by Anne Mather
Helen's breakfast consisted of coffee and cigarettes. She seemed to smoke a lot, and maybe that accounted for her slenderness. This morning, in slacks and silk blouse, she did not look a great deal older than Tracy Merrick. They had similar figures and Sara thought they probably got along well together. Tracy would constitute a suitable candidate for the position of Mrs. Jarrod Kyle.
Helen now looked at Sara thoughtfully. 'Perhaps you'd like to take Sara to the beach, Matt,' she suggested, embarrassing Sara by her assumption.
'No--really----' she began, when Matt said:
'I'd like nothing better. I guess you want Jarrod to yourself, is that right?'
Mrs. Kyle smiled. 'You understand me so well, Matt. Of course, I shall adore having some time alone with my son on his return. Where do you plan to go?'
Matt frowned. 'Well, as Jarrod has taken the diving gear, I suggest Sara and I go to Coral Point. The beach is quiet and sheltered by the palms, and the water is pretty shallow.' He glanced at Sara. 'You do swim?'
Sara nodded. 'Yes--but honestly, Matt, it's not necessary. I can amuse myself. After all, the pool here would suit me just as well.'
'Don't be silly, Sara,' said Helen Kyle coolly. 'I insist that you see a little of the place you've chosen for your holiday. Afterwards, Matt may take you in to Kingston for lunch, so be prepared for every eventuality.'
Sara had the feeling that Helen was quietly telling Matt exactly what she wanted him to do, and she felt uncomfortably aware that Jarrod's mother wanted her off the property for some time. After all, the pool was there, and after yesterday's travelling she would have liked to relax in a lounger in the sunshine, or in the shade of one of the beach umbrellas near the lilos in the garden.
Matt seemed unperturbed, however. After she had finished her rolls and coffee, he said: 'Go get your swimsuit, Sara, and we'll be off. Bring some sunglasses if you have them.'
Sara rose obediently to her feet and did as she was bidden. The gates of Flamingo Lodge might stand wide, but there was less freedom of movement here than there was in the confined surroundings of Malthorpe Hall. She felt a pang of homesickness for J.K. and wondered whether she might be able to ring him as Helen had rung Jarrod. After all, he had always told her to use the allowance he made her, but so far she had scarcely touched it. It would be a simple matter to have them reverse the charges, and J.K. wouldn't object. The idea appealed to her; it seemed to bring J.K. and home, for that was what Malthorpe Hall had become, nearer to her.
Collecting her swimsuit, a navy blue and white striped bikini, from her suitcase, she pushed it in a basket bag she had brought with her containing her overnight things, and added a comb, some lipstick and her sunglasses. She glanced regretfully at her cases, but decided the unpacking of them would have to wait until later.
Matt was waiting for her in the hall. Unlike Jarrod, he was dark, with a stockier appearance although he was almost as tall. Dressed in cream shorts and a pale blue island cotton shirt, he looked cool and attractive, and Sara wondered why the prospect of going out with him didn't arouse more enthusiasm inside her.
Helen came to wish them goodbye, and Sara couldn't help wondering whether her main object was to see them off the property. But such uncharitable thoughts were alien to her and she thrust them impatiently aside.
The cream convertible awaited them, and she wondered what car Jarrod and Aristotle had taken Matt helped her into her seat, and then walked round the bonnet to slide in beside her. He grinned at her as she slid the sunglasses on to her nose. 'Boy, am I lucky!' he remarked laughingly.
'Why?' Sara looked puzzled.
'Well, here I am, being paid for taking out one of the most attractive young women I've ever had the good luck to meet!' he answered.
'Paid?' She frowned.
'Sure. Jarrod insists on paying me during holidays the same as always.'
'Oh, I see.' Sara relaxed. 'You're very polite. Thank you, Matt. But maybe you've been saddled with me!' she grimaced, as they left the gates of Flamingo Lodge behind them.
'Don't be silly.' Now Matt looked solemn. 'Believe me, if I hadn't wanted to bring you, I shouldn't
have done so, Helen or no Helen.'
'You realised she was manipulating you?'
'Helen doesn't manipulate me. I'm no puppet,' he answered, swinging round an intersection. 'She thinks she does, that's all. You must learn to listen to Helen, to pretend to act upon her advice and then go your own merry way.'
