by Sara Seale
After that they all seemed able to relax more naturally. The picnic as such, thought Laura, could scarcely be called a happy start to Dominic's better relations with his nephew, but observing the efforts he made to gain the boy's confidence,
she felt sorry that Peregrine had elected to be one of the party. He seemed to have forgotten his discontent for the moment, but to every tentative effort on his brother's part to establish some sort of contact with the child, he added a counter-attack of his own. Nicky, with the unerring instinct of children, very soon realised he had become an object of attention and began to show off, and Laura, remembering the unpropitious start of the day, felt that a scene was not very far off.
Nicky, missing his afternoon nap, soon began to grow fretful, and when Dominic suggested taking him on to the cliffs to watch for a possible passing ship, he declined rudely and retreated to Peregrine's side demanding unicorns, not ships.
"I thought you'd forgotten your unicorn," Laura said with some asperity, and then because it seemed better to pursue an uncontroversial subject as a diversion, she said to Peregrine: "Didn't you say there was some legend attached to unicorns?"
Peregrine's eyes held a glint of devilment.
"Oh, yes, there's a legend."
"Tell us, then—it will amuse Nicky."
"I doubt if Nicky would understand. What do you think, Dom? Shall I regale our impressionable Laura with that delectable story?"
"By all means, if you think the myth is worth telling," Dominic replied, and Cleo yawned.
"Laura's a sucker for dreary legends, but frankly they bore me," she said, and Peregrine, half closing his eyes, sent her a very pertinent look.
"You needn't listen, dear heart, for this one will have no meaning for you," he said. "Well now—unicorns. In olden times when knights were bold and fabulous beasts as common as cows or sheep, it was the great thing to hunt unicorn, for they were fierce and untameable and not to be caught by usual methods of the chase, so what do you think they did?" He had an arm round Nicky and addressed the question to him, but his eyes darted between Cleo and Laura with mischievous anticipation.
"What?" breathed Nicky.
"Well, when they wanted to catch a unicorn they put out a young virgin as bait—" "What's a young virgin?"
"Don't interrupt. Anyway, that's what they did, and the first unicorn that came along just trotted up and trustfully lay down at the maiden's feet, and so he was caught. Simple, wasn't it?"
"So simple that there was probably another sort of catch," said Cleo with lazy amusement. "Your so-called virgin was most likely an experienced little piece who knew her way around."
"Oh, no, that wouldn't have worked at all," retorted Peregrine, and Nicky, cheated of an ending he could understand, said crossly:
"That's a silly story, Uncle Perry."
"Yes, it is, isn't it?" said Dominic with an unexpected touch of distaste, but just for a moment his eyes had held Laura's with an odd expression.
"Perhaps it might be a good thing if we all went home," he said on a weary note. "This hasn't been a very successful introduction to spring for you, has it, Laura? Nicky, stop making so much noise, there's a good chap. You're too big to cry like a baby."
"He's tired," said Laura placatingly, fearing a fresh outburst, but to her surprise and, she suspected, to Nicky's too, he stopped crying.
"You see?" said his uncle pleasantly. "You can be perfectly sensible if you wan't, can't you? Now, would you like to stretch your legs and come with me and see if we can spot that ship?"
The boy did not answer rudely this time, but he shook his head, looking scared, for he was afraid to go near the edge of the cliffs, and Bella closed her book and said that she would take him back to the car and put him to sleep on the back seat. He went with her willingly, and Dominic said a little wryly :
"I suppose one of us ought to have thought of that before.
It would have saved a lot of unnecessary tiresomeness all round."
"Do you find him tiresome?" Laura asked a little anxiously. It was so important that the child should not antagonise his new relations.
"I find his aversion to me far more upsetting," he replied in an unfamiliar note of defeat, and Laura was troubled. She could understand Nicky's disquiet, for there were times when she felt the same thing herself, but this was not one of them. Left alone with Dominic, with the wind blowing between them and the sun seeming to turn warmer on her lifted face, she was suddenly at ease.
"Perhaps you try too hard," she said gently. "Children won't be forced."
"I wasn't aware that I was trying to force anything, but it's a little galling when Perry demonstrates so effortlessly that he has the knack I haven't," he replied.
"Peregrine likes to show off," she said uncomfortably. "Nicky probably subsconsciously recognises a kindred spirit."
"Very tactfully put, Miss Smith. But don't run away with the idea that brother Peregrine's effronteries can always be dismissed as schoolboy pranks. Perry's twenty-six, and has a very adult attitude towards the more sophisticated pleasures of life, as you may have discovered already."
