Moon Witch

by Anne Mather

  And all the while she was conscious of Jarrod; conscious of his lean brown body, seldom clad in more than swimming shorts and light wool sweater, conscious of the vitality that emanated from him, whose magnetism enveloped her, conscious of the times when he was explaining something to her and she would turn to find his eyes regarding her strangely, almost as though he hated her. She couldn't understand why he should look at her in this way, unless her previous actions had condemned her in his eyes, made him despise her. And yet, if this were so, why did he take the trouble to spend so much time with her, entertaining her, preventing her from becoming involved with Matt, or anyone else for that matter? It didn't make sense, and Sara gave it up as being completely incomprehensible.

  But despite this veiled antagonism, there were times, times when she thought he forgot who she was, when he made her laugh and laughed with her, teasing her, interesting her in the antics of a sand crab, lying beside her in the sand, and telling her about his life, the countries he had visited, and the things he had done just for kicks. Those were the times Sara liked best, and she stored them up inside her, aware that her feelings for him were becoming irretrievable somehow. There was no doubt in her mind any longer, and the knowledge that her emotions no longer obeyed the dictates of her mind frightened her a little.

  One afternoon he took her out on the Sea Witch, with Aristotle to act as crew. The swing and sway of the craft was alarming at first, and Sara clung to the side, praying that they would not capsize, trying to prevent the nausea rising inside her. But after a while she became used to it, and relaxed, and as her nerves disappeared, so did the nausea. Jarrod seemed pleased that she was a good sailor, and she was quite pleased herself.

  In the evenings, Helen invariably had company for dinner, or arrangements had been made for herself and Jarrod to dine out. Sometimes Jarrod refused to go out, and stayed home and played gin rummy with Matt and Sara, but at others he accompanied his mother, leaving Matt and Sara alone with some obvious misgivings.

  Matt seemed amused at Jarrod's annoyance at these times, and said: 'Your guardian seems to be taking his duties very seriously these days. Don't you think so?'

  Sara shrugged, colouring as usual. 'I don't know why you should think that,' she murmured, studying the cards in her hand.

  'Don't you?' Matt cupped his chin on his hand, 'Sure you do, Sara. You're perfectly aware why I should think that. Jarrod hasn't left you alone since our first day here. He spends all day and every day in your company. Now that's not usual, is it?'

  Sara sighed. 'Oh, I don't know. Must we discuss it?'

  'Yes, I think we must. I used to think I knew Jarrod pretty well. Now I've realised I don't know him at all.'

  'But why?' Sara's eyes were puzzled.

  'Man, surely you can see that for Jarrod to spend so much time with you and ignore the usual pur-suits of the rich young tycoon in the West Indies is quite something! Hell, Helen is practically gnawing off the ends of her fingers! She finished off her nails some time ago!'

  Sara couldn't suppress a smile. 'You're exaggerating! '

  'Maybe I am. But that doesn't alter the fact that you are receiving the full treatment.'

  'What on earth do you mean?' Sara laid down her cards.

  Matt sniffed. 'Aw, come on, let's get on with the game!'

  She shook her head. 'No. You started this, now tell me, what do you mean?'

  'Well, I guess if I didn't know Jarrod better, I'd say that he was becoming--hell, is!' he corrected himself, '--interested in you!'

  Sara put her hands on her knees so that he should not see that they were trembling. 'Matt! Don't be so ridiculous!'

  Matt sighed. 'Yes, I know, I know. It sounds ridiculous to me, too, and yet--well, that's how it looks!'

  Sara rose jerkily to her feet. 'Well, you couldn't be more wrong!' she exclaimed.

  'Why?' Matt lay back in his chair. 'Now, you tell me why?'

  'Well, for a start, Jarrod doesn't see me as--as-- as a woman, only as a child, a kid--a nuisance, mainly!'

  'Are you sure?'

  Sara bit hard at her lip. 'Oh, yes, I'm sure,' she murmured bitterly.

  Matt shook his head. 'Ah, well, so be it! But take 158

  it easy, Sara; oh, I know that's rich, coming from me, but--well, I've known Jarrod a long time.'

  Sara sat down again, to prevent her legs from giving out on her. 'Sh--shall we get on with the game?' she asked, picking up her cards.

  Matt gave her a wry glance, and then nodded.

