It was when she entered the spruce little cooking area, with its gay coloured wall tiles arid gleaming utensils, that she began to wonder about the silence of the house. Everything here was tidied away just as they had left it after lunch. There was no afternoon tray set out, no teacups, nor a sign that any had been in use. And come to think of it, if her mother had gone down the meadow, wouldn't she have taken Dale with her for the romp?
Briefly she checked all the rooms, and after closing the back door behind her, scanned the deserted meadow. A suspicion was beginning to form in her mind.
She hadn't missed the line of cars parked along the track when she returned from the beach, but because they were a source of irritation to her she had preferred to pretend they weren't there. Nor had she paid much attention to the fact that Twiggy was sitting up on the villa wall, for she had lately taken to frequenting the other side of the track on her wanderings.
Now Janet began to frown over the line of party cars. Her eyes travelled down the meadow, then back towards the side entrance to the villa. She wondered ... was it possible ...? No sooner had the idea taken shape than she was marching purposefully across the track and up the villa steps. Setfaced, she stepped out across the square and turned down along the side of the villa to find a lively crowd scattered between the terrace and the area around the pool Everything was going full swing.
Crossly, Janet scanned the groups around the rabies, and sure enough there was her mother, resplendent in somewhat dated silk blouse and flared slacks, chatting happily away to anyone who cared to listen.
Trying to appear nonchalant, Janet made for the table and edging her way in as though she desired a drink, she managed after a while to make her presence known to her mother. But it was difficult to gain more than half her attention. Pretending to sip her drink next to her as she chatted, and catching her eye when she could, she remonstrated furiously under her breath, 'Mother! What are you doing over here?'
'Well, why not, dear?' came the bland whispered reply. The Fords told us to come over any time there was a party, and it's so nice to have a chat.'
'But one doesn't accept the hospitality of someone with whom one is engaged in a legal battle,' Janet expostulated softy.
'Oh, nonsense, dear! The Fords are perfectly nice people.' Mrs. Kendall turned to laugh gaily at someone's joke, and Janet, sighing to herself, gave it up. She knew that her mother preferred to pretend that there was no wrangle over the track.
She was compelled to stand and sip her drink. Now that she was here there was nothing else she could do, though every mouthful choked her. It wasn't just her mother's capriciousness which irked her.
She had seen Bruce Walbrook the moment she had come on to the terrace, looking lean and masculine in white slacks and navyblue shirt, a white polkadot cravat knotted at his throat. Her insides had stirred in a peculiar way at the sight of him. She knew he had never taken his eyes off her since she had approached the table and only a few yards away now, obviously aware of her annoyance at her mother's enjoyment, his blue glance as it met hers was laced with ironic amusement.
Janet preferred to think it was only his look which irritated her, and not the fact that he was in the company of two very beautiful women who were hanging on to every word of his lazy conversation. One had straight, shoulderlength flaxen hair and a faultless figure encased in smooth lilac trousers and a matching sunbra which looked as though it bad been sprayed on. The other one, in a simple but exquisitely flattering beach dress, fluttered long curling lashes beneath an upsweep of luxuriant dark hair.
Janet wished she could swing away from that whimsical blue gaze, which kept fencing tauntingly with hers as it maddeningly took for granted the female adulation. She would have liked nothing better than to turn her back on him. But she would rather diethan let him see that she cared, even if he was surrounded by a dozen beauties.
Admittedly it was painful to watch the way he smiled or inclined his dark head, when one or the other of the dazzling females spoke to him. In fact Janet was fast beginning to doubt whether she could keep herself from running miserably back to the house.
She was on the point of doing something idiotic like that when a hand touched her arm and she was turning to gaze up into the flushed handsome face of Francisco.
'Janet!' He pronounced her name Shanet, exclaiming a little breathlessly as though he had hurried to get to her. I didn't know you were here.'
He was wearing cream tailored sunshorts and looked as though he had spent most of the afternoon in the pool. With his lithe suntanned frame, and damp hair curling dose to his head, his good looks were quite stunning. Janet basked in the warmth of his smile. She derived a peculiar pleasure from playing tit for tat with that taunting blue gaze.
'Hello, Francisco!' she laughed up into his dark shining eyes. 'Actually I've only just arrived.'
'Please! ' he begged with a hurt smile. 'Paco!' And at herpuzzled twinkle he laughed, "That is what my friends callme. In Spain, Paco is short for Francisco.'
'All right—Paco I' she shrugged gaily.
His brown gaze trailed over her golden shoulders andsoft curving lips. With boyish impulsiveness he took her hand and pleaded playfully, 'Come for a swim with me.'
"I don't think so, Paco,' she replied humorously, pleased to note that the blue glance had lost its mockery. 'I've only Just come back from a strenuous trip to the beach.'
'You went to the beach? On your own?' He looked mildly surprised. And when she nodded, 'But how?'
'I cycled it,' she said simply.
