The Talented Mr Ripley / Талантливый мистер Рипли. Патриция Хайсмит

to see you! And my Italian friends. They've invited me to stay with them for a few days.'

      'Fine! I'm off to Naples with a friend. Tom?' Dickie pointed at Tom over and introduced them.

      The American's name was Freddie Miles. Tom thought he was disgusting. Tom hated red hair, especially this kind of carrot-red hair with white skin and freckles. Tom turned away from him, waiting for Dickie to finish his conversation. Dickie and Freddie were talking about skiing, making a date for some time in December in a town Tom had never heard of.

      'There'll be about fifteen of us at Cortina[22] by the second,' Freddie said. 'A real first-class party like last year! Three weeks, if our money holds out!'

      'If we hold out![23]' Dickie said. 'See you tonight, Fred!'

      The bus took them to a big square in Naples.

      'I know a good place for lunch,' Dickie said. 'A real Neapolitan pizzeria. Do you like pizza?'

      'Yes.'

      The pizzeria was up a street too narrow for cars. They sat there until five o'clock, when Dickie said it was time to move on to the Galleria.[24] Dickie apologised for not taking him to the art museum, which had original da Vincis and El Grecos[25], he said, but they could see that at another time. Dickie had spent most of the afternoon talking about Freddie Miles, and Tom had found it as uninteresting as Freddie's face. Freddie was the son of an American hotel-chain owner, and a playwright – a false one, Tom thought, because he had written only two plays, and neither had seen Broadway[26].

      'This is what I like,' Dickie said frankly in the Galleria, 'sitting at a table and watching the people go by. It does something to your idea of life. The Anglo-Saxons make a great mistake not staring at people from a sidewalk table.'

      Tom nodded. He had heard it before. He was waiting for something wise and original from Dickie. Dickie was handsome. He looked unusual with his long, finely cut face, his quick, intelligent eyes, the proud way he carried himself, no matter what he was wearing.

      A well-dressed Italian greeted Dickie with a warm handshake and sat down at the table with them. Tom listened to their conversation in Italian, but could understand only some words. He was beginning to feel tired.

      'Want to go to Rome?' Dickie asked him suddenly.

      'Sure,' Tom said. 'Now?' He stood up and paid for their coffee.

      The Italian had a long grey Cadillac. They reached Rome in about two hours. The Italian left them in the middle of a street in Rome and said good-bye.

      'He's in a hurry,' Dickie said. 'Got to see his girl friend and get away before the husband comes home at eleven. There's the music hall I was looking for. Come on!

      They bought tickets for the music-hall show that evening. Tom got very little out of the music-hall show, but he tried his very best.

      Dickie suggested leaving before the show was over. Then they caught a horse carriage and drove around the city, past fountain after fountain, through the Forum and around the Colloseum[27]. The moon came out. Tom was still a little sleepy, but excited at being in Rome for the first time. They were sitting in the carriage in the same pose with a sandalled foot on a knee, and it seemed to Tom that he was looking in a mirror when he looked at Dickie. They were the same height, and very much the same weight, Dickie perhaps a bit heavier, and they wore the same size bathrobe, socks, and probably shirts.

      They were in finer mood at one o'clock in the morning, after a bottle and a half of wine. They walked with their arms around each other's shoulders, singing, and around a dark corner they saw a girl and knocked her down. They lifted her up, apologising, and offered to accompany her home. She protested, they insisted. Dickie got a taxi. They helped the girl out in a little street that looked like Naples again, and she said, 'Grazie tante!'[28] and shook hands with both of them, then disappeared in a black doorway.

      'Did you hear that?' Dickie said. 'She said we were the nicest Americans she'd ever met!' He turned around and asked, 'Now where are we?'

      They didn't know.

      'When the dawn comes up, we can see where we are,' Dickie said cheerfully. 'It's because we got a nice girl home, isn't it?'

