‘That’s what people say in books,’ she said doubtfully. ‘The trouble is there aren’t any men to love at Beau Desert.’ She said shyly, ‘You’re the first Englishman I’ve ever talked to. I liked you from the beginning. I don’t mind telling you these things at all. I suppose there are plenty of other people I should like if I could get away.’
‘Of course there are. Hundreds. And you’re a wonderful girl. I thought so directly I saw you.’
‘Saw my behind, you mean.’ The voice was getting drowsy, but it was full of pleasure.
Bond laughed. ‘Well, it was a wonderful behind. And the other side was wonderful too.’ Bond’s body began to stir with the memory of how she had been. He said gruffly, ‘Now come on, Honey. It’s time to go to sleep. There’ll be plenty of time to talk when we get back to Jamaica.’
‘Will there?’ she said sleepily. ‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
He heard her stir in the sleeping-bag. He looked down. He could just make out the pale profile turned towards him. She gave the deep sigh of a child before it falls asleep.
There was silence in the clearing. It was getting cold. Bond put his head down on his hunched knees. He knew it was no good trying to get to sleep. His mind was full of the day and of this extraordinary Girl Tarzan who had come into his life. It was as if some beautiful animal had attached itself to him. There would be no dropping the leash until he had solved her problems for her. He knew it. Of course there would be no difficulty about most of them. He could fix the operation – even, with the help of friends, find a proper job and a home for her. He had the money. He would buy her dresses, have her hair done, get her started in the big world. It would be fun. But what about the other side? What about the physical desire he felt for her? One could not make love to a child. But was she a child? There was nothing childish about her body or her personality. She was fully grown and highly intelligent in her fashion, and far more capable of taking care of herself than any girl of twenty Bond had ever met.
Bond’s thoughts were interrupted by a tug at his sleeve. The small voice said, ‘Why don’t you go to sleep? Are you cold?’
‘No, I’m fine.’
‘It’s nice and warm in the sleeping-bag. Would you like to come in? There’s plenty of room.’
‘No thank you, Honey. I’ll be all right.’
There was a pause, then, almost in a whisper, ‘If you’re thinking … I mean – you don’t have to make love to me … We could go to sleep back to front, you know, like spoons.’
‘Honey, darling, you go to sleep. It’d be lovely to be like that, but not tonight. Anyway I’ll have to take over from Quarrel soon.’
‘Yes, I see.’ The voice was grudging. ‘Perhaps when we get back to Jamaica.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Promise. I won’t go to sleep until you promise.’
Bond said desperately, ‘Of course I promise. Now go to sleep, Honeychile.’
The voice whispered triumphantly, ‘Now you owe me slave-time. You’ve promised. Good night, darling James.’
‘Good night, darling Honey.’
12 | THE THING
The grip on Bond’s shoulder was urgent. He was instantly on his feet.
Quarrel whispered fiercely, ‘Somepn comin’ across de water, cap’n! It de dragon fo sho!’
The girl woke up. She said anxiously, ‘What’s happened?’
Bond said, ‘Stay here, Honey! Don’t move. I’ll be back.’ He broke through the bushes on the side away from the mountain and ran along the sand with Quarrel at his elbow.
They came to the tip of the sandspit, twenty yards from the clearing. They stopped under cover of the final bushes. Bond parted them and looked through.
What was it? Half a mile away, coming across the lake, was a shapeless thing with two glaring orange eyes with black pupils. From between these, where the mouth might be, fluttered a yard of blue flame. The grey luminescence of the stars showed some kind of domed head above two short batlike wings. The thing was making a low moaning roar that overlaid another noise, a deep rhythmic thud. It was coming towards them at about ten miles an hour, throwing up a creamy wake. Quarrel whispered, ‘Gawd, cap’n! What’s dat fearful ting?’