  Sara's birthday dawned bright and clear. She was growing used to these wonderful mornings, with the air, soft and sweet-smelling, drifting in through the open casements. Her clock told her it was eight-fifteen. She had overslept. She was supposed to be going swimming with Jarrod and Aristotle, to have another lesson in skin-diving. Only Matt knew that it was her birthday, and she had insisted he did not tell anyone else. So the plans for the day had been made as any other day had been.

  Sophie, the maid, arrived as she was dressing, in slim-fitting cream pants and a pale blue overblouse. She was carrying a tray on which reposed a jug of fruit juice, a jug of coffee, some hot rolls and curls of butter, and a small pile of envelopes.

  Sara's eyes widened in surprise, as Sophie said: 'Happy birthday, Miss Sara!'

  'Why, thank you,' she said, smiling. 'Are Mr. Jarrod and Aristotle waiting for me?'

  'No, miss. Mr. Jarrod still in bed this morning, and Aristotle, he out in Kingston, shopping for Mrs. Kyle.'

  'Oh!' Sara frowned.

  'Mr. Jarrod sick,' continued Sophie conversationally.

  'Sick?' Sara stared at her. 'Wh--what's wrong with him?'

  'I'm not sure, miss. Maybe just bad headache, yes?'

  Sara nodded, thanked her and after she had gone picked up the envelopes, all addressed to herself. One was from England, and she tore this open first, looking tenderly at the card it contained. Of course it was from J.K., and his greeting brought back all her affection for him. She had never rung him, as she had intended to do, so perhaps she would do it today.

  The other cards were from Mrs. Kyle, Matt, the McKays and Jarrod. Jarrod's was plain, and the words he had written the very minimum, merely: Regards, Jarrod. Sara sighed, and then stood them up on her dressing table, delighting in the small array they made.

  Then she ate her breakfast, and went downstairs with the tray. Sophie was in the hall, and took the tray away from her, and she entered the morning-room, where Matt was sitting breakfasting on the terrace as usual.

  'Many happy returns,' he remarked, smiling. 'You look bright and cheerful this morning!'

  'Thank you. And thank you for your card. But you really ought not to have told anyone.'

  'Who me? I didn't tell anyone.' Matt shook his head. 'I expect your--er--guardian already knew.'

  'Oh!' Sara bent her head. 'What's wrong with Jarrod anyway?'

  Matt shrugged. 'I suppose he drank a little too much, last night.'

  'Oh!' Sara said again.

  Matt sighed. 'Hell, I can't tease you now, can I? No, Jarrod has a bad cold, that's all. A chill. Knowing him he'll be up after lunch. But he looked pretty rotten when I saw him an hour ago.'

  Sara relaxed. 'I see.' She walked to the rail, looking down on the fabulous view. 'It's a wonderful day.'

  'Hmn. It's a shame to spend your birthday tied to the house. How about allowing me to take you into Kingston and buy you some lunch? Then we could spend an hour on the beach, sunbathing.'

  Sara glanced at him. 'Don't you have work to do?'

  Matt grinned. 'Well, as my lord and master is ill, he hasn't issued any instructions. I'm free as air. And after all, you've achieved womanhood today, haven't you, and it would be a shame to waste it.'

  Sara laughed, and leaned back against the rail. 'All right. Why not?' she agreed, nodding. 'As you say, it's a shame to stay at home on my birthday.'

  Helen Kyle came into the morning-room soon afterwards, as Matt was finishing his breakfast. 'Oh, good morning, Sara,'
she said, rather coolly. Her attitude to Sara was never particularly friendly. 'Happy birthday!'

  'Thank you,' Sara smiled.

  Helen seated herself at the table. 'I suppose you know Jarrod is ill?' she asked generally.

  Sara glanced at Matt, and he said: 'Yes, we do. A chill, isn't it?'

  'A severe chill. I suspect he got soaked that day he took out the Sea Witch. He never takes any interest in his own wellbeing!'

  'Jarrod isn't the kind of man to care whether he caught a chill or not,' remarked Matt dryly. 'And spending so much time in the cold concrete world of the boardroom, he takes every opportunity he can to be out in the fresh air. You wouldn't deny him that, would you, Helen?'

  Helen lifted her shoulders eloquently. 'Well, anyway,' she continued, 'he won't be able to entertain you today, Sara, despite the fact that it's your birthday. It's such a shame.' She looked at Matt. 'Aren't you going to offer to be Sara's escort, Matt?'

  Matt pushed back his chair. 'I already have,' he returned smoothly. 'We're lunching in Kingston, if you don't mind.'

