Hideaway Heart

by Roumelia Lane

  Clive was beckoning for service again and in doing so had sent a silver pepper-pot rolling to the floor. The pepper-pot was discreetly retrieved and just as discreetly the waiter passed on to another table. Clive looked about to put his annoyance into words at being so subtly passed over, but Chris put a hand on his sleeve.

  "Shouldn't we take the hint, Clive? You've had enough to drink. The boat trip will take a while and we don't want to leave Eleni alone too long."

  To her relief he was quietly acquiescent and paid the bill with the minimum of fuss. It was pure bad luck that he didn't get to the door in the same way. In looking around to take Chris's arm Clive collided full on with a couple coming in. The man blustered and the woman sniffed, but in the end apologies were made and Clive guided Chris through the door.

  They hadn't quite made the foyer when an imperceptible footstep sounded on the carpet at the rear. Boyd drew level with a lazy,

  "I should take a little more water with it, Huston."

  Clive allowed him a drawn smile.

  "You can stow the advice, old man. I'd put my capabilities alongside yours any time."

  "I'm glad to hear it. I hope Miss Dawnay enjoys the same confidence."

  "Me?" Chris carefully brushed aside the cool searching look with a light, "I'm just enjoying an evening out.''

  "And since we're on the subject of advice," Clive moved unsteadily past a flower-decked alcove, "has no one ever told you it's common courtesy to allow past... friends a formal greeting?"

  "Often," Boyd replied evenly, lifting an encircling arm as Chris was bumped against him. "Though I have a habit of making my own snap judgement on occasions."

  "The old high-powered tycoonery comes in, I suppose," Clive muttered as they passed through the foyer to the outer doors. Waving for a taxi he drooped a tired smile over one shoulder.

  "Just give my regards to... Paula. Okay?"

  "Certainly," Boyd nodded. Chris thought he looked slightly taken aback as the taxi drew up. She stepped in and as Clive stretched his legs beside her Boyd leaned in at the open window.

  "I should have thought it would be more convenient to put up here than go booking in at another hotel. You need to sleep it off, old man."

  The "old man" part had been tacked on deliberately, Chris thought, noting the derisive slant of his mouth. He seemed reluctant to take his arm from the window.

  Clive was offering a flushed smile. "I intend to. In my own bed. In the meantime the boat trip should blow off a few cobwebs."

  "The boat—?" Woodsmoke eyes narrowed down to the gleam of inner thoughts. Boyd jerked a foot up on to the running board. "You're not telling me you plan to—"

  Chris didn't hear any more, for Clive had leaned forward to give an order and the taxi shot away from the kerb, leaving Boyd to stare darkly after it. She had a peculiar feeling that there had been something close to concern in his manner, but she didn't encourage such luxury. She was slightly lightheaded herself, and even one glass of wine had been known to play tricks on the imagination.

  And why would he spare thoughts on her when he had Paula to return to? Paula of the green eyes and sylph-like beauty; to hold in his arms, to dance with, to escort back to the Villa Tamerlane ... the two of them beneath the stars. Chris supported Clive's leaden shoulder and curled her fingers tight. Returning to Cyrecano might prove to be an ordeal, but it was nothing to what she would have to endure if she couldn't push the thought of those two out of her mind.

  Once at the quay Clive fumbled for the correct coinage to give to the driver. He stared moodily after the receding car as though uncertain what to do next.

  "Perhaps it would be better if we stayed overnight," Chris suggested, noting his sway. "Eleni would probably guess we couldn't make it back. She's not the worrying kind."

  "Nothing doing," Clive snorted, taking her arm. "I've had as much as I can stand of civilization. I want out, and the sooner the better. Don't worry," he turned a dry smile her way, "I'll get you there all in one piece. I happen to be pretty fond of my own neck too."