"You went by bicycle ''
Janet was amused by his horrified tones. She was beginning to learn that the modern Spaniard was more carconsciencethan any of the other races in Europe, and would drive on a trip of a few yards, rather than walk it.
That is quite unbelievable.' He looked down at her, and his smile something of a rebuke he added, 'Promise me you will allow me to drive you, whenever you wish to go again.'
'I couldn't possibly trouble you, Paco,' she demurred laughingly. 'I might want to go every afternoon.'
'Then I will go every afternoon too,' Francisco replied doggedly. 'I am free from two o'clock until five each day. Please say you will allow me to escort you?'
Janet wasn't sure that this was what she wanted. She liked her own company, and she had enjoyed the peaceful ride this afternoon. On the other hand she was not unaware that a certain blue gaze was hardening over slightly as Francisco exercised his boyish charms on her, and enjoying her moment she nodded up to him sparklingly. 'All right, Paco I I'll be happy to let you take me.'
They chatted on after that about small time things such as the weather, and bow the party was going, whilst they nibbled at the food that Francisco chose, and sipped at the drinks. Janet gave herself up completely to the role she was playing, at the same time radiating a genuine warmth towards Francisco for the attention he was giving her. She fully expected him to wander off after a while to some other group, but he stayed with her until the gathering began to show signs of breaking up.
She had lost sight of Bruce Walbrook. She had caught the suggestion of a satirical slant to his smile at one time as he watched her, then she had gone all out to ignore him. When she had sneaked a look in that direction a little later on to torment herself with the view of him beside his lovely companions, she found that he had disappeared and the fair ladies were chatting elsewhere.
She didn't see him again until Francisco was escorting her across the tiled square to the side entrance of the villa. While they were laughing together, heads down over Francisco's bare feet, she noticed out of the tail of her eye that her mother was being escorted from the party too. She could hear her lively chatter and Bruce Walbrook's suave replies.
As Francisco, without shoes, was unable to go any further than the top of the steps they stopped off to one side, and against an arbor of trailing yellow blossom which cascaded down from the wall, they stood and made arrangements for the follo
wing afternoon.
They were there a good ten minutes, in which time Janet knew that Bruce Walbrook had taken her mother over to the house. She had heard him return, passing them by briskly to cross the square and disappear inside the villa.
She said her goodbyes at last to Francisco and tripped down the steps, while he, turning to wave, pattered back over the tiles in his bare feet and out of sight.
Over at the house her mother was fussing around talking to Dale and preparing to change. Her animated features were slightly put out as she told Janet, 'I asked Mr. Walbrook to stay for a while, when he brought me over, but he was very abrupt. He said something about having work to do and left almost at once.'
Janet pretended to give her attention to the cat who was brushing around asking for milk. After the events of the latter half of the afternoon, most of which she had spenttaunting the man as he had taunted her, she felt too emotionally washed out to make any reply.
Francisco called for her just after two the following afternoon. Her mother was having a liedown and the animals wore stretched out in the shade, so she tiptoed out with her beach bag over her arm. The young Spaniard was looking colorfully handsome in linen slacks and brilliant beach shirt and despite the fact that she had been a little indifferent to the idea of his accompanying her to the beach, she couldn't help but catch her breath now at the sight of his smile and those classic oliveskinned features.
She didn't know why Bruce Walbrook had taken it into his head to park his car along the track today, but she saw it standing outside the side entrance to the villa as she moved outtowards Francisco's chubby little brilliant orangemodel.
She had slipped on a brief silkknitted top and oatmeal cotton slacks over her swim suit, and there was no mistaking the open appraisal in the brown eyes of her young escort m he gave her his customary bow. She shook his hand, then, the formalities over with, they relaxed laughingly. She was allowing him to assist her into her seat when she heard the door of the dark blue car shut. The next moment it was speeding past the windows and swerving tightly round the corner of the villa and out of sightFrancisco was giving all his attention to settling Janet Into what was obviously the pride of his possession, his brilliantly coloured little car. He relieved her of her beach bag and placed it on the back seat next to his own. Then donning a heavy pair of sunglasses which enhanced his good looks, if that were possible, he climbed in behind the wheel and they were off.
Relaxing, Janet took off her sunhat and tossed it on tothe back seat. She kept her sunglasses on to combat the glare of the road. There was no sign of the dark blue car asthey turned the comer out of the farm road, and they went past the villa gates too fast for her to sneak a look back to see if it was inside.
They came up to the main road and turned towards the village. With an effort she put all thoughts of Bruce Walbrook out of her head.
It was a perfect afternoon. The sun shone from a cloudless blue sky, but there was enough breeze wafting through the windows of the little car to make driving a pleasure. The countryside was veiled in that afternoon stillness which is typical of Spain in the siesta period. The banks at the side of the road were peppered with tiny coloured flowers. They bypassed San Gabrielle and followed the road leading to the sea. Francisco swung the wheel leisurely, taking his glance from the front occasionally to smile happily at Janet. As they sat perfectly in tune with each other's company, he asked as a casual means of passing the time, 'How is your Spanish progressing?'
