Hidden Rapture

by Lane, Roumelia

  Along with her he accepted a glass from Trent and flicking a wryly humorous look her way he asked his brother, ‘Do you think women are changing, Trent? There was a time when they’d swoon at the thought of soft guitars and someone making lyrical noises in their ear. Now what have we got? I whisper words of pure gold to my girl and she tells me I need a haircut!’

  Vivienne looked at her drink rather than at Trent. Never did she feel she was walking on thin ice more than on these occasions when her identity was in question. She heard him reply lazily, ‘Could be that Vivienne’s not on your wavelength when it comes to the bards and their works, old man.’

  Her look flew to his then. Was he guessing or did he know? As always his sky-blue eyes gave nothing away. Robert was saying, ‘You’re wrong, Trent. Viv’s very poetic at heart. When we were writing to each other we used to end most of our letters in verse.’

  She put in hastily, though professing a casual air, ‘What no one seems to realise is that the poets are all right in their place, but we girls are concerned with flesh and blood, not some musty and ancient past.

  Writing letters is one thing, but when you’ve got that special person close to you,’ she hinted at Robert with her smile, ‘who needs Keats or Browning to tell you how to behave?’

  He clasped her wrist and drew her cheek down to his and looking at Trent he joked, ‘Do you think it’s the Tangier air that’s got her talking all matter-of-fact?’

  ‘I reckon that’s it, Rob,’ Trent drawled in reply. Vivienne’s glance met his and though she thought she had covered herself rather well, she couldn’t be sure with Trent.

  She straightened and took a drink from her glass. That was it. With Trent she could never be sure.

  The days were almost carefree, despite the fact that Robert had suffered another relapse and was not up to his usual vitality.

  Vivienne spent all her time with him, leaving him only in the evenings when he needed to rest. In her room she wrote long letters to Lucy. It was upsetting to have to tell her of Robert’s failing strength, but she knew that her friend would wish to know the truth and so she reported faithfully all that happened.

  The nights were warm and laced with the sandalwood scent of the Levant. She would sit with her doors open so that the faint clamour could be heard rising from the city. Trent had never actually forbidden her to go to the casino, yet she had no desire to exchange the peace of Koudia for the outdoors. After dinner, when she had been upstairs to see that Robert had everything for his comfort for the night, she would tell Abdul that she wouldn’t be requiring his services and later he would leave for the casino where he was needed. She had grown quite used to amusing herself alone in the big luxurious house.

  One evening she had washed her hair and was sitting in her room reading a book she had brought up from the library, when an odd noise attracted her attention. It sounded like a rattling on the glass at the windows. She went to see if a breeze was springing up, thinking that perhaps the catches were rattling, but all was still and quiet over by the balcony. She hadn’t read more than a few lines after going back to her chair when the noise came again. This time she was sure it couldn’t be her imagination.

  Putting down her book, she went out on to the wide balcony that ran the length of the upstairs rooms and looked over. All was dark down there, then her heart leapt into her throat as she saw a moving shape.

  Before she had time to react she heard a voice say softly, ‘It’s all right. It’s me, Gary.’

  Gary—here! Vivienne let out a horrified gasp and ran quickly down the flight of stairs at the side. He came up a short way to meet her. In the darkness she could see his smile. ‘I was wondering when you’d hear the pebbles at the window. I guessed it was your room. It’s the only one lit at the front.’

  She looked about wildly and said in agonised undertones, ‘Gary, you shouldn’t have come here.’

  ‘It’s okay, I checked first.’ He made to draw her into his arms. ‘The house is all quiet. There’s no one about.’

  ‘But there are servants,’ she cried beneath her breath. And they might be spotted from the outdoors too. The villa was filled with precious antiques. She knew that Trent employed watchmen to patrol the grounds. What if one of them should happen along now? She racked her brain nervously, then had an idea. The minzah! No one would see them there. ‘Come on,’ she dragged him down the steps, ‘I know a place.’

