The Rendezvous by Evelyn Anthony Read Free Book Online Page B

in Berne.’ It was crazy to go on talking to her, but he had to be sure. ‘You’re not American, are you?’
    â€˜No, I’m French. I met my husband after the war and married him in France.’
    â€˜I thought I detected an accent,’ he said, ‘but being a foreigner myself I wasn’t sure.’ He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his face.
    â€˜I love America,’ she said. ‘Are you married, Mr. Amstat?’
    â€˜No, I’m afraid not. So far, I’ve escaped.’ He always said this when women asked him that question. He had said it to Julia the first time they met. He wondered where she was. She was probably looking for him. ‘Have a cigarette?’ She held out a case to him, it gleamed in the dim light, and he took one. When she shut it he saw diamonds sparkling on the front. He lit her cigarette and watched her face in the moment while the flame lasted. She had changed very little. It was astonishing how clearly he remembered everything about her. She must be thirty-four, thirty-five, but she hadn’t grown hard, or aggressive like the American women of the same age. She had a gentleness about her still – she had always had it.
    â€˜Have you been here long?’
    â€˜Only six years. I was in the Argentine, studying, before that. I like it too. Your sister-in-law was telling me all about India; she was very enthusiastic.’
    â€˜She’s a great enthusiast.’ Terese looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back; he had seemed very tense and odd when they first met. Now she liked him better. He was more relaxed.
    â€˜She goes mad about people and about things. The trouble is, they don’t always live up to her, and she can’t understand that. She’s such a strong person herself, and she’s never married a man who could match her. I hope this one is different to the others. He seems very nice.’
    â€˜Yes, if you like the type. What were her other husbands?’
    â€˜Two Americans and one Bolivian. They were all disastrous, especially the Bolivian.’ She gave a little laugh, and in spite of himself he had to laugh too. ‘He was terribly rich and very temperamental. He threw fantastic scenes when he didn’t get his own way about everything, and one night poor Ruth called up to say he was running amok in the apartment smashing everything he could get hold of, just because he wanted to go to Salzburg for the festival and she wanted to visit friends in Kenya! It was too ridiculous, really, but they got divorced and she swore it was the last time. The trouble is, she’s miserable living alone. She needs a man in her life, and, being a good Presbyterian, she has to marry them, one after the other.’
    â€˜She sounds even more formidable than she looks,’ he said. ‘And she looks very formidable. How does she like you? Were you a disappointment too?’
    He didn’t know what made him ask that. It was all so strange, like a nightmare mixed up with a pleasant dream. The pleasant part was standing talking on the balcony; when they leaned over the parapet their elbows touched. He was very much aware of her. How did she fit into this milieu of an ultra-sophisticated society? It didn’t serve any purpose but he wanted to know. It was like playing the children’s game, grandmother’s steps. He had seen children playing it in the streets in France. It was one of the oldest suspense games in the world, where you crept inch by inch towards the one whose back was turned. If you were seen moving, you were caught. The thrill was in the fear of being caught. That was what he was doing now, asking her questions, instead of getting out of the place as fast as he could.
    â€˜Was I a disappointment?’ She repeated the question and then hesitated. ‘I don’t know. Not to Robert, my husband, anyway. But probably to Ruth and the others. I’ve never had any