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'Perhaps you would care to see the campus；' Dean Whoolson said。 'And； naturally； it is most beautiful in the spring。'
Why not try something different？ Nicholas had thought。 'All right；' he had said。
People were still running past him； attracted by the anxiety the wailing siren brought out。 A growing knot of curious onlookers hovered； quivering on the borderline between revulsion and fascination； moths circling a flame in an ever…tightening orbit。 He concentrated on the sound of the surf； curling and rushing in towards him； calling like a friend； but the human voices； raised in excitement and query； pierced the afternoon like needles。 For them it was but a side…show attraction； a chance to turn on the six o'clock news and say to their friends； 'Hey！ See that？ I was there。 I saw it happen；' exactly as if it were Elizabeth Taylor and her touring party who had rolled through that particular stretch of surf； and then； as placidly as if they were contented bovines； …return to their icy astringent martinis； the sliced pepperoni dial someone had thoughtfully brought out from Balducci's in the city。
His house was of weathered grey shingle and coffee…coloured brick with neither the pop…eyed Plexiglas bubble windows nor the bizarre cantilevered walls dial many of the homes had along this stretch。 To the right of the house； the dunes abruptly gave way to flat sand； somewhat lower man dial of the surrounding area。 There had been； until early December； a house worth roughly a quarter of a million dollars on that property； but the winter had been fully as foul as the one in 1977…8 and it had been washed away with much of the land itself。 The family was still trying to get the insurance money to rebuild。 In the meantime； there was more open space to the side than was usual along this densely populated and highly fashionable beachfront。
The breakers seemed to be pounding harder as the tide continued to sweep in and he felt the cold salt water licking up his ankles to his calves。 The bottoms of his jeans； though turned up several times； pulled heavy with washed sand。 He was reaching down to brush them out when a figure barrelled into him。 He fell backwards with a grunt； someone sprawled on top of him。
'Why the hell don't you watch where you're going？〃 he yelled crossly as he disentangled himself。
'Sorry； but you don't have to scream； do you？ It was a simple mistake。'
The first thing he saw was her face； though before that he smelled her perfume； faintly citric and as dry as Dean Whoolson's voice。 Her face was extremely close to his。 Her eyes he thought at first were hazel but then he saw that they certainly had more green in them than brown。 There were one or two red flecks floating in the left iris。 Her skin was creamy and lightly freckled。 Her nose was rather too wide； which gave her character； and her lips were plump； which gave her an innate sensuality。
He grasped her firmly under the arms and lifted her with him。
She immediately drew away； crossing her arms over her breasts。 'Don't do that。' Still she eyed him； made no move to pass him by。 Her fingers curled； rubbing the flesh of her arms as if his grip had bruised her。
'Haven't we met before？〃 he said。
Her lips jerked in a quick quirky smile。 'You can do better than that； can't you？'
'No。 I mean it。 I've seen you somewhere before。'
Her eyes darted for a moment over his shoulder。 When they again alighted on him she said； 'I don't think …'
He snapped his fingers。 'In Sam Goldman's office。 The fall or the winter。〃 He cocked his head。 I'm not mistaken。〃
Her eyes seemed to clear as if； with Sam's name； some almost invisible curtain had been raised within them。 'I know Sam Goldman；' she said slowly。 'I've done some freelance jobs for him。' Now she put one long forefinger up to the centre of her lips； the clear…lacquered nail burnished by the light。 The inconstant sound of the voices down the beach seemed to swell like the roar of a crowd at the advent of a grand…slam home run or a bit of defensive heroics in the outfield。
'You're Nicholas Linnear；' she said； and when he nodded she pointed at him。 'He talks about you all the time。'
He smiled。 'But you don't remember our meeting。'
She shrugged。 'I don't know； really。 When I'm involved in my work。。。' Her shoulders lifted； fell again。
Nicholas laughed。 'I might have been somebody important。'
'Judging by your reputation； you are。 But you just walked away from all of it。 I think that's odd。'
Squinting up at him； sunglasses； she looked no more than a college girl； as if the sunlight passing through her had somehow illuminated some previously hidden inner innocence。 At last her eyes slid away from him。 'What's going on up there； anyway？〃
'They found a body in the ocean。'
'Oh？ Whose？〃
He shrugged。 'I've no idea。〃
'Haven't you just e from there？〃 Her gaze slid back from the distance over his left shoulder； touching his face。 It was like a cool summer's breeze after sundown。 'You must've seen them pull it out。〃 Her eyes were better than arms； keeping him at a carefully measured distance。 There was something peculiarly childlike in that； he thought。 A hurt child … or scared。 It made him want to reach out and touch her reassuringly。
'I left before it happened；' he said。
'Aren't you in the least bit curious？〃 She seemed unmindful of the wind that flicked at the thick mane of her dark hair。 'It could be someone from around here。 You know how incestuous this place is … we're all from the same business。〃
'I have no interest in it。 No。〃
She unfolded her arms； put her hands in the front pockets of her cut…off jeans。 She wore a plain； sleeveless top。 It was turquoise and set off her eyes。 Her firm breasts swelled with her breathing； the nipples visible points。 Her waist was narrow； her legs long and elegant。 She moved like a dancer。
'But you do have interests； I see；〃 she said flatly。 'How would you feel if I looked at you that way？〃
'Flattered；' he said。 Td certainly feel flattered。'
Justine was an advertising art designer； living four houses down the beach； who found it convenient to work out of the city during the summer。
'I loathe New York in the summer；' she told him the next afternoon over drinks。 'Do you know that I once spent the entire summer in my apartment with the air conditioning on full and never once moving out of the door？ I was deathly afraid I'd get overwhelmed by the stench of dogshit。 I'd call D'Agostino and have them send up the food and； once or twice a week； the office would send up this big brawny fag … who was doing the director under the desk during coffee breaks … to take my designs and bring me my cheques。 But even with that； it wasn't enough and I was forced out。 I threw some stuff in a bag and took the first flight out to Paris。 I stayed two weeks while the office went batshit looking for me。' She turned her head half away from him； sipping at her Manhattan。 'However； when I got back； the only thing that had really changed was mat the fag was gone。'
The sun was ing down； the sea devouring its crimson bulk； colour lay shimmering on the water。 Then； quite abruptly； it was dark： not even the little lights bobbing far out to sea