  He allowed her to lead him through the darkness, moving through the mimosa thicket and along the path to the ruined pavilion, with a carefree, unhurried step that irritated her. She worried about the noisy fluttering of the birds as they stumbled into the tumbledown doorway, convinced that they were making enough din to attract the whole night-watch force. She was listening with palpitating heart when Gary drew her into his arms and forced his lips on hers. She was so agitated she wanted to push him away, but his embrace .was unyielding, almost as if she had no choice in the matter, and after a while she calmed down and made an effort to focus her attention on his kiss.

  Her senses were still linked with the outside and the house and her neck was beginning to ache. She had never thought she would feel annoyance at Gary’s prolonged lovemaking. It was the fact that he seemed to be wielding some kind of monopoly that angered her, and though it was the reverse of the way she had always dreamed it, she broke away from his kiss.

  Gary seemed not to notice any strain. He kept a hold on her and murmured, ‘You smell like a Sultan’s lady all powdered and ready for the harem. Your hair’s damp and perfumed.’

  ‘I’ve just washed it.’ She tried ‘not to sound short, telling herself it was absurd to be cross with Gary simply because he had been enterprising enough to figure out a way to see her.

  He was saying close to her cheek, ‘I made a couple of trips up here in the afternoon. It was easy knowing where to find you once I got the layout of the orchards and the house.’

  Vivienne listened appalled. She said none too gently, ‘You shouldn’t wander around here in broad daylight, Gary. It’s very risky.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I made sure nobody saw me.’ His grin seemed a trifle hard in the gloom, then he pulled her close to him. ‘I’m not sorry you’ve had to give the town a miss. This is much better than the casino.’

  ‘But dare we meet here, Gary? So close to the house?’ She covered her alarm with reasonable tones. ‘I think it might be wiser to wait a few days. I’m sure a better arrangement will offer itself.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ His lips were searching for hers and she felt bound to acquiesce to his demands. But just when she was telling herself firmly that this was Gary and that she should be making the most of their being alone together like this, he let her go and began to move restlessly about the interior. She told him something about the history of the minzah and they stood and watched the clouds sailing across the starlit sky through one of the arched window apertures. It seemed to her that his attention was wandering to other things, and after a while he said, ‘I suppose I’d better go. You might be missed at the house and I want to be seen around at the casino.’

  Vivienne had no idea what he meant by this last part of his remark and she didn’t stop to wonder. She was too concerned with seeing him off the grounds and getting back to her room before anyone discovered them to bother with last-minute chat.

  Out in the darkness she told him in a whisper, ‘There’s a quick way down into the orchards on the other side of the mimosa.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I know my way. I’ll get out on to the road all right.’ He gripped her suddenly and planted his lips on hers, then with a departing wave he called,’ ‘Bye, my sweet. And keep your chin up.

  Everything’s going to be all right!’

  He disappeared, and she hurried back towards the house. It took her several minutes battling with the lower branches along the route which kept snarling her dressing gown, and at one point her blood froze when, shattering the stillness, came the excited barking of a dog. The puppy belonging to the
tree workers, a leggy creature by now, was chained down by the sheds at the foot of the slopes, and it was from here where the racket ensued. Vivienne held her breath, expecting the worst, but after a while the barking settled down. There was a friendly whine and one or two delighted yelps, then silence.

  Wilting with relief, she ran the rest of the way to the house.

  She had intended to get back to her room by the outside stairway and was just coming round from the side of the house, when the lights along the lower archways sprang on and Momeen appeared on the front steps. ‘Mademoiselle!’ His eyes popped in his olive-skinned features as he looked about him. ‘Is everything all right? I heard noises. Where are those stupid watchmen?’ His pantaloons and waistcoat were awry and he had obviously stirred himself from the comforts of an armchair to see what the fuss was about.

