I stood on the balcony taking in the panoramic view of the bay with its calm waters, and farther out the huge rollers crashing against the two arms of land protecting the inner waters.
I turned briefly from the view to look along the façade of the building. It was then I saw her. On the next balcony, her elbow resting on the balustrade, her chin cupped in her hand.
She was in profile to me, and I was transfixed by her beauty. Her long dark hair tumbling down to cascade over her shoulders in shining waves. Her nose was straight and clearly defined, as were her lips from what I could see. Her breasts resting on top of the balustrade seemed large and firm and although most of the rest of her body was hidden from me, I got the impression of a slim figure.
My hotel room was on the third floor, and from the main window you could step out onto a balcony. I was living a life of indulgence and luxury for once.
More or less as a joke I had sent in a short story to a magazine which had offered as a prize a week in this opulent hotel and a reasonable sum of spending money to go with it. To my utter amazement, I won. So, from my normally frugal student lifestyle, I was suddenly living a life of the well-to-do, even if only for a few days. The sight of the lovely woman on the next balcony, however, would have been prize enough, even if that was all there was.
I stayed very still, hardly daring to breathe, in case even my slightest action might alert her to my presence, and she moved away. I felt as if I could have gazed upon her engaging loveliness forever.
A little girl about five years of age, came out onto the balcony and said, "I'm ready, mummy. Can we go now?" The woman stood up straight and turned, saying, "Of course, darling." As she turned, her other profile came into my line of vision, and I was stunned. On that side, the left side, her face was horribly scarred.
Perhaps if the right profile had not presented itself with such exquisite beauty, the shock would not have been so great. The sheer contrast made her marred left profile appear worse than it was. I conjectured that she had received a very bad burn. This had dragged down the corner of her eye and mouth, and left a scar across her cheek and temple.
Her hand went up to her hair and she arranged it in a pathetic attempt to cover that side of her face. She took the little girl's hand and together they left the balcony. I remained still staring at the spot where I had seen her, for some time.
I thought, not for the first time, how cruel life could be. What it gives with one hand, in her case beauty, it so casually takes away with the other. In futile fashion, I wondered if it would be better not to have beauty, or whatever other gift nature might bestow, in the first place. Then any loss might not be felt so bitterly.
I gave up musing on this philosophical conundrum, and reentered my room. I had intended to start exploring the locality, which offered both beach attractions and tracks winding into the adjacent rain forest. I decided on the beach as my first walk.
I left the hotel and followed a narrow path through some dense scrub that fringed the beach. Coming out onto the sands, I set off in the direction of one of the arms of land that met the ocean.
There was hardly a person in sight, except in the distance I could see the lady of the balcony and the little girl, who seemed to be rushing back and forth, daring the little wavelets to catch her.
They were moving very slowly and I would soon catch up with them. I had that awkward, embarrassed feeling that one often has in the face of a crippled, or in this case, a disfigured, person. Could I walk straight past them, ignoring their presence, or should I say, "Hello." If I greeted them and there was any sort of conversation, would I be able to act "normally," or would I give away my feelings about the lady's injuries? Would my reaction reinforce any self-consciousness she might feel about her scars?
I decided on a brisk pace so as to pass them quickly. My plan did not work out quite as I hoped. As I drew level with them the little girl looked at me and asked with childlike directness, "You're the man in the room next to ours, aren't you?"
"That's right."
"I saw you on the balcony."
"Did you?"
I felt a wrench at my heart as I saw her mother stop and turn so her injury was not visible to me.
"Karin, you mustn't bother the gentleman," then addressing me, "I'm sorry, but she does like talking to people."
I gave an uncertain little laugh and replied, "That's all right," then trying to overcome my awkwardness went on, "She's very pretty isn't she."
I had the feeling that my tongue should have been torn out. Looking at the child, I could see that she was the miniature image of her mother. Another fifteen or sixteen years and she would have the same loveliness that must have once been her mother's. The mother did not seem troubled by my comment, and replied, "Yes, I think so."
We exchanged a few more general comments about the beach and the fine weather, then I excused myself and walked on. The little girl called after me: "Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow?"
"Yes, perhaps you will," I called back, giving what I hoped was a friendly wave of the hand.
It took a full hour to walk to the headland. I stood watching the massive ocean rollers come crashing in to send great fountains of spray up the cliff. Again, I meditated on the beauty and harshness of nature, the one so often intermingled with the other.
When I returned to the hotel, it was time for the evening meal. After changing, I went to the dining room.
Oddly, after my uneasiness about meeting them on the beach, I found myself hoping I might see the lady of the balcony and her daughter. Most of the residents looked to be in their sixties and seventies. I was twenty- four, and the lady of the balcony seemed nearest to my age, possibly about twenty-eight or nine.
I felt a twinge of regret when they did not show up by the time I had finished.