'Very slow,' Janet said, grimacing. 'Some days I think I'm doing rather well, and others I find I'm making a complete donkey of myself.'
'No one worries about that,' he smiled. 'But you must mix with the people. It is the only way to learn.'
That's just it!' Janet laughed. 'I make a point of going up to the village shop whenever Mother wants anything, but everything is so confusing. So many of your words are so alike.' She turned to him to tick off on her fingers. 'Take huevos and Hueves. Eggs and Thursday. If the hens haven't been laying and I go up to the shop I find I've asked for half a dozen Thursdays. And when we're working out what day of the week it is, I say "Ah yes, today is eggs!"'
Francisco threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. Enjoying his mirth, Janet went on, 'It's the same with nueve and nuevo. Nine and new. The other day I talked to a woman in the village and told her, "I see you'rewearing nine shoes!" '
'But what about your English language?' Francisco retaliated playfully. 'It is even more complicated.'
'You speak it very well,' Janet crowed, meeting his twinkling gaze.
'I had to live for one year in England to do that,' he replied, swinging the wheel.
Janet shrugged humorously. 'Well, as I've only been here about a month perhaps there's hope for me yet.'
The drive to the beach took but a short time. They arrived to find quite a few holiday-makers making the most of the pretty little cove. Francisco parked the car, and having his swim shorts on under his slacks, had changed in a flash. Janet went oft to a cabin and joined him later in the sea.
He swam superbly, his long lithe body and his big shoulders slicing the water as silently as a fish. Janet hadn't his power and he was soon ahead of her, well out to sea. Unnerved after a while to find herself so far out of her depth, she struggled laughingly back in the direction of the shore, floundering hopelessly as he bore down on her with a menacing smile and splashed tauntingly around her. He caught her as she all but sank in the hilarity, and faces and hair streaming with water they kicked and laughed back to safer ground.
It was much more fun idling in the water than it was lying still in the sun, but eventually they had to content themselves with this in order to dry off their swimsuits for the drive back.
They spread their towels on a spare patch of sand beside the cafe and Francisco brought tall drinks topped with slices of lemon. They lay in companionable silence, pulling on the straws lazily and watching the life on the beach until it was time to go.
Both glowing after the afternoon's activities, they were content to sit side by side in the car and let the warm breezes through the window waft over them until they arrived back at the villa, where Francisco, having work to do, bade her goodbye.
As her friendship with Francisco grew Janet learned,though only vaguely, that Bruce Walbrook had other clients on the island, besides the Fords. She got theimpression that the two men worked between the villa and their offices in town.
She grew accustomed to seeing the young Spaniard's brilliant little car draw up outside the house every afternoon for their trip to the beach. Francisco adored swimming and as she quite enjoyed the sport herself it was good to have his company. They would breeze away just after two and not return until the last minute when Francisco would dash away from her laughingly and take the steps at the side entrance to the villa, two at a time.
They were pleasant hours they spent together at the cove, diving for pebbles beneath the clear water, racing one another to an outcrop of rocks, feeling the hot sand beneath their feet when, for fun, they joined in some beach game.
Whatever the activity Francisco was never from her side. With his big goldenbrown physique, his handsome features and damp tightly waving hair, Janet knew she was the envy of most of the female population on the beach. And yet, though she joined in the fun with him, and was far from blind to the attractiveness of his smile, he was to her just someone pleasant to be with.
Sometimes when she was lying on her towel in the sun, she would smile to herself at her peculiarities. Was there any hope for her? How her girl friends in England would despair of her! Here she was with a man with whom they would gladly give a month's wages for just one date, jet she remained quite unstirred. For Francisco she felt nothing more than a warm companionableness, similar to what she might feel if she were with her brother Ian.
That might have been the reason for the success of their friendship, because they were both so completely relaxed. They could laugh and talk, argue light
ly and scold humorously, and usually when they rolled up to the villa in the car around five, they would tumble out bubbling over with high spirits, or chewing over the end of some lighthearted discussion.
Then one afternoon, after almost a fortnight of such hilarities, their outings together were brought to a sudden and abrupt halt.
Janet had been aware from the start of Bruce Walbrook's displeasure at their friendship. She didn't know what had got into her, but she had to admit that secretly she enjoyed making the most of Francisco's company for this fact alone.
She knew that on more than one occasion when they had returned from their jaunt to the beach, the attorney had been pacing the area at the top of the steps, waiting. She had heard those impatient footsteps and had pretended not to know they were there as she drifted leisurely out of the car. She couldn't explain it, except to say that it gave her a peculiar feeling of triumph to linger laughingly with Francisco at the foot of the steps, knowing that somewhere inside the gates that austere blue gaze was looking down on them narrowing disapprovingly.
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