Hidden Rapture

by Lane, Roumelia

  He went with her back to the gaming rooms where he was immediately claimed by a red-faced colonel type who beamed at his appearance and thrust out a hand as though he were a long-lost friend. The place was crowded now and Vivienne wandered a little aimlessly around the tables. She didn’t bother to cash the chit that Trent had given her. She didn’t know what she wanted out of the evening, but one thing she was certain of: it wasn’t money.

  She did make an effort to take an interest in what was going on, watching the inscrutable faces of the people at the tables and the way they played the numbers. Abdul, looking very much a part of the scene among the other fez-. wearing Arabs, circulated unobtrusively among the patrons, his duties no doubt to keep a sharp eye open for dishonest play and troublemakers. Vivienne smiled to herself, thinking that with his Moorish hauteur and implacable air he was ideally suited to the job.

  For the best part of an hour she strolled around, telling herself that at least it was a change from pacing her room at Koudia. It was when she was on the point of searching out Trent to say that she was ready to leave that something happened which drained the life from her where she stood.

  Being concerned with the only kind of gambling she understood, the roulette wheels, she had paid little attention to the big chemin-de-fer table in the centre of the room. The players grouped around it came into her glance for the first time as she scanned the room for Trent, and it was then that her heart stood still. That thin figure in the worn looking suit gazing intensely at the cards in his hands. Wasn’t there something familiar in the way his hair receded from that high forehead … in the nervous jut of his chin …? The blood rushed to her head, almost blinding her. Long before her consciousness could come to grips with the miracle, her heart was joyfully pealing out the news to her. Gary! Gary! It was Gary!

  Hastily she looked around her, thinking that everyone must know of her feverish happiness, but she soon saw that the atmosphere in the room was unchanged. It was only inside herself where brilliant rainbows shone. There was a brightness in her eyes as she made her way over to the central table. It was odd, strangely nerve-tingling to be so near to Gary now. that she could touch his sleeve. She hoped that he would look up so that she could laugh at his surprise. He was’

  listening to the crooning tones of the croupier, ‘ Faites vos jeux, messieurs et dames,’ his eyes riveted on his cards. He remained in this position for so long that in the end she was driven to tugging his sleeve and saying shyly, ‘Hello, Gary. It’s been a long time.’

  He looked at her with unseeing eyes which came to life fleetingly as he tried to place her. Then he said in between keeping a watch on his cards, ‘It’s Viv, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ she laughed over the let-down feeling inside her. ‘You still remember my name!’

  She saw that he wasn’t listening. He uttered some gambling term, ‘ Banco seul,’ then swore beneath his breath. ‘Damn!’ The croupier was crooning in French again. Vivienne moved closer to Gary. His whole attention was trained on the table, so she said with a twinkle, ‘Would it surprise you to know that I’ve been searching for you all over Tangier?’

  Something went wrong again. He swore, and with exasperation in his tones he shot her a look. ‘Not now ! Can’t you see I’m busy?’

  Vivienne had no time to react much to this comment because at a distance she saw Trent and it was clear that he was looking for her.

  She knew that he had spotted her. He was making his way over. She said, hoping to catch Gary’s attention with her smile and her hopeful look, ‘I have to go now. Perhaps …?’ His mind was on the game and she dared not stay. Swiftly she moved off, going forward to meet Trent.

  ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he eyed her searchingly and smiled. ‘One or two of the new arrivals have had a little too much to drink, and I’d feel easier if you were out of it. Abdul’s waiting.’

  Vivienne went out with him mechanically. She remembered little of their walk through to the cafe area where he handed her over to Abdul, or the car journey home. The only thing that kept pounding, pounding ecstatically in her brain was that she had seen Gary; found him after the weeks of fruitless search. Back in her room at Koudia she whirled, hugging the knowledge to her. Just think! She had looked everywhere and he must have been there at the casino, not exactly under her nose, but closely connected as the Cafe Anglais was with her life here at Koudia, one could almost have said so. Oh, life was ironic indeed!

