Vengeance in the Sun

by Margaret Pemberton

  “What on earth is the matter. Danielle?”

  “I don’t want to finish it,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  “But we’ll read another one.”

  “That one is special.”

  “It’s a very nice book, but the man who wrote it wrote other books too. We can start another one tomorrow night.”

  Two large tears slid down her cheeks.

  “Don’t be a goose, Danielle,” I said gently.

  “I’m not a goose. But Janet began reading that book and now it’s finished and Janet is dead and.…”

  I held her close, her tears wetting my face. “ Janet would want you to finish it and read other books.”

  “You won’t go away, will you?”

  “No, darling. I won’t go away. Snuggle down under the covers and I’ll hold your hand while I read.”

  It was half an hour before I left her. By then she was asleep, her arms around Mr Sam, her teddy-bear. I turned the light off and went back into my own room to get ready for Steve, but my thoughts were not on him as I brushed my hair and sprayed perfume on my wrists and throat. If Max had flown in yesterday he had had plenty of time to get in touch with me. What could be delaying him?

  There was the distant sound of a car approaching the villa and I ran to the window, swallowing my disappointment as minutes later Steve stepped out onto the terrace, his shock of fair hair nearly blond in the dusk. What I had said to Leonie had been the truth. He was attractive. Tall and loose-limbed, with an easygoing friendliness that put people at their ease. I liked Steve Patterson. I liked him very much, and I wasn’t going to let the shadow of Max spoil our evening. Not even if the effort killed me.

  He gave me an appreciative whistle as I went out to meet him.

  “That’s what I call a dress. How do I live up to it?”

  “Easily.”

  He grinned down at me. “Now I know why I like you. You flatter me.”

  My heels tapped metallically on the terrace and I saw Peggy’s curtain drop back quickly into place. I smiled. There wasn’t much that Peggy missed. We walked quickly down the corridor that led to the courtyard, the empty rooms on either side seeming to whisper with a life of their own. I was glad when we finally reached it and heard the sound of the gently falling water of the fountain. The night was warm and scented. In the darkness a frog dived with a soft plop into the lily pond, the rings of water silvered in the moonlight.

  “Heard anything from the police yet?” Steve asked as he opened the car door for me.

  “Not a thing.”

  The car surged forward between the bronze studded courtyard gates and dropped down to the track across the darkened headland.

  “Strange. I would have thought a powder-blue Cadillac with half the paint ripped off the side would be an easy enough car to spot.”

  “Me too. I get the uncomfortable feeling that they think I imagined it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “That they think I simply overshot the road and cooked up the drunken driver story to cover myself. They haven’t bothered to speak to me themselves, only Helena.”

  “What about what I said about the car speeding?”

  “I think they’ve put you down as a romantic attachment!”

  He grinned. “ There’s an idea to brighten up the evening. But from what Leonie was saying, you’re still involved in one.”

  The car bucked off the headland onto the mountain road, gathering speed as it swooped round the first of the bends.

  “Just what did Leonie say?”

  “That you’re engaged to Max Wyndham.”

  “Was.”

  “I must have heard her wrong.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s the sort of deliberate mistake Leonie would make.”

  “I thought it might be. I’m not so unobservant not to notice an engagement ring. Not that it would have made any difference. It’s the little gold ones that have me running for the hills!”

  I stared out of the window as we plunged into a tunnel of trees, hardly aware of him, my thoughts riveted firmly back on Max.

  He drove on in silence for a while and then said: “I gather it went deep?”

  I said simply: “ I’ve known him all my life.” It seemed unnecessary to say I had loved him all my life as well.

  “I see.”

  From the tone of his voice I thought perhaps he did. The lights of a small village swam up to meet us, then streamed by, swallowed in the darkness.

  “How is Danielle? No after effects?”

  “None at all,” I said, grateful for the change of subject. “She’s rather pleased she was able to show us how brave she is.”

  “She was as well. Have you taken her out in the car since it happened?”