  Chris had to admit he sounded confident enough, but the knowledge did nothing to ease the tightening tension within her. She felt as though she were walking a tightrope to certain disaster and yet lacked the will-power to turn round and go back. But where was going back? To the time when she had never heard of the name Boyd Wyatt... of the island of Cathai? A million years ago? No, events now were far too advanced to do anything about anything. When she had nearly fallen in with the doubtful Nick Papandouros in her desperation to reach Cyrecano Boyd had said with heavy sarcasm that she had chosen the scene. Well, now the scenes were choosing her, and inevitably the play would run to its end.

  In a fatalistic stupor she allowed Clive to lead her on board the boat and watched him cast off. He gazed at the instruments with a trained eye and pointed the nose on course with such precision that she wondered why she had worried at all. The night air was close even out at sea and the boat travelled the flat shiny surface like a pebble leisurely skimming ice. Clive gazed moodily ahead, nursing the craft over the watery miles, dropping the wheel skilfully when it appeared they might come up against a forceful swell.

  From her seat on the deck Chris watched him. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Clive had much more of his father in him than he realized. He had brushed aside the fuzziness that must come to the brain after excessive drinking as though it were no more than a curtain blocking his view. Whatever his emotions concerning the events of the day nothing, it seemed, was to be allowed to interfere now with the cool handling of the boat. Chris could look on him with nothing but admiration.

  In a short space of time Cyrecano rose on the horizon, a wedge of black slotted into a grey moonlit sea. As they approached, the rocks flanking the jetty seemed to lick up ominously and Chris experienced a doubtful moment when the boat appeared to slew off course. They were heading, it seemed, straight for the black teeth, but a flick of the wheel, a cut of the engine and the craft glided trimly into line with the crumpled jetty. Chris breathed a long low sigh and Clive shut off the motor with a sidelong smile. "I told you there was no need to worry."

  "You were magnificent!" Chris laughed expansively, feeling the need to let off steam. "I'd willingly do the whole trip again."

  Clive dropped an arm lightly across her shoulders as they picked their way over the derelict jetty.

  "Do I take it you're not ready to turn in yet?" he asked.

  "Well, I . . . hadn't really thought about it. I suppose it is rather late."

  "There's no such word as late on Cyrecano. Here we've got all the time in the world.''

  He drew her close, and looking up at him Chris was struck by the lines of intense strain on his face. The boat trip must have cost him more than he cared to admit. If anybody needed a good night's rest Clive did.

  "I think we should get off to bed, Clive," she tried not to sound too serious. "I do have to make an early start in the morning."

  "Okay, you go ahead. Me, I'm for the night life. I'll come as far as the house with you to don my swim-trunks."

  "Your swim-trunks?" Chris stopped along the path. A few minutes ago she had thought her worries were over Now she had a distinct feeling they were just beginning. "But, Clive, you can't be thinking of taking a swim at this time of night."

  "Why not? In this heat I can't think of anything better."

  They continued to walk and Chris nodded dubiously.

  "Well, all right. Just give me time to get into my bathing things." She had no intention of letting him take a night swim alone.

  Now it was Clive's turn to halt. He looked down at her with a thoughtful frown.

  "On second thoughts and considering the way Wyatt went on at me last time, you'd better not."

  "What do you mean, I'd better not? If you're intent on having this swim then I am too," and then to camouflage her own misgivings she added with a light laugh, "It is my last night on the island, so let's live it up if you want to."

 
She would have turned to enter the gate, but Clive took her arm almost roughly.

  "Maybe you don't get me, Chris. I'm going up the cliff."

  Chris gazed at him stupidly. The realization of what Clive was planning smote her like something close to a physical blow. She clutched at him, forcing a calmness into her voice which she did not feel.

  "Now, Clive, you're not going to start all that again. You know as well as I do that a dive from that height is unthinkable in your condition... I mean, you're tired, and it's dark."

  "Oh, sure! I'm tired. I'm tired all right." He ran a shaking hand through flaxen hair with a twisted grin. "That's just it. I need a lift. Sorry I can't take you along, Chris."

  Chris stood forcefully in his path, her anger mounting.

  "Clive, I won't let you do it. I won't let you go up there. You're behaving perfectly ridiculously! A small boy would have more sense!"

