by Janet Tanner
Guy drained his glass. ‘Another drink?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve still got some left …’
‘Not a lot though. I’ll get you another one. Don’t look so worried. Pimms won’t hurt you – if you want the same again, that is.’
‘Yes, all right. Thank you.’
He took her glass and walked back towards the bar. She sat watching him, watching the easy sway of his shoulders, the lithe athletic way he moved, and liking what she saw. Strange how it was possible to feel so comfortable with someone one scarcely knew when some people inspired only awkwardness even if one had known them all one’s life. And it had been like that from the very first, she realised, remembering the rapport they had struck up when he had flown her in. Guy de Savigny. She savoured the name and decided she liked that too. Strong, simple yet far from ordinary. Very like the man himself.
‘Well, well, Lilli! What are you doing here?’
Shocked, she jerked her head up, jarring a tendon in her neck as she did so, recognising those sultry dark tones instantly and feeling herself beginning to tremble.
Jorge.
He was standing at the edge of the circle of light, a white-clothed figure against the dark mass of the palm trees. He was smoking a cigar and though his voice sounded amused she could see he was scowling.
‘I didn’t realise you still frequented Johnny Shovelnose’s dive,’ he said, coming towards her and placing one hand carelessly on the back of her chair.
‘I don’t’ she said, ‘but I think I have a perfect right to do so if I wish.’
His hand moved from her chair to her shoulder.
‘Why are you fighting me, sweetheart?’
Her eyes blazed up into his.
‘You know perfectly well why! It’s over, Jorge. It has been over a very long time now,’
‘But you came back.’
‘Because my father is dying.’ She shrugged her shoulder, attempting to dislodge his hand. ‘Leave me alone, Jorge.’
But his fingers still bit into her flesh.
‘Is that what you really want, Lilli? I don’t think so.’
‘It is what I want! And I should tell you, Jorge, I’m not here alone. I’m with someone.’ To her relief she saw Guy making his way back towards the table. ‘He’s here now. Please go!’
‘What’s the rush? I’d rather like to meet the man who is taking my place … Wait a minute. It’s my new pilot, isn’t it?’
Guy had reached the table now, standing with the drinks still in his hand, looking somewhat sternly at the man whose hand lay so proprietorially on Lilli’s shoulder.
‘It is my new pilot,’ Jorge drawled. He extended one hand, leaving the other on Lilli’s shoulder. ‘ Perhaps I should introduce myself. Jorge Sanchez.’
Guy set the drinks down, completely in control of himself, and took the extended hand.
‘Guy de Savigny. Yes, I’m the new pilot. I’m only surprised we haven’t met before.’
‘I’m a very busy man, de Savigny. I hope you are too, since it’s my operation you are working for. But not too busy to entertain Lilli, I see.’
‘I do have to have some time off,’ Guy said easily. ‘I met Lilli when I flew her in two days ago.’
‘Ah, so you scarcely know her yet. I expect she enjoyed the flight. Lilli loves flying, don’t you, darling? Amongst other things. We must get together sometime and I can tell you all Lilli’s little likes and dislikes. It could save you some time, couldn’t it? Such a help, knowing a lady’s fetishes.’
‘That is very kind of you but I don’t think it will be necessary,’ Guy said smoothly. ‘Were you intending to join us? If so, perhaps I could get you a drink.’ His tone was courteous yet pointed and Lilli grasped the opportunity it presented her.
‘Jorge was just leaving, weren’t you, Jorge?’ She shrugged her shoulder again, more decisively, and this time Jorge released his hold on it.
‘Unfortunately, yes. But I expect we shall meet again, de Savigny. When perhaps both of us will be ready for a longer conversation.’
He turned, walking towards the bar. Guy looked at Lilli. She was visibly shaken and when she lifted her glass, draining what was left in it in one quick swallow, he saw that her hand was trembling.
‘So that was Jorge Sanchez,’ he said reflectively. ‘Not the most agreeable person I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.’
Lilli said nothing.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘He upset you, didn’t he?’
She nodded, not looking at him.
‘Jorge always upsets me. Stupid of me, really, to let him.’
‘Would you like to go home?’
‘No!’ She said it quickly, without thinking, the instinctive response wrenched from the turmoil within her. No, she didn’t want to go home, to the oppressive atmosphere of a house where a man lay dying and she would have to make small talk with Ingrid. She didn’t want to be alone with nothing to do but dwell again on the revelations that had turned what was left of her world upside down. And she did not want to leave this man who was somehow a buffer between her and Jorge, whose strength and niceness and lack of involvement with the whole bloody mess made her feel safer than she had felt at any time since she had returned to Madrepora. But neither did she want to remain here. The atmosphere of conviviality was stifling, adopting psychedelic proportions, blowing her mind and setting her nerves on edge. And besides, Jorge was still here, somewhere close by. She did not think he would bother her again tonight but she would be happier to put some distance between them.
‘I don’t want to go home, but could we … we couldn’t go back to your house, I suppose?’
‘Well, yes – if you like.’