  “You and Helena are birds of a feather. She made me take Danielle out in the Audi the next morning. Said it would prevent us losing our nerve. The Fiat has already been towed back. Mario is still working on it.”

  “She was right about you driving again straight away,” Steve said. “Should cure any nerves.”

  “Wrong. I shan’t have any nerve till that Cadillac and its driver are found.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said grimly. “ He’ll be found. If the police don’t find him, I will.”

  In the glow of the dashboard I saw the expression on his face and stiffened, surprised at what I saw there. His eyes met mine in the driving mirror and he smiled: “ Let’s forget about it for now. We came out to enjoy ourselves. Wining, dining and dancing, remember?” and he accelerated, zooming past a huddle of houses towards the bright lights of Palma.

  The streets were thick with tourists and we had to slow down to a crawl as we nosed our way through a cobbled square, the trees surrounding it hung with fairy lights. A crowd of laughing teenagers surged round the car, bringing us to a standstill. Idly I wound the window down, and then caught my breath, the foot high lettering showing clearly. Ria Square. Steve turned his head.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.…” I pointed to the sign and the dark block of flats soaring behind it, as I did so, he said:

  “Do you see what I see?”

  In the narrow entrance to the flats I saw a man standing. There was something familiar about the angle of the head and the hunched shoulders. Then, as we watched, he sauntered down the few steps to the street, stepping out into the lamplight. There was no mistaking that head of red hair. It was Ian Lyall.

  “What on earth.…” I began.

  “I take it he was the boyfriend?”

  “Not that I know of. Peggy never mentioned it. I got the impression there wasn’t one.”

  The traffic began to move again and behind us Ian Lyall crossed the square and disappeared into the shadows beneath the trees.

  I shivered. “He really is the strangest man. Did I tell you that the day I arrived I overheard him shouting at Helena Van de Naude, saying. ‘She’ll have to go,’ he could only have been talking about me.”

  “Shouting at her?” Steve asked incredulously.

  “Yes. Mrs Van de Naude said something like: ‘She’s here now,’ and he said: ‘Too bloody right she is. She’ll have to go.’”

  “Did he, indeed?” Steve said curiously. “Just what gives Lyall the right to give orders to his employer’s wife? Was anything said to you?”

  “No. Everything has been sweetness and light. He looks at me oddly sometimes, but he’s always perfectly civil.”

  “But not to Helena Van de Naude,” Steve said musingly. “I find that very strange.”

  “I told you,” I said, as we sped out of a narrow street and onto the brightly lit sea front. “He’s a strange man!”

  Chapter Six

  There were no messages for me when I returned to the villa in the early hours of the morning. Max had not been, nor had he phoned. Fighting crushing disappointment I walked quietly up the dark staircase and along the corridor to my room. He would come tomorrow. Perhaps Aunt Katherine had forgotten the name of t
he villa.…

  The next morning at breakfast, Ian Lyall said: “ Did you have a nice time last night?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Leonie, with her cat that got the cream smile, said: “So did I.”

  “I’d forgotten you had gone out,” he said, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Where did you go?”

  “Palma.”

  “With the new boyfriend?”

  The smile was more of a smirk. “How do you know about my new boyfriend?” she asked lazily.

  “Peggy. She’s infallible.”

  She shrugged carelessly. “ What did you do?”

  “Stayed in and had a game of cards with Mario.”

  I stopped buttering my toast and stared at him.

  Leonie laughed. “Then you’re a fool. That man is a blatant cheat.”

  And Ian Lyall a blatant liar I thought as Peggy entered with another jug of coffee. Her lips were closed in a tight line and I wondered if she had overheard Leonie.

  “Good morning, Peggy,” I said, with more cheerfulness than I felt.

  “Good morning, did you have a nice time last night?”

  “Lovely, thank you Peggy.”

  She piled some empty cereal bowls onto her tray. “I’m glad of that, and I don’t want you to fret when I tell you I had to go in to Danielle last night.”

