She had put on a silk dress suitable for evening and though the night air was warm she shivered with the cold prickle of fear as the car made its way through the town. The head and shoulders of the reliable and faithful Abdul beyond the glass partition heartened her, and at one point she was crazily tempted to ask him to take her somewhere, anywhere other than the casino. Despite his Arab hauteur he had a gentle streak where she was concerned and she knew he would have driven her to wherever she had a mind to go.
But that wouldn’t stop Gary. She knew all too well that he had familiarised himself with the grounds of Koudia and the house, for just such a night as this, and would even find his way up to Robert’s room, if pushed. So she sat limp on her seat and allowed herself to be driven to the casino.
The sea front was rowdy and, no doubt obeying Trent’s orders Abdul remained close at her side until they had entered the Cafe Anglais. It was scant comfort to find that the place was crowded. If the position had been reversed perhaps Gary wouldn’t have had the nerve to carry out his reckless plan. Abdul left Vivienne with his salaam and she wandered between the tables hardly aware of the din because her head was pounding with another kind of distraction. When a hand fastened tightly around her wrist she knew it was Gary.
‘Hi!’ He put on a look with which one might greet an old friend and said between his lips that were thinly smiling, ‘Shall we find a table?’
Vivienne went with him slackly and they sat down at a spot not far from the bar. As soon as he had got the business of ordering the drinks over with, Gary said beneath his breath and his smile, ‘I’m glad to see you using your head, my sweet. I take it you’ve got the keys?’
Vivienne reached for her handbag. She started to open it, then closed it again and blurted, ‘Gary, please tell me this is all some horrible joke.’ She looked at him beseechingly. ‘If you burst out laughing right now I won’t mind.
I’ll be only too happy to join in, if you’ll only tell me that that’s all it is—a joke.’
‘Of course it’s a joke, darling. And it will be on Colby when we’ve cleaned out his safe. Now give me the keys,’ he demanded, deadly serious behind his smile, ‘and do as I say. In a few minutes we’re going to take a little stroll through into the gaming rooms, just to let it be known that I’m a good friend of yours and Colby’s, so to speak.
We’ll do one or two little excursions through the vestibule where the casino attendants keep a watch, for the same purpose. When Colby leaves his office at midnight to circulate among his guests in the gaming rooms, we’ll make our way there as though expecting to join him in a late night drink.’
To Vivienne the next half hour was a succession of tortuous moments in a pandemonium world where everyone seemed to laugh too much, to talk too much, where the hum of the gaming rooms made her head feel as though it was bursting as she moved in a kind of numb stupor doing all the things that Gary told her to do.
There was only one moment when she saw things with sufficient clarity to feel the lead weight of her emotions inside. That was a little after twelve when she saw Trent talking with a group of friends beside the casino bar. The women brushing close to him were the svelte types in clinging evening gowns and she remembered dimly her joke, Every Eden has its serpent complete with innumerable Eves. That was in the days when she had wanted something to carp about where Trent was concerned, perhaps because even then her subconscious had felt the need to fight off the effect of his insidious charm. Well, it hadn’t done her any good. She had discovered that he had chosen to run a casino not for any ulterior gain, but purely as a business pastime for the evenings. But she would have loved him anyway. She knew that now. As she craved for something in return.
Just a smile, as he was smiling now at his beautiful companions; the touch of his arm across her shoulders as she had known it on other evenings. But all she could do was watch the svelte females competing for his attention when she ached to be the one closest to him.
She felt Gary’s grip on her wrist telling her that the moment she had been dreading was close at hand. ‘Now’s our chance,’ he said in her ear. ‘The big boss has got himself nicely encumbered. The job should go like a dream.’
But they still had to get into the office. Vivienne thought that Gary was being naively optimistic about this part of his plan, yet when they strolled through the vestibule a second or two later and along towards the office door no one interfered with them.
Gary took a chance furtively with one of the keys, found it didn’t fit, and tried another while Vivienne felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck, sure that they were being observed. Then the door was open and Gary was firmly propelling her inside. He shut the door quickly and locked it, commenting with a low chuckle, ‘What did I tell you?
