Maralinga Part 31

He drained the last of his red wine. 'Let's go,' he said abruptly, rising and picking up his jacket from the back of his chair.

'I'm sorry,' she said as she stood. 'I didn't mean to offend '

'You're free to think whatever you wish, Elizabeth, but I'd advise you to keep your thoughts to yourself.'

'Please don't be angry, Nick.' She was bewildered by the force of his reaction, but contrite nonetheless. It had been unfair of her to push him so hard when he was not at liberty to respond. 'I'm really, really sorry. It's been a lovely day. I didn't mean to spoil things.'

'You haven't.' Her apology was genuine and he was forced to accept it, but G.o.d she was a maddening woman. 'We'll make a detour and visit Hahndorf on the way back,' he said.

They spent well over an hour exploring the German-settled village of Hahndorf. Elizabeth was enchanted by the picturesque pocket of Europe nestled so incongruously amongst the Australian eucalypts, but Nick's mind was elsewhere.

During the drive, he'd a.n.a.lysed his knee-jerk response, wondering why he'd so overreacted. Was he really insulted because she may have discovered he was little more than a mouthpiece? He hadn't enjoyed being reminded of the fact it was true, but in hindsight why should he care? He did his job and he did it well. Was he perhaps worried about her source of information? He didn't for one minute believe she'd gained her facts from the library but was her informant a threat to security? No, he didn't believe that either. Her informant was a Maralinga scientist who'd been big-noting himself during his trips to Adelaide in an attempt to win s.e.xual favour. And that was where the true problem lay, he realised. He couldn't help wondering whether the man had met with success. Elizabeth appeared to know a lot about the Maralinga tests at times he suspected more than he did himself and she could not have gained her knowledge during a brief conversation over a beer at the Criterion. Had she teased this man for information the way she was teasing him? Had she and the scientist had an affair?

He pictured the two in bed making love, Elizabeth and some faceless man, and realised with a sense of shock that his overreaction at the restaurant had been one of pure jealousy. Good G.o.d, he thought, he was envying a mythical lover of his own invention. Now, as they wandered the quaint streets of Hahndorf, Nick couldn't get the image of Elizabeth and her lover out of his mind, and yet the man quite probably did not exist. Elizabeth was a very proper middle-cla.s.s Englishwoman; she would hardly offer her body as payment for information. His frustration was making him thoroughly irrational.

It was dusk when they pulled up outside the house in St Johns Row. He walked her to the front door.

'Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?'

Common courtesy demanded she make the offer, although in doing so Elizabeth hoped she wasn't asking for trouble.

'No,' he said, aware of her trepidation. 'I'll get back to the hotel, it's been a long day.'

'I've had a wonderful time, Nick. Thank you so much.'

'I enjoyed myself too. Thank you for your company.'

She averted her head for the kiss on the cheek, but he took her face in his hands and turned her to him. The rules were about to change.

She did not pull away. She'd known she couldn't keep him at arm's length forever, and she'd been waiting for him to force the next step. She'd been unsure of what her reaction might be when he did, but now, as their lips met, she decided to acquiesce. A goodnight kiss could do no harm.

Sensing her wariness, he was careful to keep his pa.s.sion in check and he kissed her with the utmost tenderness. Then, as her resistance wavered, he gathered her to him, feeling her surrender, her mouth opening slightly to the gentle insistence of his. He became lost in the feel of her. For this moment she belonged to him, he thought. For this one moment Elizabeth was actually his.

The longing of the past six weeks poured itself into Nick's one moment of possession and, when the kiss was over, Elizabeth was bewildered. She didn't know how to react. He'd done nothing improper. He'd made no attempt to caress her intimately. It had been a simple kiss. Why did she feel as though they'd just made love? Why did she feel so terribly guilty?

'Goodnight, Nick.' Unsure of what to say, she left it at that.

'Goodnight, Elizabeth.'

As he drove back to town, Nick couldn't have felt happier. The bar had been well and truly raised; he could now move on.

'Good morning.' He was back the next day at ten o'clock, standing on her front doorstep in shorts and T-s.h.i.+rt, a towel draped around his neck.

'Nick, what on earth are you doing here?'

'I had the car for another day,' he said, 'there was no point in wasting it. How about a swimming lesson?'

'What?'

'You told me you were teaching yourself to swim you said you give yourself a lesson every Sat.u.r.day.'

She stared at him blankly.

'Don't you remember?'

She nodded. Yes, she remembered mentioning the fact briefly, but that had been over six weeks ago.

'Well, you missed out yesterday, so I thought we'd make up for it with a Sunday session. What do you say?'

'Oh, no, I don't '

'It'll be winter before you know it,' he said. 'You should seize the opportunity while the weather's still good.' She remained hesitant. 'Particularly with an expert teacher to hand.'

'Isn't it a bit cold?' She was wavering.

'Don't be such a sissy.'

No one called Elizabeth a sissy. 'All right, you win.'

