by Anne Weale
Neal shrugged. “You looked a bit upset when you came back with him. I thought maybe he’d made a pass and you’d had to give him a set-down.”
“Of course not,” she said frostily.
Neal arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you start snapping too, sweetie. It could have happened couldn’t it? I’ve been told he’s pretty quick off the mark.”
“So are you,” Jane retorted, thinking of his kiss at the Hotel Amstel.
Neal grinned. “Yes, but I’m no jaded Casanova, just a simple farmer’s boy. When am I going to see you again, Jane? Are you free at all next week? Can I have your phone number?”
“Yes, if you like—but I don’t have much free time. Most of my evenings are spent getting ready for the next day’s bookings,” she told him.
“All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. You must take a night off sometimes. Anyway I’ll ring you.”
That night, on the flight back to London, Jane said casually, “What made you call David a jaded Casanova, Neal? He’s not at all that odd, and he doesn’t strike me as ... as ...”
“The predatory type?” Neal supplied “Well, maybe I was maligning him. But when a bloke gets into his thirties without acquiring a wife and kids, he’s usually either a bit of an odd fish or he’s living strictly for kicks. Why so interested? You haven’t a yen for him, have you?”
“Not at all—I just work with him quite often,” she answered carelessly.
Neal seemed to be convinced by her off-hand tone. “Well, let’s forget Ransome and talk about us.”
Three weeks later Jane had to pack for another flight—this time to Bermuda. Since the trip to Amsterdam, she had been out with Neal a couple of times, but she had seen nothing of David except at his studio. He, too, was going on the Bermudian assignment. But as there would be other models working with her, and a studio manager to organize everything, Jane did not expect to have any time alone with him.
“I wonder if la belle Margot will be around?” said Heather, the night before Jane left.
The two girls were lying on a large bath towel spread out on the sitting-room floor. Jane was in a bikini, Heather in a one-piece bathing suit. They were both wearing dark green goggles to protect their eyes from the strong white beam of the sun-lamp which Jane had bought in order to work up a tan.
“Who’s Margot?” she asked.
“Margot Chase. She was David’s first discovery—and the only girl who ever got under his skin,” Heather added. “But he wasn’t such a big man then, and Margot was the go-getting type. So she married a Bermudian millionaire who was old enough to be her grandfather. I imagine she counted on being a wealthy widow long before too long.”
Jane shivered. “How horrible! Was ... was David really in love with her?”
“And how! When he heard the news—Margot was in New York at the time—he looked ripe, for murder. I’m not sure that he’s over it even now. However, she spends most of her time in the States, I believe, so you may not run into her. Her name is Frensham now.”
Jane sat up to switch off the lamp. She had been using it every night for the past two weeks, and her skin was now a warm golden color, making her pale hair even more striking.
“When did all this happen?” she asked.
“Oh, about four years ago. Soon after I started work for David. Unfortunately for Margot, her old boy wasn’t as senile as he looked, and he’s still above ground.”
“But surely David wouldn’t go on caring for anyone who could sell herself like that?”
“I don’t know,” Heather said thoughtfully. “You don’t necessarily stop loving someone because they do you dirt. And Margot wasn’t merely glam—she was a real twenty-two carat spellbinder. Even women couldn’t take their eyes off her. Lord knows why she settled for a gruesome old sugar daddy, because she could have made a fortune anyway. If she is in Bermuda at the moment, she’s sure to make contact. If she does, it will be interesting to see how David reacts.”
Two days later, Jane and the other two models were working on the terrace of one of Bermuda’s most luxurious hotels when a small silver sports car roared up the drive to the main entrance steps.
“Wow! Take a look at that!” exclaimed Paula Carr, from her perch on the wide stone balustrade.
Linda and Jane jumped up from their chairs in the shade of an enormous garden umbrella and leaned over the balustrade.