  Helen looked smugly delighted. 'I don't mind at all, Matt,' she replied calmly. 'I'm very pleased that Sara won't have to spend so auspicious a day here, with only myself for company.'

  Sara reserved judgement. She was quite aware of Helen's motives for manoeuvring them out of the way. It would give her some time alone with her precious son.

  'Well, come along, Sara,' said Matt, now. 'Collect your things. See you later, Helen.'

  But somehow the day out was not a success. Previously, Sara had relaxed in Matt's company, but now she couldn't. Whether an undiluted diet of Jarrod's company had spoiled her for anybody else she didn't know, but certainly she found Matt dull company today.

  In the afternoon, after more sightseeing, they found a quiet beach, and she lay on her back, eyes closed, sunbathing, while Matt propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her, studying her at close quarters.

  'What do you plan to do with your life?' he murmured, touching the tip of her nose with his finger.

  Sara's eyes flickered open. 'Oh, I don't know,' she said uncomfortably, not particularly liking this close scrutiny. 'Why?'

  'I never got around to showing you my etchings,' he murmured. 'Jarrod's taken up so much of your time, I never seem to get a look in!' He laughed softly. 'Except today, and I'm enjoying this very much.'

  Sara rolled on to her side away from him, looking out to sea with unseeing eyes.

  'Say, Sara,' Matt rolled her on to her back again, 'don't turn away. I want to talk to you. Has--has any man ever kissed you, honey?'

  Sara sat bolt upright. 'Matt, for heaven's sake!' she exclaimed.

  Matt sat up as well. 'What's wrong? This is your birthday, isn't it? I just thought I'd make it a memorable one.'

  Sara frowned in amazement. 'How? By kissing me? You've got some conceit!'

  'Oh, Sara, stop getting so uppity!' Matt chewed his lip. 'I thought we were friends!'

  'Well, so we are. But not kissing kin, so don't get any ideas!' She glanced at her watch. 'It's after four. Don't you think we ought to be getting back?'

  Matt grimaced. 'Here,' he said gruffly, handing her a small parcel. 'I had a present for you.'

  Sara sighed. 'Oh, Matt, I wish you hadn't.'

  'Don't say that, you haven't opened it yet.'

  She unwrapped the small box, and opened it to find a pair of jade earrings lying on cotton wool. They were small and delicate, and she felt contrite.

  'Oh, Matt!'

  'Do you like them?'

  'Of course I do. But I wish you hadn't spent your money. I'm not worth it.'

  Matt shook his head, and got to his feet. 'I wouldn't say that, Sara. Come on, we'll go back.'

  Flamingo Lodge seemed deserted when they arrived back. The sun was sinking low and a golden glow tinged every gleaming window pane. Matt brought the car to a halt, and said:

  'No welcoming committee! Good!'

  Sara frowned. 'I expect Mrs. Kyle is indoors, and Jarrod is most probably still in bed, wouldn't you think?'

  Matt shook his head. 'I'd say that was highly unlikely,' he remarked, 'particularly if he's found out that we're out together.'

  Sara grimaced. 'Oh well, it is my birthday. Anyway, I'm going to try and ring J.K., to thank him for his card, and to see how he is.' She ran lightly up the steps, and then turned: 'Thanks for taking me out, Matt.'

  Matt came up the steps to join her. 'You're welcome, and you know it.' He touched her cheek gently with an affectionate gesture. 'I'm the one who should be thanking you.'

  She half-smiled, afraid he was about to say something more, when the mesh door from the hall swung open, and Jarrod stood there, leaning against the jamb, supporting himself with his other hand against the opposite side of the doorway.

  'Well!' he said harshly. 'This is a touching scene!'

  'Now, Jarrod,' began Matt, but Jarrod merely ignored him.

  'Where have you been?' he asked. 'I thought I gave you the Latimer account yesterday, Matt. Have you dealt with it?'

  Matt moved uncomfortably now. 'Hell, Jarrod, must we have this inquisition every time we get home? Today--as you seem to have forgotten--is Sara's eighteenth birthday. Some birthday, stuck at home here with no one to talk with--no one to swim with!'

  'I'm perfectly aware of the day,' returned Jarrod, straightening.

  There was a sound behind him, and Helen emerged, brushing past Jarrod smilingly. 'Oh, you're back,' she said, with affected surprise. 'Have you had a good time?'

  'Great!' said Matt, with some sarcasm, feeling in his pockets for his cigarettes. 'Have you?'