'Excellent. I'll wait in the car while you get ready.'

As she donned her swimming costume, Elizabeth supposed she should be annoyed by this intrusion upon her personal life, but she couldn't really blame him. He'd obviously presumed yesterday's kiss gave him licence to call on her. Elizabeth herself had decided to ignore the kiss. She had dwelt upon neither the kiss itself nor her reaction to it, which she'd dismissed as a romantic flutter of girlishness on her part. It had been foolish of her to feel guilty; she'd done nothing wrong. But she must be careful not to encourage him any further, she told herself as she pulled on her tracksuit. Things must not be allowed to get out of hand.

She grabbed a towel and headed downstairs.

He left the car parked where it was and they walked down Jetty Road to the beach. It was not particularly hot and the beach was no longer crowded with summer hordes, but the day was bright and sunny and the crispness of autumn did not deter the true devotees. A number of fitness fanatics ploughed backwards and forwards through the water, and scattered about on the sand were those hardened sun bakers determined to prolong their tans for as long as humanly possible.

Nick and Elizabeth stripped down to their bathing costumes and waded into the ocean. Nick tried hard not to ogle her body, but with some difficulty. She was a tall girl who carried herself well, but she never dressed provocatively. Who could possibly have guessed, he thought, that beneath the sensible blazers and skirts lay such magnificently moulded b.r.e.a.s.t.s and b.u.t.tocks and thighs? He could barely take his eyes off her as she strode into the sea. More than ever she reminded him of a thoroughbred racehorse in peak condition.

They waded out waist-deep.

'Right, now show me what you can do,' he said. Seconds later, he couldn't contain his laughter as she floundered about, arms thras.h.i.+ng wildly, head tossing up and down, gasping for air. So much for the thoroughbred racehorse, he thought.

'What's wrong?' she spluttered as her feet found the sandy bottom and she stood. 'Why are you laughing? I was swimming all right.'

'No you weren't. You were drowning.'

'I most certainly was not,' she protested. 'I've watched other people and that's the way they do it.'

'Other people breathe.'

'I was breathing.'

'No, you weren't.'

'Yes, I was. I've studied them swimming overarm and that's exactly what they do. They lift their head to the side and breathe in as their arm goes back ...' She waved an arm in the air and turned her head to one side by way of demonstration. 'Just the way I did,' she added defiantly.

'And what do they do when their arm goes forward?'

'They put their head back in the water.'

'And they breathe out.'

'Do they?'

'Yep, every time.'

'Oh.' A brief pause. 'I didn't know that.'

He demonstrated the breathing technique and made her practise leaning forward in the water with her feet still on the ocean floor. 'Deep, even breaths,' he said, and he patted his midriff. 'Use your diaphragm, push the air out from here.'

Then he incorporated the arm action. 'Lead back with your elbow,' he showed her how, 'and stretch well forward with your hand, really grab the water.'

He taught her the correct head movement: 'No need to heave your whole head up just turn your face to the side enough to get air.' And, holding her hands while she floated, he taught her how to kick properly. 'Your feet are your outboard engine,' he told her, 'don't let them sink.'

'Right,' he finally said, 'now let's put it all together. Float on your stomach again, arms out front, I'll support you.'

She did, and he cradled one arm under her waist, holding her steady in the water. 'Off you go,' he said, 'nice and easy, and don't forget to kick.'

He walked beside her, supporting her with one hand and correcting her style with the other. 'Stretch right out,' he said, running his hand along the length of her arm to her wrist, extending her reach. 'Don't cut your stroke short.'

She did as she was told.

'Good, that's good. Watch your head you're lifting too far out of the water, it's a waste of energy.' He placed the palm of his hand between her shoulder blades. 'No lifting from here, just a turn to the side,' he said, sliding his hand to the back of her neck. 'From here,' he said, 'turn from here.'

Again, she did as she was told.

'Good, very good, but don't forget to really push out that air.' He nudged her with his supporting arm. 'I can't feel your diaphragm working.'

Nick was an experienced instructor. He'd taught many to swim over the years, and he was now so focused upon tuition that he wasn't really aware of their bodily contact. Elizabeth was. Much as she was concentrating on her performance and on obeying his commands, she was aware of his every touch. She could feel the muscles of his forearm as he supported her. She could feel the brush of his fingers along the length of her arm. She could feel his hand on the bare flesh of her back and her neck. She wasn't accustomed to such intimacy it made her self-conscious and ill at ease. At the same time, she was annoyed with herself. How stupid she was being, how stupid and prudish the man was only giving her a swimming lesson. She tried with all her might to focus solely upon his instructions, but she could not ignore the distraction of his touch on her naked skin.

The water was chilly and finally he called a halt. 'We'd better leave it at that,' he said, 'you're getting goose b.u.mps.'

He was cold himself, he needed some action. 'I'll see you on the beach I'm just going to warm up a bit.'

