The Wings of Love

by Sally Wentworth

  'I can't remember their names, but they weren't married. They were very smart,' Nora recalled wistfully, then brightened. 'I was glad I was wearing my new dress.'

  'When are you seeing him again?'

  'Mummy invited him to have dinner with us tonight, but he said he already had tentative engagements for the next few days and didn't know when he'd be free. So he's going to phone and let us know if he can come to lunch one day instead.' The disappointment was heavy in her voice. 'But Mummy also invited him for a party and asked him which day he was free, so he'll have to come for that,' she told Tressy gleefully, her mood immediately changing. 'It's in two weeks' time, on the Friday. What do you think I should wear? Or maybe I can get a new dress in Monte Carlo. There are some gorgeous shops there. You ought to see them.'

  'I did. I went into Monte Carlo myself last night.' Nora looked at her in astonishment. 'Alone? But how did you get there?'

  'By bus, of course. You know, one of those long noisy vehicles with all the windows in the side that the common herd pay to squash into.'

  'All right, I know what a bus is.' Nora was immediately offended. 'I just thought it was daring of you to go by yourself, that's all.' She chuckled. 'Daddy was as mad as fire when he came home and found the remains of your meal on the table. Caviare and his best Burgundy! He nearly hit the roof.'

  The two girls grinned at each other, for once in sympathy.

  Tressy stood up. 'Come on, there's something I want to do and you may as well come with me.' 'Where are we going?'

  'You'll see. We'll go and change and I'll meet you by the front door. Oh, and bring some money with you.'

  Nora went off to her room happily enough, and Tressy laughed as she changed into shorts and suntop. Whether she liked it or not, Nora's liberalisation was about to begin.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TRESSY had noticed the place she wanted the previous day, a small garage less than half a mile from the villa on the main road, with a 'For Hire' sign outside it.

  'You're going to hire a car?' asked Nora with astonishment and some admiration in her tone as they turned into the garage.

  But Tressy looked at her scornfully. 'How could I possibly afford to hire a car? Anyway, I can't drive. No, there's only one way to get around in the south of France. We're going to hire one of those.' And she pointed to a row of brightly-coloured motor-scooters standing ready for hire.

  'A scooter? But can you drive one?'

  'Any fool can drive a scooter,' Tressy informed her confidently, ringing the bell outside the garage.

  'What did you mean, we're going to hire one?' her cousin asked with mounting alarm. 'You don't think I'm going to go on it, do you?'

  'For heaven's sake, Nora!' Tressy's eyes widened indignantly. 'I'm only getting one for your sake. You don't want to go trailing around behind your parents the whole time, do you? You want to be free some of the time, surely?'

  It hadn't occurred to Nora before that she wasn't free, but Tressy had put it so forcefully that she automatically nodded and said, 'Yes, I suppose so.'

  'Good.' Tressy turned as an attendant came out on to the forecourt, wiping his hands on a cloth, his shoulders straightening as he ran his eyes over them in a way only a Frenchman can achieve. 'Bonjour,'

  Tressy greeted him, making her only concession to the fact that she was in a foreign country. 'We want to hire a scooter.'

  'Mais oui, mademoiselle.' He brought two or three for them to look at, and Tressy prudently chose one that wasn't too powerful.

  'We'll try that one.'

  'Bien. I give you the lesson, no?' He demonstrated how the bike worked, then found them a couple of crash helmets and took Tressy out on the road, sitting behind her on the pillion seat with his arms round her waist and enjoying himself hugely as he shouted instructions in her ear.

  'Okay, this one will do,' she told Nora when they got back to the garage. 'Pay the man, will you? Although he ought to be paying us, the way he was pawing me.'

  With a resigned shrug, Nora did as she was told, refusing with horror the attendant's offer to take her for an instruction drive as well. 'Are you sure you can drive it?' she demanded anxiously when the man had gone.

  'Of course. It's dead easy.'

  'That's what I'm afraid of,' Nora observed gloomily.

  Tressy turned to stare at her. 'My God, Nora, you made a joke! Maybe there's hope for you yet. Come on, put your crash helmet on and let's go.'

  They wobbled a bit as they set off and Nora clutched her nervously, which didn't help, but Tressy managed to stay upright and carried on down the main road to Monte Carlo. Luckily it was that in-between time for traffic; the working people had reached their destinations and the holidaymakers weren't yet in full flow. They got lost in the maze of streets and underpasses around Monte Carlo, so Tressy stopped to buy a street guide and a drink, which both of them needed badly. Tressy wouldn't admit it for a thousand pounds, but trying to drive for the first time after only twenty minutes' instruction, on some of the most congested streets in France and on the wrong side of the road thrown in, had been quite a nerve-racking ordeal. Her clothes were sticking to her and her hands were clammy with sweat.

  'You can drive on the way back,' she offered. Nora's face blanched. 'Oh no, I couldn't-I couldn't possibly. You'll have to do all the driving. Please, Tressy!'

  'Oh, all right, if you insist. But I think it's a bit unfair making me do all the work. Tell you what, though; if I have to do all the driving, then you can pay for the petrol. That's fair, isn't it?'