The driver of the car had already climbed out from behind the wheel and was taking off a white chiffon scarf. She tossed it on to the pale blue leather upholstery, shook out her lustrous black hair and reached for a white wicker beach bag. Then she turned and came slowly up the steps, a tall slender woman in superbly cut white silk Capri pants and a clinging white sweater. Even though her eyes were hidden by large black-rimmed smoked glasses, Jane recognized her instantly. Before she left London, she had looked through back copies of several top magazines. The woman in white was unmistakably Margot Frensham.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I wonder who she is?” Linda murmured. “Talk about the million-dollar look!”
Jane was watching David. He was standing a little further along the terrace and, like Paula and Linda, he was staring at Margot Frensham. But his expression was totally unreadable.
On the point of going into the hotel, Margot saw them and changed direction.
“David, how are you? I heard you were in the colony for a few days, so I’ve been tracking you down. Oh, David, how marvellous to see you again!” Her voice was low and slightly husky. She dropped her bag on a chair and held out both hands to him, her red lips parting in a smile, her head tilted slightly to one side as she appraised him through the dusky lenses. “You haven’t changed at all,” she said softly.
“Hello, Margot. I thought you were in America,” he said unsmilingly.
“Did you ring me? The servants didn’t tell me. Yes I’ve been in Florida. I only got back last night—and the first thing I heard was that you were here. How long are you staying? Is it all one mad rush like it used to be? Never mind: you must have some time to spare. We have so much to talk about.”
“We’re here for three more days, but we have a lot of work to get through,” David said briskly. He turned to the girls. “Mrs. Frensham used to be a model,” he explained to them. “Let me introduce three of your successors, Margot.”
She shook hands with each of them. “I suppose you’ve scarcely had time to breathe, let alone enjoy yourselves,” she said sympathetically. “Look, I have a wonderful idea. Are you all free this evening?”
Paula and Linda nodded.
“Oh, that’s marvellous. Then you must come and have dinner at Horizons,” Margot said decisively. “We’ll make a party of it. I’ll round up three of our most attractive bachelors, and you dance or swim from our beach while David and I are talking over old times.”
“It sounds blissful,” Paula said enthusiastically. “It’s terribly kind of you, Mrs. Frensham.”
“Oh, please, do call me Margot. Everybody does. And it’s not a bit kind. I shall enjoy it. You can’t possibly leave Bermuda without having a few hours of fun and relaxation ... don’t you agree, David? Now I must rush off and fix things. See you all tonight ... about eight. ‘Bye now.”
They watched her walk swiftly away until, reaching the steps, she turned and waved. Moments later the silver convertible was streaking down the drive in a flurry of gravel.
“Horizons ... what a lovely name for a house,” said Linda. “And how sweet of her to get up a party for us, especially when she’s only just back from a holiday. Is she married to some filthy rich tycoon, David?”
It was Jane who winced at the question. David’s expression remained impassive.
“Yes, she is,” he said briefly. “Come on, girls, we must get cracking.”
“Imagine basking in this heavenly sun all the round,” Paula said dreamily. “I could stay here for ever. Maybe I’ll set my sights on one of these gorgeous bachelors she’s going to produce for us. A beach house
in Tucker’s Town and a troop of servants to wait on me would be just my cuppa.”
“In the meantime you’re working, remember?” There was a note of sharpness in David’s tone now, a certain grimness in the set of his mouth.
Oh, David, you can’t still care for her. Not after what she did to you. Not after four years, Jane thought sickly.
There were at least a dozen cars already parked in the driveway when Jane and the others arrived at Horizons that night.
It was growing dark, and the great house was ablaze with light. The garden too was floodlit, concealed lamps shining on luxuriant masses of blue murandya and plumbago vine. The effect was beautiful but also rather theatrical, like a film set.
The front door was in the centre of a wide colonnaded terrace which appeared to surround the whole lower floor of the mansion and formed a balcony above. Parts of the stone balustrade were overgrown with clustering morning glory and bougainville which had twined up the supporting columns.
