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Bond went up to his room. On the writing-desk an impressive array of dressings and medicaments had been laid out. He got
on to Tracy and said, 'What the hell is this? Have you got a pass-key or something?'
She laughed. 'The maid on this floor has become a friend.
She understands people who are in love. Which is more than you do. What do you mean by moving those flowers?'
'They're lovely. I thought they looked prettier by the window and they will get some sun there. Now I'll make a deal. If you'll
come along and change my dressings, I'll take you down and buy you a drink. Just one. And three for me. That's the right ratio
between men and women. All right?'
'Wilco.' Her receiver went down.
It hurt like hell and Bond couldn't prevent the tears of pain from squeezing out of his eyes. She kissed them away. She
looked pale at what she had seen. 'You're sure you oughtn't to see a doctor?"
'I'm just seeing one. You did it beautifully. What worries me is how we're going to make love. In the proper fashion, elbows
are rather important for the man.'
'Then we'll do it in an improper fashion. But not tonight, or tomorrow. Only when we're married. Till then I am going to
pretend I'm a virgin.' She looked at him seriously. 'I wish I was, James. I am in a way, you know. People can make love
without loving.'
'Drinks,' said Bond firmly. 'We've got all the time in the world to talk about love.'
'You are a pig,' she said indignantly. 'We've got so much to talk about and all you think about is drink.'
Bond laughed. He put an arm gingerly round her neck and kissed her long and passionately. He broke away. 'There, that's
just the beginning of my conversation. We'll go on with the duller bits in the bar. Then we'll have a wonderful dinner in
Walterspiel's and talk about rings and whether we'll sleep in twin beds or one, and whether I've got enough sheets and pillows
for two, and other exciting things to do with being married.'
And it was in that way that the evening passed and Bond's head reeled with all the practical feminine problems she raised, in
high seriousness, but he was surprised to find that all this nest-building gave him a curious pleasure, a feeling that he had at last
come to rest and that life would now be fuller, have more meaning, for having someone to share it with. Togetherness! What a
curiously valid cliché it was!
* * *
The next day was occupied with hilarious meals with Marc-Ange, whose giant trailer had come during the night to take up
most of the parking space behind the hotel, and with searching the antique shops for an engagement and a wedding ring. The
latter was easy, the traditional plain gold band, but Tracy couldn't make up her mind about the engagement ring and finally
dispatched Bond to find something he liked himself while she had her last fitting for her 'going-away' dress. Bond hired a taxi,
and he and the taxi-man, who had been a Luftwaffe pilot during the war and was proud of it, tore round the town together until,
at an antique shop near the Nymphenburg Palace, Bond found what he wanted - a baroque ring in white gold with two diamond
hands clasped. It was graceful and simple and the taxi-man was also in favour, so the deal was done and the two men went off
to celebrate at the Franziskaner Keller, where they ate mounds of Weisswurst and drank four steins of beer each and swore
they wouldn't ever fight each other again. Then, happy with his last bachelor party, Bond returned tipsily to the hotel, avoided
being embraced by the taxi-man, and went straight up to Tracy's room and put the ring on her finger.
She burst into tears, sobbing that it was the most beautiful ring in the world, but when he took her in his arms she began to
giggle. 'Oh, James, you are bad. You stink like a pig of beer and sausages. Where have you been?'
When Bond told her, she laughed at the picture he painted of his last fling and then paraded happily up and down the room,
making exaggeratedly gracious gestures with her hand to show off the ring and for the diamonds to catch the light. Then the
telephone rang and it was Marc-Ange saying that he wanted to talk to Bond in the bar, and would Tracy kindly keep out of the
way for half an hour?
Bond went down and, after careful consideration, decided that schnapps would go with his beer and ordered a double
65
Steinhlger. Marc-Ange's face was serious. 'Now listen, James. We have not had a proper talk. It is very wrong. I am about to
become your father-in-law and I insist. Many months ago, I made you a serious offer. You declined it. But now you have
accepted it. What is the name of your bank?'
Bond said angrily, 'Shut up, Marc-Ange. If you think I'll accept a million pounds from you or from anyone else you're
mistaken. I don't want my life to be ruined. Too much money is the worst curse you can lay on anyone's head. I have enough.
Tracy has enough. It will be fun saving up to buy something we want but can't quite afford. That is the only kind of money to
have - not quite enough.'
Marc-Ange said furiously, 'You have been drinking. You are drunk. You don't understand what you are saying. What I am
giving you is only a fifth of my fortune. You understand? It means nothing to me. Tracy is used to having whatever she wants.
I wish it to remain so. She is my only child. You cannot possibly keep her on a Civil Servant's pay. You have got to accept!'
'If you give me any money, I swear I will pass it on to charity. You want to give your money away to a dogs' home? All
right. Go ahead!'
'But James' - Marc-Ange was now pleading - 'what will you accept from me? Then a trust fund for any children you may
have. Yes?'
'Even worse. If we have children, I will not have this noose hung round their heads. I didn't have any money and I haven't
needed it. I've loved winning money gambling because that is found money, money that comes out of the air like a great
surprise. If I'd inherited money, I'd have gone the way of all those playboy friends of Tracy's you complained about so much.
No, Marc-Ange.' Bond drained his Steinhager decisively. 'It's no good.'
Marc-Ange looked as if he would burst into tears. Bond relented. He said, 'It's very kind of you, Marc-Ange, and I appreciate
it from the heart. I'll tell you what. If I swear to come to you if either of us ever needs help, will that do?
There may be illnesses and things. Perhaps it would be nice if we had a cottage in the country somewhere. We may need
help if we have children. Now. How about that? Is it a bargain?'
Marc-Ange turned doubtful, dogs' eyes on Bond. 'You promise? You would not cheat me of helping you, adding to your
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