  'Yes. Yes, certainly. That's quite fair,' Nora agreed hurriedly, knowing it wasn't, but relieved to settle for it.

  Several motorists had hooted at them or called out as they drove along, and for a while Tressy thought that she'd been doing something wrong, but as she gained confidence and it still went on, they realised that it was just because they were two girls on a bike, their skirts pulled up and showing a lot of leg. Nora didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed.

  When they got back to the villa they took off their helmets and hid them and the bike in an outhouse at the rear of the garage, where Nora's parents weren't likely to look.

  'But why don't we just tell them we've hired it?' Nora objected, uneasy at deceiving her parents. 'Because they'll immediately forbid you to go on it, of course. And then you'll feel terrible when you do go on it,' Tressy pointed out with incontrovertible logic. 'But if they say I mustn't .. .'

  'Oh, Nora, for heaven's sake! You enjoyed this morning, didn't you? And what harm was there in it? Why should you have to give up a simple pleasure like that just because they still look on you as a child instead of an adult?'

  So Nora stayed silent when they went down to the pool where her parents were sitting and Tressy airily announced that they'd been for a walk.

  'Our dresses from last night want pressing again.

  You could have done that this morning,' her aunt pointed out tartly.

  'I thought I was supposed to be Nora's companion; I can't be in two places at once. But I'll go and do them now, if you like?' Tressy offered, thinking of her own dress that also needed ironing.

  As she went inside, she heard Nora asking her mother eagerly, 'Has he phoned yet?' and gave a smile of satisfaction when Aunt Grace said, 'No, not yet, love.'

  In the afternoon the three of them went for a drive in the car. As the maid didn't come in the afternoons, they left Tressy with strict orders to take very careful note of any phone calls, but as soon as they had gone Tressy went out into the garden to sunbathe and wouldn't have heard the phone even if it had rung. The next day Nora refused to leave the house in case Crispin rang, even though her mother tried to convince her that it was early days yet, and the poor girl got gloomier and gloomier as the hours passed. Tressy tried to persuade her to come down to the small beach at the foot of the promontory, but she wouldn't, she just sat in the shade of the terrace, within earshot of the phone. Refusing to feel in the least guilty, Tressy borrowed Nora's padded beach mat and
went down to the narrow strip of beach, where she spread it on the pebbly sand.

  One look round the beach showed her that every female in sight, whatever their age or shape, sunbathed topless. Tressy had never dared to do so before-if she'd tried it in England she would probably have been either accosted or arrested-but when in Rome ... She started off by lying on her front, but by the end of the afternoon found it quite natural to be topless and would have felt overdressed otherwise. And it was lovely not to have to worry about strap marks all the time.

  That evening her relations went to the Casino again in the hope of seeing Crispin Fox, Nora almost in tears because he hadn't phoned, so Tressy took the scooter as soon as they had gone and rode into Menton in the other direction. It was an older town, without the pretensions of Monte Carlo, its narrow streets crowded with people enjoying an evening stroll or eating in one of the many restaurants and ice-cream parlours. Tressy allowed a couple of good-looking French youths to pick her up and buy her a huge bowl of fruit and ice-cream and kept them at a distance by promising to meet them the next day with her cousin.

  But the next morning, after her swim, Nora was even more fed-up than ever. 'We went down to the harbour to see if Crispin was on his boat,' Nora confided. 'But it wasn't there. He must have gone on a cruise. Daddy asked the harbormaster, but no one seemed to know when he'd be back,' she said dejectedly.

  Privately Tressy thought that Crispin had done the wise thing and was keeping well away, but she said bracingly, 'Well, you're not going to just sit moping around here until he deigns to turn up, are you? Surely you're not going to let it spoil your holiday just because he has the bad manners to not even ring? I certainly wouldn't if it was me. And quite frankly, I don't know what you see in him. Why chase some crabby old Englishman when you have all these gorgeous French boys to choose from?'

  Stung, Nora retorted, 'He's not crabby!'

  'He's thirty-two, isn't he? That's nearly as old as your father,' Tressy exaggerated.

  'No, it isn't. And he isn't a bit like Daddy. He’s..he's different,' her cousin said soulfully. 'You'd understand if you could see him. Or if you were in love.'

  Tressy heaved inwardly at the sloppy look on Nora's face and said sharply, 'Well, he obviously isn't in love with you, or he'd have phoned days ago,' and then wished she hadn't, as Nora seemed about to burst into tears. 'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Look, why don't you come out with me tonight? I met these two really nice French boys last night and I told them all about you. They really want to meet you; they asked me to bring you with me tonight to make up a foursome.'

  Nora brightened. 'They really want to meet me?' 'Yes. Definitely,' Tressy assured her. 'They like English girls and they thought you sounded terribly attractive.' If you're going to lay it on then lay it on thick, she told herself.

  'Well, I don't know. If Crispin doesn't ring, Mummy and Daddy will want me to go to the Casino with them. And Crispin might be there.'

  'It's hardly likely if his boat's gone. And anyway, you shouldn't run after him. Let him know other men find you attractive,' Tressy added the clincher.

