by Betty Neels
She wakened early on the fourth morning to find that they were steaming slowly into the harbour at Funchal. It was going to be a glorious day; the pale sky, still clouded at its corners by the last of the night; the white-walled, red-roofed houses of the town taking on the colour of the sun’s rays creeping over the horizon—it was quite beautiful, but she couldn’t see enough from their cabin. She pulled on her dressing gown, stuck her feet into her slippers and, after a vain effort to waken Rimada, went on deck; she hadn’t come thousands of miles to miss anything as magnificent as this.
The town spread itself before her, its narrow waterfront stretching along the coast, while the houses and churches of the town behind it climbed higher and higher into the great grey mountains behind. How did one reach the top, she wondered, and once there, how did one get down again? The town petered away on either side, in one direction to grey rocks which in turn had, in some bygone age, cascaded into the sea and formed rocky islands, a little grim even in the lovely light. But on the other side the houses, although fewer, were larger, and spaced out along the cliffs and into the mountains. Hotels, she guessed; it would be nice to stay in one of them. She turned to watch the sun and found that the Baron had come silently to stand beside her. He was in slacks and an open-necked shirt; moreover, he was freshly shaved; his impeccable appearance reminded her that her hair was hanging down her back in an early morning tangle and her face hadn’t been washed. Her, ‘Good morning, Professor de Wolff,’ was in consequence a little stiff with shyness. He appeared to have no eyes for her; his own greeting was brief and casual as he studied the scene before them.
‘This is worth coming to see, isn’t it?’ he wanted to know, and leaned over the rail with the air of a man who had come to stay.
‘It’s quite beautiful,’ she agreed, suddenly wholly at ease. ‘I’ve been wondering how people could live right up those mountains—there’s surely no way of getting a car up there?’
‘A number of the streets from the town run back into the mountains, though you can’t see them easily from here, but on the island itself there are very few roads; one right round the coast, and another two running south to north through the mountain passes. They’re quite good as long as you don’t do more than fifteen miles an hour and don’t mind hairpin bends.’
‘You’ve been on them?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She waited for him to say more, but he wasn’t a man to talk about himself.
‘It’s volcanic, isn’t it?’ she hazarded.
‘Yes. By the way, I’ve hired a car for the day, you will be able to see something of the island later on.’ He looked about him. ‘I should think that we might go ashore about eight o’clock. Perhaps you could get Rimada to wake up—she takes so long to dress—tell her to put on something pretty.’
He turned away, leaving her standing surprised. Why on earth should he bother with what Rimada wore? He said over his shoulder, ‘You had better do the same, although you look very nice like that.’
He had disappeared before she could frame an answer.
Rimada, once wakened and warned of the day’s programme, dressed with commendable speed. It was as they hurried down to breakfast that Loveday asked: ‘Rimmy, what happens now? We’re here, in Madeira—you were going to get married.’
But all she got for an answer was, ‘Terry must think of something.’ The Dutch girl looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Adam isn’t cross any more, you know.’
It was on the tip of Loveday’s tongue to say that of course he wasn’t; he had had his own way, hadn’t he? He had driven a wedge, almost not to be noticed, between the happy pair, and furthermore, neither of them seemed to mind. She was still puzzling about this when they got to the breakfast table.
It was still very early and the Baron had been right; by eight o’clock those who wished might go ashore, Rimada disappeared to fetch a straw hat, and Loveday, who hadn’t brought one with her, was left on deck with the two men. She was barely out of sight when the Baron, telling Terry to wait for Rimada, took Loveday by the arm and walked her off the ship.
There were several people standing about, looking at the merchandise arranged on the dockside; basket work, embroidery, straw hats, tablecloths, bedspreads—a colourful collection of hand work to tempt the tourist. Loveday was on the point of telling her companion that she would like a closer look when he came to a halt. There was a man coming towards them, as tall as the Baron but of much slimmer build. He had a craggy face with blunt features which broke into a smile as he saw them.
‘Adam!’ he exclaimed. ‘Dag, jongen, it’s good to see you—here I am as you suggested, though it was difficult enough.’ He gave Adam an enquiring look as he spoke.
‘She’s coming,’ said the Baron quietly. ‘This is Guake ten Kate, Loveday—a friend of mine, and of Rimada.’
Loveday shook hands. So this was the future; she thought she saw it all now; a pity there was no time to ask questions, but the other two had joined them and Rimada had flung herself at Guake with the happy familiarity of an old friend. The Baron watched them, looking smug, as well he might, thought Loveday savagely. He had arranged everything very nicely; if Guake wasn’t a devoted admirer of Rimada, guaranteed to get her away from Terry, she herself was a blind fool. She began a conversation with Terry, although she didn’t want to, but he looked neglected and decidedly sullen, but the Baron broke up Rimada’s happy chatter with a cheerful: ‘Well, come on, everyone—the car’s over here.’
