The Lovers Read online

  ‘Perfectly, my dear sir, perfectly. As you put it, we are in the same galley. This is the kind of affair that can quickly become scandalous. But fortunately, nothing happens until pen touches paper. So, unless your man dies or your owner lodges a formal complaint, nothing will be done officially. We do, of course, have our own method of dealing with such delinquents. May I drive you back to your ship . . .?’

  ‘A great courtesy, brigadiere . . . Thank you. And your own impression of the doctor’s nephew?’

  ‘A fine young man, of reasonable education and much good will. He promises well . . . This would be a splendid chance for him.’

  ‘Leave it to me, brigadiere; I’ll see what I can do.’

  Back on board, his first act was to deliver a bulletin on Hadjidakis; his second was to announce the luncheon party. This brought a small chorus of protest, which was quelled quickly by the Chef:

  ‘. . . The food and the liquor we have in abundance. All we have to do is organise the service. Let’s start now, my children!’

  Next Cavanagh conducted a brusque briefing session with Leo and Jackie.

  ‘I’ve told Mr Molloy exactly what you told me about the punch-up at Porto Ferraio – no more, no less, no comment. You can be damn sure he’ll want to question you himself. My advice is not to lie, even if it means changing the story you told me. Next, I’m bringing in a local lad to try out as engine-room mechanic. If he’s half-way good we’ll keep him. Help him, and don’t play games – any sort of games. You’re both deep enough in the dreck already. Leo, subject to anything Mr Molloy may have in mind, I’m going to train you as watch-keeper, Navy style. You’ll have lives in your hands, so don’t foul up on me. Clear?’

  ‘Loud and clear, Mr Cavanagh.’

  ‘Good. Now go make yourselves useful to the Chef, and the minute Mr Molloy and his guests arrive, step lively! Make a ceremony of it.’

  Finally he drew Lenore Pritchard aside for a very private exchange.

  ‘. . . I didn’t have time to say thank you before I left. I’m saying it now. Grazie infinite.’

  ‘My pleasure, Mr Cavanagh.’ Her attitude was guarded. She gave him only half a smile. ‘I wish you hadn’t left so soon.’

  ‘You were dead asleep. It would have been a crime to wake you.’

  ‘I’ll accept the apology but I’ll be interested to see what happens next. How is Mr Molloy taking this?’

  ‘I wish I knew. He’s very restrained, very curt. He hasn’t raised any objection to my moves for damage control.’

  ‘He won’t. He knows he’s lucky you’re prepared to move into command. What’s really in question here is his whole relationship with Hadjidakis.’

  ‘I know they’re very close; but that’s as much as I can say.’

  ‘So leave it just like that. Don’t clutter your mind with guesswork or complicate my life more than it will be.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Cavanagh! Use your brains! With Hadjidakis gone I’m going to be working overtime to keep the great Molloy contented. I’m not looking forward to it, not one little bit.’

  ‘If there’s anything I can do . . .?’

  ‘Not much. It would be nice if you could take over Hadjidakis’ cabin. I’d feel more comfortable knowing you were just across the way.’

  ‘Molloy will have to suggest that.’

  ‘I know. It’ll be interesting to see what he does.’

  ‘If we’re neighbours,’ said Cavanagh with a grin, ‘for God’s sake don’t clown us both into trouble.’

  ‘I thought you were the clown,’ said Lenore Pritchard, soberly, ‘or has all this sudden responsibility gone to your head?’

  Punctually at eleven, there presented itself at the gangway a tall, spindly figure dressed in blue overalls and carrying a toolbox in one hand and in the other a battered valise. The figure had a mop of brown hair, an owlish stare behind thick spectacles, a child’s happy smile and a schoolboy deference. It also had a high-sounding name: Rodolfo Arnolfini, and a title, ‘il meccanico’.

  Cavanagh’s heart sank when he saw this shambling figure, but he managed a welcoming smile and immediately swept the mechanic off the deck and down into the engine room, whose mysteries he displayed with an ample gesture and a single word: ‘Ecco!’

  Rodolfo’s smile widened into a broad grin of approval.

  ‘Eh bella, bella!’