  She hardly slept that night, and the following day it was difficult to appear her usual composed self with this inner rapture giving her the feeling of walking on air. Towards late afternoon, after a lazy game of croquet and a session at the pool with Robert, she began to wonder how she could contrive another visit to the casino. It was a sobering thought, this feeling she had that Gary spent most of his time there.

  She felt practically certain that whatever night she might happen to visit there again she would find him at one of the gambling tables.

  Drying off her hair in the sun, she cast a quick glance at Trent, chatting smilingly with his brother over a drink. It was going to be awkward working something out without arousing his suspicions.

  That evening at dinner she decided that the easiest way was to play it naturally. After the final course, when they were lingering over a rather fine claret, she said casually, ‘Are you expecting a full house at the casino tonight?’

  Trent leaned back in his chair and replied with a smile, ‘The Cafe Anglais never actually bulges at the seams. We’ve got the regulars, of course, and with the summer approaching there’s always the tourists, but it’s the kind of entertainment that attracts only a steady influx of customers. I prefer it that way.’ He reached for his glass, then referred, as she had hoped he would, to her visit last night. ‘Do I take it that your tour of the gaming rooms left a lingering interest?’

  She looked past his mocking gleam and replied lightly, ‘You could say that. I found it fascinating watching the various types at the tables, though I’d never want to go through their kind of agony waiting for the right numbers.’

  ‘I know,’ said Trent with a dry grin. ‘I was told you didn’t exchange the chit I gave you.’ He added as an afterthought, ‘If you enjoyed the trip you must do it again some time.’

  ‘Oh, could I? I mean—’ Hastily she lowered her eager gaze and searched for some valid excuse. ‘I thought, as Robert’s sleeping, there’s no real sense in my hanging about the house. I have been rather tied to it lately, and … well, it’s just nice to have a change of scene.’

  . ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Trent, watching her. ‘Besides, I need Abdul at the casino, so that way we both get what we want.’ He finished his drink and rose, and coming round to ease her chair away as she got up he told her in his suave way, ‘Feel free to drop in at the Cafe Anglais any time. I’ll do my best to make your evenings as pleasant as possible.’

  ‘Oh no, please!’ Her glance flew to his where he stood behind her chair. ‘Don’t make any special effort for me. I’ll be quite content just to drift around on my own.’

  ‘You might have to some of the time,’ he said easily. ‘But I shall want it known that you’re to have whatever you wish while you’re under my roof. What kind of a casino owner would I be if I couldn’t do that for my brother’s girl?’ He was standing close to her where she had risen from her chair. His gaze lingered on her over-long, she thought.

  She battled ,with an uncomfortable feeling. Then he said in clipped tones, ‘Goodnight, Vivienne. I take it I’ll be seeing you later on.’

  She nodded, containing the breathless excitement in her until she had heard him leave in his car. Upstairs in her room she hunted for something to wear that would remind Gary of their summer together.

  It was unfortunate that she possessed nothing of the rather juvenile wardrobe of those days and it occurred to her that it might be foolish to try and go back to the jeans and leather-thonged shirts image of the past. That was four years ago, a dea
d episode. She was a woman now and her approach, quite naturally, would be different.

  After some thought she put on a white dress and added a little gold jacket to give an evening effect. She had gold shoes and an evening bag to match, and dabbing herself liberally with perfume before the mirror she thought the finished result wasn’t bad. Her hair had a healthy shine and the anticipatory sparkle in her eyes dispelled the fatigue of the last few days.

  When she considered she had killed enough time she went downstairs and told Abdul to bring the car. Her heart was knocking badly as they drove down towards the sea. What if Gary wasn’t there after all?

  What if she had been wrong in deducing that he spent most evenings at the casino? She felt she would never live through the disappointment if this were so.

