Vengeance in the Sun

by Margaret Pemberton

  He sat beside me, his arm round my shoulders, pulling me close.

  “Hey, there’s no need for tears now. I’ve told you, he’s going to be all right. It was obvious what you’d thought. He seems a reasonable guy. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  “I hope so. I don’t want to leave.…”

  You said you wouldn’t!” Danielle burst out. “ You promised me!”

  “Lucy isn’t leaving,” Steve said with calm certainty. “Now will you both pack it up? Having one female crying all over me is bad enough, but two.…”

  It was four o’clock when Mario returned. Alone. He came into the salon where we were playing Monopoly with Danielle and said flatly: “They are keeping him in.”

  “How bad is he?” I asked, sick with apprehension.

  Mario shrugged. “ Enough. He has concussion and.…”

  “But his skull isn’t fractured?” I asked anxiously.

  “No.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “ Thank goodness for that. I thought I’d killed him.…”

  “You nearly did,” Mario said, leaving the room without so much as a flicker of a smile. Steve’s hand closed on my shoulder.

  “Don’t take it so hard, Lucy.”

  “It’s not just Bradley Van de Naude. It’s everything. The car accident, Danny drinking her medicine.…”

  “I didn’t,” Danielle said firmly.

  Steve said: “ There’s some Cokes in the fridge. Fancy some?”

  “Ooh, please,” Danielle said, jumping to her feet. “Can I bring them in here?”

  “As long as you don’t spill.”

  Peggy had only just finished cleaning the blood off the study carpet. She wouldn’t be too pleased by starting all over again with Coke. As she ran eagerly off, Steve said casually: “ She didn’t, you know.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Drink her medicine.”

  “Then what was the matter with her and where did the medicine go?”

  “Probably down the sink.”

  I stared at him. “Is this a serious conversation?”

  “Very. Danielle was doped,” Steve said matter of factly. “Mogadon crushed into her hot chocolate.”

  “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke, because if it is, it’s in very bad taste.”

  “No joke. It’s a fact. I knew right from the word go that the medicine couldn’t have doped her like you said it had. It was far too mild.”

  “Are you an expert on medicines?”

  “No, but I know more than you, or anyone else here for that matter.”

  “Are you telling me that Danny was doped and you knew and you didn’t even tell me!”

  “It was no use saying anything until I was sure.”

  “But why?” I stared at him, my mind in a whirl.

  “Listen,” he said gently. “The medicine had disappeared and Danny hadn’t drunk it. Obviously someone wanted us to think she had and that it was your fault. I found that interesting to put it mildly. The night of the party I spent a few minutes in Danielle’s room. The cup was still there. Peggy had been very busy that day, remember? I took the liberty of borrowing it and having the sediment analysed.”

  “But who would do such a thing?”

  “Ian Lyall,” he said simply. “ Do you remember telling me that he came to Danielle’s room on the pretext of looking for Katjavivi? He did it then?”

  “But you can’t know that!”

  “I can’t know anything. I wish to God I could! But what I can do is put two and two together and come up with four.”

  I felt physically sick. “ What should we do? John Van de Naude is ill and Helena is thousands of miles away.…”

  “Don’t panic. Lyall is in London at the moment so there’s no immediate cause for worry. We just keep a very close eye on Danielle until her mother returns.”

  Danielle came skipping back in with an armful of Cokes, saying cheerfully: “Miss Blanchard is back. Mario has just told her about Bradley and she’s ever so angry.…”

  Hours later, when Danielle was in bed and Steve had gone back to Palma, and my tired brain had given up trying to find a motive for Ian Lyall’s behaviour, I finally telephoned Max.

  “Lucy?” His voice was surprised.

  I said with difficulty. “I’d like to talk to you, Max. To explain.…”

  “There’s no need,” and this time his voice was unfamiliar and cool.

  “But there is. You don’t understand!”

  “I understand enough,” and for a second his bitterness showed through.