  ‘I thought I heard something too,’ Vivienne strove to give the impression of having just come out. She waved an arm and smiled. ‘I expect it’s just the town youths playing games near the gates. Nothing to worry about.’ She changed her mind about the side stairway now and wandering casually indoors climbed the hall staircase and called, ‘All’s quiet now. Goodnight, Momeen.’

  He gave her an uncertain salaam and whispered away in his slippered feet to his own quarters.

  Vivienne hardly slept that night and the following day was one of the worst she had known since arriving at Koudia, when she had been foolish enough to believe she could pass herself off as Lucy Miles.

  She lived through the meals in an agony of suspense, sure that at any moment Momeen was going to come out with a colourful description of the disturbance that had taken place the night before. Nor could she relax near the pool or on the croquet pitch, for each time she lifted her gaze she had a horrible dread of seeing Gary appear along one of the garden paths.

  She knew that Trent watched her. She was, pale with nerves and though she laughed a lot and was more than usually active she couldn’t shake off her edginess. She hoped he would put it down to the strain of Robert’s wavering health. It was a minor disaster when the young invalid expressed a desire to skip dinner and go straight to bed. That meant that she would have to dine alone with Trent downstairs. She would have liked to plead tiredness too, but was afraid that this might draw attention to her nerviness, so she bathed and changed as usual for dinner.

  The evening was hot and in a sleeveless dress of coffee-coloured silk, her hair caught back with the star-slides for coolness, Vivienne went downstairs determined to see the rest of the day through somehow. She would have preferred it if Trent had been late and she could have seen herself to the table, but unluckily he was there as usual, groomed and dressed for the casino, and she felt his eyes on her as he held her chair. They were barely through the soup course when he said, dropping all pretence at polite conversation, -‘Aren’t you feeling well? You’ve been looking close to breaking point all day.’

  Alarm coursed through her, but she smiled and replied offhandedly, ‘I’m fine. Just a little tired, perhaps.’

  Trent frowned. ‘If Rob’s wearing you out, you should tell him so.

  He’s still pretty powerful in the water, and he’s inclined to. forget that for a girl it’s much tougher to keep up.’

  She couldn’t think of a suitable reply and, afraid that he might follow up with more probing, she said a little hurriedly, ‘I’ve often thought that your brother needs something more than … well, Koudia. I mean, I know he’s got the magnificent pool and you’ve had the croquet pitch installed, and then he’s got all his indoor hobbies, but it is, after all, a narrow world for someone of his age.’

  ‘I’ve tried to encourage Rob to have more young people at the house, but this is something you’d have to take up with him,’ Trent said tersely. ‘Although we don’t notice it I’ve a hunch they might make him feel too conscious of his affliction.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking so much of people,’ Vivienne commented, the idea that was forming in her mind gathering momentum. ‘I meant…

  well, a change of scene. That is if he were strong enough to take to the suggestion.’

  Trent was thoughtful. -‘Rob makes the journey to the hospital every week,’ he pointed out, and added with a shrug, ‘A few miles wouldn’t affect him, though he’s never shown any desire to spend his time anywhere but at Koudia.’

  ‘But think what it would do for him, Trent.’ Vivienne leaned across the table. ‘Do you know that Robert told me he’s never been on an island. Surely that’s not such a tall order? And I’m convinced the break would do him good.’

  Trent was eyeing her curiously and she realised she was pressing for his agreement a little too fervently. He said, without moving his gaze from her flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes, ‘There’s Tahad Island, just across Tangier bay. It’s private property, but I know the owner. I think I could persuade him to loan me his summer house there.’

  ‘It sounds ideal,’ Vivienne prattled on recklessly now. ‘Robert wouldn’t be bothered with people; and small islands are better. It would really be something new for him. I’m sure he’ll like the idea.’

  ‘I’m sure he will, when you put it to him,’ Trent said drily.

  She was too keyed up to think much about the rest of the meal, and when they rose at the end of it she asked, trying to play down her eagerness, ‘This friend of yours who owns the island—will you be seeing him soon?’

  ‘Tonight, I should think,’ Trent replied. ‘He’s a regular visitor to the casino.’

