‘I got in this morning. From New York. I’ve come to look for a property. It struck me that now would be better than in the season. When all the millionaires are here the prices are hopeless. They may come down a bit now they’re gone. How long have you been here?’
‘About six months. I came out in a yacht, the
‘A long low streamlined affair? Is she yours? She’s got beautiful lines.’
‘She belongs to a relative of mine.’ The eyes watched Bond’s face.
‘Do you stay on board?’
‘Oh no. We’ve got a beach property. Or rather we’ve taken it. It’s a place called Palmyra. Just opposite where the yacht is. It belongs to an Englishman. I believe he wants to sell it. It’s very beautiful. And it’s a long way away from the tourists. It’s at a place called Lyford Key.’
‘That sounds the sort of place I’m looking for.’
‘Well, we’ll be gone in about a week.’
‘Oh.’ Bond looked into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘If you’ve got to flirt, don’t be obvious.’ Suddenly the girl laughed. She looked contrite. The dimples remained. ‘I mean, I didn’t really mean that – not the way it sounded. But I’ve spent six months listening to that kind of thing from these silly old rich goats and the only way to shut them up is to be rude. I’m not being conceited. There’s no one under sixty in this place. Young people can’t afford it. So any woman who hasn’t got a harelip or a moustache – well not even a moustache would put them off. They’d probably like it. Well I mean absolutely any girl makes these old goats get their bifocals all steamed up.’ She laughed again. She was getting friendly. ‘I expect you’ll have just the same effect on the old women with pince-nez and blue rinses.’
‘Do they eat boiled vegetables for lunch?’
‘Yes, and they drink carrot juice and prune juice.’
‘We won’t get on then. I won’t sink lower than conch chowder.’
She looked at him curiously. ‘You seem to know a lot about Nassau.’
‘You mean about conch being an aphrodisiac ? That’s not only a Nassau idea. It’s all over the world where there are conchs.’
‘Is it true?’
‘Island people have it on their wedding night. I haven’t found it has any effect on me.’
‘Why?’ She looked mischievous. ‘Are you married?’
‘No.’ Bond smiled across into her eyes. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’
‘Then we might both try some conch soup some time and see what happens.’
‘That’s only a little better than the millionaires. You’ll have to try harder.’
The drinks came. The girl stirred hers with a finger, to mix in the brown sediment of Worcester sauce, and drank half of it. She reached for the carton of Dukes, broke it open, and slit a packet with her thumbnail. She took out a cigarette, sniffed it cautiously, and lit it with Bond’s lighter. She inhaled deeply and blew out a long plume of smoke. She said doubtfully, ‘Not bad. At least the smoke looks like smoke. Why did you say you were such an expert on giving up smoking?’
‘Because I’ve given it up so often.’ Bond thought it time to get away from the small-talk. He said, ‘Why do you talk such good English? Your accent sounds Italian.’
‘Yes, my name’s Dominetta Vitali. But I was sent to school in England. To the Cheltenham Ladies’ College. Then I went to R.A.D.A. to learn acting. The English kind of acting. My parents thought that was a ladylike way to be brought up. Then they were both killed in a train crash. I went back to Italy to earn my living. I remembered my English but’ – she laughed without bitterness – ‘I soon forgot most of the rest. You don’t get far in the Italian theatre by being able to walk about with a book balanced on your head.’
‘But this relative with the yacht.’ Bond looked out to sea. ‘Wasn’t he there to look after you?’
‘No.’ The answer was curt. When Bond made no comment she added, ‘He’s not exactly a relative, not a close one. He’s a sort of close friend. A guardian.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘You must come and visit us on the yacht.’ She felt that a bit of gush was needed. ‘He’s called Largo, Emilio Largo. You’ve probably heard. He’s here on some kind of a treasure hunt.’
‘Really?’ Now it was Bond’s turn to gush. ‘That sounds rather fun. Of course I’d like to meet him. What’s it all about? Is there anything in it?’
‘Heaven knows. He’s very secretive about it. Apparently there’s some kind of a map. But I’m not allowed to see it and I have to stay ashore when he goes off prospecting or whatever he does. A lot of people have put up money for it, sort of shareholders. They’ve all just arrived. As we’re going in a week or so, I suppose everything’s ready and the real hunt’s going to start any moment now.’
‘What are the shareholders like? Do they seem sensible sort of people? The trouble with most treasure hunts is that either someone’s been there before and sneaked off with the treasure or the ship’s so deep in the coral you can’t get at it.’
