The train began to glide out of the station, taking me back to Santa Monica—and to something I was frightened to face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BY THE TIME I had reached Santa Monica I had got over the shock. The explanation must be simple, I told myself. Either Kennedy had made a bad mistake, or else Mardi had been forced to play some deep game by Curtis. Whatever the explanation was, it wasn’t going to break up Mardi’s life with me. I’d spent a lot of time playing around with girls, and I knew when I had found the right one. Mardi was my girl. I wasn’t going to let anything come between us. I’d talk the whole thing over with her, and she’d tell me the truth. The truth wasn’t going to be bad—it mustn’t be bad.
I took a taxi from Santa Monica station. I wanted to get back there fast. It seemed a long way, and I sat on the edge of my seat urging the driver to push his cab along. I got there at last. The front door was standing open, but Mardi wasn’t in the garden. I walked up the long path, feeling suddenly a little sick. I kept on telling myself that it would be all right, but somehow at the back of my brain I knew that what I had built up was already crumbling.
I stepped into the hallway. A man’s hat and coat hung on the rack— they weren’t mine. I put my grip carefully on the floor and stood looking. Then I got rid of my own hat and coat and walked into the sitting-room.
They were there waiting for me.
For a moment, I didn’t recognise him. He was a tall guy, with a lot of wavy hair, a tanned complexion and bright blue eyes. It was Lee Curtis, all right. I stood in the doorway, with the blood roaring in my ears. I looked at Mardi. She was sitting listlessly in an armchair. Her face was white and her eyes looked like big holes cut in a sheet. She didn’t even look at me.
Curtis said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I couldn’t say anything.
“I’ve been here four days—she an’ I’ve been living together.”