That evening, the hotel was screening a film in the recreation area, so I decided to go along. Again, I hoped my pair might turn up, but they didn't. The film I found to be a combination of violence and nauseating sentimentality. I left about half way through.
Walking out onto the front entrance of the hotel, I noticed there was a full moon just rising to shine across the water, catching the ripples so as to make them seem alive with flashing fire. The thought of fire brought with it thought of my lady. With that thought came the sound of the child Karin's voice. She came up the steps to the hotel entrance toward me, chattering away to her mother.
When seeing a person in full light and view we are so often taken up with their physical appearance, we fail to appreciate other aspects of them. Now, in the dim light, I noticed my lady's voice as she responded to her daughter. It was one of the most beautifully modulated voices I had ever heard. It was not, as some "well articulated" voices are, contrived. It flowed freely and rhythmically. "A voice one could live with," I thought.
Karin saw me and began without preamble; "Mummy and I have just been to a lovely place for dinner. It's much better than the hotel. We're going there again tomorrow. I think you should come with us…Mummy, he can come, can't he?"
"Darling, you can't just invite people like that. They might not want to come, and then you've made it hard for them to say no."
She seemed more at ease in the dim light as she turned to me; "I really must apologise for my daughter, once again. She's so enthusiastic about the restaurant we've been to, she wants to share it with everyone."
"No apology needed," I replied. "I think it's rather lovely of her to want to share. By the way, I'm Peter Holbrook."
She hesitated for a moment as if not sure she should reveal her name, then said, "I'm Angel Robbart, but as I don't always live up to my name I'm generally called 'Angie'. My daughter is Karin, as I expect you already know."
We shook hands. The touch of her soft warm hand sent a quiver of pleasure racing through me. I felt a little flustered at my reaction and muttered something like, "Pleased to meet you."
"Well," said Angie, "I must put the little one to bed, good night. Say goodnight to Mr.Holbrook, Karin."
"Goodnight, Mr.Holbrook. Mummy says we can go swimming in the morning if the weather's nice. Will you come with us?"
"We'll see. Goodnight, Karin."
They departed for their room, leaving me to contemplate the open-heartedness of little children, and the strange effect the mother was having on me.
If Angie was no "Angel", I was not to be classified among the saintly ones either. I would like to have brought a girl with me to share my prize, but found myself to be between girlfriends, and hadn't fancied a casual lover who came along for the trip and not for me. Casual sex was not foreign to me, but normally consisted of one-night stands. The thought of having one female around for the whole week did not appeal. I had the idea that I might pick up something in the hotel, or perhaps in the town, but a brief survey of the scene did not give me grounds for optimism.
Angie was the only woman roughly in my age bracket. If she had possessed the stunning beauty that must have once been hers, I would probably have been too overwhelmed by it to try anything with her. I would have assumed that she would be after more worthwhile prey than a hard up physics student.
As it was, her disfigurement…well…! My thoughts rambled on; "I wonder where Mr.Robbart is…always assuming there is a Mr.Robbart…Of course there is, she…That's strange! Why do I want there to be a Mr.Robbart?
I mentally shrugged and decided it was time for bed. The sea air sent me quickly into a deep sleep. If I dreamed, I have no recall of it.
I woke to a room bright with the morning sun. Though an open window I heard Karin's excited voice speaking from their balcony; "Mummy, it's a lovely day. The sun's shining. We can go swimming, can't we?" I didn't hear Angie's reply, but remembered I had received an invitation from Karin to join them in their swim.
I had intended to spend the day following one of the tracks into the rain forest that seemed to head for the low hills at some distance from the hotel. I tossed up in my mind whether to keep to my plan, or accept Karin's invitation.
I had just about made up my mind to head for the hills, when I heard Karin's voice again; "Will Mr.Holbrook be coming with us? Can I go and ask him?" I heard Angie's voice in reply, but her words were indistinguishable. Karin did not come knocking at my door.
I retraced my mental steps and decided that as Karin seemed to value my presence, I would join her on the beach. I breakfasted in the dining room and then went back to my room to put on my bathing trunks.
I had half expected to see Karin and her mother in the dining room, but they did not appear. I went out onto the balcony to try to see if they had already gone to the beach, and spotted two figures that resembled them just entering the water. I put on a beach coat and made for the sea.
My assumption that the two figures were Karin and Angie proved correct. They were both splashing about in the water as I arrived.
Karin spotted me and raced out of the water to greet me. Untrammeled by the inhibitions that hold most adults in their grasp, she took my hand saying, "Come on, Mr.Holbrook, mummy's swimming," and dropping my beach coat beside their things, I was impelled towards the water.
Angie stayed at a distance from me, so for about half an hour I played with Karin, having to respond repeatedly to her pleas, "On your shoulders again." This meant I had to heave her up to stand on my shoulders, from where she would leap in a sort of limb waving dive.
By the end of the half-hour, Karin was beginning to shiver a bit. Angie was some distance off so on my own initiative I carried Karin back to the beach to the place where they had left their things.