Nothing to it!’
He seemed to have a good idea where the safe was and while Vivienne stood paralysed beside the desk she watched him experiment again with the bunch of keys. In a few seconds before her horrified gaze, the door of the safe swung open. It needed only a glance to see that it was filled with banknotes in various currencies, thick wads of them in neat piles. As though mesmerised she followed Gary’s movements. He had brought out a square pack from his pocket which when unfolded became a roomy yet compact holdall, and this he proceeded to fill with the money from the safe.
If Vivienne had wanted to talk some sense into him, even at this late stage it would have been useless, for no sound would come from her fear-racked throat. Nevertheless she was endeavouring to croak out something when all her nerves screamed to attention, for there at the door was the sound of another key turning in the lock. While she was grasping at the desk for support, the door opened and Trent stepped in.
‘Good evening, Vivienne.’ His face showed no surprise at what he saw. He was even a little laconic. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend? The one you got to know in Tangier four years ago, isn’t it?’
He locked the door soundlessly behind him, and Vivienne wished quietly that she could die. Gary on the other hand swaggered and it was obvious that he had decided to try and brazen it out. ‘That’s right,’ though considerably paler, he replied jauntily. ‘Viv and I have been close for a long time. Too bad she didn’t tell you about our little romance.’
‘It is unfortunate, but not altogether unexpected,’ Trent commented with steely calm. ‘However, we won’t go into that now. I’ll take the keys, if you don’t mind.’
As though he realised the futility of pitting himself against a man such as Trent, Gary threw the keys sulkily on to the desk. Trent retrieved them, then he took a few bills from one of the wads of banknotes. ‘You’ve got an hour to leave the country. There’s a plane flying out at twelve forty-five.’ He tossed the fare on to the desk.
‘And if I were you, I wouldn’t come back. You might find the authorities hot on your trail.’
Gary opened his mouth as though about to attempt more bravado, thought better of it and picked up the money. With indomitable cool Trent went ahead of him to unlock the door. As he passed Vivienne Gary threw her a sickly smile, then he went out and the door closed behind him.
Vivienne, still clutching the desk, was all too aware of the crushing silence with .only herself and Trent in the room. She saw the pallor of his face now, the way the skin was stretched taut over his cheekbones and around his dilated nostrils as he struggled with something which she could only put down to anger. He approached her, his eyes glinting with steely contempt, then distaste in his tones he spoke at last. ‘Robert believes in you and to me that’s all that counts. As I said on the day of your arrival, you’ll go through with what you started and like it.’ He picked up the phone on the desk and said a few staccato words into it. Almost at once the door opened and she was dismissed with an icy, ‘Abdul will take you home.’
Hardly trusting her legs, she moved towards the door and the imperturbable face of the manservant. They had known. They had all known, or at least suspected. She felt it now. Her clumsy attempts
at the house to steal the keys had not gone unnoticed. Trent had seen to it that she was not molested in any way after her arrival at the casino, though all the time he had been watching her closely. With perfect timing he had returned to his office and caught Gary before the open safe.
White as a ghost, she went out with Abdul and through the noisy cafe to the car. The gay, late night activity and summer revelry, the laughing faces of the people in the streets, seemed to mock at her raw and prostrate senses as the car took her back to Koudia.
Upstairs in her room she fell exhausted into bed, but the soothing veil of sleep was not to be hers. Through the long dark hours all she could see in her mind was Trent’s face, taut with anger and distaste. The only sound in her ears, his voice, biting in its contempt.
CHAPTER NINE
ROBERT was not to be seen at the poolside on the brilliant afternoons when insects murmured lazily in the heat and the flower of the hibiscus glowed blood red in the shade. He had shown no signs of recovering from his last exhausting trip to the hospital and spent the best part of his day in bed. Vivienne sat with him for a few hours each afternoon carefully hiding her fright at his listlessness and sunken features. Though he smiled and joked with her and played cards with considerable zest despite his plastered wrist, he dozed a lot of the time and she was left holding his hand and gazing with a choked-up feeling at his racked boyish face. Her own heartache seemed nothing when she considered what he was having to smile through.
