At the Villa Massina Page 17

  Between those two, Norma and Ramiro, Juliet was feeling a little frayed. Her cousin’s calm deception, the ease with which she had turned Ramiro’s enquiries to her own account, was almost intolerable, and when Norma shot her a message with those hard blue eyes she chose to ignore it. By the law of averages, Norma Colmeiro couldn’t possibly have everything as she wanted it all the time!

  There were only two lights in the sitting-room, both table lamps. Juliet sat in the shadows to the right of the open door, Ruy was next, then Norma, with Ramiro also in semi-darkness at the other side of the door. Fortunately, the topic of the bookshop had been dropped. They spoke of pelota, as played in the Bahia de Manca, and then Ramiro mentioned his sister’s wedding celebrations.

  “Since she has been married before, we shall have only a modest function, but the people of the estate will be happy, and Manuel is a diplomat and a national figure. For him, after all, it is the first marriage, so we must give him something to remember!”

  “You’re very pleased about the engagement, aren’t you?” said Norma softly.

  “I admit it. You know Inez very well, how she has been sad for long periods as though her life were finished. To a woman, it is very necessary to be loved.”

  “To anyone, I should say,” remarked Ruy, simply.

  “How true, darling,” from Norma. “But, Ramiro, you’re different from most of us. So self-sufficient.”

  “Your young cousin,” he commented, “appears to have no opinion on the subject. Yet I believe she, too, is beginning to learn something about it.”

  “Not very much,” said Juliet, her tones uncommunicative. “You’re mocking at me, senor.”

  “But, no! I am interested. Many things happen to you and yet outwardly you remain the same ... or nearly the same. Tell me,” he sounded almost bantering yet there was a faint edge to his tones, “is it possible for an English girl to give her heart more than once? Because if it is so, it must also be possible an unlimited number of times. That is logic, no?”

  “I daresay it is.”

  Norma said, with a tactful smile, “I think Juliet finds it difficult to understand you, Ramiro. She’s new to Spain.” She accepted a cigarette and waited for a light before adding, “By the way, Ruy, Juliet’s keen to leave as soon as we can arrange it. Now that we have the car, it would be pleasant to give her a last look at the countryside on the way to Cadiz.”

  It was typical of Norma, the seemingly open approach. Naturally, neither of the men could know that this was the first Juliet had heard about her dismissal. Ruy turned and looked anxiously at the young face which appeared pale against the dark tapestry back of the chair.

  “So you wish to leave us, Juliet? I would not keep you against your will, but we shall miss you.”

  “I think,” said Ramiro, as if the clinching of any argument were automatically his prerogative, “we must keep your Juliet here until after my sister’s marriage. She is avid for experience, your cousin, and she has not yet seen a wedding here in Spain.” He looked kindly across at Juliet, kindly yet with a hardness in his eyes that only she could be aware of. “You will take away with you some unforgettable pictures, senorita. No people are so enthusiastic as those of San Federigo when a wedding at the Castillo is in the air.”

  Had she not known better, Juliet would have taken it that he was taunting her unmercifully. But his social mask was still there; no doubt it was physically impossible for him to drop it in the presence of others. Well, she was a little like that herself, but this evening the sense of strain was becoming unbearable.

  And then it happened, as it had happened once before, when Juliet was alone at night in the sitting-room. A figure appeared in the open doorway, a tallish figure in dark corduroys and shirt. The man stood there uncertain, pushed a hand over brown hair which was lightly powdered with grey, thereby regaining what equilibrium he had lost, and with a fixed half-smile enhancing his dissipated good looks, he slid a glance over the two men who were now standing, and over Norma, and let it come to rest upon Juliet.

  She sat there paralysed, heard a sharp breath from her cousin and knew that at last Norma was really shaken.

  Ramiro said quietly, with deadly clarity, “Well, my friend? What can we do for you?”

  Lyle rubbed his new beard. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d find Juliet alone, or I wouldn’t have intruded. I’ll come back another time.”

  But miraculously, Norma had recovered her self-possession; she seized the only advantage in the situation. Hesitantly, not looking at Lyle, she said, “Why not walk for a few minutes with your friend, Juliet?”