  Abdul led the way into the Cafe Anglais and foolishly Vivienne’s eyes scanned the people at the tables. It was early yet by casino standards, but still her glance hopefully searched the corners. Abdul left her, giving her his polite salaam, and she relaxed a little. Now she was free to wander as she pleased. The place was fairly crowded.

  Her heart started up its tattoo again. It was not impossible that Gary was here somewhere, taking the first drink of the evening before going through to the gaming rooms.

  The cafe area was made up of several archwayed sections. She was passing through one of these when she almost collided with Trent. If she hadn’t been searching the place with her gaze she would have seen him. As it was, it was too late to do anything but laugh at her folly.

  ‘Well, well.’ He steadied her with both hands then let his gaze roam over her. ‘Very pretty—the get-up. And you smell like a flower garden.’ One hand lingered on her arm. ‘I’m just on my way to the office. I think we’ve got time to open a bottle of something before the casino starts filling up.’

  ‘I’m honoured,’ she replied flippantly, allowing him to propel her forward. What else could she do? She dared not give him so much as a hint as to what was really going on in her mind.

  In the black and gold office he went to the bar and brought an expensive vintage and crystal glasses to the desk. But they had barely sampled the golden liquid when Marcel came in. He apologised for the interruption and while he ironed out some difficulty with Trent, Vivienne made a leisurely tour of the office, glass in hand.

  The chief croupier departed. A few minutes later Trent was showing her the desk ashtray shaped in the form of a roulette wheel when the door opened again and one of the turbanned bar attendants came in with a list in his hand which seemed to cause him some puzzlement.

  Trent was doing some explaining when Vivienne interrupted to say softly, ‘You’re obviously busy. I’ll go and amuse myself somewhere.

  Please carry on.’

  He left the bar attendant and the list for a moment and escorted her to the door. As he opened it for her he said with a harassed grin, ‘I’ve made it clear to the staff that you’re to have the run of the place, but if you’re in doubt about anything ask Abdul. I’ll see you in the gaming rooms a little later on.’

  Vivienne digested this last remark as she moved off. All she could hope was that Trent would be kept busy in his office long enough for her to make some contact with Gary, She went straight to the gaming rooms, but although they were filling up there was no one as yet by the chemin-de-fer table and no sign of Gary in any other part of the salon. She thought it might be useful to take another trip to the cafe area. Wandering casually through the archways, casting an oblique glance around the tables, she noticed the imperceptible bows from the uniformed staff. They had seen her with Trent and were conforming to his wishes that she be treated with the utmost courtesy. She smiled in reply from time to time, although it was a little unnerving to know that she had complete freedom in so sophisticated an establishment.

  She mused around at the bar with its typically Moorish decor for a while, then retraced her steps back to the gaming salon. This time her heart did its familiar somersault when she entered. She spotted Gary almost at once over by the far roulette table. Fortunately he appeared to be watching play rather than participating, not like last night when his mind had been wholly occupied with the cards in his hand.

  Swiftly Vivienne made her way over. The players were fairly sparsely spread around the table and she was able to slide in comfortably alongside Gary. She spoke up facetiously but firmly to attract his attention away from the musical rhythm of the roulette ball. ‘Hello again. Still trying for the big stakes?’

  Gary took the joke a little sourly, she thought. He turned his head slightly, ran his glance over her and said absently, ‘So it was you I saw here last night. I wasn’t sure whether I’d dreamt it.’

  ‘Did it seem like a dream?’ she asked with a breathless smile, and softly with the suggestion of stars in her eyes. ‘It’s been all of four years, Gary.’

  ‘Your name kept going round and round in my mind,’ he said as though he hadn’t heard her. ‘Then I had it! Vivienne Blyth from the Hotel Riadh days.’ He thrust a hand into his jacket pocket and asked while he fumbled there, ‘How have you been?’