Trent had not spoken again of that fateful night when he had surprised her and Gary in his office. On the occasions when they spent the time together with Robert he was agreeable and courteous.
In the evenings they went through the ritual of dining together in the room overlooking the Casbah, Momeen, always effusive and eager to project a feeling of cheer in the sick household, looked from one to the other of them anxiously as he served the meal. But Trent’s conversation was always pleasant, his manners impeccable. Yet Vivienne knew, miserably, that he despised her.
He didn’t go to the casino in the evenings now. Since Robert’s condition had deteriorated he had left it to Abdul to run things at the Cafe Anglais, with, no doubt Marcel the head croupier assisting.
Vivienne knew that Trent paced the downstairs rooms at night, and that sometimes he walked alone in the grounds. She knew because she spent the nights in much the same way, and because every part of her was aware of him.
It seemed to her so cruelly unjust that he should think what he did of her. It was obvious he believed that she was in love with Gary, that she had schemed out the whole thing with him over these past weeks and, regardless of Robert, had planned to abscond with Gary and the money that same evening. That was what Trent believed and that was what drove her to pace at nights with the bright tears of hurt in her eyes. Until the moment came when she could endure the misery of such thoughts no longer. If she had been the heroine in a book she would have gone on stoically playing her part, protecting those she had sworn to protect. But she wasn’t a heroine, she was human flesh and blood, and she couldn’t go on, knowing that Trent thought that of her. Not even for Lucy. She was Vivienne Blyth and she wanted to think, feel and love as Vivienne Blyth.
The tears were hot on her eyelids that particular night as she went along the balcony outside her room and down the side steps to the terrace below. There had been a heavy summer shower earlier on in the day and the wet earth was pungent with herb-like fragrances and the cloying sweetness of wet blossom. She knew that Trent was out there in the grounds and heedless of the damp and her thin dress she picked her way along the shrouded poolside and through the hibiscus hedge opening. A segment of moon in a rainwashed sky cast a pewter polish over the sea, reminding her achingly of those nights on Tahad island.
She saw Trent on the path beside the Moorish arbour. His face, as she approached, was paled by the moon’s rays and chiselled out against the night. She moved in, knowing that he was aware of her, for he spoke harshly. ‘You shouldn’t be out here. There’s a chill in the air.’
‘I’m all right,’ impatiently she shook off his concern and moving restlessly, wondered where she should start. With Trent preoccupied and grimly withdrawn it wasn’t easy. Plunging in, she said, her voice wavering, ‘Will you believe me when I tell you that Robert means almost as much to me as he does to you?’
‘Sure! I’ll’ believe anything you say,’ Trent shrugged with a bitingly ironic smile.
Vivienne closed her eyes momentarily, then continued quiveringly, ‘I suppose I’d better start at the beginning. You were right about me— I’m not the genuine product.’ She tilted her chin at him. ‘You’ve never heard of a girl called Lucy Miles, but she is the one, not me, who wrote all those letters to Robert.’ Seeing Trent’s mild change of expression, she went on with a cracked laugh of despair, ‘Don’t ask me why! Lucy’s a sweet and gentle person, but she got this silly notion that she was too plain and simple for Robert’s tastes, so she sent him a photograph of me.’
Trent’s gaze narrowed and he said beneath his breath, ‘That was an idiotic thing to do.’
‘Agreed,’ Vivienne replied abruptly. ‘The idea was that she was going to confess at some later date when her relationship with Robert was solid enough to stand the jolt. Then you wrote and told her that Robert wouldn’t get well and she went completely to pieces.’
Trent’s eyes had become slightly glittery as he looked at her. ‘How was it you came in her place?’ he rasped.
‘She asked me to. I didn’t want to, but I could see her point about it being a horrible shock for Robert in his condition to be confronted by someone he would take for a complete stranger.’