  “But first an introduction!” said Ramiro curtly.

  Somehow Juliet managed it. “Mr. Lyle Whitman. My cousin, Senora Colmeiro and her husband ... the Conde de Vallos.”

  Lyle bowed. “I do apologize for breaking in like this. Juliet, if you’d spare me just a minute...”

  If she hadn’t been so close to the door it could not have been contrived. Norma’s sudden clutch at Ramiro helped too, of course. Juliet was outside with Lyle’s grip on her upper arm, hurrying with him across the back garden and down the steps to the beach. She panted to a stop under the pines, listened, as he did, for sounds of pursuit.

  He let out a pent-up breath. “Phew! That was close. They’ll think I came from the road, but I didn’t. I came this way or I’d have seen the Conde’s car on the drive and faded out. I wouldn’t have done this to you, Juliet.”

  “But you have!” she almost wailed. “I begged you not to come here, and now you have to turn up at the worst possible time.”

  “I didn’t know Norma was here. Believe me, I had no wish to see her again. You’ve been rather a sport and I couldn’t clear out without letting you know you had nothing to worry about. That’s why I came here tonight—just to set your mind easy.”

  “Then do it quickly, and go!” she implored him. “Ramiro may search the garden. The cat’s eye has been handed to the police, and he knows all about you.”

  He spoke swiftly, looking down at her. “It doesn’t matter any more. I’ve got to vanish. I’ve been mixed up in something really big, without knowing it. I thought I was in a bit of small-time smuggling—all I had to do was receive a packet from a boat about once a month and hand it to someone else a day later. I was assured it wasn’t drugs, so I took their advice and didn’t get curious. Life had become dull and I was broke—and for nearly two years it’s been ridiculously easy. Then I received a hint from someone that even the gems with which I was paid were being sought. That was after I’d sold some of them to Inez. I had to get them back, but even that turned out rather futile. I haven’t time to explain all the ramifications, but I do know it’s safer for me to leave Spain. I’m going aboard a small cruising yacht in about half an hour. I wanted you to know it wasn’t my fault I didn’t turn up for the appointment in the Alameda. I’ve been held up inland.”

  “That’s all right,” she said jerkily. “Please go. Don’t you realize that Ramiro knows who you are?”

  “Does he?” This gave him pause. “Why didn’t he grab me just now? He’s a far fitter man than I am—he could have knocked me cold.”

  “I don’t know.” But she did. “You won’t cause any trouble for Norma, will you?”

  “No, I promise. That’s why I had to see you. You’ve been so concerned for that precious cousin of yours that I couldn’t leave you on the rack. While there was a chance of saving myself snugly in Cortana almost any step seemed worth taking. Now,” his shoulders lifted, “the luck’s turned so drastically that Norma’s no more important in my scheme of things than one of these pine needles. You stop worrying, young Juliet. I may never see you again, but I don’t think I’ll forget you.” He nodded up towards the garden. “There’s someone coming. Goodbye, little one.” Then he did something he had possibly never done before in his life to any woman. He took her face between his hands and gently kissed her forehead. She felt a quivering in those hands that seemed like a world of regret, a wrenching
pain in him which had nothing to do with his predicament. Hazily, it came to her for the first time that it was only unhappy people who were led astray, and for a moment she was desperately sorry that he had never been loved and understood.

  He was gone, and she turned along the dunes towards the steps, stumbling because her vision was blurred. At the foot of the steps she met Ramiro, felt him catch her wrist in a vice, his ragingly hot breath as his lips parted for speech. But the fury remained unspoken.

  He saw her eyes, large and luminous with tears, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her pallor, and he dropped her wrist as if it scorched.

  “So it is heartbreak,” he said, very quietly. “Very well, for your sake we will allow him to escape from the Bahia de Manca. Beyond the Bahia he will have other difficulties to meet. Come, Miss Darrell.”

  He mounted the steps at her side, went with her to the porch, where only a rather puzzled Ruy was standing, waiting to speed the Conde. Juliet said an almost inaudible goodnight and went upstairs.

  In the upper corridor Norma was pacing, a lace handkerchief ripping between her fingers. But Juliet was in no state to bear more.

