The President’s Daughter

As he leaned across to give her a light, he said, ‘You look wonderful.’

She stopped smiling, very serious, then smiled again. ‘And you look very handsome. Tell me about yourself. You are a regular soldier?’

‘No, a volunteer on a two-year hitch.’

‘You mean you chose to come here? But why?’

‘Shame, I think. I avoided the draft because I was at college. Then I went to law school at Harvard. I was working on a doctorate.’ He shrugged. ‘Certain things happened, so I decided to enlist.’

The champagne arrived, and menus. She sat back. ‘What were these things?’

So he told her everything, exactly what had happened in the cafeteria and its consequences. ‘So here I am.’

‘And the boy who lost an arm?’

‘Teddy Grant? He’s fine. Working his way through law school. I saw him when I went home on leave. In fact, he works for my father now during his vacation. He’s bright, Teddy, very bright.’

‘And your father is some sort of diplomat?’

‘In a way. A brilliant lawyer who used to work for the State Department. He’s a senator now.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘And what did he think of your enlisting?’

‘Took it on the chin. Told me to come back in one piece and start again. When I was last on leave, he was campaigning. To be honest, it rather suited him to have a son in uniform.’

‘And a hero?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘No, but your medals do. But we’re forgetting the champagne.’ She picked up her glass. ‘What shall we drink to?’

‘Like you said, to being alive.’

‘To life, then.’

‘And the pursuit of happiness.’

They clinked glasses. ‘When do you go back?’ he asked.

‘To Paris?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m in no hurry, now. I don’t really know what I’m going to do next.’

‘Now that you’ve laid the ghosts?’

‘Something like that. Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s order.’

Jake Cazalet was deliriously happy, and afterwards, couldn’t even remember what he had had for dinner except that some sort of steak featured. A small band started to play and they moved inside and danced. She was so light in his arms; he was always to remember that, and the smell of her perfume.

And how they talked. He could never recall having such a conversation with anyone in his life. She wanted to know everything. They had a second bottle of champagne, and ice-cream and coffee.

He gave her another cigarette and sat back. ‘We shouldn’t be here. We should be up there in the mud.’

A shadow crossed her face. ‘Like Jean?’

‘I’m sorry.’ He was instantly contrite and reached for her hand.

She smiled. ‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I told you I was through with ghosts, and then.… Listen, I’d like to take a ride round in one of those horse-drawn carriages. Will you come with me?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he said, and pushed his chair back.

The streets of Saigon were as noisy as usual and crowded with cars, scooters and cyclists, people everywhere, girls propping up the walls outside the bars, looking for custom.

‘I wonder what they’ll all do when we go?’ Cazalet asked.

‘They managed after we left, the French,’ she said. ‘Life always goes on in one way or another.’

‘You should remember that,’ he said, and took her hand.

She didn’t resist, simply returned the pressure and peered out of the carriage. ‘I love cities, all cities, and particularly at night. Paris, by night, for example, and the feeling of excitement, that anything might happen just up there around the next corner.’

‘And usually doesn’t.’

‘You are not a true romantic.’

‘Teach me, then.’ She turned her face towards him in the shadows and he kissed her very gently, an arm sliding around her shoulder.

‘Oh, Jake Cazalet, what a lovely man you are,’ she said, and laid her head against his shoulder.

At the Excelsior, she got the key to her suite from reception, handed it to him without a word and went up the broad carpeted stairway. She paused at the door of the suite, waiting, and Cazalet unlocked the door and opened it. He stood to one side, then followed her in.

She crossed to the open French window and stood on the balcony looking down at the crowded street. Cazalet slipped his arms around her waist.

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘As we were saying, life is for living. Give me a few moments, then come in.’

Afterwards, Cazalet lay propped up against pillows, smoking. It had been the most wonderful experience of his entire life and now she slept quietly beside him. He checked his watch and sighed. Four o’clock and he was due at base for a briefing at eight.

He eased out of bed gently and started to dress. A muffled voice said, ‘You’re leaving, Jake?’

‘I’m on duty. Important briefing. Can we meet for lunch?’

‘That would be wonderful.’

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll see you later, my love,’ he said, and went out.

The briefing was at general-staff level and couldn’t be avoided. His colonel, Arch Prosser, caught him over coffee and said, ‘General Arlington wants words. You’ve been covering yourself with glory again.’

The General, a small energetic man with white hair, took his hand. ‘Damn proud of you, Lieutenant Cazalet, and your regiment is proud of you. What you did out there was sterling stuff. You’ll be interested to know that others share my view. It seems I’ve been authorized to promote you to captain.’ He raised a hand. ‘Yes, I know you’re young for the rank, but never mind that. I’ve also put you in for the Distinguished Service Cross.’