A colored maidservant was waiting to receive the girls’ wraps as they entered the spacious hall with its shining black marble floor, broad curving staircase and crystal chandeliers. The walls were hung with pale gold moiré silk and two gilded consoles bore enormous alabaster urns filled with golden roses.
A Bermudian butler appeared and led them along a corridor to a vast drawing-room filled with men and women in evening dress Here again the walls were hung with silk—lustrous jade green. Thai silk this time—and there were flowers everywhere.
As the three girls moved into the room, heads turned and there was a lull in the babel of party chatter. Then their hostess came forward to greet them.
Tonight she was wearing a very simple dress of matt white crepe, sleeveless, with a high polo collar. A magnificent aquamarine clip was pinned over her left shoulder, and she wore a bracelet of the same stones. But it was her eyes, not her jewels, which made Jane stare. For Margot Frensham’s eyes were the first truly green ones Jane had ever seen, and, as well as being that rare and fascinating color, they were fringed by very thick dark lashes. Lashes which had not come out of a box.
“Ah, here you are at last. Everyone is dying to meet you, but come and have a drink first. You all look terribly fresh and pretty, but I’m sure you could do with a booster before you start circulating. I know what a fearful slave-driver David can be.” Margot flashed a teasing smile at him before turning to lead them to the bar.
Her dress, so modest in front, was backless almost to her waist. Surprisingly, because everyone else in the room had varying shades of suntan, her smooth skin was ivory pale.
Five minutes later Jane found herself talking about water-skiing to a bronzed but rather dissipated-looking young man in a white tuxedo called Guy Anstey. The other girls had also been provided with partners, and Margot and David were somewhere on the other side of the room.
“Which is Mr. Frensham?” she asked presently, curious to see the man for whom Margot had jilted David.
“The old boy over there with the woman in red.” Guy gestured with his glass.
Jane saw a tall woman in flame chiffon talking to a short, gross man with a shiny bald head. He wasn’t only old, he was repulsive, she saw with horror. Flaccid jowls bulged over his collar and he had an enormous pendulous stomach. His hands, one cupping a ballon of brandy, the other clenching a cigar, were soft and dimpled, probably professionally manicured. He was like a fat pink leech, bloated with rich easy living, she thought, sickened.
Her disgust must have shown in her face.
“Beauty and the beast, eh?” Guy said softly, close to her ear.
Jane pretended not to hear. Now that she had seen Lucas Frensham, she was more than ever convinced that no man—certainly no man of David’s calibre—could go on loving a woman who had done what Margot had done.
But later, dancing with Guy on the lantern-lit terrace which overlooked the sea at the back of the house, she saw Margot and David disappearing down the stone steps which led to the garden, and she was racked by uncertainty again.
Margot was so beautiful. There was a kind of hypnotic fascination about her. Perhaps, with her strange green eyes, pale skin and soft, husky voice, she could make a man forget that he meant to despise her.
Why, if he no longer cared about her, was David walking in the garden with her? What were they talking about, out there in the moonlight on their own?
Suddenly Jane felt that she couldn’t stand the party a moment longer. After a long day’s work, the strain of hiding her emotional tension was too much of an effort. She longed to be alone.
“Mr. Anstey, I’m afraid I’ve got a headache. I think I’ll take a taxi back to the hotel and go to bed,” she said apologetically.
“Oh, must you? Why not try a couple of aspirins? You can’t leave as early as this,” he objected, dismayed.
“I think I should. I’m not here on holiday, you know. I have another full day tomorrow, and I don’t want to look washed out.”
“Then I’ll run you back myself—yes, I insist.”
On their way out, Jane spotted Linda and told her she was leaving.
“Oh, what a shame. Still, if you feel rotten, bed’s the best place,” Linda agreed. “I don’t know what time Paula and I will be back, but we’ll try not to wake you up.”
Guy Anstey’s car was an open sports model with a battery of club badges along the front bumper. Driving her back to Hamilton, he said coaxingly, “Look, I know a quiet little bar near your hotel. How about a nightcap before you turn in? You can try my Anstey Special. It’s marvellous for hangovers, so it ought to do the trick with a headache.”’
