Читать книгу Headwinds - Sybil Kempel - Страница 4

“… and don’t forget Davis’s bag.”

“ Davis’s?” George wondered " He hasn’t showed up yet...”

The caddy looked amused.

Mr. Walker repressed a fit of anger against the boy.

“ Mr. Davis`s bag. H e will arrive this evening.”

The boy blushed violently and lowered his head.

“ Of course Mr. Walker. I`ll put the bag in the right place.”

“ And do your best. You must learn to hold your tongue” he replied, brandishing the note book of arrivals and departures.

The boy walked away without saying a word. Mr. Walker watched him walk through the door to the store and then shook his head. Davis was one of the club`s best players and he could not afford to lose him. Plus he was a very short-tempered person and that was making things way more complicated. Walker stood still for a while, contemplating something, t hen started shouting toward the store: ”George... wait. I will personally check the bag. I would never... ” he stopped talking.

” The boy is willing” he thought, ”but inexperienced.”

Walker remembered the scene during the ”Yorkshire Land” tournament. The caddy, a novice poor boy had scattered all the golf clubs on the grass. Davis got furious and left the game. The thing might well have been unnoteworthy, but after he left they did not know how to bet. Someone that evening opened a bottle of champagne and made a toast to the abandonment of the best player in the county. The bookmakers lost a lot of money, as the given price was determined by the other listed players when Davis was still in competition. Davis, on the other hand, left and was no longer seen at the club ever after. He had been absent for almost three months by now. The news had spread that he had left on a business trip, but few believed it. People made comments full of heavy irony about him and the fact that he shut himself away, in his office, to let off steam.

He could not always get a hold on himself. He had a certain style of feigning indifference or arrogance, which are both the same thing, but many realized that behind the patina of ice and calm that characterized his `savoir faire` there was actually a passionate and impetuous nature. The self-control that separated him from the common life of the vast majority of mortals on earth was the fruit of an intense and exhausting work carried out on himself and his own character. Any cracks manifested in the perfect building of his behavior unnerved him a lot and caused him annoying impulses of escape.

Walker smiled.

“ And now we`ll have him back with us” he said with a touch of irony and fear.

“ Who told you that?” Webb asked. The fat gentleman who sat at the table in front of him, under the veranda lit by flickering Chinese lanterns, smiled and cleaned his mustaches with his napkin. ”This is a secret,” he said. “To hell with your secrets,” said Webb, pouring gin into his glass. ”You said you`d quit” he observed him with a grimace of disappointment. Webb shrugged. ”There is always time for gin and women. When the right opportunity comes up... ” and Webb winked. The other gave a thunderous laugh and he took the glass that had been half-filled. He took a swig and closed his eyes. ”Delicious,” he said. ”Special reserve,” said Webb, satisfied. But you have not told me yet how did you know that Davis is back? Dixon, flaunting calm and indifference, pulled a huge cigar from his jacket pocket, he beheaded and undertook a meticulous and slow ritual of ignition. Webb burnt his throat but tried not to show it. After all, as president of the Hornsea sailing club, he should have taken precedence. Davis was, as Webb declared, a ”member more than supporter.” Ever since he became a member, the club seemed to have returned to its ancient splendor, back when Hornsea was a holiday resort frequented by classy people. Webb looked lovingly at the decor of the dining room that now glowed in mahogany, nautical rope knots and authentic objects belonged to glorious ships of the past times. Inside there was an atmosphere of adventure and transoceanic travel.From the portholes you could easily expect to see a tropical beach, so high was the accuracy of the reconstruction.

Finally the table companion poured his bulk into the chair, tilting his head back. He took a deep breath in the cigar and then stepped forward with a knowing gaze.

"You know Mrs. Price?" He asked, lowering his tone. A useless adjustment because there was nobody in the club room other than them.

"The widow?"

"She. She’s quite informed of all the movements of the man..."

Webb smiled: " She’s always informed about all the movements of all those that can become an opportunity.... let's say interesting - of knowledge"

"A witch," commented the other.

"That's not to be discussed" Webb replied, "though I'd like to know how she managed to sneak through Davis's imperviousness. In all those years that he is being our partner I could never tell..."

"But your name is not Mrs. Price. And you don’t have those two little fellows on your breast that can even make the dead speak" sighed the fat gentleman.

"Davis does not seem to be easily enchanted by people like Leslie"

" He does " the other argued eagerly, " you haven’t got it The point is that the only thing that can enchant him is a pair of boobs put on display.’'

"Alexander, not everyone is like you, so sensitive to female beauty" Webb replied, embarrassed.

Dixon s hook his head: "That's not the question. Davis is in the background a spoiled playboy who tries to take advantage of even the least tempting opportunities"

"Why do you say that: even the least?" Webb said, stepping a little forward.

"Look at Leslie, Mrs Price: she's a nice woman, apparently nice, apparently joyful, apparently well disposed" Dixon said, interspersing each adjective with a puff of smoke that created a cloud over his head.

"Too many apparently" said Webb grimacing as he poured another half-glass of gin.

"Here you have hit the spot. She is hunting. He is not a prey’’

"I do not understand you" Webb said, handing the glass to Dixon. He swallowed it in a sip and then continued.

"If I'm not mistaken he’ll exploit the situation, she’ll put herself in his bed and then ... in the wind as before"

"I don’t think s," Webb said, "Price won’t let him. S he’ll tie him firmly to his bed and keep him there until he cracks and leave his money to her " Webb said bitterly.

"Now it’s my turn not to believe it possible. The man is too clever." Dixon put back his glass on the table noisily.

"In the old days there would be a be," Webb ventured. The other enlightened.

"My goodness, seems like a good idea. I say she won’t make it" Dixon said and put a hundred-pound note on the table.

"I say she will" Webb replied with a slightly defiant tone and added a second banknote. The two shook hands, then Dixon made the banknotes disappear into his wallet: "I'll keep the money" he said, smiling mischievously ‘’and I think he won’t leave this wallet anymore’’

"Keep my two hundred pounds well" said the other, and poured a third glass to both of them.