  Cavanagh asked tentatively:

  ‘Have you ever worked on this type of engine?’

  ‘No. Most of my diesel experience was on MAN motors. But if I can see the manual . . .’

  ‘Our manual is in English.’

  ‘No matter. It’s the diagrams I need. I understand those.’

  Cavanagh laid the manual in his hands and placed on top of it the engine-room plans, the diagrams of ducts and circuits and the stabiliser system. He announced with great gravity:

  ‘Rodolfo, I am now going to leave you alone with this beautiful machinery and all this reading matter. In an hour or two I’m going to come back and you’re going to have to convince me that you are a mechanic worthy of this magnificent assemblage. If you pass that test, then you’ll accompany us on an afternoon cruise, so that you see the whole thing in motion. After that I shall decide whether to employ you or put you ashore with my blessing and money in your pocket. Do you understand?’

  ‘I understand perfectly, sir. Now if you would point me to the toilet I should be grateful. This kind of interview always makes me nervous . . . Not because I am ignorant, you understand, but . . .’

  ‘I understand perfectly,’ said Cavanagh. ‘It takes me the same way. Come and I’ll show you. Bring your valise. You can leave it on my bunk . . .’

  As he made his way up to the deck, Cavanagh felt like a squeamish spectator at the circus, closing his eyes just as the girl was toppling off the high-wire. Still, there was not too much at risk, unless Rodolfo ran crazy with spanner and fire-axe, or began chewing up the manuals into papier-mâché.

  He still had time to kill before Molloy came aboard with his passengers and business guests, so he made a final round of the vessel – a ‘white-glove’ inspection, Lenore called it – to make sure there was no dust on furniture, no cloud on mirror surfaces. All his instincts told him that Molloy, so brusque and businesslike in his telephone transactions, would return to the ship boiling with suppressed emotions. In fact, he came on board at a run, leaving Galeazzi and Farnese to hand the women out of the bus, and the waiting crew to pick up the baggage and shepherd the other guests up the gangway. He took Cavanagh by the elbow and swung him into the saloon with a terse command:

  ‘My cabin, now!’

  Cavanagh followed him to his quarters, the big stateroom which stretched the whole width of the ship and was furnished in solid teak, designed and built by master marine craftsmen. Molloy said brusquely:

  ‘Sit down. Join me in a drink. I need one.’

  He splashed liquor and soda into crystal tumblers, handed one to Cavanagh, drained half his own in a single gulp, then sat down heavily in a deep leather armchair.

  ‘So now, tell me the truth of it, boyo. How’s Giorgios?’

  ‘Not good. His ribs and arm will mend. His cheekbone can be reconstructed. The doctor at Porto Ferraio took X-rays of the skull fracture. He told me he was worried by what he saw but would not commit himself to a prognosis. Giorgios was comatose when we got him on board the chopper. The pilot told me he would be setting down on the carrier to refuel, then heading south to Naples. The carrier medics will check on Giorgios to see if he’s able to make the journey . . . I wish I had better news, but that’s all I’ve got.’

  ‘If he dies,’ Molloy was sunk in a dark pit of rage, ‘it’ll be murder and I’ll take this goddamned island apart stone by stone to find the people who did it. How in Christ’s name could it have happened? Giorgy knows his way round. I can’t imagine . . . Oh, Jesus! I wonder . . .’

  ‘What sir?’

  ‘Tolvier . . . N
o it couldn’t be. The reaction is too fast.’

  ‘I’m not following you, sir.’

  ‘In Corsica, we lifted a man who is wanted as a war criminal. I was wondering about reprisals.’

  ‘It would have to be a very quick reaction. But yes, it’s possible. Jordan seemed worried about the Fairmile that dropped anchor in Calvi harbour.’

  ‘I know . . . We discussed it . . .’

  ‘What are the police doing?’

  ‘In this case, it’s the carabinieri.’

  ‘Police, carabinieri, whatever! I want to know what they’re doing.’

  ‘I told you, sir. For the moment they’re doing nothing. That was the deal I made with the brigadiere: unless and until we lodge a formal complaint, he will keep the inquiries off his records.’