She waded ash.o.r.e and, as she towelled herself dry and donned her track suit, she watched him cutting his way through the water. It was an impressive sight. He was a powerful swimmer with an elegant style.

'You make it look so easy,' she said ten minutes later when he'd jogged up the beach to her.

'It is easy. You'll be swimming like that yourself in no time.'

'I hardly think so,' she scoffed.

'Of course you will. You've conquered the breathing and that's the main part. Swimming's all about breathing.' He grabbed his towel and started drying himself off. 'You did very well, Elizabeth, very well indeed.' He meant it. 'You should feel proud of yourself.'

'Thanks, Nick.' For some strange reason she found herself basking in his praise.

They jogged back up Jetty Road in order to keep warm, and when they arrived at the house she made the offer of a hot shower. It was only fair, she thought, the poor man was s.h.i.+vering as much as she was.

He followed her upstairs to her apartment, where she showed him the bathroom and gave him a fresh towel.

'No, no, you go first,' he said, 'you're freezing.'

He was insistent, so she led him through the lounge room's French windows to the balcony where he could wait in the sun. Then she disappeared briefly to the bedroom and returned with a large woollen cardigan, which she tossed to him.

'I'm sorry I don't have anything more appropriate,' she said, 'I don't stock men's clothes, but that should keep you warm. I won't be too long, I promise.'

'Take your time,' he called after her.

He struggled into the cardigan, which, although not small, was a very tight fit on a six-foot man of his build, and sat looking out at the ocean. Things were moving along very nicely, he thought.

She reappeared barely five minutes later. 'Your turn,' she announced, popping her head through the French windows.

He stood. 'You shouldn't have rushed,' he said as he stepped inside. 'I was quite happy just '

She burst out laughing. The cardigan, loose-fitting on her, looked quite silly on him. Furthermore, it was mauve.

'You look absolutely ridiculous,' she said.

'You don't.'

Her wet hair was sc.r.a.ped back from her face, she wore a simple red sweater and black trousers, and he didn't think he'd seen a woman more glorious. She was barefooted too, which seemed to have a special significance, as if she were somehow undressed. The next step was only natural.

As before, the kiss started out slowly and tenderly. Elizabeth had not antic.i.p.ated it, but she didn't resist. She was aware that she should, having vowed not to encourage him any further, but she found herself once again surrendering. Then, before she knew it, surrender had become desire. Suddenly the kiss was no longer a simple kiss and she was no longer a pa.s.sive partic.i.p.ant. She was aroused. She wanted him to make love to her. She wanted the touch of his naked skin against hers, the feel of him inside her ...

She broke away, fl.u.s.tered and breathless. Her moment of s.e.xual abandonment had lasted only seconds, but she was shocked.

'I'm sorry, Nick,' she said. 'I'm sorry, but I think you should go. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry if I've led you on in any way, but '

'Don't apologise, Elizabeth, please,' he said. She looked so very frightened. 'I'm the one who should be apologising. I didn't mean to take advantage ...' He stopped; he had meant to. Of course he'd meant to. And he would again, but only when he felt she was ready. 'I'm sorry. I didn't intend to frighten you.'

He kissed her on the cheek and quietly left. He hadn't frightened her at all, he thought. She'd frightened herself. It was only a matter of time now, and he was happy to wait. He was happy to wait for as long as it took now that he knew she wanted him.

He climbed into the car and drove off, unaware he was still wearing the mauve cardigan.

It was over two months before they finally made love.

She avoided seeing him altogether for the first month, offering flimsy excuses when he rang and asked her out. Then, in the first week of June, he turned up again on her front doorstep.

'I thought it was high time I returned this,' he said, holding up the mauve cardigan. 'The boys at the base say it doesn't suit me.'

Elizabeth laughed. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed his company. She'd been too riddled with guilt to think of anything but her moment of weakness. How could she have l.u.s.ted after another man, and so shamelessly, when Danny had been dead little more than six months? She was appalled by her behaviour.

'It's good to see you, Nick. Would you like a cup of tea?'

After that, things moved slowly but nonetheless surely. During the next month or so he made regular stopovers in Adelaide en route to his Canberra meetings, and they went to the cinema or dined out. At first they reverted to the kiss on the cheek, Elizabeth trying to maintain the barriers and Nick careful to observe the parameters she set. But he made sure he had a hire car to hand these days and insisted upon driving her home. As a result, the nightly farewells at her front door followed a natural progression. The kiss on the cheek once again graduated to the mouth, just a gentle brush of the lips to start with, but it escalated rapidly and they were soon both aware that the inevitable was looming.

Then, one cold winter's night in July, as their lips parted and the steam from their mouths mingled, Elizabeth decided she couldn't take any more. Yet again they'd done nothing except kiss, but yet again she'd been devoured by sheer carnal l.u.s.t. He'd made no attempt to caress her or to thrust himself upon her in any way. But she desperately wanted him to.