He had spoken lightly, but his eyes were grave, and she felt herself colouring. He had, of course, been well aware of the significance of that little scene he had interrupted after breakfast, and she was not sure now whether he was warning her yet again, or simply intimating that he did not choose to be fooled by her airy dismissal of his brother's behaviour.
"I can look after myself, thank you," she replied, hoping that he would take the hint that her private affairs could be no concern of his, since this time he was not personally involved in emotional disturbances, but his eyes were suddenly amused.
"So you told me yesterday—and know the facts of life, too, you said. Very well, Miss Smith, the point is taken and I apologise if I have trodden on your corns," he said, and she
sent him a swift, puzzled look from under her lashes.
"You're laughing at me," she said, then, in tones of such surprise that he actually did laugh.
"Yes, you rather absurd creature—I do laugh sometimes," he retorted. "I hope you don't, like Nicky, find me strange and a little alarming."
"Unimecorns—" she said for no good reason, and his eyebrows lifted, "—unicorns, I mean."
"Do I get the connection? The old legend evidently made an impression on you—good heavens, what a guilty blush! Were you, by any chance, confusing me with that fabulous beast?" He started to whistle that teasing tune that was begin-ins to become annoying, but she was saved a reply by the return of Cleo and Peregrine. He, however, with his usual disregard for the feelings of others, at once drew attention to her heightened colour.
"Well, well, well! Dom, you old fox, I believe you've been making hay while our backs were turned. We've been making a little hay of our own, haven't we, Cleo, my pretty?"
"Don't be more of an ass than you can help," his brother said quite mildly, but his eyes went to Cleo's face with a considering expression. Even to Laura, it was plain from her cousin's sleepy satisfied smile that Peregrine hadn't wasted his time, neither did she trouble to deny it, but her eyes met Dominic's with open invitation and she could not have suggested more plainly if she had spoken that her preference would have been for him.
When it came to arranging how they should travel for the return journey, Peregrine declined flatly to take Nicky again as passenger and looked boldly from one girl to the other.
"Which shall it be? Will you fight it out between you, or shall we toss for it?" he said, and Laura, turning her back on him, declared with unusual tartness that she, for one, was in no hurry to scramble for the privilege.
"You don't high-hat me, Miss Bread-and-butter—not after this morning's little skirmishings," he said, and picked her up with a swoop to carry her to his car.
"Put her down!" Dominic's voice, dark with anger, startled them all. "Do you hear, Peregrine? Put her down at once unless you want your ears pinned back."
Peregrine obeyed, not, though
t Laura, out of any regard for his brother, but because he wanted his fists free. She stood unhappily between them, aware of how much alike they were in that moment, their hard faces naked with savagery, their clenched fists and the fluttering handkerchiefs at their throats lending them a vivid kinship with their buccaneering forebears.
"If you want a fight you can have one—but remember what happened last time," Peregrine sneered, and Laura saw the scar on Dominic's cheek begin to whiten under the dark skin.
"There are no flints around here, or have you other tricks like Troy's?" he said. For a moment his brother's eyes fell, and it was a sufficient acknowledgement of weakness to enable the older man to regain his control.
"I'm not brawling with you simply to teach you a lesson in manners," he said with weary contempt. "Your passenger's choice is hers alone, and you've already heard it. Get in, Laura."
As Laura scrambled into the car she heard Cleo say with her husky drawl:
"Well, that leaves me, Perry, my doughty knight. You shall let me drive your snorting charger and I'll show you a thing or two to make even your hair curl. I wasn't married to brother Troy for nothing—come on."
They were away down the road before Dominic had started his engine, Cleo at the wheel and demonstrating very ably that her boast was no idle one.
"If they end up in the ditch it will damn well serve them right," Dominic said with a savage jab at the accelerator, and for the first time Laura wondered if he could have more than a brotherly interest in Cleo.
She subsided into unhappy silence, the day spoilt. By the time they reached home, even the sky had clouded over and, with a rising wind and the first heavy drops of rain gathering
ominous force, it looked as though they were in for one of those sudden Atlantic squalls. Spring, thought Laura, as she dashed to the house for shelter, was still very far from Penzion.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Nicky was bathed and bedded down for the night, Laura went to her cousin's room to make the usual evening report.
"He's asleep," she said, wondering if it would be more tactful not to mention the unpleasantness of the expedition. "It was rather a long day for a five-year-old, really."
"He's a pest, and you're not being much help in establishing the right relations with his worthy Uncle Dom, but of course, you prefer Perry, don't you? So Nicky, of course, will follow the crowd."
