'It sure as h.e.l.l isn't New York,' Bradley said, turning back to face Joan across the gla.s.s-topped wickerwork table and appreciating the warmth of her girlish smile, the sunlit sheen of her auburn hair.

'Don't even think about New York,' she said. 'We'll be back there soon enough. Let's enjoy what we've got while we've got it. I'm blossoming just sitting here.'

'You look it. Making love must be therapy.'

'All men are disgustingly vain,' she said, 'and you're just praising yourself.'

He had to smile at that. 'Touche, my sweet. Nevertheless, it's nice to see you smile. I thought I'd lost that forever. I nearly did, didn't I?'

'I'll admit, I was worried.'

'You don't have to worry anymore. I've put it all firmly behind me. Not meaning to discuss New York, but I'm satisfied to be back in Manhattan, doing what I'm supposed to do.'

'You're such a good lawyer,' she told him. 'I hate to see that talent wasted. I really didn't mind you doing that unofficial snooping for General Taylor during your trips overseas, but the thought of you becoming involved in official intelligence gathering made me real scared.'

'You've read too many novels, Joan.'

She smiled at that. 'Yes, I suppose so... But I also know how involved you can become and were becoming over Wilson so I'm glad you changed your mind and went back to legal work.'

'I'll now settle into my respectable middle age and watch my married kids make mistakes with their kids.'

'There are worse ways of growing old.'

It was a wise remark that made him appreciate her all the more and count his lucky stars that their marriage hadn't been destroyed by that Wilson business.

Unfortunately, once he thought of Wilson, he also thought of Gladys Kinder, whose letters from London were still arriving at his Manhattan office, bringing him news of the war in Great Britain, along with plenty of teasing, oddly disconcerting s.e.xual comments.

No longer could he doubt that he had been instantly attracted to the woman, maybe dangerously so. If that feeling normally would have faded with the pa.s.sing years, her letters were resolutely keeping the memory of her alive. Now, though he certainly enjoyed reading the letters, his rapprochement with Joan made him wish that Gladys Kinder would stop writing and let him forget her. He hadn't laid a hand on her, nor even made a move toward her, but her letters, piling up over the years, made him feel that he had.

Suddenly realizing just how treacherous emotions could be, and frightened by how close he had come to hurting and losing Joan, he reached across the table to squeeze her hand.

'Right,' he said. 'There are worse ways of growing old. And we have such good kids to be concerned with. I want to thank you for that. It was your doing. I love you all the more for it.'

'Oh, G.o.d, Mike, shut up. You're making me blush. Finish your drink and let's go.

He grinned. 'Yep, let's do that.'

They drove down the steep, winding road, through lush tropical greenery, past pineapple plantations and rickety, makeshift stores run by Chinese, j.a.panese, and Hawaiian families, to the road that ran along the seafront of Honolulu, past the Pearl Harbour naval base and adjacent Hickam Field, home of the 17th Army Air Corps. Having decided to eat alone, before meeting Admiral Paris and his wife for drinks in Waikiki, they drove into the centre of Honolulu, through narrow streets filled with bars, p.a.w.nshops, Chinese grocery shops, tattoo parlours, and photo galleries, parking near the corner of Maunakea and Hotel Street, outside a window filled with the carca.s.ses of smoked pigs and ducks hung on meat hooks.

'If what we eat looks like what's in that window,' Joan said, 'I don't think I'll get through my meal.'

'You're going to love it,' Bradley replied. 'You'll probably eat like a pig!'

'It's always so noisy here!' Joan exclaimed good-humouredly.

'That's why I love it, dear.'

They had dinner upstairs in Wu Fat's Chinese Restaurant, surrounded by gilded decorations and walls painted a garish red, under a high ceiling and rotating fans. The food was delicious, the atmosphere exotic, and Joan, as if to prove Bradley right, ate like a pig.

'So many men in here!' she whispered, wiping sweet-and-sour sauce from her lips.

Bradley glanced around him and realized that she was right: The place was filled with sailors, marines, and soldiers, some with Chinese, j.a.panese, or Hawaiian girlfriends, most on their own. Right now they were happy, eating and drinking, having a good time, but he knew that before the night was out there would be lots of fighting. Sat.u.r.day night in Honolulu was never without its fair share of action, which is why he enjoyed it.

'G.o.d help them,' he said. 'They're the social pariahs of Hawaii. Serving your country doesn't exactly make you popular. Come on, luscious, let's go.'

'You just want to take me down there to sell me,' Joan said in this area of Honolulu, close to the docks, servicemen actually queued up in the streets to get into the brothels located above the shops 'but I don't think I'm worth that much.'

'It's a fluctuating market,' Bradley replied, 'so you might be surprised.'

Joan's laugh was surprisingly raucous, making Bradley feel terrific, and he put his arm around as they walked back down the stairs, joined the noisy throng in the street, and eventually drove to Waikiki, four miles farther on.

'We should retire here,' Joan said, as the taxi cruised along the palm-lined road and she studied the large houses in expansive gardens. 'For what we pay, you could buy a mansion here and have a really great life: lovely weather, golden beaches, beautiful people. Why are we still in New York?'

'We're not in New York; we're in Connecticut.'