his mouth still reeking of stale alcohol, she pushed him away.
‘I’ve come to collect my things.’
‘What?’
‘You heard.’ She walked quickly to the bedroom.
‘You can’t.’ He chased after her. ‘We’re going to America.’
‘You are. Not me.’ She pulled out a bag and started packing.
‘I won’t go, then. I’ll cancel it, forget the whole thing.’ Henry was aware of the desperation in his voice, but couldn’t help himself.
He grabbed her hand and she shook him off. ‘It’s too late. I’ve met someone else.’
Her words hit Henry like a bucket of ice-cold water.
‘In two days? Who is it? I thought you loved me.’ In a panic, he followed her to the bathroom where she was gathering up her cosmetics and potions. ‘Who is it? You must tell me.’
‘That’s none of your business, Henry. All you need to know is that we’re finished.’
And with that, she was gone.
*
Henry was devastated. Unable to turn to his father for advice, he rang James. Should he plead with her? Haunt the Playboy Club until she agreed to come back to him? Follow her and find out who this other man was?
‘No!’ said James. ‘Forget her. Go to America and wipe her from your mind. She’s not worth it.’
Two weeks after Susan had walked out, Henry stepped on a BOAC Super VC-10 jet, bound for Boston. For the next six months he would be skipper of a sixty-foot luxury yacht called The Goblin.
If he hadn’t been heartbroken, he would have enjoyed the job … and the company of some of the beautiful women on board.
It was late June by the time they returned to Boston after several weeks spent cruising around Cape Cod, Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard. Henry stepped off the boat and headed for the harbour master’s office to collect the post. There was a letter and a packet. He opened the packet first. It was a limited edition travelling set of Snakes and Ladders, a gift from his parents, with a note sending their love and hoping he’d be home soon. He smiled fondly and resolved to drop them a line.
He turned to the letter. He recognised the handwriting immediately: it was from Susan. He tore it open. She said she’d missed him and longed to be with him, if only he would still have her. She apologised with all her heart for hurting him and swore that she would never hurt him again.
Henry ran to the nearest phone and rang her straight away. Amid many tearful ‘I love you’s, he promised to send a ticket the following day.
She was coming back to him.
He was at the airport when her plane landed. The moment Susan appeared, he enveloped her in his arms.
‘I’m never going to let you go again,’ he whispered into her soft hair. ‘I love you, Susan.’
She clung to him in return and found his lips.
*
‘And this is our cabin.’ Henry opened the door with a flourish, stepping aside so she could see the tiny space with its sofa, table and shower/loo.
‘Where do we sleep?’ she said quietly, looking around.
He laughed. ‘The sofa and table turn into a double bed. Look—’ With practised ease he demonstrated how to open out the bed, and then threw himself on it.
She climbed in beside him. He hadn’t made love to anyone since losing her. And now she was back. In his arms and on his bed.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she whispered. Then she wriggled free for a moment and, leaning over the edge of the bed, opened her vanity case. Inside were her Bunny ears. ‘A little souvenir from home,’ she giggled.
He kissed her. ‘Oh, Susan, I’ve missed you more than I thought I could miss anybody. Now put those bloody ears on and take everything else off!’
It all worked out very well and on a romantic spur-of-the-moment impulse, during a stopover in Nantucket, they stood in front of the town clerk and were married with the crew as witnesses and guests. Now she was Mrs Henry Carew.
By September they were back in Boston. One of his old Harvard friends had loaned them a one-bedroom apartment in the city, and Henry got a job teaching rich city kids how to sail dinghies. Susan was picking up a little modelling here and there. They weren’t making a fortune, but they scraped by.
Then one day Henry picked up the telephone and heard a voice from the past: James.
‘Hello, my old mate! I just blew in across the pond and fancied looking up my old mucker! How the devil are you?’
It