Hemingway’s Chair

you
do.’
    ‘Why
is that, d’you think?’
    She
paused, then tipped her head back. ‘Because I think I’m nearer Mrs Mason.’
    ‘But
she was — ’
    Ruth
grinned. ‘The scarlet woman. Fast and loose and drank a lot and was a little
mad to say the least.’ Martin looked at his glass. It was empty. ‘I wouldn’t
know what to do with someone like that.’
    Ruth
smiled. ‘Well imagine,’ she said. ‘You Papa. Me Jane.’
    She
threw her cigarette into the fire and pushed herself back against his knees.
‘Open sesame!’ she said, wriggling against them.
    Martin
offered no resistance. He slipped forward off the chair and on to the floor.
She leant close up against his chest. He could feel the warm breadth of her
back.
    ‘It’s
always good to see you,’ she said and she took his arms and wrapped them close
around her. ‘I like to see you.’
    She
clasped her knees and began to rock gently from side to side. ‘You maybe should
take holidays more often.’ She could feel his hands open cautiously around her
breasts, which were free and loose under her blouse. ‘I’m always ready for
you.’
    They
sat like that for a while, then he said, ‘Me too, daughter.’
    She
felt the warmth of his face as it touched her cheek and the surprising softness
of his lips against her shoulder. ‘Me too.’
    ‘Where
shall we go tonight?’ she asked. ‘The Floridita? Chory’s?’
    ‘Too
many Americans at Floridita.’
    ‘It
still does the best daiquiris in town.’ She nuzzled her head back against him.
He buried his face in her thick, dark hair. It smelt of aloes and the sea.
    ‘We
could go on to El Pacifico,’ she whispered. ‘Dance on the roof.’
    ‘I
prefer the girls at Chory’s. You remember the one with the big lazy eye?’
    She
laughed. ‘The one you called the wrestler?’
    ‘That’s
the one.’
    ‘Some
girl.’
    His
mouth was now passing up and down across the back of her neck. She knew what
was happening and she was pleased. She tipped her head forward, away from him,
then leant it all the way back till it rested on his shoulder.
    She
spoke softly. ‘We could go down to the Nacional for an absinthe and behave
badly along the front.’
    His
hands slipped lower and she felt him lift her cotton blouse and she felt the
warmth of the fire on her unprotected stomach and the soft play of his hands
across her breasts.
    ‘If
it’s a new moon,’ she said, ‘we could take the boat out and make love on the
bay. I’ve always wanted to make love on the bay.’
    His
hands ran down wide and strong across her stomach. They had started shy but now
their touch was assured. She eased her long legs apart as they ran on easily
down.
    ‘Old
Gutierrez wouldn’t like that,’ he said and she felt his breath on her neck as
he spoke. ‘They’re bad, bad boys those sailors, but they’re good Catholics and they’d
rather see Papa fishing than fornicating.’
    She
laughed lightly and slipped herself free of her loose black trousers and with a
quick lean forward pulled clear of her blouse.
    ‘On
the other hand,’ she said, turning in towards him, ‘we could try the church on
the corner.’ She reached for his belt. ‘You ever made love in a church, Papa?’
    ‘Hell
no,’ he grunted. ‘Too cold.’
    When
they were both naked she lay along him and she could feel how much he wanted
her. She felt his long soft fingers tracing the curve of her spine and the
small of her back, as his lips moved slowly from her breasts down the narrow
line of her stomach.
    ‘Tell
you what,’ she said. ‘Let’s just stay here in the hotel.’

Thirty
     
     
     
    There
was a long and desolate stretch of beach south of Theston where the houses petered out and sand dunes covered in hard
spiky grass ran twenty miles down the coast before they reached the next
village. To get to it Martin had to skirt the walls of the harbour and pick his
way carefully along the green and slippery causeway that led to the old pier.
The smell of saltwater and seaweed was thick and cloying, and he remembered the
days when there had been other smells here, of tar and fish and petrol. His
father had often brought him down to watch the fishermen. They had stood, hand
in hand, and watched the boats winched up the slipway on sturdy chains, green
and shaggy with hanging fronds of sea grass. When he was old enough to come to
the harbour on his own, he was told never to go further than this and never to
set foot on the old, abandoned pier. Of course they all