'Is that what Jarrod does?'
Matt laughed. 'Jarrod? Oh, Sara, you'll learn that Jarrod is a law unto himself. Helen gets nowhere with him. Just as she never succeeded in manipulating J.K. Hasn't he told you they were never compatible?'
'Well yes.'
'And surely you realise that Jarrod is like his father.'
'Yes,' said Sara, more slowly.
'Then that should answer your question. Nevertheless, Helen is very possessive where Jarrod is concerned, so don't be alarmed if she attempts to run your life to her designs. As I say, do what you want to do! Jarrod would say the same.'
Sara doubted this, and then sighed. 'It's all so complicated,' she said heavily. 'I wish--I really wish I'd never come.'
'Why?' Matt gave her an astounded look. 'Heavens, don't let Helen get under your skin!'
Sara felt dejected. Matt was a little late in saying that. She had already let Helen get under her skin to the extent of causing the most dreadful rift with Jarrod yet.
Despite her misgivings and anxieties, she found she had a marvellous day with Matt. During the morning they went to the beach Matt had suggested, and Sara had her first taste of bathing in really warm water. Then they lay on the sands, sunbathing, Matt seeming to find Sara's healthy young face and body quite irresistibly good to look at. Curiously, he didn't embarrass her as Jarrod would have done, and she could only assume that kind and gentle though Matt might be she could never see him in the role of a lover. A lover! She brought herself up short. Was that how she was imagining Jarrod in her foolishness?
'Tell me,' said Matt, as they sat at lunch in a hotel in the heart of Kingston's bustling main street, 'why were you surprised when Helen told you about my father--and the shipyard?'
Sara shrugged. 'I guess because I'd thought of you as being Jarrod's employee--you know, someone who had, to work for a living, and instead, you're more his contemporary.'
'Jarrod and I were at Cambridge together,' said Matt thoughtfully. 'He seemed so fired with enthusiasm for the business, for the whole company-- his ideas for expansion and so on, that I was fired, too, and the textile trade interested me much more than shipbuilding had ever done. I was interested in design--I fancied myself as a bit of an artist, and Jarrod encouraged me. Eventually, when Jarrod became a cog in the wheel, I joined him, and when he became chairman when his father was taken ill, I became his personal assistant.'
'I see. And doesn't your father mind?'
'Not particularly. I have three brothers and two sisters, all fascinated by messing about in boats, so I won't be missed!'
'Oh!' Sara smiled. 'And do you paint at all now? I mean--design things, and so on?'
'Sometimes, not very successfully, actually. I prefer painting for pleasure now. I usually have an attempt at the view from the terrace where we breakfasted this morning every time I come here.'
Sara was interested. 'Oh, do you? Do you have any paintings I could see? I adore painting myself, and I'd love to see some of your work.'
Matt nodded and grinned. 'Come up and see my etchings,' he intoned in a deep voice, and she laughed merrily.
During the afternoon, he took her on a conducted tour of the city. He showed her the burial place of Admiral Benbow, the official residence of the governor of the island, and the busy harbour bazaar. The stalls fascinated her with their variety and colour, and she had never seen so many different types of fruit, from the banana and orange to the exotic-sounding paw-paw and sapodilla.
It was early evening when they began the ascent into the hi
lls to Flamingo Lodge, and Sara, who had been gay and talkative all day, seemed to withdraw into herself.
'What's troubling you?' asked Matt, frowning. 'You've got me on hand if you need someone to lean on.'
Sara looked at him warmly. 'Have I, Matt? You make me feel much better.'
Matt sighed. 'And you make me feel old.'
'You're not old!'
'I'm thirty-four, twice your age!'
'Only for the moment. I shall be eighteen in nine days' time.'
'Shall you, indeed? We must do something about a party.'
'Oh no!' Sara was horrified. 'Don't tell Mrs. Kyle, please. I want no fuss!'
'Oh, all right, Sara, but stop behaving so nervously. There's absolutely nothing to be nervous about.'
The lights of the villa gleamed as they had the night before, but tonight Sara felt no pleasure at the sight. Instead she felt an awful feeling of apprehension that was heightened when they halted at the front verandah, and Jarrod came to stand at the top of the steps, regarding them broodingly.
