Free They Met in Zanzibar by Kathryn Blair Page B

out where the different plantations began, but Peg knew that this road touched most of them. She thought it rather wonderful that there were no fences anywhere, no trouble at all about boundaries; and inevitably she reflected that already the plantations were like one vast estate. If her father held out he would have to fence his acreage, a colossal task that would cost plenty.
    They came to the little port of Motu, drove slowly along the waterfront, where a steamer was unloading beef and lamb alongside a refrigerated warehouse, and passed through a narrow street where pumpkins and squashes were spread over the low thatched roofs to ripen, before emerging on to a road that was lined with feathery mauve tamarisks which half a mile later gave way to the usual shore-side growth of palms and bananas. Steve stopped the car close to a narrow bay where the only sign of humanity was a solitary canoe. The sand was glaringly white and the blue sea washed over it in gentle ripples, leaving a thin line of coral-weed as it receded.
    Steve poured coffee from a flask into a polythene cup and gave it to Peg. She dropped a couple of lumps of sugar into it, shared a spoon with him and, leaning against the car, sipped luxuriously.
    “Like to eat now, or bathe first?” he asked.
    “I’m wearing my swim-suit. Any restrictions on sunbathing here?”
    “None. The people are a cross between Malays and Polynesians and there’s nothing they like better than the sun. Except, perhaps, making love.”
    Peg ignored the final remark. She stepped out of her jeans, hung her blouse over the back of her seat and performed a few swinging and bending exercises for the sheer joy of feeling the current of warm air over her skin. She straightened, laughing breathlessly, shook back her hair and met a dark gaze that sparkled rather warmly.
    “Get into the sea. I’ll catch you up,” he said abruptly. She reached into her bag for her cap, swung it on one finger, took another fleeting glance at him and turned to run down to the sea. Two minutes later he joined her, but after greeting her he swam way out, and instinctively she knew he wanted her to get back to the car before he did. It was too hot to sunbathe after all, and Peg shouldered into her blouse and lay out in shade on the sandy grass with her eyes closed. She heard Steve towel himself, and when eventually she opened her eyes he was wearing the striped jersey shirt like an open jacket and had brought a box of food from the car.
    Peg knew an exciting, precarious happiness. Through lowered lashes she watched Steve as he contentedly ate and drank, saw him pop nuts into his mouth and move his strong white teeth with a precision that must surely mean his thoughts were miles away. She took a cigarette from him and leaned to the flame he held. He sat and smoked, looking relaxed and debonair, yet when, against her will, she once more met his glance, there was a dark watchfulness in his eyes that didn’t quite match the smile on his lips.
    “Glad you came?” he asked.
    She nodded. “It’s grand.”
    “Didn’t you come here with Michael Foster before I came home?”
    “No. We did bathe at other beaches, but they weren’t as lovely as this.”
    “Could it be the companion who makes the difference?”
    She pretended to give this thought. “Michael’s rather a sweet. He doesn’t make one self - conscious.”
    “Do I?”
    “You know you do - it’s what you aim for. You’ve probably had so many affairs you don’t even notice you’ve developed a line.”
    “Of making a woman self - conscious?” He considered this. “It’s all in the way you look at things, young Peg. Maybe when I’m with you I’m very conscious of your being a woman, and that makes you aware of it, too. In any case, there’d be no fun in being with a woman if you treated her as another man. The reverse goes for you, of course.”
    She drew on her cigarette and slipped down on to her back once more. Talking to the branches