by Hilary Wilde
Her letter was desperate, asking me to help her. She told me she knew she had only a few moaths to live and that she needed a man, preferably yowag and reliable, to help her. I must admit that I'd always liked her, despite her sharp tongue, so I came straight back to see her. I knew it was jps-etSy urgent.' ' But if Mr Kent was a trustee ... I meaa, why bother you?' ' She wanted two, she said, for death lurked CO the road and in the air and she wanted to be surs you were protected. She loved you very much, you know.' Cilia looked away, her eyes smarting. Dear Aunt Lill Life would never be the same without the small, gay little woman with her jokes, her warm welcomes, her understanding. ' She was absolutely obsessed by this fear that Paul would gamble away the lot and leave you and Joanna with nothing, so what could I do but agree?' ' I'm sorry to be such a nuisance,' Cilia begaa, looking at him, thinking of his busy life and now having this to think about. ' It's not your fault, but you could help by BIOS being difficult,' he told her coldly. ' Now, I've got to be off. I'm flying back to the Seychelles tomorrowit takes about fifteen hoursbecause I'm expecting my sister and her husband to stay. They have very restless feet and seem to fancy the Seychelles at the moment.' ' Was your sister living at your grandfather's?' ' No. He loathed women, of any age, so whea our parents stopped fighting and both died in a car crash, I went to my father's father and Henrietta ao went to our mother's mother. Sounds rather involved, but it worked quite well. Peter Kent will look after you,' he added. Taking the hint. Cilia hastily finished her coffee and followed him outside the cafe. Here he smiled and lifted a hand. ' I expect I'll see you out there,' he said, and left her. Expect? Did that mean he wouldn't be there when she was? Cilia wondered. Did she mind? Would he help her, or would he be the argumentative, arrogant man he had been at the solicitor's? a?.
CHAPTER III
As Cilia walked down the road she suddenly realised that there was so much to be done and s little time in which to do it, so she hurried to where she had parked her blue mini-car and drove through the town into the lovely Cotswold country towards the village where Aunt Lil's cottage was. The Cottage was a funny name, since it had five bedrooms and two bathrooms as well as a dining-room, lounge and playroom that she had had made for her nieces when they were small. The trees were that fascinating colour of a mixture of gold and red, and Cilia wondered what sort of trees there would be in the Seychelles. Palm trees, of course, for coconuts were, apparently, their main trade. Not that Joanna had written much about the islands, not that she ever wrote much at all, to be truthful, and Cilia knew that in Joanna's four years of marriage they had grown very far apart. How would Joanna welcome her? Cilia wondered, as she drove in the curved drive round to the back of the Cottage. Would Joanna welcome her? No one could blame her if she didn't. Would Joanna know she could expect her sister at any moment? How long did the will say Cilia must stay out there? she asked herself. These were questions she must ask Peter Kent the next day when she saw him. Going into the house she was greeted by Mrs Salter, the tall, thin, white-haired daily help. * Your lunch is ready, dear. You're looking sort 22
of sad. Nothing wrong?' Mrs Salter had known Aunt Lil for years, so perhaps she would understand. Cilia thought, so she told the bustling sympathetic woman the whole story. Rather to Cilia's surprise, Mrs Salter didn't look shocked. ' She was always a wise one, your aunt,' Mrs Salter said as she brought in the chicken casserole. ' That Paul Beasley isn't a one you can trust.' ' Aunt Lil could have done it differently,' Cilia pointed out. ' I mean, she could have left Joanna her half and tied it up, so much to be spent each year. I felt so embarrassed. I mean, Theo Randall has enough to do without worrying about me.' 'Theo Randall 1' Mrs Salter sighed happily. ' Now he was a great one. We all respected that lad. Your aunt must have died happily knowing you were under his protection. Now I'll be off. I'll pop back later this afternoon,' she finished, and was gone before Cilia could tell her not to worry. Mrs Salter still saw Cilia as the child she had first known and seemed, to delight in fussing round her. The casserole was delicious, but Cilia hardly noticed it, for she was busy thinking what she must do next. Telephone her bossabout three o'clock would be best. He was a good boss, sympathetic and understanding, and she. could soon be replaced. Then there was Wendy, the girl with whom she shared a flat in Gloucester Road. Well, at least, now she had so much more money, Cilia thought, she could go on paying her share of the rent until Wendy got another companion. She'd ring Wendy that evening. Then there was the Cottage to think