'Where the hell have you been?' he said, as they got out, Sara gathering together her belongings and thrusting them into her bag.
'You know where we've been,' replied Matt calmly. 'Helen must have told you we went to Coral Point.'
Jarrod frowned. Dressed in dark pants and a dark shirt, he looked very attractive, and Sara felt her heart somersault uncomfortably inside her.
'You went to Coral Point ten hours ago. I drove there myself around lunchtime. You were not there then!'
Matt raised his eyebrows. 'Now why should you do a thing like that?' he asked lazily, taking Sara's arm and assisting her up the shallow steps. 'We went in to Kingston for lunch, and afterwards we did some sightseeing.' He glanced at Sara. 'Helen knew we were not expected back.'
Jarrod chewed at the cigar between his teeth. 'I don't give a damn what Helen knew,' he swore angrily.
'Now cool it,' said Matt, without turning a hair. 'We're here, aren't we? All safe and sound I And we've had a marvellous day, haven't we, Sara?'
Sara nodded, not trusting herself to speak as Jarrod's gaze flickered over her, lingering momentarily on the shortness of her skirt.
'Well, it's seven-thirty,' he said tautly. 'Dinner is at eight this evening. Helen has invited the McKays over. I suggest you both go and get changed!'
'Sure thing,' agreed Matt, seeming a trifle amused by Jarrod's attitude. 'Come on, Sara!'
Sara did not linger, hastening ahead of Matt up the stairs. 'Don't rush,' he said lazily, behind her. 'Jarrod's good and mad! Give him time to cool off!'
'But why? I mean, why is he mad?' Sara's head was spinning.
'I guess he takes his role as your guardian rather seriously, honey. And so he should. You're far too attractive to be left to run around loose for every guy to try and get fresh with. Maybe he sees himself as a father figure!'
Sara pressed a hand to her throat. 'I see,' she murmured chokily. 'See--see you later, Matt. And thank you for a wonderful day!'
'Thank you!' returned Matt, with a cheerful grin, and disappeared into his room.
In Sara's room, her cases had been unpacked for her, and her clothes ironed and hung in her wardrobe. There was nothing for her to do but bathe and change, and so she went through to her bathroom and turned on the bath taps. Then she went back into her room and studied the door for a moment. A key was inserted into the lock, and she frowned. She was sure that had not been there be-fore. Had someone placed it there? But who? Not Jarrod. He had no reason to suppose she would lock him out.
Nevertheless, as the key was there, she walked across and turned it before re-entering the bathroom. Afterwards, she studied her clothes with some concentration. She wanted something attractive to wear, something young and yet not girlish. Eventually she chose a midnight blue lurex-threaded silk, with a tunic-type skirt that fell from a slender band of pearls just below her breasts. The short skirt was edged with pearls, and there was a pearl-edged scoop neckline. It was sleeveless, and the slight tan she had acquired that day added to her appearance.
The McKays had arrived when she descended the stairs to find everyone talking together in the long lounge. There was Helen and Matt, and Jarrod of course, and two other couples; Frank and Lorna McKay, who were Helen's age, and a young man and woman who were the McKays' son and daughter, Mark and Virginia. Helen performed the introductions while Jarrod mixed drinks at the bar in the corner. They all seemed to be drinking long drinks which Matt told her were daiquiris, but Jarrod handed her an innocuous-looking lime liquid remarking:
'Fresh lime and lemon, laced with the smallest part of vodka. I think you'll like it.'
'Thank you.' Sara took the drink and Jarrod nodded and turned away without looking at her. She sighed. How cold and polite he was tonight. What was he thinking, under that icy exterior? Had he noticed her at all? Did he like her dress? Or was she just part of the decoration?
Virginia McKay was yet another girl to find Jarrod attractive. Sara thought it was inevitable perhaps, as Lorna McKay and Helen Kyle seemed such good friends. Mark McKay was a pale, ineffectual youth, older than Sara, but callow in her opinion, and she didn't encourage him when he tried to have a conversation with her. After Matt, and Jarrod of course, Mark was very dull company. Maybe because all her life she had been in the company of older men she found boys of her own age boring, but somehow she could never see herself becoming interested in someone with so little vigour or vitality.
