The Thief Read Free

to Lant. He said to her, ‘I’m Trevor. What’s your name?’
    ‘Polly,’ she said.
    He made a big fuss over putting up his table, tugging at it and pushing it too far forward. She had pasta for her main course and he had chicken curry. Polly was hungry and had eaten most of hers when Lant set down his knife and fork and said, ‘How’s your food, Polly? Vile, isn’t it?’
    This time she had to say something, though she was smarting from being treated like a doormat kind of wife. ‘Mine wasn’t bad.’
    ‘You tell them that and the standard will never get better. It will just go down. I don’t know what’s with you people. You put up with second-class everything. Have you no taste? Don’t you care?’
    Before she could reply, he was saying the same thing to the stewardess who came to take their plates. She was to tell the cook, if there was a cook, repeat his very words and come back and tell him she had done so. The stewardess said she would and Polly asked her if she would bring her another glass of wine. What Lant said next took her breath away.
    ‘It’s not a good idea drinking alcohol on flights. These glasses are very big. Each one is at least four units and you’re quite a small woman.’
    She wanted to say she needed it, having to sit next to him but she never said things like that. She wasn’t very brave. If she was rude to him she was afraid he would insult her, make some remark about her looks or her clothes and that would hurt. He was looking over her shoulder at the photo of the giant lizard.
    ‘I was talking to you,’ he said.
    ‘I know,’ she said.
    ‘Here’s your poison coming now. Make it last. You don’t want to stagger off the plane when we get there.’
    The stewardess began to tell him that the chief steward had apologised. They were sorry the food hadn’t been to his liking. Would he accept a glass of dessert wine?
    ‘I don’t drink,’ he said. ‘Give it to her. She can put any amount away.’
    That was too much for Polly. She told herself, you will regret it if you don’t speak up now, and said, ‘Are you always so rude? I don’t want to talk to you. Why can’t you leave me alone?’
    Her hands were shaking and he could see. He laughed. ‘Poor little Polly. Was Daddy horrid then?’
    She felt her face grow red. It was always the way. She could never match someone else’s rudeness. Her hands would shake, she would blush and come out with words a child might use. She had other ways of dealing with it but these were not possible now. His next words surprised her.
    ‘You know what they say. If a man’s rude to a woman it’s because he finds her attractive.’
    ‘Do they?’ She had never heard anyone say it.
    ‘You are, though. Very attractive. Have dinner with me tonight?’
    She wouldn’t dream of it. Have him call her a poor little thing and tell her to stop drinking? Well, she could try to be rude, even if she blushed and her hands shook.
    ‘I’d rather have dinner with the Komodo dragon,’ she said very loudly.
    Now she had got to him. His face went red and white and set in rigid lines. She turned away with a toss of her head and looked out of the window, seeing nothing. A voice saying ‘Would you like coffee?’ made her turn round. She nodded, and passed the cup from her tray. He had coffee too. They sat, staring in front of them, each with a cup of coffee.
    Because she was going straight to a meeting with friends as soon as they got to New York, she was wearing a pale cream trouser suit. The airline’s paper napkin was across her knees. She put milk into her coffee, stirred it. His voice saying ‘Watch this’ turned her head. He lifted his cup and poured a stream of coffee across her knee.
    It was hot and Polly screamed. The stewardess came running.
    ‘He poured coffee over me,’ she cried. ‘He poured it over me on purpose. He’s mad.’
    The stewardess looked from one to the other. ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean . . .’
    ‘Of course I