She got up quickly, leaving her fresh Pimms untouched, and waiting while he tossed back his own drink. The tension was there in every line of her body, in the way she held her purse, tucked tightly beneath her arm, and in her hands folded around her waist as if to protect herself from some unseen evil. Instinctively he placed an arm around her shoulder and felt a small tremor run through her before she leaned against him, seeking support.
They walked, not talking, until they reached his house.
‘God knows what sort of a mess it’s in,’ he said, opening the door. ‘I’m not the world’s tidiest.’
But the house was, of course, immaculate, thanks to the maid who had been in to wash up the dishes from the meal she had prepared for him earlier and had spared time to rearrange furniture, books and discarded clothing whilst she was about it. Guy switched on some lights, strategically placed table lamps which illuminated the soft darkness with a gentle glow, and opened the doors of an old-fashioned sideboard.
‘I can’t offer you Pimms, I’m afraid, but I do have rum or cognac.’
‘No gin?’
‘Sorry, no. Oh – wait a minute, I do have some champagne. It was in the fridge when I took over the house – left by the previous occupant, I imagine. But I don’t suppose they’ll be back for it.’
‘Champagne would be very nice.’
He opened the bottle and set out two glasses.
‘I suppose I might as well join you. I’m not a champagne man, really, but it would be a pity to let it go to waste.’
She sipped the champagne – a good one, whoever had left it there had expensive tastes – and began to feel some of the tension leaving her.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘You must think I’m a total neurotic.’
‘No, I don’t think that.’
‘Oh come on, you must do! First yesterday, then tonight … I don’t normally behave like this, honestly!’
‘I’m sure you don’t. You are under a lot of strain.’
She nodded.
‘I am, actually. Far more than you know. I feel very … alone.’
‘You don’t have to.’
She looked up quickly.
‘Don’t have to – what?’
‘Feel alone. Oh, I know I’m more or less a stranger to you, b
ut if I can be any help, well, you know where I am.’
‘Oh Guy, thank you!’ Whether it was the champagne chasing the Pimms on a virtually empty stomach, since she had been unable to eat properly for days, or whether it was the gentleness of his tone, Lilli could not be sure, but suddenly her eyes filled with tears.
Ashamed, she turned her head away. What the hell was the matter with her? She hardly ever cried and when she did it was in private. Now she seemed totally incapable of controlling any of her emotions any more.
She bent her head, fighting back those treacherous tears, and he came up behind her, taking her gently by the elbows and holding her so that the rigid line of her back rested against his chest. For a few moments she could think of nothing but the effort not to break down completely, then, slowly yet surely, she began to be aware of him. His hands felt good on her arms, his touch firm and supportive, and the tiny nerve endings around her shoulders and spine had begun to tingle slightly, as if responding to an unseen magnet.
The sundress she was wearing was halter-necked; above the niched waist her back was bare. She felt the slightly rough cotton of his polo shirt rasp against her skin and instantly new areas became sensitised. She stood motionless, savouring the sensation and enjoying, without even realising it, the fact that briefly at least, something was obliterating all those chaotic and depressing thoughts from which she had begun to think there was no escape.
The nearness of him felt so good, a comfort and a promise magically combined. Lilli thought she would be content to stay there forever, losing herself and her problems in this swimmy, dreamlike trance that was not unlike, in some ways, the one she had experienced floating in the arms of the sea. But the sea had lulled her further and further inside herself, sapped not only her will but her very consciousness, whilst there was an urgent restlessness buried somewhere within this soporific state, a restlessness which was an almost unrecognised desire. Just when she thought she could stay there, unmoving, for ever, it was not enough for his touch to be confined to her upper arms and back. The rest of her body was aching to feel it too.
She turned towards him, the champagne glass still in her hand, and buried her face in his neck. It smelled faintly of soap and the salt which was carried on the sea breeze. His arms were around her now and a warmth began to suffuse her body, punctuated by the tiny sharp shivers emanating from the deepest parts of her and the tingling in her veins. She pressed against him, giving herself up to a barely recognised need, believing she sought only refuge yet responding to those deep primal urges he had stirred in her, and he held her close, allowing her to discover for herself that she wanted more, more … Only when she raised her head did she realise his mouth had been in her hair and suddenly she wanted to taste it. His face was close to hers, strong lines of cheek and chin almost touching her own. She tilted her head further back and saw his eyes, dark and burning with a reflection of her own desire, and then his lips were on hers, kissing her, gently at first, then more deeply and urgently.
After a moment he released her, looking down at her tenderly, taking a strand of her hair and twisting it back behind her ear, and a part of her cried out for him to kiss her again whilst another part stood back and marvelled at the warmth and excitement she was feeling. She had known desire before, with Jorge, but never this wonderful sense of … rightness.
She withdrew the glass of champagne she was still holding from behind his back and sipped it, the bubbles tickling where his mouth had touched.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘if that’s what champagne can do, perhaps I should drink it more often.’
His tone was light, teasing, but with underlying depths. She laughed, a little tremulously.
‘Perhaps I should too.’