      'Sure it is. I like girls,' Tom said protestingly. 'But it's a good thing Marge isn't here tonight. We never could go with that girl with Marge with us.'

      'That's right!' Dickie put an arm around his shoulder.

      Tom opened his eyes and looked into the face of a policeman. He sat up. They were in a park. It was dawn. Dickie was sitting on the grass beside him, talking to the policeman in Italian.

      'Passaporti!' the policeman demanded.

      Tom knew exactly what Dickie was saying. He was saying that they were Americans, and they didn't have their passports because they had only gone out for a little walk to look at the stars. Tom had an impulse to laugh. He stood up. Dickie was up, too, and they began to walk away, though the policeman was still crying at them. Dickie said something back to him in a polite, explanatory tone. At least the policeman was not following them.

      'We look dirty,' Dickie said. They began to laugh. They were still drunk.

      By eleven o'clock they were in Naples, just in time to catch the bus for Mongibello. It was wonderful to think of lying on the beach at Mongibello this afternoon, but they never got to the beach. They had showers at Dickie's house, then fell down on their beds and slept until Marge woke them up around four.

      Marge was annoyed because Dickie hadn't sent her a telegram saying he was spending the night in Rome.

      'I don't mind if you spend the night, but I thought you were in Naples and anything can happen in Naples.'

      'Oh-h,' Dickie exchanged glances with Tom. He was making cocktails for all of them.

      Tom kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to tell Marge anything they had done. Let her imagine what she pleased. Dickie made it clear that they had had a very good time. Tom noticed that she looked at Dickie with blame for his hangover. There was something in Marge's eyes when she was very serious that made her look wise and old. Or was it jealousy?

      After a few moments she seemed relaxed. Dickie left him with Marge on the terrace. Tom asked her about the book she was writing. It was a book about Mongibello, she said, with her own photographs. He tried to be pleasant to her. He walked with her to the gate, and they said a friendly good-bye to each other, but both didn't say anything about their all getting together later that day or tomorrow. There was no doubt about it, Marge was a little angry with Dickie.

      4

      For three or four days they saw very little of Marge, and she was cooler towards both of them on the beach. She smiled and talked to them, but there was an element of politeness now. Tom noticed that Dickie was worried, but not worried enough to talk to Marge alone, because he didn't have a chance to see her alone. Tom was with Dickie every moment since he had moved into Dickie's house.

      Finally Tom mentioned to Dickie that he thought she was acting strangely.

      'Oh, that's because of her moods,' Dickie said. 'Maybe she's working well. She doesn't like to see people when she's in the middle of work.'

      The Dickie-Marge relationship was just what he supposed it was at first, Tom thought. Marge was much fonder of Dickie than Dickie was of her.

      Tom tried to amuse Dickie. He had lots of funny stories to tell Dickie about people he knew in New York, some of them true, some of them invented. They went for a sail in Dickie's boat every day. They never spoke about the date when Tom might leave. Dickie also seemed pleased that Tom was taking his study of Italian seriously. Tom spent a couple of hours a day with his grammar and conversation books.

      Tom wrote to Mr Greenleaf that he was staying with Dickie now for

22

Cortina d'Ampezzo – Кортина д'Ампеццо, итальянский зимний курорт в Альпах.

23

…if our money holds out! – If we hold out! – … если денег хватит! – Если нас на это хватит!

24

Galleria – (итал.) торговая галерея

25

Leonardo da Vinci – Леонардо да Винчи (1452–1519), итальянский художник и учёный, один из крупнейших представителей искусства Возрождения; El Greco – Эль Греко (1541–1614), испанский художник.

26

Broadway – Бродвей, одна из наиболее известных улиц Нью-Йорка, и обобщённое название театров в Нью-Йорке, расположенных в округе этой улицы.

27

Forum – Римский форум, одна из центральных площадей в Древнем Риме; Colloseum – Колизей, амфитеатр, памятник архитектуры Древнего Рима.

28

Grazie tante! – (итал.) Большое спасибо!