  My breathing hurt me as if I had been running a long way. “You don’t Max. It’s all been a hideous, ghastly mistake. I thought you were having an affair with Claudette.…”

  “Because we attended the same party and were photographed together.…”

  “No, because.…”

  He wouldn’t let me finish, just carried on relentlessly: “So you thought you would get your own back. Have your own little affair with Steve Patterson. Well, I’m only glad your childish behaviour turned out all right. At least he wants to marry you. Lots of men wouldn’t,” he finished cruelly.

  “I’m sorry about the things I thought when I saw that photograph. Truly I am. But that’s not the reason.…”

  “No. The reason you left me was you fell in love with someone else. I believe it’s something that happens to people all the time. I just never expected it to happen to me!”

  “It didn’t Max. Please listen to me. I thought you and Claudette were married, that’s why I behaved as I did at the party.”

  “You left me long before that, Brat. Claudette hadn’t married anyone when you fled London leaving no forwarding address and no explanation.”

  “Max, please.…”

  “Leonie did all the explaining for you this afternoon. You fell in love with Patterson and didn’t have the courage to confront me with it. I thought life held very few surprises for me, Lucy. I was wrong.”

  “Max!”

  The line was dead. Frantically I dialled again but Senor Wyndham was taking no calls. None.

  I sat in the dark for a long time. Leonie had won the first fight, but she had not won the battle. Tomorrow I would see Max, make him listen to me. The temptation to march straight into Leonie’s room was strong, but I resisted it. It was the sort of scene she would revel in.

  Lonely beyond belief, I made my solitary way to bed.

  The next morning Peggy unexpectedly brought breakfast to my room.

  “That’s nice of you, Peggy,” I said, as she deposited the tray across my knees. She gave a small smile.

  “I wanted to apologise for yesterday. Being rude to you. It was the shock, you see. Walking in and finding Mr Bradley lying there, blood all over the place.…”

  “It’s all right. Peggy, I understand.”

  “I thought he was dead, and what with Mr Van de Naude being taken badly and.…”

  I took her hand. “I know, Peggy. It was dreadful. But he’ll be out of hospital in a couple of days.”

  “I thought after what a shock it must have been to you. Quite ashamed of myself I felt. So I thought, I’ll take her breakfast up and apologise.”

  “Thank you, Peggy. I appreciate the treat and there’s no need for apologies.”

  She smiled. “That’s all right then. I’ll see you later downstairs.”

  When I had finished my breakfast, I dressed and went down to the hall, one decision made. Before I drove into Palma I would speak to Claudette.

  It took me ten minutes to find which hotel she was staying at, but when I finally spoke to her, it was worth it. Her voice was pleased and surprised.

  “Lucee! How nice. I thought I had offended in some way.…”

  “No, Claudette. There’s been a ghastly misunderstanding.”

  “Between you and Max?”

  “Yes,” a sob caught at my throat and she said gently:

  “Pauvre petite. You so unhappy. Max so unhappy.”

  “Cou
ld you talk to him for me, Claudette? He won’t give me the chance to explain.”

  “But of course! I would love to play the, how do you say, the go-between! But first you must tell me what went wrong and why you left England and poor Max not knowing where you were and so worried!”

  “I thought he was having an affair with you,” I said simply.

  There was a gasp and then Claudette laughed merrily.

  “Mon Dieu! With me? When all he had eyes for was you! How could you think such a thing?”

  “There was gossip.…”

  “There is always gossip,” Claudette agreed with the air of one who expects it and long ago learned to live with it. “But Max was crazily in love with you and wanted to marry you. How could you believe such nonsense?”