They were looking at one another as if seeing the other for the first time, and drinking in what they saw. Lilli thought that the world had come suddenly, miraculously, right – nothing mattered at that moment but being here with Guy.
And then the telephone began to ring.
The spell shattered. Lilli’s first thought was for her father, that he was worse, had suffered some kind of crisis, and this must be Ingrid ringing to tell her to come home. It couldn’t be, of course – how would Ingrid know she was here? But she couldn’t dismiss the fear all the same and she stood frozen in an agony of waiting as Guy went to answer it, trying to hear what he was saying but learning nothing from the monosyllabic conversation.
After a few minutes he was back.
‘Sorry about that. My timing never was very good.’
‘Was it …? It wasn’t anything to do with me?’
He looked surprised.
‘No. Just work, that’s all. It was Manuel – a job I have to do tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ An initial flood of relief, but the sharp anxiety of a few moments ago left echoes she could not ignore. Suddenly Lilli, who had not wanted to go home, could not wait to be there to satisfy herself that her rather truly was all right and the telephone call had not been some sort of portent.
‘I think perhaps I should go,’ she said.
‘Have your champagne first,’ he suggested, ‘otherwise anyone wanting to track down Lilli would be able to find her by following the trail of half-finished drinks.’
She laughed, but even to her own ears it sounded hollow. Her happy mood had gone, fragmented by the harsh urgency of the telephone bell.
‘I’ll see you home,’ he said.
They walked with his arm about her shoulders and outside the villa he kissed her again, but this time her heart was not in it.
‘I’m sorry, I really do have to make sure he’s all right. It’s the reason I’m here, after all.’
‘You want me to come in with you?’
‘No. No, I’ll be all right now. Thank you for the evening.’
She laid her hand on his arm, her fingers caressing the bare skin for a moment, and then she was gone, running towards the veranda.
He looked after her and saw that someone was sitting there, propped up on a lounger, looking put over the gardens. A man. Otto? He heard Lilli’s voice, speaking to him, heard the low answering growl, and strained his eyes in the dark. Then a light on the veranda went on and he saw him quite clearly for an instant – a drawn, once-handsome face beneath a head of cropped white hair, and a scar, livid still, running the length of his cheek.
In that moment Guy’s last remaining doubts melted away and he knew he had found Otto von Rheinhardt. But the only coherent thought in his brain was to marvel that a man like that had managed to father a daughter like Lilli. And to wonder what the hell he was going to do about it.
‘Daddy?’ Lilli said. ‘ What are you doing still up? I thought you’d be in bed by now.’
‘Why? Are you trying to get rid of me, Lilli?’
‘You know I’m not!’ She dropped to her knees beside his chair, taking his hand, wanting to share with him some of the warmth and happiness she had experienced earlier.
‘Did you have a good time? Is the new pilot nice?’ he asked.
‘Yes, he is. Very nice.
‘Good. That’s all right then. I couldn’t help worrying about you. I do worry about you, you know.’
‘Yes, I know you do, but you mustn’t. I’ll be all right.’
‘Yes, I think you will, Lilli. Just as long as you remember what I told you.’
‘Hush, Daddy, I don’t want to talk about it now.’
‘Very well. Very well.’
They sat together in the murmuring dark, close once more. For tonight, at any rate, the threats within the shadows had receded and Lilli felt at peace.
Chapter Twenty Six
THE GLOW WAS still with her when she woke. The morning sunshine was streaming in between the half-open shutters, bathing the room with bands of golden light, and for a moment Lilli could not remember why it was that she felt so happy. Then memory returned, the memory of closeness and safety and vibrant anticipation all rolled into one, and she lay hugging herself and imagining it was Guy
’s arms that held her, his hands on the curve of her hips through the clinging silk of her nightdress.
It was not possible, Lilli thought, that she should actually feel this way about someone other than Jorge. But she did, she did, and it was wonderful! In spite of everything the realisation was making her tight-headed, light-hearted. Whatever she had to face, with Guy there she could do it. Jorge had been exorcised. He had no power over her any more, and Lilli soared on the wings of freedom.
When would she see Guy again? They had made no plans, but she would see him, she was quite certain of it. Not today perhaps – he had to work, didn’t he? – and perhaps not tonight. But tomorrow, or the next day … Lilli felt the excitement sparkle inside her. She couldn’t wait! She couldn’t bear to wait! But she had to, and whilst she did she would spend every moment she could with her father, sharing some of this new-found happiness, and letting him know that nothing of what he had told her made the slightest difference to their relationship.
She did not approve, could never approve, of what he had done, but she did not blame him. He had had no choice, she was certain of that. It was all Uncle Fernando and Jorge’s doing. They had forced him into it. And she would do all she could to ensure that the repercussions did not blight his last days on this earth.
Lilli pushed aside the sheets and the mosquito net and climbed out of bed, stretching luxuriously. For the first time since she had received Josie’s letter she felt rested, relieved of a burden. She still had to come to terms with the imminent loss of her father, but this morning she felt strong enough even to deal with that.
Little did she know what a short respite had been granted to her.
Lilli had just showered and washed her hair when she heard some kind of commotion going on downstairs.