He swept everyone along with no effort at all. Loveday found herself in the back seat with Terry between her and Rimada, while Guake got in beside the Baron. It wasn’t long before she was envying them; Rimada for some reason was not only excited, she was sulky too, a combination of feelings which made rational conversation impossible. Moreover, Terry had tried to hold her hand—she pushed it away impatiently and looking up saw the Baron watching them in the driving mirror, a circumstance which caused her to embark on several remarks about the scenery in an unnaturally high voice.
‘Delightful,’ declared her host. ‘Bananas, as you can see, grapes too. If you look to the left you will see Reid’s Hotel and the sea beyond. We’re going back there later on.’
They were climbing steadily, following the road running parallel to the sea, passing through small villages whose tiny houses and bigger villas looked very picturesque. Loveday, a practical girl, while acknowledging their charm, wondered about indoor sanitation and the water supply, but was soon diverted by the sight of the flowers, growing vividly over every wall; bright blue convolvulus, red and yellow hibiscus and red bougainvillea.
‘Camara de Lobos,’ explained the Baron as they swept into a village. ‘Rather nice, don’t you think? Look at the fishing boats below.’ And a few minutes later: ‘Isn’t it remarkable how they can cultivate such steep ground, right to the edge—they must like heights.’
He turned to speak to Guake in their own language and Loveday endeavoured to engage her companions in conversation, without much success. She had never known Rimada so thoughtful, and as for Terry, when she caught his eye he smiled at her with such warmth that she was filled with uneasiness. She looked out of the window again; they were still climbing, with the mountains towering on one side and the sea on the other, far below. They must be very high by now. She said so to no one in particular and Guake said over one shoulder: ‘Wait just a few minutes more, then there is really something to see.’
The road wound up and up and suddenly turned and ran straight for the sea, to end in a dirt track which spilled itself on to an enormous balcony.
‘Everyone out!’ cried the Baron cheerfully. Just as though he had a merry, friendly party aboard, thought Loveday, ignoring his hand as he opened the door, and walking with the others to the stone balustrade ahead of them.
Too late she realized that they were about to look down from a great height on the rocky coast and the sea, almost two thousand feet below. With a mouth gone dry, she edged away, turned round, walking carefully rather as thoug
h she were balancing something on her head, her eyes fixed on a remote, safe spot in the mountains, and began to move away from the terrifying edge. She had taken perhaps a dozen trembling steps when the Baron’s hand jerked her to a halt. ‘My dear girl,’ he began, ‘you’re missing the best.’
‘I do not like heights,’ said Loveday coldly, her voice shaking ever so slightly, her eyes still fixed on the mountains, aware that by now she was probably a nasty green colour.
The hand became all at once protective and gentle. ‘Loveday—I didn’t know, you must forgive me. Rimada adores this sort of thing, I never guessed that you wouldn’t…she’s hanging over the cliff now with Guake holding her safe.’
Loveday suppressed a strong shudder. She knew that he was looking at her and with a great effort withdrew her eyes from the heights beyond and looked at him instead. His face was full of concern; sometimes she had been out with people who had laughed at her terror of heights, but he wasn’t laughing; he understood. She relaxed a little and he said at once: ‘That’s better. Don’t look anywhere but in front of you—there’s a dirt track on the left, between the trees. I’ll walk on the outside so that you can look around you, you won’t see anything there, it’s completely screened.’
He was walking her along without haste, talking of nothing much, and presently she had her nerve back again and was able to say: ‘I’m sorry, I do despise myself for being such a coward.’
‘There’s nothing cowardly about it; acrophobia is a condition to which you need not be ashamed.’ He smiled down at her, her arm tucked firmly into his.
‘Look round you now, there are only trees.’
His voice was kind; it was strange, thought Loveday, how it affected her; she would have liked to have told him her doubts about Rimada and Terry. Upon reflection, she would have liked to have told him a great many things—silly little things, which he would probably laugh at—no, he would never laugh, she was sure of that. She pulled her thoughts up sharply. This would never do; she was beginning to think too much about him. There would be more sense in asking a few questions.
‘You arranged for Mr ten Kate to be here?’ she asked. ‘You knew all about Rimmy and Terry, didn’t you? How did you manage to cool them off?’
‘You’re observant. Yes, I got Guake to get here before us. He has loved Rimada for a very long time, ever since she had plaits, and for that reason she had always accepted him as someone very safe and certain, always there, but never really seeing him. She is a silly girl but a nice one, she will make him a very good wife.’
‘Aren’t you going a little fast?’
‘No, I merely look ahead. I must admit that it took me a little time and a good deal of trouble to get to the bottom of this muddle, and you hardly helped.’
She let this pass. ‘And Terry? I’m tired of Terry,’ she stated, suddenly waspish, her fears all gone by now. ‘He haunts me. I don’t even like him, and anyway, he’s in love with Rimada.’
‘You mistake, dear girl,’ his voice was suave. ‘He’s in love with her money—indeed, he is able to fix his affections upon any girl with money.’ Something in his voice made her glance at him; he was regarding her with a quizzical lift of the eyebrows and his eyes were alight with laughter.
She stared back, her eyes enormous in a still green-white face. ‘That wasn’t true about Rimmy losing her money, was it? I might have guessed. You said that to put him off—to test him…’
He was smiling gently. ‘Go on, dear girl,’ he begged her.