  ‘Does that mean,’ she held her breath, ‘we could get away fairly quickly?’

  Holding her chair, he asked lazily, though she knew that he was watching her closely, ‘How soon would you want to get away?’

  ‘Oh, tomorrow!’ The idea was such a good one she was past caring now what Trent thought. ‘We could talk to Robert at breakfast and if he’s happy about it—I know he will be—start out soon after lunch.

  Do you think we could?’

  Trent said with his dry gleam, ‘I think it could be arranged.’

  ‘In that case,’ she gave him a bright smile before whirling away, ‘I’ll go upstairs now and sort out a few things to pack.’

  She heard the car go and later while she was going through her drawers she thought about Robert, more than ever convinced that the trip was what he needed. If he hadn’t got much time left shouldn’t he do all the exciting things he could manage before … before … Well, it didn’t do to look too far ahead.

  As it happened he was in the same adventurous frame of mind when she put it to him enthusiastically the next morning, especially when he heard there was a natural sea-water pool on the island and their own private beach. Trent told them that it was all fixed up and by mid-afternoon they were settled in at Tahad Island, having made the journey of no more than a dozen miles round the bay to the far headland, where a private boat had been waiting. Though they could see the tall white blocks of Tangier in the distance and even Koudia, a small speck on the rise above, they might have been in another world, cut off as they were with the green-blue sea all around them and low umbrella pines and carpets of wild flowers close at hand.

  The beach was a long tongue of golden sand at the farthest tip of the tiny island.

  All was activity indoors, everyone cheerfully tolerant of the fact that the mademoiselle had taken it into her head to whisk them away from the mansion on the hillside to this remote spot in the middle of the ocean. Maurice had been persuaded to come and sang excerpts from La Boheme in stentorian tones while preparing the evening meal.

  Momeen aired bed linen and rubbed up the kitchen silver and Abdul went around in a supervisory capacity, apparently doing little but as always keeping everything running with its customary smoothness.

  The house, like the beach, looked out on to the straits of Gibraltar. It lacked the grandness of Koudia, but Vivienne liked its spacious uncluttered rooms and wide-windowed views. The floors were of pale glossy tiles, covered with skin rugs, and the furnishings,
tall glass-fronted cupboards in primrose wood, pale leather upholstery and bright chintz armchairs. There were several guest rooms, a large lounge with expensive but simple comforts, and an elevated glass-screened patio, for outdoor or indoor dining.

  When Robert had rested and all the unpacking was done they went down to explore the beach. The sun was gloriously hot and the breeze blowing in from the open sea, salt-tanged and bracing.

  It was soon discovered that wheelchairs are not made to be pushed over soft sand, and some thinking had to be done to devise a way to give Robert free passage to and from the house. While Haroun went to scout for tough bracken that would give a firm base when dug in Trent mapped out a walk along the edge of the sea. It seemed strange to see him in checked shirt and shorts, his hair ruffled, and a russet glow on his tanned face as he worked in the face of the breeze.

  Vivienne helped him to plan the most picturesque route and later to dig in the bracken flooring. They made a walk around the entire jutting strip of beach. It was an ambitious project and she felt shattered when it was completed. Robert was surprisingly full of vitality and impish humour since his arrival and couldn’t wait to sample the road his menials had made for him, and enlisted Haroun, still brushing the sand from his knees, to take him on a grand tour.

  Trent came to drop down where Vivienne had collapsed on the sand as the two departed. She was staring out to sea, the laughter still on her lips, breathing in the delicious freedom of the place. He said with cryptic humour, ‘Happier now that Rob’s got his island?’

  She thought of Koudia closed up and deserted with only the watchmen patrolling the grounds, and nodded. Yes, she was content.

  After they had sat for a while gazing to where the boisterous Atlantic met the placid Mediterranean Trent drawled, ‘You’ll find a parcel in your room. As this is a kind of holiday I figured you’d need some beach gear for the occasion.’