Scorpio Summer

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  'Because I wasn't told, that's why, and if you don't get that into your thick skull, I'll. . . I'll . . .'

  'Just go ahead, Frances. I'm in the mood for physical violence! Sitting waiting for you to turn up here, wondering if, in fact, you would, hasn't improved my temper!'

  With an exasperated exclamation Frances threw herself back on to the turf, staring fixedly up at the sky, arms behind her head. She gritted her teeth and concentrated on calming her turbulent feelings. At last she said quietly.

  'Who did you ask to tell me, Felix?'

  She saw him give a quick frown. 'Gemma.' He took off his glasses and swung them between his fingers as he stared down, eyes narrowed.

  'Well, she didn't pass on the message,' Frances said flatly.

  'Rick rang her this morning to check and she says she did.'

  She held his gaze and said slowly and distinctly: 'At no time has Gemma given me that message.'

  'Why would she lie?'

  'I don't know . . . perhaps she thought she'd told me,' and perhaps she knew she hadn't, Frances thought to herself. There was no love lost between Gemma Ghent and herself, but she had no intention of telling Felix that. She sat up and added indignantly: 'You don't think I'd purposely do it, do you? Do you, Felix?'

  There was a pause, and then : 'Rick doesn't think so.'

  'But you do!'

  'Strong words were passed between us yesterday, Frances. It could have been a way of getting your own back.'

  'How could you think that?' A lump stuck in her throat and she turned her face away, struggling for composure, tugging at a tuft of grass with trembling hands. Then she got to her feet, grabbed her bag and mumbled: 'We'd better get a move on, hadn't we?' and when Felix said evenly : 'It's too late now,' she stopped and face still averted, asked: 'Why?'

  'Because the tide is all wrong now, that's why.' She heard him get to his feet and come over. 'We shall have to start out earlier tomorrow and have a go then.'

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  There's another thing,' Felix continued. 'I didn't say anything when you plonked yourself down in the middle of nowhere, careering round the countryside on that bike. I considered when you turned up late for work would be time enough to haul you back to civilization. Well, you haven't been late once and seem to have survived, but that hasn't made it any easier to put up with. You were an added worry being so far away from the rest of us.'

  'I wasn't the only one off the beaten track,' she muttered.

  'I know, but you were the only one on her own, without a car, without a phone.' He paused, took a breath and made his voice more reasonable. 'Anyway, don't you think it would have been sensible to have told someone where you were going today? What would have happened if something had gone wrong ? If you'd fallen and hurt yourself, miles from anywhere?'

  'It would hold up your precious shooting, wouldn't it?'

  There was silence.

  'And now it's you who is misjudging me,' he said slowly.

  Frances swallowed hard. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.'

  'There's enough truth there to plead justification. With so short a time to go I always get a bit shifty about accidents, I must admit, but I'm more concerned about your personal welfare than the programme.'

  Frances scuffed a toe against a clump of heather. 'I told Farmer Bill. He knew where I was going.'

  'And he told me—when I at last ran him to earth, ditching on the furthest part of the fields.'

  'Oh! I'm sorry,' she said faintly.

  'So you should be. I had to walk across four fields to find him, wasting precious time. If I'd met you then I don't think I should have been answerable for my actions,' Felix said grimly.

  Frances blinked hard as she tried to focus on the rocks jutting out to sea. 'I'm sorry you've had a wasted morning, but I really didn't know you wanted me, and if you won't believe me, you won't,' she answered in a tight little voice. Felix took her by the shoulders and turned her to-him. She couldn't look him in the face and concentrated on the thick leather belt encircling his waist. One hand left her shoulder and a finger lifted her chin.

  'Dear me . . . I never thought I'd see Frances Heron shed tears, I thought she was indestructible. This will never do.' He fetched out a handkerchief and wiped her lashes carefully. 'Shall we call a truce?' he asked gently, and she nodded, a wave of thankfulness sweeping over her. Felix drew her to the grass and for a moment they sat together in silence, then he gestured to the rocks. 'Tell me about them. I'm sure you must know something.'

