  They walked to the landward end of the pier then stepped across the railroad track and descended to the beach. Nancy took off her high-heeled shoes and walked along the sand in her stockings. The breeze tossed Peter’s fair hair, and she saw, with a little shock, that it was receding from his temples. She wondered why she had not noticed that before, and realized that he combed his hair carefully to conceal it. That made her feel old.

  There was nobody nearby now, but Peter said no more for a while, and eventually Nancy spoke. “Danny Riley told me a weird thing. He said Pa deliberately set things up so you and I would fight.”

  Peter frowned. “Why would he do that?”

  “To make us tougher.”

  Peter laughed harshly. “Do you believe it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess I do, too.”

  “I’ve decided I’m not going to live the rest of my life under Pa’s spell.”

  He nodded, then said: “But what does that mean?”

  “I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll accept Nat’s offer, and merge our company into his.”

  “It’s not ‘our’ company anymore, Nan. It’s yours.”

  She studied him. Was this genuine? She felt mean, being so suspicious. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  He looked sincere as he went on. “I’ve realized I’m not cut out for business, and I’m going to leave it to people like you who are good at it.”

  “But what will you do?”

  “I thought I might buy that house.” They were passing an attractive white-painted cottage with green shutters. “I’m going to have lots of time for holidays.”

  She felt
rather sorry for him. “It’s a pretty house,” she said. “Is it for sale, though?” ,

  “There’s a board on the other side. I was poking around earlier. Come and see.”

  They walked around the house. It was locked up, and the shutters were closed, so they could not look into the rooms, but from the outside it was appealing. It had a wide veranda with a hammock. There was a tennis court in the garden. On the far side was a small building without windows, which Nancy guessed was a boathouse. “You could have a boat,” she said. Peter had always liked sailing.

  A side door to the boathouse stood open. Peter went inside. She heard him say: “Good God!”

  She stepped through the doorway and peered into the gloom. “What is it?” she said anxiously. “Petey, are you all right?”

  Peter appeared beside her and took her arm. For a split second she saw a nasty, triumphant grin on his face, and she knew she had made a terrible mistake. Then he jerked her arm violently, pulling her farther in. She stumbled, cried out, dropped her shoes and handbag, and fell to the dusty floor.

  “Peter!” she cried out furiously. She heard him take three rapid steps; then the door banged and she was in darkness. “Peter?” she called, fearful now. She got to her feet. There was a scraping sound and then a knock as if something was being used to jam the door. She yelled out: “Peter! Say something!”

  There was no reply.

  Hysterical fear bubbled up in her throat and she wanted to scream in terror. She put her hand to her mouth and bit the knuckle of her thumb. After a moment the panic began to recede.

  Standing there in the dark, blind and disoriented, she realized he had planned this all along: he had found the empty house with its convenient boathouse, lured her here and locked her in so that she would miss the plane and be unable to vote at the board meeting. His regrets, his apology, his talk of giving up business and his painful honesty had all been faked. He had cynically evoked their childhood to soften her. Once again she had trusted him; once again he had betrayed her. It was enough to make her weep.