But although he was very persuasive, Jane stood firm. With another apology, she thanked him for bringing her back to the hotel and said goodnight.
In her room, she undressed and removed her make-up. Then, with a shirt and slacks over a swimsuit, and a towel under her arm, she took the lift downstairs again and made her way to the hotel’s private beach. There was no one else bathing, and she left her clothes in one of the changing cabins and walked down to the water’s edge, pulling on her rubber cap. She would have preferred to swim without it, but that would mean rinsing the salt water out of her hair and resetting it.
The sea shimmered in the moonlight. She waded to waist depth, then flung herself forward and swam strongly out to the diving raft.
She had been lying on the raft for some time, flat on her back, watching a few chiffony wisps of cloud drift across the starry sky, when a sound made her jerk into a sitting position.
Someone else was swimming out to the raft—a man. He was cutting through water with a powerful racing crawl. It was not until he came alongside and grasped the metal rails of the step-ladder that she saw who he was.
“David!” she exclaimed, in amazement.
He climbed on to the raft, water streaming down his long straight legs, his shoulders and chest gleaming in the clear silver light.
“What the devil are you doing out here by yourself?” he demanded sharply.
“I’ve been swimming. Why are you here?”
“Linda told me you’d left the party. I came back to see if you were all right, but your room was empty. A waiter saw you coming down to the beach. You must be crazy, coming out alone at this hour. Supposing you got cramp?”
“Why should I?” she protested defensively. “This water isn’t cold ... I haven’t had a heavy meal recently. I used to swim by myself at Starmouth.”
“Not at night. I thought you were supposed to have a headache?”
Jane swung her legs over the edge of the raft and kicked up a shower of spray.
“That was an excuse. I wasn’t enjoying myself, so I asked Mr. Anstey to bring me back. You needn’t have bothered to chase after me. I’m not a child,” she said flatly.
“You frequently behave like one.”
“Oh, why can’t you mind your own business!” she burst out, exasperated.
Before he could answer, she dropped into the water and struck ou
t.
She had swum a good fifteen yards before she heard him dive in after her. But, although she put every ounce of her strength into a sprint to the beach, David overhauled her twenty feet from the shallows. Before she was in her depth, his hand clamped firmly on her shoulder, forcing her to check and tread water.
“When you’ve changed, I want to talk to you,” he said, in a tone which allowed no argument.
He was sitting on a towel, smoking a cigarette, when Jane came back from the cabin, her wet suit bundled into her bathing cap.
“I’m going to bed now. Hadn’t you better get back to the party?” she suggested.
Without looking at her, he answered, “I said goodnight to the Frenshams before I came after you. Paula and Linda are staying on for an hour or so. Sit down, Jane.”
She dropped on to the sand a few feet away from him. “Well?”
David turned his face towards her, his expression inscrutable as a passing cloud filtered the brightness of the moon.
“Are you any happier now than you were in Starmouth?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Of course,” she said, at once.
“Are you?” He sounded doubtful. “You don’t always appear to be.”
“No one is happy all the time,” she said uneasily, wondering why he should ask her such a question, and what might follow it. A possibility occurred to her. Suddenly afraid, she said quickly,
“Are you changing your mind about me? Am I turning out a flop?”
I His response sent a surge of relief through her.
“Don’t be absurd,” he said crisply. “You’re doing very well. But being successful doesn’t necessarily make for happiness.”
She thought she detected an edge of bitterness in his voice, and she wondered if he had only come after her as a pretext to leave the party. Perhaps something had happened between him and Margot, when they were out in the garden together, which had made it impossible for him to remain.
Oh, damn her, Jane thought savagely. Why couldn’t she have stayed away from him? She made her choice four years ago ...
They sat in silence until David finished his cigarette and buried the stub in the sand. He got to his feet, slung his towel over his shoulder, and held out his hand to help her up.