about. Somehow she hated the idea of selling it, yet QS somehow she couldn't see herself living in it alone. The best thing here would be to see what Joanna saidat least the trustees couldn't stop Joanna from being Cilia's guest 1 As she wandered round the Cottage, wondering what to do next, not wanting to do anything, the quiet loneliness of it seemed to haunt her. Ams Lil's cairn had been found a home, so also had he? two cats, and now there was nothing alive at all. Mrs Salter's reaction hadn't helped Cilia so understand what her aunt had done at all, for shs could only think how hurt Joanna would be, and h was a kind of insult, since Joanna was no child. Twenty-four years old and married four years, surely she had the right to do what she liked witEa her own money? It was as if the two trustees were going to be their enemies. There must be a way ea working it. Cilia thought; suppose she pretended a buy a mink coat? Neither Peter Kent nor The Randall would check up and ask to see it as&d ah could give that money to Joanna.... It would be rather fun, she thought for a mcnaeas. Theo Randall had made a strange impressica a herthe strangest, because one moment she absolutely hated him and the next she had found herselj staring at him as if mesmerised. It was absurd, has there was something about him ... Later that evening, going through Aimi USl'3 letters and papers, sorting out her clothes that vssse to go to an old people's home. Cilia thought how lucky she was to have such a good boss. He boat COD" gratulated her, laughed when she said ce S &e conditions was to go to the Seychelles at caac asri would always be a job for her if she gambled away her heritage. He hadn't minded at all. Nor had Wendy. She had been absolutely thrilled. 'The Seychelles? Gee, you are a lucky one, Cilia 1 Not to worry about the flat, I'll be all right. You'll have to come up and collect your junk, but Kate, that new girl in the accounts department, is looking for somewhere, so she'll take over. How romantic!' Wendy's laugh had rung out. 'The Seychelles and one of the wealthiest men in London as a trustee!' ' Is he?' Cilia had asked, startled. ' Don't you ever read the gossip columns in the papers. Cilia?' Wendy had asked with a laugh. "They're always getting at Theo Randall. A wealthy bachelor of thirty-four, who spends his time deftly eluding the predatory femalesand here you are, tied up with him. Your aunt was a clever one.' 'I don't understand,' Cilia had told her. 'I didn't know he was rich, or even that he existed.' 'You're way behind the times,' Wendy had teased. ' Well, good luck, and don't forget to write to me. You'll be up one day soon to collect things?' ' Yes, I'm seeing the solicitor again tomorrow and then I'll be up. See you!' Now, sitting alone in the empty house. Cilia remembered Wendy's words: ' Your aunt was a clever one.' Could Theo have thought the same? Oh, no! That would be intolerable. And it wasn't true. Aunt Lil was never a match-maker, indeed she didn't believe in young marriages. Thirty was a sensible age, she had always said. But 25 Theo might not know thishe might think . . . The very idea made Cilia squirm, Next day she asked Peter Kent what he thought. He laughed. ' Your aunt still saw you as a child. I'm sure she had nothing of that nature on her mind. She used to say she wondered what you would do with your money. She thought you'd buy several horses, but you'd need another house, as the Cottage is without a paddock.' ' I'd be able to afford another house with a groom and some gardeners and . . .' Cilia began, her eyes half-shut. ' You were talking about dreams yesterday!' Cilia looked up. ' And Theo Randall said they were no help at all. I don't agree.' ' Neither do I. What, exactly, are your dreams?' Cilia half closed her eyes again and thought. ' A big, but not too big house with stables and a garage and big paddocks. Maybe I'd have a lot of horses and run a riding school. Or keep kenne
ls. I love dogs.' , He smiled. ' You don't have to work, you know. You've more than enough money to live on.' ' I can't imagine doing nothing all day. Can you?' Laughing, he agreed that he could not. Then they got on to business. He had already arranged for her ticket. She would be flying to the Seychelles in four days' time. ' Don't worry about the Cottage at the moment. You may come back with different views and decide to keep it. Mrs Salter will look after it and prices are going up fast, so you might benefifby waiting. Well, you've got a lot to do and 26