  Frances was hugging her knees again, glad of something straightforward to talk about, her eyes searching the huge rise of gigantic rocks, green-capped on grey.

  'They say the rocks were stepping stones for the Giant Bedruthan, but I don't know anything about him. That rock over there,' and she pointed a finger, 'is called Queen Bess, it's supposed to look like her from a certain angle, and the other one has a woman's features too, can you see?'

  'An awesome place, even on a sunny day like today,' Felix mused. 'I wonder what it looks like in winter?'

  'Wonderful,' returned Frances warmly, 'but it is treacherous. Quite a few people have lost their lives swimming from the rocks and it's banned now.' She plucked at the grass again, watching the slight breeze taking the strands from her loose fingers and tossing them over the cliff edge. 'What are you going to do now?'

  'Share a most admirable picnic lunch with you,' he studied his watch, 'and by my reckoning it's lunchtime right now. He looked round the cliff-top. 'The beautiful weather is attracting the crowds. Shall we find somewhere quieter to eat?'

  'I already have my lunch,' said Frances, a glow of surprise touching her cheeks as he pulled her to her feet. He handed her the shoulder bag, saying:

  'By the feel of that, there's not enough for me to share and I've brought wine!' His smile flashed. 'Begin to walk slowly along the cliff and I'll catch you up.'

  Frances watched him jog hack to the car-park, her spirits lifting. Damn Gemma Ghent and her stupid jealousy! Didn't she realise that she had nothing to fear from Frances? There Gemma was, sharing the same hotel as Felix, sharing the same breakfasts and evening meals, more than likely the same bed, and she had to begrudge Frances an unscheduled morning out in a beastly boat, chaperoned by Rick! The thought was laughable. There was no cause for jealousy, but Gemma was a careful soul and who knows, perhaps some sixth sense might have told her there was something there between them. Everyone else, however, thought Frances was Julian's girl, and in a way, she was. They both worked and played well together, had exchanged kisses in the sun on the beach and under the moon in a country lane. They had held hands in the cinema and raced their horses along the seawashed sand. Julian, for Frances, had been her saviour.

  Not that Felix had been anything other than her boss since that memorable evening, had never sought out her company during leisure hours, had treated her with the utmost civility, was warm in his praise and sharp in his rebuke. And there had been no more invitations to the Greek Islands.

  Felix was now coming diagonally across the grass to her, carrying a wicker basket.

  'Very grand, isn't it?' he said, holding it up for her inspection. 'Provided by my hotel.'

  'Was Rick going to share it with us?' She asked curiously.

  'Oh, no. I was going to send Rick home after the rowing session to keep his own woman company.'

  Frances found nothing to say to this. 'Own woman' caused her heart to flutter, but she wasn't going to be silly. She was going to enjoy this unlooked-for outing in the holiday spirit it was offered.

  'Do you know, I believe we could get down to that cove if we tried. The track looks fairly well used. Do you fancy going below or would you rather sit on the top?' Felix asked, studying the cliff face carefully.

  'Oh, below, please. I intended making for the beach myself for an hour or so this afternoon.'

  'Oh, did you!'

  'But not to swim, only to sunbathe,' she assured him hastily.

 
; They made their way down and found it well within their limits. The sand was clean and smooth and in the suntrap caused by the hollow of the cliffs the heat came up to hit them.

  'Phew! I shall have to strip off,' Frances exclaimed, looking round for a suitable rock as she felt in the bag for her bikini.

  'And I shall keep my eyes turned modestly the other way while I unpack our lunch,' said Felix, carrying the basket to the shade of another rock.

  When she emerged a few minutes later, clad in her black bikini, Frances was determined not to feel self- conscious. It wasn't as if Felix hadn't seen her in it before, he had, on numerous occasions over the past weeks when they had all been to the beach, but that had always been with a crowd and somehow . . .

  She walked purposefully across the sand, feeling the' heat striking the bottoms of her bare feet. She had put her hair up that morning on to the top of her head in a tiny, old-fashioned knot, and this she now crowned with a floppy sun-hat.