  ‘You made a deal!’ Molloy exploded out of his chair and stood towering over him. ‘You have no right to make any deal that affects me or this ship with anybody at all!’

  ‘Correction, Mr Molloy!’ Cavanagh set down his glass carefully. ‘In the given time, place and circumstance I had the right and the duty to make any necessary decision. I was the ranking officer taking command from an injured senior. I told you what I was doing, whether you understood me or not. I also made it clear to the brigadiere that you might well countermand my decision. He reminded me that he too was subject to superiors. He also pointed out that any police action could provoke a public scandal.’

  ‘That still gave you no right to pre-empt my decision!’

  ‘It was my job this morning to buy you time to make a prudent one. I did that. I refuse to make apologies or excuses for my action!’

  For an instant it seemed as though Molloy might strike him, but slowly and with much effort he regained control of himself. He turned back to the liquor cabinet, poured himself another slug of neat whisky and tossed the drink off at a gulp. There was a long, tense silence, during which Molloy stood with his back to Cavanagh while he stumbled through an apology and a revelation.

  ‘. . . Bear with me Cavanagh! I beg you, bear with me. I’m bleeding. I’m hurting as I’ve never hurt before. I can’t bear the thought of what happened to Giorgios and that it might be my fault. Do you know what Giorgios used to call us? Comrades who marched in step, fought side by side, slept under the same cloak, like the warriors of Alexander. I love the man! I can’t bear the thought of losing him . . .’

  ‘You’ve put him in the best hands. Now all you can do is pray.’

  ‘Do you pray, Cavanagh? Can you still do it? Do you still believe in it?’

  ‘If it helps, I’ll pray with you,’ said Cavanagh, calmly. ‘We were both taught the same words!’

  ‘Not now. I feel like getting drunk.’

  ‘But you won’t,’ said Cavanagh firmly. ‘Not at midday, in the sight of your fiancée and with all these people on board. Tonight if you like, when we’re safely tied up and the ladies are asleep, I’ll match you shot for shot and carry you to bed afterwards. Just now, I need you sober to interview our candidate for the engine room . . . Rodolfo Arnolfini . . .’

  ‘Come again? What have you done this time?’

  By the time Cavanagh had made his explanation the bad moment had passed and Molloy’s brief frenzy of grief had subsided into embarrassment. He said tentatively:

  ‘I depended a great deal on Giorgios.’

  ‘I know that. He was – he is – a fine seaman. I told him so, several times.’

  ‘I know. He was flattered by your compliments. Can I trust you, Cavanagh?’

  ‘What am I supposed to say to that, Mr Molloy? You’ll give me your trust or you’ll withhold it. Either way I’ll do what I’m contracted to do. It’s up to you to decide what and how much you confide in me.’

  ‘And you’re damned if you’re going to plead for my trust!’

  ‘You’re damned right, sir!’

  A wintry smile twitched at Molloy’s lips. Before he could say anything else, Cavanagh reminded him:

  ‘Giorgios left two messages for you. He noted them in the log – one cipher, one clear.’

  Molloy crossed to the desk, picked up the envelopes, took out the messages and studied them in silence. He dismissed Cavanagh with a wave.

  ‘You go look after the guests, Cavanagh. Give ’em half an hour for drinks, then we’ll get under way. Tell Chef to serve lunch once we’ve cleared the harbour. And Cavanagh?’

  ‘Sir!’

  ‘You’re confirmed as acting first officer. You collect an extra twenty-five bucks a week for the privilege. You’ll be busted back as soon as Giorgios is with us again. Have the boys pack up his gear and bring it here to my cabin. You take up residence in his berth, because that’s rigged as the command centre.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘One more thing . . .’

  Cavanagh waited in silence.

  ‘I don’t quite see you as a comrade of the cloak. I’m not sure how well you can keep a secret, but I am trusting you with my ship and our lives. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It means I should get back on deck. Chef has arranged a buffet. He thought you’d probably want to start the cruise before the meal.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Molloy indifferently. ‘By the way, when you see Farnese, ask him to come here as quickly as possible.’

  He found Farnese perched on the taffrail with Giulia beside him, while the Countess and Galeazzi stood a little distance away, sipping champagne and dispensing small talk with the men from the Ministry of Marine. Cavanagh presented Molloy’s compliments and his request that the Prince meet with him in his cabin. Farnese eased himself to the deck.