  He shrugged. "A small boy, a man - what's the difference?"

  A hand shot out to pluck at a head of blossom and then he spoke with heavy deliberation as though he was having to reach down inside of himself for each word. "You may not know it, but every once in a while a fellow needs to feel he's ten feel tall. A small boy ... what does he do? Some crazy thing like balancing a narrow wall or crossing the railway tracks. A man?... well, he'll go on a bender or pick a fight with a bigger chap. Me, I'm uncomplicated. I just take a high dive into the waves."

  "You're talking absolute drivel, you know that?" Chris retorted witheringly. "There's nothing uncomplicated in risking your neck just to satisfy your ego. You might feel more like ten feet tall if you were to fight for what you want."

  She had a feeling she had gone too far, for Clive's eyes had a brittle look, but she couldn't stop now. Anything was better than letting him follow his head over this - even if it meant losing his friendship.

  "Well, it's true, isn't it?" she cried. "You're always on about the fighting Hustons. Or is it that all it is - just talk? I'm beginning to think so. I suppose it's easier in your case to jump off a cliff. You obviously don't know the meaning of the word fight anyway!"

  For a moment she thought that he would strike her, but the hand that flew up was used to thrust her out of his path.

  "I'm going up there, Chris. If, I were you I should get to bed. As you were saying," pointedly, "you have to make an early start in the morning."

  "If you're going then I'm going too!" Chris held on. "And if you insist on going through with this idiotic fiasco then I will too." Her only hope now was to keep on talking and somehow weaken his resistance, but Clive seemed immune to her insults. He strode up to the darkened house and went off to his room without a word.

  Chris crept along to get her bathing things. Eleni was probably sound asleep and nothing could be gained from disturbing her. The difficulty was in locating her swim-wear, for with the efficient housekeeper nothing was left lying about. It could have been hung on the line to dry or it could be folded in with her other garments ready for packing. She spent several fruitless minutes rummaging in the most likely places and then gave it up. She listened. Apart from the thud of her own heart the house was completely silent. She breathed a little easier. Had Clive changed his mind? Perhaps her abuse had done some good and he had decided bed was a better idea after all.

  She decided on a quick check of the house before going to bed herself. It looked as though her assumptions had been right. Everywhere was in darkness. There was no sound of any movement from Clive's room. She tried a knock with the excuse of saying goodnight, and when she got no reply the worry wheels were in motion once again. Why didn't Clive reply? Surely he couldn't be asleep so soon?

  She knocked briskly once more and opened the door an inch to call through breezily,

  "I just thought I'd say goodnight, Clive. I'm glad you—" The words trailed off into a gasp as she saw the evening suit he had been wearing draped over a chair, his shoes askew by the open french window. So he had gone! All the while she had been congratulating herself that she had put him off he had been stealthily changing, and now he was on his way to attempt that dive. He wouldn't do it, Chris was sure of it. True, he didn't lack nerve and he had shown a remarkable clarity of mind in steering the boat out from Cathai, but something more was needed to make the plunge of ninety feet or more by moonlight. Something that Clive was far from possessing tonight.

  One thought uppermost in her mind, Chris moved towards the french windows. Clive must be stopped and her only hope was that he wasn't bothering to hurry assuming that she had gone to bed. She ran along the veranda and across the garden, her dress flapping at the speed of her legs, the warm air rushing past her cheeks and ears. The shoes she had thought just right for an evening out were now proving an encumbrance. She kicked them off without slackening her step.

  Once outside the going was easier. Beyond the gate the path was smooth with sand from the beach. There was no sign of a slim figure making its way across the moonlit turf. He was ahead - too far ahead. He wasn't wasting any time in trying to break his neck. Fear and exasperation giving her wings, she sped on, only to crash painfully into a hulk that had materialized suddenly round the bend of the path. Completely winded, Chris would have slumped down, but an iron grip supported her and stilled the quivering of her shocked senses.