so have I .. .' he finished as he stood up. It was only as she drove back to the Cottage that Cilia realised she had forgotten to ask him how long the condition said she must stay in the Seychelles. She would ring Peter up to find out, she thought, as she looked up at the lovely hills and the beautifully green grass, and the autumn-kissed leaves that were fluttering down all the time to cover the ground. She didn't remember that question until she was sitting in the plane, waiting for the take-off. There had been so much to do in a short time that it had seemed madly muddling and she had hardly known where she was. But at least she was on her way. Wendy had come to see her off, but now Cilia was alone. It was not the first time she had flown, as she and Aunt Lil had quite often gone abroad for holidays together. That had been a big help, Peter had said, as Cilia's passport and vaccination certificate were up to date. And now here she was. The plane was gradually filling up. She had an end seat by a window, but unfortunately it looked out on the wings of the plane, so she couldn't hope to see much. Just as everyone seemed to have settled down, the hostess, very pretty in her smart uniform, her cap tilted on her honey-brown hair, brought a young boy with her. ' He's travelling alone,' she said to Cilia. ' Mind if he sits next to you?' ' Of course not,' Cilia said quickly. ' I'm alone, too.' ' The boy looked about twelve years old. One day he would be handsome. Cilia thought, as she introduced herself and learned that his name was 27
Anthony Harding, that he was going to the Sey-5 chelles to his parents. He talked easily, as if used to | grown-ups, j ' My mum and dad are a restless sort, always moving around. They said that while I was in boarding school in England, they could go round the world. Well, they have been, and it's time we Jiad a home.' There was a wistfulness in his face as ! he looked at Cilia. ' I'd like a horse and a dog and . . .' ; ' So would I,' Cilia said warmly. ' I love horses. ; Can you ride?' There were fifteen hours of flying, broken up by well-served meals as well as drinks, plus a wearisome time when the lights went out and she tried to sleep, her head lolling painfully, waking her up -each time she fell asleep. Anthony was a real help, for they talked a lot, even played noughts and crosses, and he taught her a card game which he always won, much to his delight, also they both drew pictures, Anthony showing intense interest in drawing warships of the days when men shot with arrows. As the plane landed on Mahe Island, Cilia thanked her companion. ' I really enjoyed that,' she said with a smile. He smiled back. ' So did I. Ever so.' As they made their way across to the Customs and Immigration it was delightfully hot, the sun shining from a cloudless sky, and Cilia glanced down at him. ' You are being met?' ' Oh yes,' he said proudly. ' My mum will be here.' He looked up. ' Are you being met?' ' I imagine so.' For the first time on the flight, a8 Cilia remembered that a far from warm welcome might be awaiting her. Peter Kent had said he had sent Joanna a copy of the will, so she would know all that. He had also sent a cable, saying when Cilia's plane would arrive. ' Yes, I'm sure I will be,' she added. There were quite a lot of passengers and even more people to welcome them crowded round a barrier. After Cilia had been through the usual formalities, she went out into the hall and looked around. She couldn't see either Joanna or Paul, so she sat down on a seat to wait. Gradually the passengers and their welcoming friends and relations vanished and she saw that she was aloneand then realised she wasn't, for sitting on a seat the other side of the room was Anthony Harding. Cilia went over to him. ' Hasn't your mum come?' she asked. He shook his head. ' Hasn't your sister?' ' No. Maybe they're ill or had a puncture or something,' Cilia said as she sat down. He looked up. ' Maybe they've forgotten,' he said wistfully. Normally Anthony was so full of self-confidence that it was his rare bits of wistfulness that Cilia noticed so much. Oddly they reminded her of Theo Randall and his occasional moments of tenderness that had surprised her so. Cilia and her new friend waited and talked, but it seemed hours. In the end, they got a cold drink and tried to hide their feelings. Cilia had an uncomfortable one that this was Joanna's way of showing her fury at the will. Joanna had always had a quick temperbut would Paul have let her do such 29 a mean thing? Perhaps he was the one to meet her and was deliberately making her wait as a form of punishment. Anthony began to get restless, suggesting that they might be in the wrong part of the building. It was then that Cilia realised that Joanna might not have got the cable. You never knew what happened in these far distant places. ' I'm going to try to get a taxi, Anthony,' she said, ' and go out to my sister. She may not even know I'm coming, as letters and things can get lost. That may have happened with your mother. Why not come with me? I can leave a message at the reception desk and when your mother gets here, she'll ask and they'll tell her where you are. You can't just wait here ... all alone ...' As Cilia spoke, she looked up and saw a girl walking by them, staring at them as if curiousa tall girl with blonde hair and wearing a green dress. ' Come on, Anthony,' Cilia said, and led the way to the reception desk. There she was told they would send for a taxi. She gave them her sister's address and they said they would look out for Anthony's mother. ' If we see someone looking around, we'll let her know where you are,' a plump friendly woman said with a smile at Anthony. The taxi came with a Creole driver who was all smiles as he fetched their luggage. Anthony scrambled in, looking quite interested as they drove along the coast. Even with the uncomfortable wonder of what-sort of welcome lay ahead of her. Cilia could not fail to see the beauty of everything. The different colours go
