Stormy Encounter

by Roumelia Lane

  Her glance was drawn towards a pair of open french windows showing a room at the side of the villa. With no one in the immediate vicinity she crossed the strip of paved terrace to take a peep. Seeing that she was disturbing no one, she stole inside.

  The interior was cool and white and decorated with shellcarved alcoves, and leafypatterned wall panels. There were silver candlesticks on pale polished wood tables against the wall, and elegant white ornaments graced various nooks and comers. The furniture was tasteful without being ostentatious.

  Fascinated, Janet stepped softly across the polished tiles and made for an open archway that seemed to lead into a square hall On her way through she was startled almost into a gasp to come upon a robed mansized figure set back in the shadows. Breathing a sigh of relief on discovering that it was an inanimate object, she saw, on a closer inspection, a pair of slant eyes, and a mandarintype moustache drooping around a secretive smile. On the head was a narrowbrimmed pompon hat. The outstretched arms helda large octagonal shaped bowl used for….Janet couldn'timagine what. To hold fruit perhaps? Though it was a little large for that. Or maybe to display a tropical plant? It was difficult to say. She was standing back, musing idly on what would look best in it, when a crisp voice came from behind her. The figure is terracotta, and it's early eighteenthcentury French.'

  Janet spun round to find Bruce Walbrook, a sheaf of letters in his hand, as though he had been in the act of passing by, standing a few feet away from her. She felt annoyed with him at creeping up on her like this. She told herself it was ridiculous to feel as though she had beencaught snooping when Mrs. Ford had given her permission towander where she liked. Yet that was exactly what she did feel, with those chilly blue eyes raking her.

  Refusing to be cowed, she tilted her chin and told him, 'I was taking the opportunity of having a look round while I'm over here.' And her gaze travelled ahead to roam over a double-arched staircase, she added almost to herself, 'The villa is as lovely as I imagined it would be.'

  He surprised her by commenting drily, 'You'd appreciate it more with someone to show you around.' He waved the sheaf of letters. 'If you can wait until I get rid of these, I'll lake you myself.'

  Janet, gathering the impression that she had no choice in the matter, watched him walk a few yards to where a marblehandled door was partly open. As he pushed his way inside, she caught a view of panelled walls and bookshelves, the glimpse of a littered desk and an armchair. Noticing his proprietorial air as he paused for a moment beside the desk, she mused to herself with carping disdain, so the great Mr. Walbrook even had his own office!

  She lowered her gaze when he returned to her. Though he was dressed casually in smooth sports top and pale slacks, she felt somehow stifled and awkward in his presence. The villa was cool and silent, its thick walls shutting off all sounds of the outside. When he suggested that they start with the rooms around the hall she lied hurriedly that she had seen most of the inside of the house and was just planning to go into the grounds at the back. It was curious, but she found the air infinitely more breatheable once they were outside.

  Bruce Walbrook escorted her across the tiled square and down a flight of steps to a path lined by evergreen hedges. As they walked they came upon dwarf palms, mimosas, rows of orange and lemon trees. Soon, however, one could do no more than rest one's eyes on the countless mingling shades of soothing colour; the silver green of olives, the richemerald green of fanshaped sunlit palms, the hot sultry green of the ficus, the cool pale green of bamboo shoots.

  Wandering the paths of this lush paradise, Janet hadn't realised how relaxed she was until Bruce Walbrook suddenly spoke, nodding to a majestic growth. That's a mulberry. Gives a white fruit in the summer. Very sweet.' He pointed to a slim tree near by. 'This is a eucalyptus. With the high sheltered walls and constant sunshine it's possible to grow almost anything here.'

  They walked on. It was strange, but now the pervading silence troubled her not at all. She listened as the man's vibrant tones brought items of interest to her notice; followed the blue gaze as it singled out something for bet attention.

  In the green stillness with the lean figure alongside her, she moved away from the paths, fingering fleshy tropical leaves, slender reed-like growths. In a shady spot numerous cacti were sending up spring shoots of colour. Enchanted by a belllike cluster, Janet was bending to run her fingers through the waxy petals when Bruce Walbrook warned her sharply, 'Careful I There are hidden thorns there that can cause considerable pain.' He lowered himself and after a few moments came up with a stem containing a head of the belllike dusters. 'Here,' he handed it to her lazily. 'You can examine it at your leisure.'

  It had been Janet's intention to accept the flower with a polite 'thank you', then turn away, but somehow as she took the spray her gaze became entangled with his. Though it was only for a fleeting moment she had the feeling that those wintry, legallycalculating blue eyes, could if they wished soften to resemble a summer sky warmed by the sun.

  They started to walk again. Something in that moment seemed to have lowered the barrier slightly between them. He said, guiding her round a spiky bush, 'You've met the Fords, I take it?'

  'Yes.' Janet nodded. They seem to be very popular on the Island'

  With professional dexterity he let her words hang just long enough, then said in his courtroom voice, 'You agree they have a case for wanting to purchase the track?'