  “What for? Was she ill?”

  “Not ill exactly. More brooding if you know what I mean. She had a nasty dream and woke up crying and asking for you. I told her you had gone to Palma and wouldn’t be back till late. Then she really began to cry. Saying you wouldn’t come back at all, like Janet. Terrible time I had with her. I had to go for her mother in the end and she soothed her down and gave her some medicine. I’ve left it in the bathroom on the shelf. The doctor prescribed it for her when she was having such terrible dreams after Janet’s death. Helped her to sleep better. She hasn’t got over it yet, I’m sure of that. Still, it’s only to be expected under the circumstances.…”

  “Is there any more toast?” Ian asked hastily, stopping her in full flow.

  She said sharply: “There’s always as much fresh toast as anybody wants and well you know it!” and she whisked his plate away, slamming the door behind her.

  Leonie laughed. “Thank God you saved us from another rhapsody about that wretched Grey girl.” She pushed her chair from the table. “You can tell Peggy I’ve gone out for the day and won’t be in for lunch.”

  Ian Lyall raised sandy brows as she disappeared along the terrace with a clicking of high heels.

  “The new boyfriend would seem to be in earnest,” he said, stirring his coffee and smiling across at me.

  “You were in Palma last night, not playing cards with Mario,” I said bluntly.

  “You’re mistaken,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “ People are always thinking they’ve seen me when they haven’t. It’s the hair. Every time anyone sees a thatch like mine they automatically think it’s me.”

  “It was you. You were coming out of the flats in Ria Square.”

  The pause before he answered was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

  “You’re wrong,” and I knew he was lying. “Ask Mario.”

  Peggy came in with fresh toast and he said, changing the subject: “Has Leonie told you about Max Wyndham?”

  “No,” I said, no longer caring whether he had been in Palma or not. “What about him?”

  He looked vaguely uncomfortable and waited till Peggy had left the room before saying: “Apparently he’s married some French film actress. They were both in the El Cid last night and Leonie says the street outside was jammed with autograph hunters and well-wishers. Lots of police around too, because that Russian, Katchorsky, was among their party. I read in the papers that Britain has given him asylum. That won’t please the Russians.…” He put his knife down. “It hasn’t come as a shock to you, has it?” His face showed genuine concern.

  “Of course not,” I said, my chest hurting so that I thought I would faint. “I couldn’t care less who Max marries.”

  “Well, he’s certainly chosen a looker,” Ian said cheerfully. “ I wonder if it will last?” and he dug his hands into his jeans pockets and left the room whistling.

  I remained seated, the room swimming around me. Max married! And to Claudette! I had thought he had wanted his freedom, that Claudette was only one of many. It had never occurred to me that he would marry her. Shakily I rose to my feet, stumbling to the privacy of my room. Marriage! The word had the finality of a death knell.

  I closed the shutters against the brilliant sunlight and as I did so, saw Ian Lyall and Helena Van de Naude, heads close together, deep in conversation. His good humour had vanished. He seemed angry. His face flushed, his eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown. I moved towards the bed and lay down, the rays of the sun slanting through the shutters. Now there was truly no going back. Crailsham Place could be a second home no longer. Not with Max and his bride there. The word spun in my brain, echoing and re-echoing. I began to weep, covering my face with my hands and turning to the wall.

  In the afternoon, my face washed and carefully made-up, I took Danielle to Valldemossa. We walked through the village, down a steep winding track that led into meadows and a small stream. I unpacked the picnic things while Danielle paddled in the icy water, screaming with pleasure.

  “Ooo, it’s freezing cold, Miss Matthews. Won’t you come in?”

  “No thanks, Danielle. Come and get a sandwich.”

  “I’m glad I came. I thought it might not be as much fun a second time. First time things are usually best aren’t they?”

  “Perhaps we could do a first time thing today as well. Would you like to visit some caves?”