  They eventually agreed that if Crispin didn't phone, Nora would tell her parents she was tired, and when the two of them had gone out, she and Tressy would take the scooter and go into Menton, getting back before the Sinclairs returned.

  Tressy gave a sigh of relief and satisfaction, glad that she was steering Nora's thoughts away from Crispin Fox. If she met some other boys and began to enjoy herself, she might forget her crush on him altogether.

  She was kept busy all morning blow-waving Nora and her mother's hair before they all went out to lunch and then on into Nice to do some shopping. Ignoring their order to stay by the phone, she went down to the beach to sunbathe for a couple of hours, bought a few postcards, and then climbed the long flights of steps back up to the villa to find a pen and write them. That done, she searched the villa for some stamps, but Uncle Jack, the mean old skinflint, must have locked them away in his desk, which meant she'd have to go out and buy some. Tressy changed into a pale green dress that she'd bought in Menton the day before. All the young girls on the Riviera seemed to be wearing one like it; a simple sundress, but the skirt slit into long thin strips up to the thighs so that there were tantalizing glimpses of your legs as you walked along.

  Now that she was more proficient Tressy didn't bother with the crash helmet; hardly anyone did. More often than not they didn't bother much in the way of clothes either; she'd seen lots of young people driving along in just a bikini or a pair of swimming trunks. Revving up the bike, Tressy went off at a faster rate than she'd intended and shot up the steep, curving driveway towards the entrance. Only there was a car already coming down! A big gun-metallic coloured Rolls-Royce. And it almost filled the driveway! There was just a small gap to the right of the car and Tressy desperately headed for it, but the car driver swerved the same way and suddenly there wasn't a gap any more.

  The front wheel of the scooter hit the Rolls and

  Tressy was flung over the handlebars, over the low hedge that edged the driveway and into the garden on the other side, narrowly missing a tree trunk and ending up on her back on the soft ground below a pine tree, dazed and completely winded. She lay there, unable to move, dimly aware of a car door banging and then someone leaping over the hedge and running towards her.

  It was a man. He called out, 'Etes-vous blessee?' as he ran, and then went down on his knees beside her. 'Dear God, I ... ' And then in an entirely different voice as she tried to sit up, 'Good Lord, it's you!'

  Tressy managed to bring her dazed eyes into focus and groaned-but it wasn't from pain. The man who was staring at her so incredulously was Crispin Fox. She groaned again and closed her eyes, counting to ten in the hope that she was hallucinating and he would have gone by the time she opened them, but the wretched man was still there.

  'Are you hurt?' he demanded anxiously, putting an arm round her and helping her to sit up.

  'I don't-think so. Just a bit dazed, that's all.' 'Don't try to move too much. Are you sure you haven't got any pain anywhere: in your legs or arms?'

  'No. It feels okay.' But everything suddenly went giddy and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against Crispin's shoulder, hardly aware of what she was doing. After a few moments she opened them again and found him looking at her with concern in his dark lashed eyes. 'I'm-I'm all right now.'

  'Sure?'

  She tried to nod her head. 'Ouch!' 'What is it?'

  'My head hurts.'

  Kneeling as he was, Crispin picked her up in his arms and got easily to his feet, carrying her down to the villa.

  'Hey, I don't need to be carried. I can walk,' she protested.

  'Shut up.' His arms tightened to stop her struggling until he set her down on a lounger on the terrace. 'I'll call a doctor,' and he moved towards the house.

  'No!' Tressy exclaimed in alarm. 'It's not that bad- really.'

  'But your head ... '

  'It's only a headache; I don't need a doctor for that.' 'You could have concussion. I'll get someone to phone. I'm not going to take the responsibility for your ... '

  'Well, I am,' Tressy interrupted crossly. 'It's only a bump on the head, for heaven's sake.' Tentatively she put a hand up to touch it, and winced.

  Crispin Fox, his fears relieved, was suddenly and disconcertingly angry. 'And it serves you damn well right! If you'd been wearing a helmet you wouldn't have got a bump on the head at all. You behaved totally irresponsibly. You could have been killed!'

  'Oh, did I?' Tressy got to her feet, her head temporarily forgotten. 'And what about you? If you hadn't swung right into my path I would have missed you completely. It was entirely your fault.'

  His jaw jutting forward, Crispin said, as if talking to a backward child, 'It may interest you to know that this is France. People drive on the right-hand side here, and if you'd kept to the rule of the road we'd have missed each other, but you, of course, were on the left. I swerved in the opposite directio
n to that I thought you'd take.'

  'Oh.' For a few seconds she was completely taken aback and could only say waspishly, 'Well, this is a private driveway and I shall use any damn side I like!' then sat down again rather hurriedly as her head started to swim.

  Crispin looked down at her grimly and then over at the house. 'How do you know there isn't anyone in? And what are you doing here at the Sinclairs' villa anyway?' he asked in puzzlement.

  Tressy could see all sorts of unpleasant explanations having to be made. 'Look, would you mind very much just going away and coming back again later? At about five-thirty, say.' A thought struck her. 'Oh hell, your car! I didn't do too much damage to it, did I?'

  He dismissed it with a shrug. 'The car is of no importance so long as you're not hurt.'