Her mouth dropped open with sudden shock. ‘You—you…’ she began. ‘Why, that’s why he’s been so repulsively friendly, he thought—what did you tell him?’
‘Only that you were an heiress. A distant uncle, you know.’
She stamped her foot in its pretty sandal. ‘You’re abominable! I’ve never heard anything like it, you’ve just done exactly what you wanted to do—riding roughshod…’ Laughter bubbled up inside her, although she wanted to cry at the same time. The laughter won and he said quietly:
‘I hoped you would do that. I knew I could count on your sense of humour.’
‘Well, don’t,’ she told him furiously, the laughter gone, leaving an unpleasant feeling behind it; he had made use of her, just as she had no doubt that he would make use of anyone if he wished to do so.
‘I laughed about it,’ she told him, ‘but even though it was funny, I—I don’t like you for doing it. You had no right…’ She swallowed back a hard ball of tears in an angry way, keeping her eyes wide and determinedly dry.
They were standing in the middle of the dirt track; the sun, very warm now, filtered by the trees arched over them. The Baron sounded humble. ‘No, I had no right, you will have to forgive me for that; there was no time to do anything else.’
She answered reluctantly, ‘No, I suppose there wasn’t. Is Rimada going to stay here?’
He took her hands in his in an absent-minded fashion. ‘I think that we shall all stay here. Guake has got rooms for us at Reid’s. I arranged for your stewardess to pack your things, and they will be at the hotel by the time we arrive.’
Loveday tugged at her hands to get them free, but he held them fast.
‘How dare you? It just so happens that I want to finish the cruise, that’s what we had planned. It’s—it’s…’ She stopped, at a loss for words.
‘Listen, Loveday. Rimada will go back to Holland with me—I have booked a flight for a couple of days’ time, and Guake will naturally stay with us and return on the same flight. I don’t know about the unfortunate Terry—I very much doubt if he spent his own money on this trip.’ He saw the look on Loveday’s face. ‘I thought not. You must stay too, for Rimada’s sake—besides, I want her to be with Guake as much as possible, that will be easier if there are four of us.’ He grinned down at her. ‘Do you not say, “Two is company, three is none?” You must agree with me that he will make her a very good husband, anyone can see that at a glance.’
‘But my holiday…’
‘Of course, if you wish, you could continue your cruise, I’m sure Terry will be delighted—think of the opportunities he will have.’
She threw him a look of dislike. ‘How horrid you are! I’ll stay, but there is one thing, you’ll have to pay my hotel bill because I believe it’s a most expensive place and I haven’t a great deal of money with me, but I shall be obliged if you will send me the amount I owe you when I get back to London.’
‘Anything you say, dear girl.’ His voice was so meek that she cast him a look of suspicion.
‘And I wanted to see Lisbon,’ she remembered.
‘That will be easy—we fly to Lisbon and spend a night there before going on to Holland. I give you my word that you shall crowd as much sight-seeing as can be managed into our stay there.’ He pulled her to him and kissed her cheek gently. ‘You are a kind girl, and after all, it is for Rimada’s happiness.’ He tucked her hand into his. ‘Now we will return to the car and this time you shall sit between Guake and Rimada and then you will feel safe. I will have Terry with me.’ They began to walk slowly back the way they had come.
‘What will you tell him?’ she wanted to know, ‘and when?’
He only answered part of her question. ‘We’ll stop for coffee, you three can go for a stroll, or he and I will take a walk—don’t worry about it.’
‘You won’t be nasty?’
‘Nasty?’ He had stopped to stare at her. ‘Nasty? Certainly not; he has his pride, of sorts, presumably; I won’t puncture it. I thought you didn’t like him?’
‘I don’t, but he’s got nothing, has he? I mean, Rimada and her money and a future.’
‘He never had them—and he’s having a delightful holiday at no cost to himself.’ He sounded contemptuous.
They were almost at the car. ‘And Rimada, does she know that her fortune is safe?’
‘Not yet. And if you tell her, Loveday, you will regret it; I will see that you do. Being without money may help her to see Guake in a new light; it may
humble her a little, too.’
‘You’re a hard man,’ observed Loveday.
‘Perhaps I am, but not always and not with everyone. I could never be hard towards you; you’re too good an opponent.’
His words struck a chill into her bones; she had forgotten that they had been on opposite sides, and apparently they still were. She got into the car telling herself that she had only herself to thank for it.
CHAPTER SIX
WHATEVER the Baron had said to Terry, it couldn’t have worried him over-much, for he came back to sit with the rest of them; joining in their conversation while they had their cool drinks, with no sign of discomfort. Only when he had finished did he ask Rimada to stroll down to the harbour with him, leaving the other three to make desultory conversation. It was warm now—too warm for Loveday, the Baron pronounced firmly, and leaving Guake placidly smoking his pipe, he took her across the village square to a row of small shops in its narrow main street.
‘You need one of these,’ he told her, pausing outside one of the shops where there was a pile of wide-brimmed hats on the pavement, and she obediently picked one up and since it fitted her head, left it on.