  'This sun is fantastic, isn't it?' She dropped down, seeing that Felix must have had his swimming trunks on under his trousers, for he had also stripped off and was now lying on his side, propped up on an elbow.

  'Did you know that the colour of that hat perfectly matches the colour of your eyes?' he remarked casually, passing her a glass of white wine.

  'Yes, I did, actually admitted Frances, giving a smirk. 'Hey, this is cold!' she exclaimed, taking another sip, 'and what a feast! Turkey salad! They have done us proud.

  'The wine is cold because it's surrounded by ice, he explained, passing her the food.

  'Mmm . . . am I glad I haven't got to walk all the way back after this!' She lifted a brow. 'You will give me a ride, won't you, Felix?'

  'If you behave. How did you get here?'

  'By lorry, tractor and Shanks's pony.' Frances saw him frown and said quickly: 'All perfectly safe and friendly.'

  'All perfectly safe and friendly my eye!' he retorted rudely. 'You've been lucky up to now—one day you might not be. Have you any idea what a temptation you are, Frances, walking around in the briefest of shorts, a clingy vest…'

  'It's not a vest!' she burst out with a snort of laughter. 'It's a …

  'I don't care what it's called, it's provocative! You're asking for trouble being on your own in remote places— anywhere, not just here. I wish you wouldn't do it.'

  There was silence and she peeped at him through her lashes, a teasing comment already on her lips.

  He's serious, she thought in surprise, the words stopping short. The realisation disturbed her. Had she been silly? His profile was etched against the background of sand as he gazed stonily out to sea. Really tanned now, the Cornish sun finishing off what the Mediterranean had started, he looked fit and strong. What chance would she have if someone with Felix's physique came along and . . .

  'The lorry driver was a pet, she said softly, 'and he showed me photographs of his children.'

  I’m sure he was . . .' Felix began wearily... and the tractor driver was a woman.'

  He turned to look at her, a reluctant smile hovering round his mouth.

  'I'd never accept a lift from a man in a car,' she persisted.

  He raised a mocking brow. 'Not even a man in a Lancia?'

  'Ah! A Lancia would be a temptation . . . I'd have to size him up,' Frances declared. She chewed her bottom lip. 'I won't do it again, Felix, I promise.'

  The tawny eyes narrowed and he took a slow drink before replying. 'Thank you, it will make my mind easier. I really don't feel like having more drama on my hands than I already have.'

  She swallowed down an irrational sense of disappointment at the impersonal reply. 'I hope I may still ride my bicycle?' she asked, her voice letting him know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to relinquish that without a struggle.

  'You may still ride your bicycle. Now, have you had enough to eat? More wine?'

  She smiled and shook her head. 'No more, thanks, it's been delicious.' She helped to pack the basket away and then unfurled her towel and lay face up, liberally smearing herself with sun-oil and perching the sun-hat across her forehead, shielding eyes and nose.

  'I'm going to wander over there to the rock pools,' said Felix, rising to his feet. 'If I find a crab I'll bring him over and introduce you to him.'

  'You needn't bother,' said Frances, and heard him laugh softly.

  'Don't lie in the sun for too long. You have a good tan, but your skin is so fair that you could still burn.'

  His shadow darkened her eyelids for a moment and then passed away,

  Frances lay basking in the sun for a while, thinking how extraordinary life was. Who would have supposed that she would be sharing a deserted beach with Felix today, when they had spent no leisure hours alone together for all these weeks? She sat up, seeking him among the rocks. The tide was coming in and soon their tiny sanctuary would be covered, the waves dashing against the rocks. She couldn't see him and assumed he had turned the corner of the headland.

  She rolled over and unhooked the back of her bikini top. She didn't want to spoil her even tan with strap marks, they were such a nuisance professionally, and she could easily do it up when she heard Felix returning.

  When a shadow crossed her face a few minutes later, Frances nearly jumped out of her skin, not to mention her bikini! Opening her eyes quickly she saw Felix looking down at her. She shut them again.

