Relatively Dangerous Read Online Free Page B

brother-in-law who ran a Porsche and thought that a twenty-pound note was loose change.
    Strangely, despite the bitter pain, his overriding emotion had been one of anger, directed not at her or her lover, but at himself. Why had he been such a bloody fool as to allow himself to be so trapped by conformity — since sixteen, all dreams ignored and all ambition directed towards a steady job with a pension, a house on mortgage, a worthwhile savings account—that he’d laid himself open to such hurt? And in his anger, he’d sworn an ending to all conformity. Draw a line through his past life and start again. Remember those dreams. Wander the world . . .
    He’d sold the house and paid off the mortgage. He’d left that road in which he’d lived all those dead years without saying goodbye to anyone. He’d drifted through France, crossed the Pyrenees, taken months on the journey down to Valencia, where he’d spent the winter in the company of other, mostly much younger, drifters. In March, his feet had begun to itch once more. Someone had talked about standing on the north-west coast of Mallorca and watching the sun sink below the sea and discovering one’s immortal soul. He didn’t give a damn about his soul, but the mental image had triggered a desire. He’d crossed in the ferry, hitch-hiked to somewhere with a name like Son Ella, and had stood on a high cliff and watched the blood-red, oblate sun sink below the sea. It had been slightly eerie. No wonder ancient man had been scared at every sunset that the sun wouldn’t reappear . . . ‘I’m sorry. God knows why I’m going on and on like this. You probably won’t believe me, but usually I don’t bore other people with my problems.’
    ‘Señor, I have not been bored. And perhaps it’s good for you to speak about all these things.’
    ‘Yes, but . . .’ He stopped.
    Alvarez smiled. ‘But being an Englishman, you do not like to put your emotions on display?’
    Higham looked embarrassed.
    ‘Tell me, how did you come to meet Señor Thompson?’
    ‘I was walking along the road, hot and tired, trying to thumb a lift. He stopped and when he heard I’d no definite objective, said he’d show me a part of the island tourists didn’t usually see. We drove up into the mountains.’
    ‘Then he knew the island well; perhaps had a house here?’
    ‘He knew it well, yes. But from something he said, I’m pretty certain he didn’t own any property here.’
    ‘Did he mention friends and where they live?’
    ‘No, he didn’t. In fact, looking back, I’d say he was one of those types who’s always interested in other people, but is careful never to talk about himself much.’
    ‘I think he gave you lunch?’
    ‘We stopped at a restaurant right up in the mountains that had a fantastic view. The place was obviously pretty pricey and I told him I just couldn’t afford it. He said the meal was to be on him. Frankly, that had me thinking just for a second.’
    ‘Thinking what?’
    ‘Whether he was a queer and had me in his sights.’
    ‘Do you think that was right?’
    ‘No way. He was just one of those blokes who likes meeting people and hearing about them.’
    ‘Did he drink a lot?’
    ‘No. He mentioned that since early morning he’d had a migraine threatening and booze was one of the things which could bring on an attack. But that didn’t stop him giving me a couple of drinks before the meal and ordering a good bottle of wine; so by the end, I was very cheerful, thank you . . .
    ‘We hadn’t long left the restaurant when he stopped the car. He was sick; God, how he was sick! When he’d begun to recover, I offered to drive, but he said the car was only insured for him and in any case he was OK. So he started up again. And then . . . He had another attack, much worse than the first and didn’t stop in time. We started weaving all over the road and going like the clappers. I tried to grab the wheel, but he’d still got hold of it. . . And that’s how we