  “You’re safe,” she said bitterly. “Goodnight.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  IN the absolute calm which settled over the Villa Massina, Juliet regained her poise. There was no news of any kind about Lyle Whitman, and after a day or two she knew that he must at least have slipped out of the Bahia. It was very unlikely that she would ever hear of him again.

  She took her passport from the safe in the dining-room wall and kept it in her handbag. The hold-all bag which Norma had given her was relegated to the back of a drawer in the wardrobe and it was likely to remain there till Luisa came across it some time in the future. She packed a few things in one of the suitcases, looked up maps and guide-books.

  Blissfully unaware that drama had been enacted in their vicinity, the children ate, played and slept.

  As Rina put it one morning, “You don’t seem to notice the days passing, in Spain. Juliet, do you think it’s because people don’t talk about the weather, as they do in England?”

  “That’s a very wise conclusion,” Juliet commented. “You’re probably right. In a few days we’ll have been here seven weeks.”

  “Seven jolly weeks,” chanted Tony. “Seven jolly hopping weeks. When shall I finish my pond?”

  “I wonder. I think your Daddy really likes the idea.”

  “It was my idea,” he reminded her, as though that were a hall-mark, “but maybe I’ll let Daddy finish it. May we make a tent on the beach?”

  “Is that the beginning of some new venture?”

  “A secret,” he told her ponderously. “I’m hungry.”

  “I’ll get some lemonade and cakes and bring them into the garden. You might help me, Rina.”

  More and more, Juliet remained with the children while Ruy and Norma went visiting. There were one or two evening functions.

  “You might wear the gown of Fate, Juliet,” Ruy suggested, anxious and teasing. But Juliet stayed in the house reading and sewing, gathering the sort of courage she needed for the plan she had in mind.

  Her aunt had written a long letter in which she stated several times that both she and Uncle George wanted Juliet to stay on with Ruy and Norma as long as she wished. While in Spain she might as well see all she could, and she was not to think about home at all; the shop was going splendidly and they were contemplating taking a young man as a partner, to learn the business and shoulder much of the responsibility.

  Juliet thought it over and made a tentative decision. She would send her large suitcase home by boat, pack a few travelling clothes and make a tour which would eventually land her at San Sebastian on the north coast. That way, she could shake off the effects of San Federigo and gather plenty of sights and impressions during the hiatus between the Villa Massina and England.. Definitely, she would have to fill her mind with something.

  She did not consult Norma. Since that night when she had told her cousin she was safe from Lyle Whitman, they had not been alone together; Norma herself had seen to that. The three adults chatted quite often and invariably sat down together at the dining-table, but all sense of intimacy had gone. Ruy patently did not understand what had happened, but possibly he attributed the lack of cohesion between them to the fact that the two women were English and therefore somewhat unpredictable.

  Juliet took the children to a fiesta in town, bought them rides on a showman’s camel and little sugar figures from the confectioner’s. She sat with them under an umbrella outside a cafe, and tossed coins at the decorated floats. Tony insisted that one of the numerous shoeshine boys who had suddenly appeared in the streets should be allowed to polish his shoes, and he sat there ecstatically regarding the result and complimenting the boy in pidgin Spanish.

  Later, as dusk fell, there was dancing in the plaza, the strutting and whirling of folk dancers to the guitar, the passionate stamping of feet, the sidling of partners round each other, the perked head with a rose between the teeth. As Juliet shepherded the children into a side street on their way home, a car passed them slowly, the black limousine bearing the insignia of the Castillo. Ramiro was driving, and the serene Inez sat in the back with Manuel Verrar. At Ramiro’s side, Carmen was an eager spectator of the scene beyond the car window; she touched his arm and pointed at something, and Ramiro nodded and smiled. Two happy couples with the world before them.

  Inevitably, Juliet met Ramiro a few times during that strange vacuity of days. He called at the villa and as usual feigned grave discussions with the children; he talked with Ruy, paid Norma the compliments her vanity craved, Was charming to Luisa. Towards Juliet, he was quietly polite. No innuendoes or mockery, nothing at all to show that they had ever exchanged anything but the simplest conventionalities. Or almost nothing; he did state once or twice that she looked unwell.

