Outside the Cafe Anglais, there was a sizeable group of Moroccans in rough-looking garb and their mood, judging by the noise, was argumentative. Vivienne felt Trent’s hand on her arm tighten. He drew her close to him as they made to pass inside. They had-reached the forecourt where tubbed oleanders perfumed the night and the lights spilled out from within. Then everything seemed to happen at once. There was a cry from one of the robed figures and a scuffle broke out. En masse the knot of pushing, grappling ‘ bodies surged this way and that demolishing everything in its path. Tubs went over and though they were almost at the door Vivienne winced as her shin was scraped by some jutting object/Trent cursed and ushered her before him shouldering off the worst of it and giving the brawlers the benefit of his tongue in vitriolic Arabic.
They almost fell inside and Trent, straightening himself, his hair and dinner jacket awry, steadied Vivienne with a hand. ‘Are you all right?’ He looked at her shin with her and she laughed it off, seeing that only the skin was broken. ‘It’s nothing.’
By the time they had brushed themselves off the forecourt was empty and the disturbance had passed on. Trent thrust a hand into his pocket and gave her the keys to his office, ‘Go in and clean up. I’ll be along as soon as I’ve got someone to tidy things up here.’
Vivienne went through the cafe. No one had noticed their somewhat hectic entrance and she was able to move between the tables with a comparatively serene air. She was becoming used to the smiling acknowledgement of the staff and rather liked the atmosphere of bonhomie that prevailed for her benefit. In the palm-lined vestibule she was greeted by the Oriental bows from the turbanned casino attendants. She walked past the archways which looked on to the gaming rooms and let herself into Trent’s office. In the small adjoining cloakroom she sponged her shin at the washbasin and smoothed her dress and her hair, obliterating all signs of the skirmish.
When Trent came in she was examining an old framed map of Tangier which hung on the wall above the divan. He went to the cloakroom himself and washed his hands, and coming out drying them he asked with a grin, ‘Still in one piece?’
‘We were lucky to have somewhere to retreat to,’ she said with a laugh, and glancing down at her tanned legs, ‘I can’t even claim damages for a new pair of tights.’ Her shin bone was showing a small violet bruise.
Trent went to the cupboard above the washbasin and brought out a tin of ointment. ‘This will ease it.’
She sat on the divan and he crouched beside her gently smearing cream over the bruise. She noticed the way the lapels of his dinner jacket were tugged open at his shirt front by the muscular width of his shoulders; the liquid-black shine of his shoes and the bronze lights in his hair.
When he rose to his feet his expression had lapsed a little grim. ‘After tonight I’m having second thoughts about you coming down here to the casino in the evenings.’
‘But why?’ She stood up beside him. ‘A grazed leg’s nothing.’
‘I don’t like the idea of you being mixed up in the kind of rough-house we had just now.’ He replaced the ointment in the cupboard.
‘At this time of the year there’s all kinds of types drifting down from the hills and the open countryside. They come looking for work and to sell hand-made goods, and the money they earn sometimes goes to their heads.’
‘I’m sure tonight was just an isolated incident,’ Vivienne remarked cheerfully.
‘Maybe,’ Trent nodded. ‘But the port attracts the troublemakers, and a percentage of them are bound to find their way into the casino. We’ve already had a couple of unpleasant episodes and there could be more.
I don’t want a woman in my family mixed up in it.’ He went over to the bar and poured two drinks and Vivienne accepted hers not knowing what else to say on the matter.
A few minutes later the various heads of staff started making their appearance to confer with Trent on procedure for the evening.
Vivienne finished her drink and said in an aside, ‘I’ll get out of your way. There’s bound to be something of interest going on at one of the gaming tables.’
He came to the door with her and looked her over with a smile. ‘Sure the leg’s okay?’