  Janet stopped for a second, caught off her guard. It didn't take her long, however, to get back into trim as she snapped, 'If you mean do I agree that plus all this,' she waved an arm, 'they should have the track too, while my mother has her strip of stubbly meadow with no entrance to it? No, I don't. I can't think of anything that would be more grossly unfair.'

  'You're exaggerating the situation, of course,' he said testily. 'Your mother's house has every facility for incorporating an entrance in from the front.'

  'I fail to see why she should do that when she bought a house with a drive,' Janet flashed.

  'She bought a house,' Bruce Walbrook corrected in his maddening attorney's tones. The track is still an open question.'

  'It wasn't until the Fords arrived,' Janet faced him spiritedly. 'Everyone round here was quite happy to regard the track as my mother's property.'

  "Well, we don't work that way in the legal business, Miss Kendall,' he said, calmly taking her arm. 'As far as we're concerned, at the moment the strip of land is on the market.'

  Confident that in law her mother stood the best chance of ownership, having lived beside the track for two years, whereas the Fords had only just arrived, Janet cooed, 'And as far as I'm concerned it's simply a matter of putting my mother's name on the deeds.'

  Bruce Walbrook gave her his acrimonious smile and guided her back towards the house.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As they ascended the steps up from the gardens, they were In tune to notice Mrs. Kendall with Francisco stepping out from one of the open french windows. Janet saw her mother turn and give her an animated wave. 'Ah, there you are!' 'he called. 'Francisco has been showing me around the villa. It's really most beautiful inside.'

  Francisco came up and took Janet's hand in his gravely smiling way. 'You have been hiding yourself away from the party,' he said with mock severity.

  Bruce Walbrook said drily, easing everyone forward, 'Perhaps we'd all better go and have a drink.'

  Round at the tables, the knots of guests had changed about. Ralph Ford was down by the pool sat chatting comfortably in a little circle. His wife, though not on view, was probably engaged likewise in some other part of the grounds.

  Janet stood by one of the silver trays while Francisco eagerly obtained for her the drink of her choice. He seemed less shy today. He told her he had been for a swim in the pool, but had found it a little cooL He said he went for a dip in the sea every day, even in the winter, and somehow sea water always seemed to be warmer than pool water.

  Janet listened to him with a smile
, enjoying his company, yet finding she was unable to keep a little of her attention from straying to where Bruce Walbrook stood talking pleasantly with her mother. She couldn't help noticing how relaxed he could look when it suited him. In his expensively cut slacks and smooth knitted top, he gave the impression of slimness, yet she knew by the touch of his band on her arm in the garden just now that he had muscles of steel.

  She had caught a glimpse before of that white even smile sloped on occasion at something her mother had said. She saw it now, and it seemed to her that the austere carved features were transformed by a lazy enigmatic humour that was oddly attractive,

  Some time after five o'clock, the gathering started to break up. People drifted away to their cars, calling their goodbyes or waving a hand to one or the other of their hosts as they went.

  Janet took advantage of this casual means of departure to round up her mother, who reluctantly bade farewell to the company she was thoroughly enjoying. After being escorted across the open square by the two men, they left by the side entrance.

  Dale's excited bark at their approach could be heard above the thunder of car engines starting up along the track. Once they were inside the house he behaved as though they had been gone for two days instead of two hours. Mrs. Kendall made a big fuss of him and crooned over him affectionately, but it was obvious that her mind was still over at the villa. Running her fingers up happily through her now somewhat dishevelled hair she charted, 'What a lovely afternoon it's been, I really enjoyed meeting our neighbours. Didn't you, Jan?'

  Janet gave the suggestion of a nod in agreement. Though it galled her to have to admit it, the Fords were really very likeable people.

  'And their lawyers. Such nice men, the two of them,' Mrs. Kendall mused, absently unscrewing the pearl carrings from her ears.

  'Francisco Cavanilias is all right, I suppose,' Janet said guardedly, examining the cactus flower, limp now from being held so long in her hands.

  'But so is Mr. Walbrook too, dear, once you get to know him,' came the smiling reply.

  Janet strolled thoughtfully to a vase of flowers near the window. 'I wonder if he's got a wife in England?' she heard herself asking without knowing why.

  'Not to my knowledge he hasn't. I suppose he's been too making his way in the world as a lawyer to think about marriage.' Mrs. Kendall changed into her slippers with a sigh of pleasure. Then she gave her daughter a look. 'Why do you ask, dear?' she enquired, pausing coyly to add, I noticed you went walking in the grounds with him.'

  Janet, knowing that she was being watched slyly as she put the cactus spray in water with the other flowers in the to be revived, quickly turned away from the act. And at the pointed remark she snapped, 'Oh, Mother, don't be ridiculous! Putting on a show of indignation, she ignored the teasing smile and flounced off to her room.

  With still something like a week to go before any positive moves could be made towards securing the track, Janet was obliged to fall in with the leisurely life of the island. She would have taken over some of the chores around the house, but her mother bad her own way of working, and she preferred to stick to her routine.