  “Oooh can we really? Real caves? Under the ground?”

  I nodded. Her eyes shone. “That’s a super idea, Miss Matthews. I am glad you came. I only had Miss Blanchard to talk to before and she doesn’t like little girls.”

  “I’m sure she does, Danielle.”

  “She doesn’t like me,” Danielle said cheerfully. “I can tell. Do you think Mr Lyall would like to come to the caves as well?”

  “Good heavens, no. Why should he?”

  “I just thought he might.”

  “Anyway, I meant to go to the caves today, after our picnic.”

  “I know you did,” she said unabashed. “ I thought I could go and tell him.”

  “We can’t go back to the villa now, Danielle. There isn’t the time.”

  “Silly,” Danielle said giggling. “He’s in the village. In that little shop with the red and white shade outside.”

  “Mr Lyall is?”

  “Yes. I expect he wants to make sure we don’t have another accident.”

  “Then perhaps we’d better have a word with him and put his mind at rest!”

  Beneath a striped awning three metal tables and shabby wicker chairs waited vacantly for customers.

  “He isn’t here, Danielle. You must have made a mistake.”

  “No,” she said, gripping my hand and leading me confidently into the dim interior.

  Ian Lyall looked distinctly sheepish.

  “If you wanted to come with us, we could have shared a car,” I said, not trying to disguise my anger.

  He smiled. “I just thought I’d keep an eye on you, that’s all.”

  “In case I drove over a cliff?”

  “Don’t be so touchy.”

  “I was forced off the road the other day. I’m not such a lousy driver I’m not safe to take a child out without a watchdog!”

  “No-one said you were. Stop being so over-sensitive.”

  “I don’t like being followed!”

  “For God’s sake,” he said good-humouredly. “ I’d nothing else to do today. I just thought that I’d keep an eye on you. After all, they haven’t found the Cadillac yet. I didn’t want anything to spoil your day.”

  “Then you’re too late,” I said rudely. “It just has!”
>
  He flushed, brushing his hair back with his hand. “I have offended, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, you have. We’re going to see the Caves of Drach and I don’t want a nursemaid!”

  Angrily I turned my back on him and stalked across the square to the car.

  “Sometimes it sounds as if you don’t like Mr Lyall,” Danielle said chattily. “I like him. Before him I had a teacher who was French and very strict. He didn’t like it when he left. I heard him tell Mummy that she had no grounds for dismissing him.”

  “That’s enough, Danielle. You hear far too much.”

  “I do, don’t I? I’d much rather have Mr Lyall than my old teacher. He and Mummy are friends, you see.”

  “Yes,” I said faintly, wondering just how much Danielle saw and heard. “ Isn’t that a goat over there, look … behind those trees.”

  Danielle agreed that it was a goat and went on to tell me how much she wanted one and how she might get one if only she could persuade her daddy they didn’t smell.

  I didn’t enjoy any part of the visit to the Caves of Drach. I could think of nothing but that Max was in Palma. On his honeymoon. Bleakly I wondered how Aunt Katherine would reconcile herself to having the glamorous Claudette as daughter-in-law. And how Claudette would reconcile herself to the other side, of Max. The side the gossip columnists didn’t know. The side that loved to tramp for miles with the dogs at his heels, to play chess in the firelight, to read for hours in companionable silence, to ride the horses across the flat country surrounding Crailsham Place, when the first snow had fallen and the world was a white wilderness.

  I couldn’t visualise the party loving Claudette striding around the estate with the dogs yapping around her. Or even riding for that matter. It didn’t seem likely that Crailsham Place would see much of its future mistress.

  When we came out of the caves, the sky was flushing to rose, the shadows lengthening. Sleepily Danielle curled in the car seat.

  “That was the nicest first thing I’ve ever done,” she said. “ It’s been a lovely day, hasn’t it?”

  I couldn’t answer her, merely squeezed her hand and headed back to the mountains and home.

  Chapter Seven