She nodded and tripping past him replied, ‘I’ve already forgotten about it.’ The door closed behind her and she wandered leisurely with no particular purpose in mind. It was early yet and the gaming rooms were still comparatively empty. She strolled through to the bar in the cafe and sat on one of the tall stools to pass the time. She was becoming known here now. One of the waiters, a swarthy good-natured type from the Iberian peninsula, joked with her as waiters will. He was surprised and delighted to discover that she could chat away in Spanish. They had an interesting conversation, mainly about his family, half of whom lived in Algeiras and the other half in Gibraltar, and how their only way of communication was to meet at the wire netting barrier and throw things over to one another.
Vivienne left when business brisked tip and people were waiting for seats at the bar.
The gaming rooms were lively when she returned, although by no means up to their usual capacity. She drifted in and joined the punters at one of the tables to watch the game. She wasn’t thinking of Gary, and when a voice at her side said, ‘Hi! I’ve been waiting for you,’ her immediate reaction was one of alarm. She said in low tones, ‘I thought you were going to wait until the place had filled up.’
‘It’s all right,’ he replied as though extremely interested in the layout of the chips on the table. ‘We’ll find a table hidden away somewhere in the cafe, where we can talk.’
He gave her a gentle push in that direction and she found herself preceding him and nervously telling herself that of course it was all right. She was on smiling terms now with many of the regulars.
Didn’t it follow that sooner or later someone would ask her to join them in a drink? Having convinced herself that she was worrying unnecessarily, she sauntered across the vestibule alongside Gary and through into the cafe, negligently searching with him for a suitable table. They found one beyond a far archway where a fringed lampshade cast shadows into the corner. Gary had ordered and he waited until two long drinks had been placed on their table. When they were alone he took her hand in his across the table. ‘Darling, it’s good to see you again. I felt hellish rushing off and leaving you like that the other day. Am I forgiven?’
Whether it was the nervous tension that had numbed her a little Vivienne couldn’t have said. She only knew that she felt slightly dazed at Gary’s rather hearty greeting. ‘Well, of course!’ She gave a jerky laugh. ‘You explained that you had to get back to work. I didn’t think any more of it.’
‘Does that mean you haven’t been thinking of me?’ He looked hurt and squeezed her hand. ‘I’ve been counting the hours until I could see you again. And now we have to do it like this. Bit of a hole-and-corner affair, isn’t it?’
Vivienne’s tones were full of remorse. ‘I’m sorry, Gary. I did explain the position. I thought you understood that Robert -‘
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ a crooked smile quickly appeared on his lips. ‘I don’t mind fitting in with things if it will help the sick youngster. It’s just that I’m longing to take you in my arms, and all I can do is offer you a drink.’
Vivienne’s senses were in a whirl. The moment she had waited for for four long years was here. Gary wanted her back. She wanted to feel the joy, the glow she had lived through time and time again whenever she had pictured this moment. Instead her emotions were strung-up, over-taut in some way. Perhaps it had all happened too suddenly.
Perhaps the worry over Robert was dulling the sweetness— she didn’t know. All she could see in her mind was the picture of Trent crouched beside the divan rubbing cream over her bruised shin. She laughed to dispel the picture and consoled Gary, ‘Never mind. Think of it as adding a spice of excitement to our meetings.’
‘Do we need that?’ She must have looked mildly at a loss at his fervency, for he added, gaily changing the
subject, ‘Tell me all about your search. Uncanny how you knew I’d still be here in Tangier.’
‘Well, it was funny. I went to all our usual haunts …’ Vivienne sipped her drink and explained how she had combed the Casbah and the old town and wandered around the city blocks and parks, and all the time she had the feeling that Gary wasn’t listening. When she had finished he said briefly, squeezing her hand again, ‘Not to worry. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.’
They had been sitting for a good twenty minutes and looking round worriedly Vivienne said, ‘Hadn’t we better be getting back to the gaming rooms?’
‘I’ve got a better idea.’ A few tables along a grilled doorway was open on to the night. As she rose Gary ushered her before him out into the shadows.
