a pretty useless life.’ She smiled wryly. ‘The Cunningham family doesn’t believe in women in business. They’re supposed to be ornamental, be good in bed and make babies – preferably boys to carry on the line. Damned misplaced southern chivalry. So I’ve been ornamental and that’s about all.’
I smiled. ‘What about the bed bit?’
‘You won’t believe this, but I was a virgin until I met that bastard back in Houston.’ She shook the thought from her. ‘Anyway, I think all that’s going to change, and it’s going to give a hell of a shock to my father – me mixing with black kids and poor white trash. I think I can get it past Billy One though.’
‘Stick at it. It’s time the Cunninghams made something besides money. Making people happy isn’t a bad aim.’
We talked about it some more, and then she excused herself and walked across the concourse to the toilets. When she came back she was hurrying, her heels clicking rapidly on the hard floor. She stopped in front of me and said, ‘There’s something I have to show you, Tom. I wasn’t going to, but …’ She stopped and bit her lip nervously, then thrust an envelope into my hand. ‘Here!’
‘What is it?’
‘You remember Sue left her camera behind. Well, I took out the film and had it developed. I just picked up the prints at the International Bazaar and I went into the John to have a look at them.’
‘I see,’ I said slowly. I was not sure I wanted to see them. There would be too many memories of that last day.
‘I think you ought to look at them,’ Debbie urged. ‘It’s important.’
I took the prints out of the envelope and shuffled through them. There were a couple of pictures of the Girl in one of which Pete posed in the bows, striking a mock-heroic attitude; three pictures of Sue herself, probably taken by Julie, which damn near broke my heart to see; and the rest were of Julie herself in various locations – by the pool, by the boat, and on board supervising the loading of luggage. There was one picture of Debbie and also four duds, out of focus and blurred. Sue had not yet got the hang of the camera and now never would. I got a lump in my throat and coughed.
Debbie was watching me closely. ‘Look again.’
I went through the pictures again and suddenly Debbie said, ‘Stop! That one.’ In the picture where Pete was in the bows there was a dim figure in the stern – a man just coming on deck from below. He was in the shade and his face was indistinct.
‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ I put down the print and took out the negative. A 110 film negative is damned small – it will just about cover your thumbnail – and the bit which showed the man was about as big as a pinhead. ‘The crewman!’ I said softly.
‘Yes. You’ll have something to show Perigord.’
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