There was a deathly silence and then, ‘She started the myth by sending your photograph and asked you to keep it up until Robert …’
Trent rocked back on his heels, his breath hissing through clenched teeth, ‘Of all the crazy, harebrained schemes!’
‘If you knew Lucy you wouldn’t say that,’ Vivienne spoke up loyally.
‘She was thinking of Robert. That’s why she persuaded me to come, to save him any last-minute disappointment.’ Her voice softened considerably. ‘You have to remember that Lucy loves Robert deeply, and people in love do some odd things.’
‘Are you speaking from experience?’ Trent asked with a sneer.
‘I suppose, by that, you mean Gary Thornton?’ Vivienne said quietly.
She became restless again and spoke on the move. ‘I did think I was in love with him once. I even went to a great deal of trouble to look him up when I found myself back in Tangier, as you probably guessed.’
‘I had an idea that something was going on. I decided to give you enough rope in the hope that you’d trip yourself up. And you did!’
Trent nodded grimly. ‘Go on.’
Vivienne did as he asked deflatedly. ‘It turned out that Gary’s favourite haunt was the casino. I met him there that first evening I went. I soon discovered that I too had been chasing a myth; that Gary meant nothing at all to me. But not before I’d foolishly told him about Lucy and me.’
While she had been speaking she thought she saw something leap in Trent’s eyes, something that was just as swiftly doused again. She became still and he said deeply, ‘You were afraid of something. I gathered that.’
‘I suppose I was,’ she smiled a little distractedly. ‘I wanted to get away, and we went to Tahad island. But Gary was waiting for me when I got back. He threatened to tell Robert the whole story of the fake role I was playing unless I got him the keys to your safe.’ She looked at Trent then. ‘What could I do?’
‘You could have told me,’ he rapped.
‘I thought about it.’ For a long moment her gaze clung to his. ‘But there was Lucy to consider. And I was terrified that Gary might still find a way to get to Robert.’
‘You little idiot!’ Trent took her by the shoulders. ‘You went through that alone. The fellow could have done you real harm.’
‘But he didn’t,’ she s
hrugged. ‘He got nothing at all for his trouble except what he deserved. And … well, now you know.’
‘That’s right. Now I know.’ She felt his fingers roughly caressing her shoulders. His face in the shadows had a look that held her spellbound, and nothing seemed more natural to her, after the weeks of being close to one another in so many different ways, than to be here with Trent now like this. His eyes on her glowed in a peculiar way, then she was in his arms.
His lips on hers opened up the floodgates of her emotions so that she melted weakly against him. And Trent too was like a man possessed as he rained kisses on her face and throat; by what? she wondered ecstatically. Could it be that Trent felt as deeply for her as she did for him? There was something in the savage way he claimed her with his lips, in the hungry caressing of his hands through her thin dress. Then while she was drowning in the aching sweetness of his nearness he put her abruptly away from him and shaking his head with his back to her he bit out hoarsely, ‘Get the hell out of my sight!’
Vivienne ran most of the way back to the house, her eyes wet with tears and the despair in her worse than anything she had ever known.
As far as Trent was concerned she belonged to Robert and nothing,’
nothing would ever change that!
There was another heavy shower the next day and then the storm blowing in from Spain rained itself out and the sun came out again an full glory to deepen the sea to a royal blue and to pick out the brilliant colours of the flowers and blossoms at Koudia. There was a sparkle about the days again, a clarity of vision when one looked at the hills and landscape around Tangier. But to Vivienne so much colour hurt the senses. It was almost as if the world was mocking with all it possessed at the desolate atmosphere at the villa; at the feeling of torment and hopelessness that was now an everyday part of living.
Robert seldom left his room and as he spent most of his day in bed he became more and more dependent on Vivienne’s company. It wasn’t difficult to put on a bright front, for he was always cheerful, but behind her smile her heart ached, at the physical change in him. She and Trent spent long sessions with him keeping him amused. Neither she nor Trent had referred again to that evening beside the Moorish arbour, not by word of mouth or look, but sometimes their glances met and held for a second, then she would feel an agonising surge of tenderness inside.
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