They were in what was obviously the casino gardens. The air was scented with lemon trees and tall palms waved their fronds against the dark sky. The lap and swish of the sea could be heard from round the front of the building. Gary drew her into his arms and placed his lips on hers before she had time to get used to the gloom, and kept them there. He paused briefly to murmur against her, ‘This is more like it. Now it’s like old times again.’
Gary holding her close! How often she had imagined this moment.
She ought to be melting in his arms, giving him kiss for kiss, yet all she could do was strain a look towards the lights from the gaming room windows and whisper uneasily, ‘We’d better be careful, Gary.
Someone might see us.’
‘There’s no one about, at this time of night,’ he replied, not slackening his hold. ‘You get the elderly types strolling round in the afternoon, but nobody come out here in the dark.’ He kissed her lingeringly and firmly and she made an effort to forget the indoors. It seemed an age to her before he finally released her and they started to walk. She longed to turn and go back inside, yet she didn’t know how to suggest it to Gary without appearing abrupt. When he spoke she discovered oddly enough that he too was mindful of the dangers. ‘We’ll have to be careful of our meetings,’ he said, standing and looking thoughtful.
‘Luckily we’re safe out here. And we can always give each other the eye inside.’
Vivienne shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I’m going to be able to come to the casino, Gary. Trent was saying earlier tonight that he didn’t think it was a good idea. There was some trouble at the doorway when we arrived. He talked as though he’d changed his mind about allowing me to spend the evenings here.’
‘Do you think he suspects something?’ Gary asked, shooting her a look.
‘I’m not sure.’ She bit her lip worriedly. And thinking back over all her uncertain moments with Trent she shook her head and said on a note of despair, ‘I wish I knew!’ They walked a little and she added reflectively, ‘I sometimes think he suspects I’m not as much in love with Robert as I make out to be.’
Gary kicked his feet along the path for a while, then turned to give her a smile. ‘You’re probably imagining things. I expect it’s all okay.
And we’re not going to do anything to upset things. We’ll go inside now, and split up straightaway. And don’t worry, my sweet, I don’t mind playing along.’ He hugged her to him and she felt obliged to tell him,
‘You’re an angel, Gary. It’s good of you to understand.’
Relief washed over her once they were back inside the cafe. In the shadows she moved alone and emerged over near the bar. A little later she went to the gaming rooms. Time had flown and the place was crowded. She drifted about for a while, but the sparkle the evening seemed to have had earlier had vanished. Her clandestine meeting with Gary had given her an edgy feeling. She wanted only to get back to Koudia.
Trent was engaged in conversation with a group near the casino bar.
Vivienne didn’t know whether he had seen her or not. At the baccarat table she watched a dowager figure who was doing rather well. The plump old lady wore black velvet and a glittering tiara and looked considerably incongruous sandwiched between a Texan-styled gentleman in a ten-gallon hat and an Arab in camel-hair headgear.
Vivienne was taking a mild interest in the way the woman’s chips were mounting when Trent came over to join her.
‘Our best client,’ he said in low tones, nodding at the dowager. ‘She’s got a fairly workable system and sticks to it.’
‘But don’t you mind her coming and winning like that?’ Vivienne asked with an incredulous laugh.
‘Not at all.’ He took her arm. ‘She’s a good advertisement for the place. Nobody gets excited about a loser.’
‘And they’re not all mathematical geniuses,’ Vivienne remarked mischievously.
‘Precisely,’ he smiled succinctly as they moved away.
When they had drifted between the tables for a moment or two she said casually, ‘I know you rely on Abdul rather at this time of night, but I wonder if you could spare him to drive me home.’
Trent stopped to. run his gaze over her. ‘Not still shaky, are you? Leg troubling you?’