  Knowing when it was wiser not to interfere, Janet settled for keeping her own room spotlessly clean and washing any items she found in me laundry basket along with her own bits and pieces. Most of the time she amused herself out of doors. Though the sun was warming up by the day the surrounding countryside still retained its fairytale emerald green look after the early spring rains.

  The two enormous fig trees in the garden began to explode into a riot of shaggy green leaf. On the little square of patio the budding geraniums added a pretty touch of colour.

  It was here that Janet got to know the various facets in the character of Twiggy the cat. As soon as the ball of fur heard a footstep she would drop down lightly from her chair and come forward for the affection which she regarded as her due. With still much of the kitten in her which made her leap into the air at odd moments to try and club a fly with a lethal paw, she could, when it pleased her, move with the deportment of a lady.

  With her slant eyes and small features she had a bewitching personality. If yon were inadvertent enough to stroll outside finishing a sandwich or nibbling on a biscuit, she would spring up and stretching her incredibly long arms would snatch the food out of your hand, swallow it down, then give you a calculating smile that dared you to scold her. If, bursting with annoyance, you were tempted to smack her anyway, she would roll over the moment you raised your hand, and, displaying her snowy white undersides, stretch herself before you in a sirenlike pose of innocence.

  Besides being a blatant thief, she was also a shameless bully. One of her favourite pastimes was to crouch in wait behind a bush in the garden, while Dale, all unsuspecting, wandered around sniffing idly. As he drew gradually nearer it was all she could do to contain the ecstasy of her excitement. She would fidget as though she was treading on hot coals. Then at the last moment she would spring out and land on his back, and as the startled dog galloped around the garden, she would hang on and bite his car until he yelped with pain.

  Sometimes to save her mother the job, Janet took Dale for a walk. She would follow the ribbon of path that wound down the centre of the meadow and then cut across the fields past vineyards and olive groves belonging to the farm. She had never known a cat who liked to go for a walk before, but Twiggy always insisted on accompanying them. Dale, with a touch of the poodle in him, was something of an aristocrat. He disliked walking on prickly grass and stepped delicately over any rough patches. Twiggy was just a worker, employed to keep the mice away from the house. She knew it and she didn't care. Dale was never allowed outsidethe wire netting of the garden unless he was supervisedwhercas she had the whole freedom of the countryside to roam in. And to prove it she would run growling with mock ferocity up thetrees ahead of them.

  Though they might be out for an hour or more the cat would stick faithfully with them. But her main delight came when they were returning to the house. Running ahead up the path through the meadow, she liked to sit down just a few yards in front of her victim. One could tell by the superior straightness of her back and her gently flicking tail that she was waiting with a wicked smile on her face.

  Janet knew the game all too well. As the last footstep came down behind that lashing rail, the cat would whip round and throw herself, a mass of fur and four flying claws, at whatever part of the anatomy offered itself. If one happened to be wearing slacks the torture was bearable, but in a dress it paid to be ready to sidestep the hurtling ball of destruction.

  Twiggy was a character in every sense of the word, and it was impossible not to love her, as Janet soon discovered.

  She became aware too as the days drifted by that she was in danger of falling under the spell of this Mediterranean paradise. She welcomed each sunny morning; the endless blue skies topping the pineclad mountains. With its clear light and solid colours, Ibiza, she was beginning to find, had a bewitching influence all of its own.

  She kept an eye on the calendar and discovered that the day the mayor was due to return to the village fell on a Saturday. Obviously no work would be done on that day, so it meant waiting over the weekend.

  On the Monday morning following, Janet rose and prepared herself once more to do battle. In cotton housecoat she ate breakfast with her mother on the little square of kitchen terrace facing the mountains. Mrs. Kendall chatted gaily to her daughter about her trip to the village as thoughshe were going to pick up a few groceries Instead of to wrangle over the lifeline to her house. Tolerant of her mother's desire to live a troublefree existence, Janet kept a light-hearted outlook on the matter. When she had finished her second cup of coffee she went off to shower and change.

  She chose a cream linen dress, which was neat and formallooking, yet retained a dash of femininity. In straw hat and sunglasses and sandals for comfort she called goodbye to her mother and pushed the bike out from the back terrace. She mounted at the end of the tra
ck but pedalled slowly so that she could sneak a look inside the villa gates as she passed. She saw, much to her satisfaction, that the dark blue polished car was still parked inside. From then on she was torn between the desire to pedal furiously and so get to the village first, and the need to take the trip steadily so that she could arrive for her interview with the mayor cool and poised and unflustered.

  Once up on the main road, however, she soon discovered that the hot sunshine made it impossible to rush. Also the wheels of the bicycle spun the dust up on the asphalt surface, threatening to engulf her if she went at more than snail pace. And even then when she arrived at the bottom of the hill approaching the village, the gleaming metal frame of the machine was hidden under a thick layer of grey dust. She could only be thankful that she had escaped most of it herself.