  Then one day, after Ruy and Norma had lunched at the Castillo and returned to find the children resting, and Juliet reading in the porch, Juliet was forced to make her decision.

  Norma had sunk gracefully into one of the porch chairs, and Ruy stood nearby, on the point of going upstairs for his siesta. But he waited, knowing what Norma was about to say.

  “Well, it’s come, Juliet. The welcome party for Manuel. He’s actually been here several days, but they’re having the party tomorrow. Everyone knows he and Inez are engaged, but it will be the first official intimation, with Manuel on the spot. You may not be able to get out of this one.”

  “Do you mean I’ve been invited?”

  “You’re always invited,” said Norma impatiently, “out of politeness to Ruy and me...”

  “Oh, no, cara mia! Juliet was a guest at the Castillo before we arrived.”

  “I know, darling,” replied his wife in the soft tones she reserved for her husband, “but she would never have been accepted at the Castillo if we hadn’t been friends of Inez. However, it’s not important. Both Ramiro and Inez insist that Juliet must be there tomorrow.”

  “And you will?” asked Ruy, rather earnestly. “It would make us very happy, Juliet.”

  “Then I'll go, Ruy,” she said, and her eyes held a controlled steadiness as she smiled at him.

  He was satisfied and asked them to excuse Mm. They heard him go through the hall and upstairs, and when the sounds had ceased, Norma said consideringly,

  “You could have refused, if you liked. With these Spanish people illness is an unanswerable excuse.”

  “But I don’t care for it.”

  “Do you know what Ruy said on the way home a few minutes ago? He sounded almost English. He said, ‘There’s something that will take the dreary look out of Juliet’s eyes, and we must find it.’ I told him that young girls who had been unwisely in love were best left alone.”

  “You would,” said Juliet.

  Norma lifted a dark-brown eyebrow. “Well, we have to maintain the fiction, don’t we? I’m not sure you weren’t rather floored by Lyle, any
way.”

  “I believe you are sure, Norma,” Juliet said evenly. “Now that we’re alone at last, I’d better tell you that I intend leaving at the weekend. I’ve worked out a tour, by bus and train, and I shall start by catching the market bus down in the plaza on Saturday morning. I’m aware that Ruy won’t approve...”

  “Oh, that’s all right. Leave Ruy to me. We won’t tell him till the last minute.”

  “You’ll be glad to see me go, won’t you?”

  “You’re too candid, darling,” complained Norma. “You’ll admit you’ve caused me a few bad moments, and I want to forget them. I do have a position here, and you’re so ... so homely that you make things difficult for me.”

  “You mean you find it difficult to lie when I’m about. Ruy pretends he doesn’t hear.”

  Norma shrugged her shoulders, exasperated. “You see? Here in Spain you and I just can’t get along. You’re right out of your element. I didn’t know you had this side to your nature. You were always so sweet and forgiving, but now it seems you can’t forget that I landed you with Lyle and a few troubles. By the way, it wouldn’t really be kind to invite Mother and Father here.”

  “I agree,” said Juliet. “They’d never understand the sort of woman you are in Spain. Let it go.”

  Norma warmed slightly. “You know, even when you’re hurt you’re rather a dear. Will you let me give you a cheque to cover your tour? It might make travelling more comfortable for you.”

  “No, thanks,” said Juliet, getting to her feet. “I’d rather walk.” And she went indoors to her bedroom.

  The decision was made irrevocable by sharing it with her cousin and Juliet felt easier. Now, she knew exactly what she was going to do. She needed a week or two alone, and what better way to spend them than in wandering around Spanish churches and museums, riding through an alien countryside and drenching oneself in sunshine and history? It sounded an excellent prescription for a bruised heart.

  After all, her personal pride was more or less intact, and by attending the party at the Castillo tomorrow, carrying it off with dignity and composure, she could go a long way towards leaving behind a fair impression of herself—which mattered rather more than she cared to admit. One couldn’t go on being tense and emotional under the cover of indifference, and waiting was insufferable, particularly when one had no notion of what one was waiting for. Far more sensible to make a clean cut, pick up the pieces and start again.