‘No, of course not,’ she smiled. ‘It’s just that the crowds are a bit overwhelming and it is quite late.’ She wished she could sound more convincing, and was it her imagination or was his gaze unusually searching as she made her excuses? She thought she would give herself away, then he said, moving his glance on .at last, ‘Abdul was here a moment ago. I’ll go and find him.’
He returned before she had time to still her thumping heart. Abdul gave her his polite salaam. ‘I’ve explained that you want to be driven straight home,’ Trent told her. She thanked him and said goodnight.
As she left him and made her way through to the cafe she knew that his gaze stayed trained on her until she was out of sight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROBERT had another collapse the following day. Vivienne had been swimming with him and suddenly his eyes closed and he sank like a stone. Haroun dived in and brought him to the side, brushing the wet hair from his face and crooning to him as though he was a child.
Vivienne wanted to burst into tears, but Trent’s white, taut features made her forget herself. She helped him to wrap Robert in his towelling robe and went up with him to his room, while Trent phoned for the doctor.
The house dropped very quiet. The servants moved about on slippered feet and no one spoke. No sound came from the kitchens where Maurice the chef could normally be heard carolling tunes from the French operas as he moved back and forth from his ovens. At last the doctors left, and after a reasonable lapse of time Vivienne went up to the top floor suite in the left wing. She found Robert sitting up in bed. His skin had a yellowish pallor, but he was smiling and seemed like his old self. Trent had relaxed a little. He suggested that they all have dinner in his brother’s room, and when the table was set and the candles were lit and they were all three sat facing the spangled view of the city, the nightmare day might never have been.
Vivienne said a small prayer before she went to bed that night.
Robert came out to breakfast as usual the next morning. It seemed that his doctors saw no sense in him lying in bed in his room when summer was making itself felt Everywhere in the grounds. Vivienne was relieved to hear this. Although the views from the top of the house were uplifting and cheerful she knew that Robert loved the outdoors.
During the morning she pushed him along his favourite stroll round the grounds and in the afternoon they played croquet. For once Trent joined in the game. He left his briefcase and his business books on the table by the pool and strolled over to take his turn with the mallet.
Vivienne didn’t play quite so well with him looking on, but she didn’t mind that. Robert was delighted to have the opportunity of pitting himself against his brother and she was quite happy to let the game develop into a two-sided affair. Watching Trent and his younger brother battle it out good-humouredly gave her a warm kind of satisfaction, far more than she would have got from trying to compete with one or the other of them herself.
At the end of the game, which had
finished in a tight draw, they all retired to the clump of olive trees at the far end of the lawned strip where comfortable loungers were spread in the shade. Haroun, who had had the tricky job of manoeuvring the wheelchair over the course, went to put the mallets away and to cool off. Robert’s face glistened, and Vivienne knew he was very tired. She dabbed his brow soothingly with a tissue and pushed his shaggy blond hair from his brow. She hadn’t reckoned on him having any spare energy at that moment and was taken unawares when he turned his arms round her waist and pulled her down to him. She was wearing only a thin summer dress with the minimum of underwear beneath and she guessed that his touch had discovered this.
‘You’re cool and sweet-smelling, like one of those wood flowers.’ He trailed a finger through a tendril of her hair •and smiled. ‘You know what you remind me of? The lily of the valley.’ He gazed at the sky as though for inspiration and said, looking into her eyes, ‘Nothing comes to mind on those lines at the moment, but how about this— I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs …’
Vivienne stirred where she rested against him. She always felt ill at ease when he quoted poetry at her, though she knew that often it was the only way he could express his feelings. She wished she possessed a similar sensitivity to reply, but she wasn’t Lucy and she guessed that he felt a sense of let-down at her lack of response to his romantic prose. She felt doubly awkward just now with Trent there organising drinks at the table. Hoping to gloss over the bad moment, she poked Robert playfully in the ribs and rising to her feet told him, ‘I think it’s about time I cut your hair.’
Hidden Rapture Page 13