Dinner was served in a small dining-room at a polished rosewood table that was set with lace place mats and crystal glass goblets. Sara ate very little, even the spiced delicacy of roast sucking pig not arousing much appetite inside her. Though Jarrod did not speak to her, she was conscious of him and his displeasure the whole evening, and when the meal was over she escaped on to the terrace with some relief.
Matt was being employed by Helen to roll back the carpet in the lounge for dancing, and Virginia McKay was sorting through some records and messing about with a tape recorder with Jarrod. When the music came through to her it was low and rhythmic, a steel band playing some of the exciting limbo music of the islands. She could hear laughter and talk from within, but had no desire to join them. Out here, on the terrace, looking down on the lights below and smelling the fragrant perfume of the night air, she attempted to achieve some kind of detachment.
A sound behind her startled her. She had not bothered to turn on the lights in the morning-room behind her, and she had thought no one knew where she was. But her silhouette gave her away, and she drew back as a dark shadow detached itself from the gloom and joined her on the terrace. She knew at once that it was Jarrod. His silvery blond hair gleamed in the pale light and even as she watched he flicked a switch that lit a lamp on the small curvature of the terrace.
Sara gripped the rail with taut fingers, willing herself not to turn towards him.
'Well?' he said softly. 'I gather you found Matt good company.'
'Shouldn't I?' she parried uncomfortably.
'I don't know. What did he do?' Jarrod's voice was still angry.
'What do you mean, what did he do? He didn't do anything. We just bathed, and sunbathed, and then had lunch, like he said. I didn't know I would have to give an account of myself, or I would have taken a notebook!'
'Don't taunt me, Sara,' he muttered savagely. 'I've decided to ignore your little seduction scene last night, but I will not have you behaving like some-- some--young idiot! For heaven's sake, Sara, as you said, you're almost eighteen. Old enough to know that men can be dangerous, with sufficient provocation.'
Sara sighed. 'Oh, please,' she exclaimed, 'don't let's start that all over again.'
'All right, all right. I have no intention of starting anything. I just want you to know that you needn't go around feeling afraid of me. I'm sorry if unwittingly I've aroused your resentment, but I've decided that we don't know one another well enough, and that's why you're acting this way. I suppose it's understandable, really. I am your gua
rdian after all, and I've shown little or no interest in you to date. In your character, that is--your personality! I intend to remedy that, starting tomorrow.'
Sara felt her heartbeats quicken. 'That--that's not necessary 1'
'Oh, but it is. So, tomorrow, we'll begin by teaching you to swim underwater, and then maybe a little water-skiing. I know you'll enjoy that.' He was controlling his temper quite easily now. 'You agree?'
Sara sighed. 'Do I have any choice?'
'Sara,' he muttered warningly.
'Oh--oh, all right, Mr. Kyle. I'll fall in with your plans. Just don't expect me to fall over myself to please you like all the others do I'
Her remarks were stupid, and childish, and with a muffled exclamation he turned and walked across the morning-room to the doorway into the hall. Then he turned.
'I shall expect you to be ready to leave at eight-thirty in the morning,' he said shortly, and without waiting for her reply, he left her.
CHAPTER NINE
IN spite of Sara's dismay at Jarrod's intentions, she found during the next few days that Jarrod could be the most charming and amusing of companions. Disregarding his mother's pleas that he should spend more time with her, visit the McKays, play a little golf, he persisted in taking Sara everywhere with him. Matt joined them occasionally, but much to Sara's surprise Jarrod found his personal assistant tasks to perform during the long lazy days, leaving Sara to face hours alone with himself.
Not that the hours passed slowly. Together with Aristotle, he had taught her how to swim underwater, and although she had not ventured very far into deep water, she had glimpsed a little of the wonder of the world beneath the calm surface. She had seen exquisite rock formations, stumbled upon sleeping starfish and crustaceans, and fingered the sharp yet delicate filigree of the coral strands. Aristotle was never far away from her side, acting like the bodyguard Jarrod had at first said he was, making her laugh with his solemn admonitions which he delivered with a gleaming smile.
Another day they had taken the motor boat to a deep bay where a jetty had been erected to give elevation for would-be water-skirs. Sara, who had found the underwater swimming quite easy to master, found water-skiing a much different proposition, and sank ignominiously into the waves so many times that she eventually had to give it up, her legs ached so much.