The Driver's Seat Read Online Free PDF Page A

paper. It is the log of the
plane’s flight, informing the passengers as to the altitude, speed and present
geographical position, and requesting them to read it and pass it on.
    Lise
continues to look back, having caught sight of the face behind her. In the
window seat, next to a comfortably plump woman and a young girl in her teens, is
a sick-looking man, his eyes yellow-brown and watery, deep-set in their
sockets, his face pale green. It was he who had handed forward the chart. Lise
stares, her lips parted slightly, and she frowns as if speculating on the man’s
identity. He looks away, first out of the window, then down towards the floor,
embarrassed. The woman does not change her expression, but the young girl,
understanding Lise to be questioning by her stare the man behind, says, ‘It’s
only the flight chart.’ But Lise stares on. The sick-looking man looks at his
companions and then down at his knees, and Lise’s stare does not appear to be
helping his sickness.
    A nudge
from Bill composes her so far that she turns and faces forward again. He says, ‘It’s
only the flight chart. Do you want to see it?’ And since she does not reply he
thrusts it forward to bother it about the ears of the people in front until
they receive it from his hand.
    Lise
starts to eat her second snack. ‘You know, Bill,’ she says, ‘I think you were
right about that crazy man who moved his seat. He wasn’t my type at all and I
wasn’t his type. Just as a matter of interest, I mean, because I didn’t take
the slightest notice of him and I’m not looking to pick up strangers. But you
mentioned that he wasn’t my type and, of course, let me tell you, if he thought
I was going to make up to him he made a mistake.’
    ‘I’m
your type,’ Bill says.
    She
sips her coffee and looks round, glimpsing through the partition of the seats
the man behind her. He stares ahead with glazed and quite unbalanced eyes,
those eyes far too wide open to signify anything but some sort of mental
distance from reality; he does not see Lise now, as she peers at him, or, if
so, he appears to have taken a quick turn beyond caring and beyond
embarrassment.
    Bill says,
‘Look at me, not at him.’
    She
turns back to Bill with an agreeable and indulgent smile. The stewardesses come
efficiently collecting the trays, cluttering one upon the other. Bill, when
their trays are collected, puts up first Lise’s table and then his own. He puts
his arm through hers.
    ‘I’m
your type,’ he says, ‘and you’re mine. Are you planning to stay with friends?’
    ‘No,
but I have to meet somebody.’
    ‘No
chance of us meeting some time? How long are you planning to stay in the city?’
    ‘I have
no definite plans,’ she says. ‘But I could meet you for a drink tonight. Just a
short drink.’
    ‘I’m
staying at the Metropole,’ he says. ‘Where will you be staying?’
    ‘Oh,
just a small place. Hotel Tomson.’
    ‘I don’t
think I know Hotel Tomson.’
    ‘It’s
quite small. It’s cheap but clean.’
    ‘Well,
at the Metropole,’ Bill says, ‘they don’t ask any questions.
    ‘As far
as I’m concerned,’ Lise says, ‘they can ask any questions they like. I’m an
idealist.’
    ‘That’s
exactly what I am,’ Bill says. ‘An idealist. You’re not offended, are you? I
only meant that if we get acquainted, I think, somehow, I’m your type and you’re
my type.’
    ‘I don’t
like crank diets,’ Lise says. ‘I don’t need diets. I’m in good form.’
    ‘Now, I
can’t let that pass, Lise,’ Bill says. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking
about. The macrobiotic system is not just a diet, it’s a way of life.’
    She
says, ‘I have somebody to meet some time this afternoon or this evening.’
    ‘What
for?’ he says. ‘Is it a boy-friend?’
    ‘Mind
your own business,’ she says.. ‘Stick to your yin and your yang.’
    ‘Yin
and Yang,’ he says, ‘is something that you’ve got to understand. If we could
have a little