of the seaazure blue and turquoise; the coconut palms that grew up on the side of the great mountain that towered above them; the glimpses of white beaches as the car went weaving along the coast. There were houses here and there, some quite large with wide verandahs, others small and huddled to-gether. She saw small sweet-sounding waterfalls as the water came down the side of the mountain and newly washed clothes spread out on bushes at the side of the rivers. They saw gardens bright with the most gorgeous flowersred, yellow, blue, every shade, and the purple-flowered creepers that seemed to be everywhere, winding round trees or houses. ' It's so beautiful...' Cilia said slowly, wondering why Joanna had never said so. In her letters, she had always been rather critical: too much rain, heavy winds, the mosquitoes she loathed and that kind of complaint. Yet this beautiful... Cilia looked round at the lovely palm trees bending over the waterat the small boats out at sea where the waves came pounding in at the reefs. The most amazing thing was surely the enormous rocks, many of them looking like caricatures of people or animals, balanced so precariously as if they were ballet dancers on their toes. ' It's all right, I suppose,' shrugged Anthony, looking up at the mountain. ' I wonder where one can ride.' ' There must be places. Has your father got a house here?' Anthony looked surprised. ' They won't ever buy a house, they say. We're staying with my uncle.' " You don't know his address?' 3
' I don't know him.' ' Never mind. They must be expecting yo, SQ they're sure to go along to the airport,' Cilia was saying, and the car turned off the main road and dowa what looked like little more than a track, windiag round groups of palm trees and giving glimpses 3 the sea. Suddenly they came out into the open and thera ahead-of them was a beautiful lagoon, surrounded by tall, balanced, pointed rocks while the hugs waves outside burst into scores of tiny balloons S3 the water was tossed in the air when it met the rocks. She turned her head as the car stopped and saw that they had reached Le Bret, Joanna's home. It was a white house with a wide verandah. Only one floor, the beautiful purple flowers growing over the walls and French windows leading to the house. The garden was wonde
rful, a wide beautifully cared-for lawn and flowers everywhere and of every colour. How could Joanna have lived here and riot written to tell them how unutterably beautiful it was? Cilia wondered. The Creole driver was out of the car, getting out the luggage. Cilia suddenly realised she should have changed her English money to the local coinage at the airport, but the Creole smiled and spoke English quite well, seeming more than satisfied in taking English money. When he had driven off. Cilia looked at the house. Surely if Joanna was in, she would have heard the car? But no one had come. The house looked closed, as if shutting her out. ' Where's your sister?' Anthony asked, staring up into a tree that leaned over the lawn. He grabbed 32 Cilia's arm and said excitedly; 'Lookthere's a monkey!' And so there washis little white face peering down through the femlike leaves of the palm tree before he swung away and vanished. ' I like monkeys,' Anthony said. At that moment two Afghan hounds came running round, with their long silky coats and their graceful movements. Anthony was immediately bending down to stroke them, but Cilia realised they could not just stand in the garden for ever, so she went to the French windows and saw a bell. She pressed it. Again and again and again ... Through the glass she saw Joanna coming, yawning, rubbing her eyes sleepily, wearing a pale yellow dressing-gown, her red hair just as lovely as it always had been. Joanna opened the door. "Why, it's you!' she said in a surprised voice. I thought Paul was going to meet you.' Was he. Cilia wondered, or was this their way of greeting her, making it plain that she was very unwelcome? Not that she blamed them. If she had been Joanna, and with Joanna's dreams. Cilia knew she could have been angry, too. Then Joanna saw Anthony. ' Who on earth . .. what . . .' she began, and at that moment another car came driving in to park outside the house. Cilia stared and caught her breath. It was Theo Randall I 33