  'Oh, it's you, you made me jump.' She was acutely conscious of her bare back and the fact that she couldn't move without showing more than she wanted to do. And Felix would know exactly how she felt, she thought crossly, knowing that her face was flushed and hoping he would think it was from the wine and sun combined and not old-fashioned embarrassment. She waited for him to move, lifting her lashes slightly only to see his feet still in the same position.

  There was a scuffle of sand and Frances felt him kneel down beside her, the flesh of his leg scorching hers.

  Her eyes opened wide. 'What...?'

  'I'll oil your back and legs for you, Frances,' said Felix, reaching for the bottle in her bag and unscrewing the top, 'You've forgotten to do it,' he reproved gently.

  'Oh, well, it's difficult to do yourself she began weakly.

  'Exactly. Lie still,' he ordered, amusement in his voice. 'You'll have sand mixed in with it if you're not careful,' and then: 'Relax!'

  Frances gritted her teeth and clamped her eyes shut again. The oil was cool on her hot skin and his hands were very soothing. Unbidden, the thought of Corfu came to her . . . of promises and sun, the sea and the sand, and the wine beneath the moon . . . and the magic of the Island . . .

  Felix knew exactly what he was doing, of course, as he always did, she thought lethargically. He was careful to keep within the bounds of decency, but only just, and every nerve quivered to his touch as hands, smooth and firm, moved over her body with hypnotic strokes.

  His voice was above her. 'There, that will do, I think," he said in a lazy drawl, and she could have thrown sand in his face, in fury at herself for being so dim-witted as to let him put his hands on her, and at Felix for taking advantage of the situation.

  She didn't, of course. For one thing, throwing sand was childish, and for another, he was just as likely to throw it back, so she murmured: 'Thanks,' and heard him lie down on the sand a few feet away, and then there was silence between them.

  She must have dozed, but it couldn't have been for long. The sun had moved round and they were both now in the shade of a tall rock. Carefully, keeping one eye on the sleeping form, Frances re-hooked her top and sat up, feeling woolly-headed.

  Felix seemed soundly asleep. The tide was creeping higher and although she had no idea how long it would take to reach the cliffs they would have to move soon anyway, for the time was getting on. She would have to wake him.

  It was the sea, endlessly washing back and forth over the flat sand, that gave her the idea.

  She rose carefully to her feet and ran lightly down to the water line. Taking off the sun-hat, she
scooped it into the sea and tiptoed back to the sleeping form. Tip of tongue peeping between lips, she held the hat high, allowing a few drops to trickle on to Felix's bare chest, and then either because she was so absorbed in watching his face and not what she was doing, or the material suddenly became waterlogged and porous, the whole contents jettisoned out and landed with a splash all over him.

  The next few things happened within seconds. Frances stared aghast at what she had done, and Felix woke with a muttered exclamation, springing to his feet, taking in the scene in a flash.

  'No, Felix, please! It was an accident, I promise you!' Frances begged, backing slowly, laughter bubbling away beneath the words, however serious she tried to make them.

  'An accident, you vixen! Do you expect me to believe that?' he demanded, scooping up the wet hat and flinging it away. He stood before her, hands on hips, the water still dripping down his body. 'Well, we shall see who likes a wetting, shall we?' he added gently, beginning to advance slowly towards her, his body movement lazy, belying the latent fitness and strength.

  'Felix, you wouldn't,' urged Frances, tentatively backing away. 'Felix, don't you dare!' she wailed, and turning, she ran.

  She realised that she might just as well have stayed and accepted punishment there and then. The beach had shrunk in size owing to the incoming tide and she was laughing so much she could hardly run away.

  She managed a crazy circle, shouting for mercy, before Felix caught her, scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing, and marching down towards the sea, ignoring her struggles which were useless. There she was unceremoniously dropped.

  The shock of the cold water against her warm body forced an involuntary screech from her lips and then all her energies were concentrated on revenge. Felix ran tantalisingly along the edge of the sea, just out of her reach, laughing, until he misjudged the surface beneath his feet and trod on a submerged stone. Taking advantage of his body being slightly off balance, Frances gave a good push and the next minute he too was under.

  She didn't wait. He caught her half-way up the beach and they rolled on to the sand.