Her body sighed and fell again, then rose, her face stretched and became ugly but did not burst. A cry of surrender escaped her, but from so far off it could have come from the drenched forests that surrounded them or the depths of the grey lake. She mounted him and they began the climb again, peak to peak until they drowned together.
He lay intently beside her, watching her breathing, resenting her repose. He tried to work out whom he was betraying.
Sophie? Or just myself as usual? We're betraying Thomas. She rolled onto her side, turning her back to him. Her beauty added to his loneliness. He began caressing her.
* * *
"He's a good man," Yvonne said. "Into anthropology and Indian rights. His father's a lawyer working with the Cree. He wants to follow in his footsteps." She had found a bottle of wine and brought it back to bed. Her head was resting on his chest.
"I'm sure I'd like him very much," Jonathan said politely, picturing an earnest dreamer in a Fair Isle pullover penning love letters on recycled paper.
"You're a lie," she said, distractedly kissing him. "You're some kind of lie. You're all truth, but you're a lie. I don't understand you."
"I'm on the run," he said. "I had a problem in England."
She clambered up his body and put her head beside his. "Want to talk about it?"
"I've got to get hold of a passport," he said. "That stuff about being Swiss is junk. I'm British."
"You're
She was excited. She picked up his glass and drank from it, watching him over the brim.
"Maybe we can steal one," she said. "Change the picture. A friend of mine did that."
"Maybe we can," he agreed.
She was fondling him, eyes alight. I've tried everything I could think of, he told her. Explored guest bedrooms, looked in parked cars. No one carries a passport round here. Been down to the post office, got the forms, studied the formalities. Visited the town graveyard looking for dead men of my own age; thought I might apply on their behalf. But you never know what's safe these days: maybe the dead are already in some computer.
"What's your real name?" she whispered. "Who are you? Who are you?"
A moment's wonderful peace descended over him as he made her the ultimate gift. "Pine. Jonathan Pine."
* * *
All day they lived naked, and when the rain cleared they took the boat out to an island in the centre of the lake and swam naked from the shingle beach.
"He's turning in his thesis in five weeks," she said.
"And then?"'
"Marriage to Yvonne."
"And then?"
"Working with the Indians in the bush." She told him where. They swam a distance.
"Both of you?" he asked.
"Sure."
"How long for?"
"Couple of years. See how it goes. We're going to have babies. About six."
"Will you be faithful to him?"
"Sure. Sometimes."
"Who's up there?"
"Cree mainly. He likes Cree best. Speaks it pretty well."
"What about a honeymoon?" he asked.
"Thomas? His idea of a honeymoon is McDonald's and hockey practice at the arena."
"Does he travel?"
"Northwest Territories. Keewatin. Yellowknife. Great Slave Lake. Norman Wells. Goes all over."
"I meant abroad."
She shook her head. "Not Thomas. He says it's all in Canada."
"What is?"
"Everything we need in life. It's all here. Why go further? He says people travel too much. He's right."
"So he doesn't need a passport," Jonathan said.
"Fuck you," she said. "Get me back to shore."
But by the time they had cooked supper and made love again, she was listening to him.
* * *
Every day or night they made love. In the small hours of morning when he came up from the disco, Yvonne would lie awake waiting for his brushing signal against her door. He would tiptoe to her and she would draw him down on her, her last long drink before the desert. Their lovemaking was almost motionless. The attic was a drum, and every movement clattered through the house. When she started to call out in pleasure, he laid his hand over her mouth and she bit it, leaving teeth marks in the flesh around his thumb.
If your mother discovers us, she'll throw me out, he said.
Who cares, she whispered, gathering herself more tightly round him. I'll go with you. She seemed to have forgotten everything she had told him about her future plans.
I need more time, he insisted.
For the passport?
For you, he replied, smiling in the darkness.
She hated his leaving, yet dared not keep him with her.
Madame Latulipe had taken to looking in on her at all odd hours.
"You are asleep,
Once when her mother appeared Jonathan was actually lying beside Yvonne in the darkness, but by a mercy Madame Latulipe did not switch on the light.
They drove in Yvonne's baby-blue Pontiac to a motel in Tolerance, and thank God he made her leave their cabin ahead of him, because as she walked to her car, still smelling of him, she saw Mimi Leduc grinning at her from the next-door parking space.
"
"Uh-huh."