  “I didn’t. But the week before I left England I walked into Lacey’s and I saw you and Max. You were holding hands and you looked radiant and I thought.…”

  “But that was because of Fedor! I had just heard that he could stay in Britain and we were so overjoyed. Max knew we were in love and he had done all he could to help us. He has been the best friend in all the world.…”

  “But there was a whole week before I left for Majorca and Max never once telephoned me or came to see me.…”

  There was a pause, and when she spoke again her voice had lost its merriness: “Then it was my fault, Lucy. Mine and Fedor’s. The Russians did not want Fedor to stay in Britain. Two men came and took him away. I was out of my mind with fear. I thought I would never see him again. I rang Max and he came immediately. Fedor had already been given permission to stay but that would not have mattered if they could have persuaded Fedor to change his mind. Max was marvellous. He had the national press on to it, his MP, everyone. With all the publicity Max stirred up there was no way the Russians could keep Fedor any longer at the Embassy. But it was a very near thing. We owe Max, and your government, a lot.”

  I remembered the shrill ringing of the telephone as I had fled into the street.

  “But what is the problem now?” she asked, cheering up. “You tell Max and he will understand and be so happy to have you back, and you will be together again like me and Fedor!”

  “It’s not that easy, Claudette.”

  “It seems easy to me,” Claudette said simply. “You love each other. What could be simpler than that?”

  “There’s Leonie Blanchard.”

  “Ah,” there was a new inflection in her voice. “ Surely you are not going to wreck your happiness a second time over such a one as Leonie Blanchard?”

  “Leonie has lied left, right and centre. Firstly, she told Ian Lyall that Max had married you.…”

  “And the good Mr Lyall told you?”

  “Yes,” I said bitterly. “When you came to the party I thought your new husband was Max, not Fedor.”

  “Then that explains your behaviour! Pauvre petite, Lucy.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Helas,” Claudette said expressively. “ What more can there be?”

  “Max thinks I’m in love with Steve Patterson.”

  “But why should he think a thing like that?” Claudette asked indignantly.

  “Because I told him I was,” I said miserably.

  “Mon Dieu! And Max believed this stupidity?”

  “Yes. Leonie told him that Steve and I were having an affair together in London. That I was afraid to confront Max with the truth and that is the reason I ran away.”

  “But you hadn’t met this Steve then, so how could you?” Claudette asked reasonably.

  “I couldn’t and didn’t. But Max has listened to Leonie’s lies and believes them. He won’t give me a chance to explain the truth!”

  “He will listen to me!” Claudette said spiritedly. “Before the day is over you will be with Max again and you will be happy!”

  But Claudette was wrong. Before the day was over I was far from happy, fighting for my own life and Danielle’s.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I opened the English newspaper that Peggy had left on the tray. The front page contained large photographs of both John and Helena Van de Naude. There was also one of David Ktjavivi speaking at the summit conference. The leader column had large extracts of Helena Van de Naude’s speech to the delegates, pledging her husband’s desire and will to lead the people of Ovambia to independence and freedom. Emphatically denying that his health had broken down, that the heart attack he had suffered had been mild and would in no way impair him from becoming an efficient head of Ovambia’s government. The editorial on the middle page read:

  “APFO (The African People’s Freedom Organisation) is intensifying its struggle for self rule. With the promise of ex-government minister, John Van de Naude, to head the country’s first black parliament, the end could be in sight. With the irony, for the Ovambians, of achieving independence and black rule with an exiled white South African as Premier. Ovambians all over the country are affirming their commitment to the idea of One Ovambia, One Nation, and their loyalty to Mr Van de Naude is overwhelming. On the international and diplomatic front APFO is gaining increased support. It has been recognised by the Organisation of African Unity and the United Nations as the authentic representative of the people of Ovambia. David Katjavivi, the founder of APFO is quoted as saying:

  ‘We do not expect independence to end our troubles overnight, but we believe that our people are entitled to rule themselves with a leader of their own choosing. Ovambia is our country and Ovambians wish to be their own masters.’

  The vote by other heads of black African countries is to be taken on Saturday after a final speech by Helena Van de Naude. Voting is expected to be unanimously in favour. The Americans feel with Van de Naude as premier the threat of a Communist take over will be defeated. If the Africans accept John Van de Naude as leader of an independent Ovambia they will be able to count on the support of America. Let’s hope, for the sake of both blacks and whites in Ovambia, that they accept him and that the threat of escalating violence is averted.”