  ‘Oh …’ Vivienne was all set to make some light-hearted reply when he drew out some gambling chips and muttered, ‘Excuse me a second.’ He studied his meagre pile of chips, carefully placed half of them on various numbers on the table, then as the croupier’s voice came over to warn that the wheel was about to spin he split his attention between her and the table again. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘Oh, nothing!’ she replied lightly, and commenting mischievously on his choice of numbers she asked, ‘Why didn’t you put them all on the one that brings you luck? Your birthday or something. Think what you’d win if it came up.’

  ‘You never rely on luck in this game.’ He waited for the wheel to stop. ‘One has to calculate.’

  The ball came to rest and his chips went down. To take his mind off his disappointment she asked cheerfully, ‘How has life been treating you?’

  ‘Can’t grumble,’ he shrugged, weighing up the last of his chips. ‘I’m in photography now. Dropped the music game. Too many kids at it.’

  The croupier’s voice cut in again. There was the excited chatter of the other players around them. Vivienne said, in the hope of drawing him away, ‘It’s not the ideal place for a conversation. Why don’t we …?’

  ‘Just a minute.’ Gary fingered his chips and studied the table. He said to her with a flicker of impatience, ‘One should follow the game really.’

  He didn’t bet that time and Vivienne spoke up again. ‘I was saying, why don’t we go for a drink? We could talk about old times …’

  ‘We’ll do that some time,’ he nodded, his eyes on the table. He was doing some kind of mental arithmetic and Vivienne threw a quick glance round the room. She had told herself she would keep a wary eye open for Trent, now there he was over by the far archway. Her heart began to pound nervously as she looked his way. Had he spotted her chatting away to Gary before she had noticed him?

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE met Trent towards the centre of the gaming room. He said, taking her arm, ‘The place is filling up and we’ve got the usual society types who enjoy being seen at the notorious Cafe Anglais.

  Come on over and’ meet a few.’

  Vivienne relaxed at the thread of amusement in his tones. Over the disappointment in her at Gary’s tepid reception she put on a smile for the ordeal to come.

  ‘Trent, my dear boy! I was just saying to Cynthia here … hello, hello, hello!’ The man with the air force officer moustache eyed Vivienne up and down with a devilish gleam as she approached on Trent’s arm.

  He introduced her lazily as his brother’s girl-friend and she met the curious smiles and stares of the group lounging near the gaming room bar; society types indeed, judging by the svelte, expensive gowns of the females, and tailored perfection of the men’s evening dress.

  ‘I was telling Cynthia,’ the man with the moustache spoke over the babble of the others. ‘You ought to install
a first-class French restaurant, my dear fellow, like we have at Cannes. You’d do a bomb with the casino crowd.’

  ‘This is Morocco, Derek,’ Trent said agreeably. ‘The Cafe Anglais made its reputation on local dishes served in typical surroundings.’

  ‘In that case, darling, oughtn’t it to be called Cafe Marocain or something,’ someone drawled teasingly.

  ‘I agree with Trent.’ Another voice spoke up. ‘You can get French food in the Eiffel hotel. We want cous-cous and pastella.’

  ‘But not before baccarat, darling.’ A mature woman in oyster satin cast an eager glance to where play was in progress. ‘I knew a man who won a fortune, you know. Doubled his stake thirty times and …’

  ‘And lost the lot the next evening, I bet.’ There was uproarious laughter. A kittenish female pouted, ‘If I lost Trent would accept my diamond bracelet as surety, wouldn’t you, darling?’

  ‘No trinkets allowed on the gaming tables,’ Trent quipped. ‘Rules of the house.’ He ordered a drink for Vivienne and she found herself enjoying the sophisticated wit of the group. With Trent draping an arm idly across her shoulders it was easy to join in the conversation and the time passed without her realising it. She had no thought of leaving until the party drifted towards the gaming tables and Trent told her, ‘It’s getting late. Time Abdul was taking you home. I sent him into, the cafe earlier to deal with a slight rumpus there. I’ll go and see if he’s smoothed things over.’