  Perhaps the moment had been only brief. To Chris it seemed to last a sweet lifetime. Boyd held her suffocatingly close, as reluctant, it seemed, to let go as she was to withdraw.

  At last she pushed away with high-pitched hysterical impatience.

  "I can't stop! Clive has taken it into his head to make one of his dives from the cliff top."

  Boyd flexed a muscle in his jaw and caught her wrist as she would have fled.

  "And what do you think you're going to do about it?" he demanded.

  "Well, I can at least try and prevent him, can't I?" She wrenched free and turned to come face to face with Paula. The exquisite features looked slightly ravaged in the grey- white light. The green eyes, just grey shadows beneath fringed lashes, showed a marked disquiet as she took a step forward.

  "What is it? What's wrong with Clive? Please tell me!"

  Chris sighed and struggled to .be civil. Precious time was being wasted on explanations - couldn't they see that?

  "You may or may not know, but Clive has some peculiar habits. One of them is diving from the cliff at the end of the island when he's feeling particularly low. I don't know if he's ever attempted it at night before, but to my mind he's too pent up to try it tonight. Now if you don't mind..."

  Paula laid an urgent hand on her arm.

  "Let me go to him!" she begged.

  But for her frustration Chris might have laughed aloud to the sky. What Paula was doing here she neither knew nor cared, but that she should come at such a crucial moment and calmly offer her services was bordering on the ludicrous. Chris drew her arm away with undisguised distaste, nor did she bother to hide the contempt in her voice.

  "You've left it a bit late, haven't you, Paula?"

  "That's enough, Chris!"

  Boyd stepped briskly forward to grip the other girl's shoulder. "Paula, get back down to Wooller. He's waiting with the launch. Tell him to get round the headland as quickly as possibly and keep a lookout. Then go up to the house and wait."

  Chris heard the last of Boyd's instructions from a distance. She was already on her way. Precious moments had been lost and she had no intention of standing around any longer. She heard some throaty curses from behind, but now she was too far ahead to care. As the path steepened towards the cliff top she knew an overpowering bout of weariness. The events of the day, the strain of the evening were beginning to tell. Her legs began to feel the ache of prolonged action.

  She called Clive's name, but only the whisper of the breeze made any reply. He could have changed his mind or be debating the folly of such a foolhardy attempt. In either case she stood a fairly good chance of talking him out of it. Almost at the top she stopped to gain wind and listen again
. Boyd's staccato breathing came close on her heels, and up there . . . What was that? A rustling sound . . . yes, she was sure of it. Clive was up there. She was in time. Her relief giving her strength she flung herself along the last few yards.

  "Clive! Wait a minute, please! I want to..."

  In the split second her bare feet padded on towards the abrupt end of the island she heard something resembling a gasp or a sigh and then a light thud. The cliff top was completely empty. It hung silent, suspended a black tongue against the silver-grey space of sea and sky.

  "Clive!" Horrified, Chris ran to the edge, angry with the realization that but for a few seconds . . . She coursed along the lip of rock, gazing down into space, seeing nothing but the blur of her own tears. Whether her momentum took her too close to the edge or whether an impaired vision made the tip of the island merge with the line of space Chris would never know, but she had the distinct feeling that the cliff had suddenly shrunk away from her feet. Her last recollection before experiencing a thunderous rush of air was a shout from behind.

  "Chris, you young fool! Get back!"

  She tried to do as she was told, but then a pair of arms were thrown round her and her body was thrust away from the cliff, locked against the hardness of another. The thunder increased and now she was rushing through space without those protective arms to shield her. If she was in danger of losing her senses the water smacked her back to reality, only to embrace her as though it would take her to the centre of the earth.

  Fighting for breath, Chris lunged upwards . . . upwards, forcing her arms to press back the water. When it seemed as though her chest must burst through want of air she finally broke surface and gasped alone to the night. The sea stretched a heaving, glistening mass to infinity. To her left she could see the gaunt cliff stretching upwards like some medieval castle and far out in the distance the opulent well-lit luxury of the Barbary Cloud.