  Helen frowned. 'Well, of course, I've been busy. We're having a small dinner party this evening--in honour of Sara's birthday, naturally.'

  Jarrod glanced her way. 'Whose idea was this?'

  'Mine, of course.'

  'Then forget it.' Jarrod looked moodily anoyed. 'I have my own plans for this evening, and they don't include a family dinner party!'

  Helen stared at him, and Sara felt the palms of her hands grow moist. 'What do you mean, Jarrod?' Helen exclaimed. 'What plans?'

  Jarrod thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 7 am taking Sara out for dinner,' and as his mother would have protested, he continued: 'Every evening you've successfully filled for me, mostly to the exclusion of my ward. This evening, as it's Sara's birthday, I intend to take her out--

  alone!'

  Helen looked furious. 'You're not fit to go out, Jarrod! You must be running a temperature! I told you to stay in bed this morning!'

  Jarrod's jaw tightened, and Sara could have told Helen exactly what that meant. 'My dear Helen,' he said coldly, 'no one--but no one--tells me what to do! I'm not ill--I have a cold, that's all! If I'd been in England, I doubt whether I would have noticed it. As it is you attempt to suffocate me with kindness! You should know by now that that kind of treatment doesn't work with me!'

  Helen compressed her thin lips. 'And what about Sara? Have you thought about her feelings? She may not want to go out with you when I've invited several young people for dinner!'

  Jarrod glanced at Sara. 'Well?' he said bleakly. 'You decide! Do you want to come with me--or stay here and have your party!' His tone was mocking, and Sara disliked his attitude.

  Matt intervened. 'You can't ask her a question like that, Jarrod,' he exclaimed. 'As your mother has gone to the trouble '

  'Shut up, Matt!' Jarrod's tone was icy, and Matt shrugged and walked into the house.

  Sara moved awkwardly. Now the onus was on her. She wanted to refuse him. She wanted to be scathing, and tell him she would prefer the dinner party Helen had prepared. But the temptation to spend a whole evening in his company was too great, and she dared not look at Helen when she said:

  'I--I would like to go out with you, Jarrod.'

  Jarrod looked triumphant, and as soon as she had agreed, Sara felt contrite, particularly as Helen was

  giving her a very spiteful stare.


  'So?' said Helen angrily. 'Very well, Jarrod. But don't blame me if you catch pneumonia!' and she turned and marched into the house.

  Ignoring her, Jarrod glanced at his watch. 'It's almost six,' he said, looking at Sara with lazy eyes. 'Go and get ready. We're leaving in half an hour.'

  Sara did not reply, but merely brushed past him on her way indoors. Again she felt she had let herself down. Again she had allowed him to dictate her life emotionally.

  Nevertheless, as she got ready, she couldn't deny the surge of excitement the prospect of the evening ahead aroused in her. She took some time choosing what to wear, and finally decided on a silvery blue chiffon, sleeveless, with a skirt that swirled about her thighs in enchanting swathes. With her hair hanging silkily to her shoulders, she was ready, a white scarf of silk over her arm, in case the evening was. cool.

  When she reached the hall, Jarrod was already there, tall and attractive in a dark lounge suit and white shirt. He was smoking a cheroot, his eyes appraising as he watched her descend the staircase. Helen appeared from the direction of the kitchen. She was wearing a quilted green housecoat, and gave Sara a malevolent glance.

  'So you're really going,' she said, looking at her son.

  Jarrod nodded. 'I don't say things I don't mean, you ought to know that by now,' he remarked casually. 'Come along, Sara. See you later, Helen.'

  Conscious of Helen's eyes upon her, Sara preceded him out of the door and down the steps to where a dark green open sports car awaited them. He helped her in, and then walked round to slide in beside her. The engine roared to life, and he switched on the radio as they turned out of the drive on to the road.

  The wind ruffled their hair, but it was so soft and velvety that Sara didn't mind. She felt exhilarated and frightened, all at the same time, and was determined to enjoy herself, no matter what.

  Jarrod didn't speak much on the journey, merely asking her if she was warm enough and whether she wanted a scarf for her hair. They followed the road towards Kingston, but turned inland, through thickly forested areas where the heavy ebony and mahogany trees crowded their path, hiding the smoky light of the pale moon that was rising. Sara wondered where he was taking her. These were roads she had never traversed before, and she gasped at the beauty of the view from this vantage point, the moon gilding the sea, and making swanlike grace of the sloops on its surface, dipping their heads in the gentle breeze.