  I hoped they would accept him too. If they did, it meant that Helena Van de Naude could be back in Majorca within a week, and under the circumstances, the sooner she was back the better.

  I dressed slowly, with mounting tension. Sometime today, Claudette would see Max and he would listen to her and understand, and all Leonie’s lies would be in vain. Holding on to that thought I went in to Danielle’s room to wake her.

  The sun streamed in golden bars through the shutters but the only occupant was Mr Sam, lying on his nose in the middle of the floor. Wondering where she was, I picked him up and put him back on her bed, then went downstairs to look for her. The villa was quiet and there was no sign of her on the terrace or near the pool. I went into the kitchen where Peggy was busy baking.

  “My, that wasn’t much of a sleep in,” she said cheerfully.

  “I’m looking for Danielle. Have you seen her anywhere?”

  “Danielle? She’s still in bed.”

  “She isn’t. And wherever she is, she’s running around with only her nightdress on. I wonder if Mario knows where she is?”

  “He’s gone into Soller. It’s market day today.” She shook her hands free of flour. “ I’ll help you look for her. As if we haven’t enough to worry about without her being a naughty girl into the bargain!”

  With the first growing seeds of anxiety we searched the villa, and then, panic growing, the grounds.

  “Danielle! Danielle!” I called, standing at the top of the cliff path and straining my eyes for the glimpse of a little nightdressed figure. The only reply was the call of a bird as it swooped low over the tops of the pines.

  Peggy ran across the terrace towards me, her face white.

  “I’ve searched the villa as far back as the rear courtyard and there’s not a sign of her!”

  “She must be somewhere,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. “She’s hiding from us.”

  “I’ll smack her bottom when I find her!” Peggy’s vo
ice had a break in it. “Of all the naughty girls, when she knows the worry we have. First her daddy and then Bradley and now Danny running away.…”

  “She hasn’t run away,” I said firmly. “She’s hiding. As soon as she is hungry she will be in the kitchen.”

  “Well that can’t be long then. She’s had no breakfast. I could tell if she had been in the kitchen and she hasn’t. Where on earth can she be?”

  “She could be nearly anywhere, Peggy. If she wants to hide the mass of rooms at the rear of the villa are a child’s delight.”

  “But I’ve been through them all calling her name!” Peggy protested.

  “And she’s probably been giggling in a corner thinking it all great fun. Another few minutes and she’ll be back wanting something to eat.”

  But she wasn’t. By the time Mario arrived back at eleven o’clock, there was still no sign of her.

  “Have you been down to the beach?” he asked, striding through the villa with Peggy and myself hurrying after him.

  “No.…”

  He broke into a run, leaping down the cliff path like a mountain goat. I flew after him, my heart in my mouth. If she was on the beach she would have heard us calling. That is, if she wasn’t hurt she would have heard us calling.… I slipped and slid breathlessly after Mario. The last overhanging branch was pushed aside and the bay lay spread before us, still and beautiful and completely deserted. I leaned against a tree to get my breath, watching fearfully as Mario scrambled over a fall of rocks, searching every possible crack and crevice. He jumped down, spreading his hands in the air with a shrug. The fear I had fought to suppress began to take hold with a vengeance.

  The dinghy, a brilliant blob of orange against the vast blue of the sea, bobbed carelessly at anchor. With sudden hope I raced across the sand to the jetty, but there was nothing in it but a pool of water and a stray piece of seaweed.

  Mario, his genial face tense and grim, said: “I’ll search the villa once more. If she’s not there I’m calling the police.”

  I didn’t argue with him. There had been too many accidents, too many things going wrong. If anything should have happened to Danielle.… I pushed the thought away. She was playing. Hiding. She was all right. Dear God, she had to be all right.