  ‘Perhaps, Mr Cavanagh, you would look after my daughter for a little while. She is in no mood for casual company or business talk.’

  ‘My pleasure, sir.’ He hoisted himself on to the rail beside Giulia and told her cheerfully: ‘This is the best assignment I’ve had in the past forty-eight hours.’

  Giulia’s answer was a bill of complaints.

  ‘For us it’s been a morning in the madhouse. Lou has been raging about, barking orders like a warder. When I tried to calm him and have him explain what was going on, nothing he told me made any sense. All I could make out was that Hadjidakis had been injured in some kind of brawl and had to be flown to Naples for specialist treatment.’

  ‘That’s the simple truth of the matter.’

  ‘The whole truth, Cavanagh?’

  ‘Listen, Giulia!’ He dropped his voice to a murmur. ‘Please don’t ask me that kind of question. Molloy’s the man you’re going to marry. Ask him. I know he’s very upset at the moment because his friendship with Hadjidakis goes back a long way – and Giorgios is in a serious condition.’

  ‘I know.’ Giulia’s tone was sombre. ‘But what troubles me is that Lou won’t share his anxiety with me – and we’re supposed to share a whole life with each other.’

  ‘The sharing takes some practice.’ The words came awkwardly and tasted like sawdust on his tongue. ‘If you don’t learn it in a family, it takes a long time to pick it up later.’

  ‘Why must you always defend Lou?’

  ‘God knows! I guess I’m trying to explain him to myself as much as to you. I have to live with him too, in a very special way.’

  ‘How special?’ There was suspicion and anger in her tone.

  ‘He’s the captain of this vessel – skipper under God, as they used to say in the old days. Until Hadjidakis comes back – if he comes back – I’m Molloy’s first officer, his right hand, so to speak. We have to trust each other, because we’re comrades and allies against the sea . . . and the sea’s rage can be a frightening experience . . .’

  Giulia was silent for a while; then, in a small furtive movement she shifted her grip on the rail so that her hand lay over his. She asked quietly:

  ‘Will you do something for me, Cavanagh?’

  ‘If I can, sure.’

  ‘I’d like to learn scuba-diving. Would you teach me?’

  ‘Of cou
rse. I’d be delighted. First thing you should do is try on the wetsuits we have on board. If there isn’t one to fit you, then you should buy one on the mainland. Second thing – just for the courtesy of it – mention to Molloy that you’ve asked me. I know he dives. One of the sets of gear has his name on it. So he may prefer to teach you himself.’

  ‘He says not. He said no man should teach his wife to drive a car or fly an aeroplane either. He’s promised that we’ll dive together when I’m ready; but he’s happier that you should teach me. Frankly, I’m happier too . . .’

  ‘Good. It’s settled. Now I have to pay some courtesies and get ready to start our cruise. Would you like to stroll around with me?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  He eased himself onto the deck and held out his hands to help Giulia down from the rail. Her perfume and the warmth of her body filled him with sudden lust. Cold reason told him that he had to disengage from her as quickly as possible, so he steered her through the small concourse of guests, pausing to exchange a few words with each group, hoping that one or other would seek to detain Giulia. She, however, was more adept at evasion than they were at snaring her. Finally, it was Galeazzi and the Countess who came to the rescue. They were still talking with the two officials from the Ministry of Marine and the group opened up immediately to include Giulia and Cavanagh. The Countess gave him her most mischievous smile and said:

  ‘I hear you had a rather disturbed night, Mr Cavanagh?’

  ‘It wasn’t too bad.’ Cavanagh tried to shrug off the incident. ‘Everything was under control by breakfast time.’

  ‘And how is Mr Hadjidakis?’

  ‘It’s too early to say. We’ll be getting a report from Naples this evening.’

  ‘Meantime,’ Galeazzi moved hastily to change the subject, ‘I understand you’re taking command of the vessel.’

  ‘Mr Molloy is in command, sir. I simply become acting first officer.’

  ‘I have a small service to ask. Could we talk privately for a few minutes?’