Laura sighed. Cleo, she supposed, was naturally becoming anxious at the boy's continued aversion to his uncle, but it was useless trying to force a child to an affection it could not feel. Laura tried to explain this again, but Cleo appeared uninterested. She seemed moody and irritable, and although she had changed her slacks for a housecoat, she had got no further with her preparations for the evening but lay sprawled on her bed, smoking.
"You do prefer Perry, don't you?" she said, and Laura who had been going to ignore what she had taken to be a red herring, replied patiently:
"I find him easier, that's all. He's spoilt and a show-off, but I don't have to take him seriously."
"Well, so long as you remember that."
"But Cleo, you can't blame me for Nicky's devotion—it's Perry himself who never loses an opportunity to score."
"That wasn't what I meant at all. Perry's mine, do you hear?"
Laura was so astonished by such an unexpected reaction from the cousin who had always dismissed her as a child that she burst out laughing.
"I believe you're jealous!" she exclaimed, and Cleo flounced angrily on the bed.
"Why not? I'm not used to sharing favours," she snapped.
"Well!" said Laura. "I suppose I ought to feel flattered, but I can assure you I'd far sooner dispense with those sort of favours. It's just less trouble to put up with the odd pass or two and avoid a scene."
"But you find him attractive?"
"He has a sort of swashbuckling charm, I suppose, but I don't care for his rather spiteful methods of amusing himself."
"So it's Dom, really, is it? Oh, well, you're safe there."
"Dominic? Really, Cleo, why are you so determined that I'm bound to lose my head over one of your rather uncomfortable in-laws? I'm not given to imagining myself in love even if I do indulge in other day-dreams, and however willing Perry may be to make conquests, Dominic, I can assure you, would give me no such encouragement."
"No, I don't suppose he would. All the same—come here, Laura."
Laura walked round the bed and stood beside it, puzzled and a little uneasy at this sudden promotion to an equal footing, but Cleo's nervous irritability seemed to have left her, and she stretched out a lazy hand to give a tweak to Laura's dress.
"H'm ... that dress isn't bad," she said. "It really does something for that absurd waist of yours ... your hair's behaving better, too, and you're probably right to stand out against perms and brightening rinses ... Perry may have something at that."
"What are you talking about?"
"Something he said to me this afternoon. I thought he was talking about himself when he said you were the sort to raise the protective instinct in a certain type of man, but of course he was thinking of Dom's uncharacteristic streak of chivalry, and he does keep a rather predatory eye on you, doesn't he, darling? Don't let it fool you, though—it's just a kink of feudalism—like the crazy old father's mania for his fusty collection in the hall. So don't lose your heart—or your head."
Laura was relieved. It was clear now that Cleo and Peregrine had quarrelled, as they so often did, and he had pro-
yoked her with unlikely hints and comparisons. If Cleo had wilfully interpreted them in another way it could do little harm.
"Why do you suggest something phoney in a sense of chivalry? Dominic was ready once to shoulder Troy's liability in a pretty selfless gesture," she said, for that careless little dig at Dominic had troubled her.
Cleo looked up at her with a sleepy look of amusement.
"Oh, you've ferreted out the old scandal, have you? Well, there was nothing particularly chivalrous in offering to father your own child, was there?" she said.
A sudden gust of wind and rain lashing round the house made Laura shiver. "You can't believe that," she said with distaste. "Troy may have lied to you knowing he was safe, thousands of miles away in Australia, but everyone here knows the truth. Troy fought foul, too, using a flint When he was losing. Did you know that?"
"Yes, he left his mark to be remembered by, didn't he?" said Cleo lazily. "Did Dom tell you that? He would, of course, paint himself in a noble light."
"Certainly not. Bella told me. She thought I knew, naturally, since we're cousins."
"Bella? Well, Bella probably covers up now, since Troy's dead and Dom's head of the house. What does it matter, anyway?"
"I think the truth does matter, and what's more I don't think you do believe Troy's version—you knew him too well," Laura said with sudden shrewdness, and saw the little flicker of betrayal in her cousin's brilliant eyes.
"Well, perhaps I don't. But Dom doesn't run true to form, and that upsets my composite picture of the Trevaynes—when I'd got them all nicely worked out."
"Cleo, how much longer are we going to stay here?" Laura asked, for it suddenly seemed to her that the situation was less simple than it had first appeared, and the dark Trevayne, on whom the ultimate decision rested, seemed in no hurry to make up his mind.
"Until something's settled, of course. Dom will take his time, being what he is, and I'm in no hurry as long as Perry's
around to relieve the boredom. Why? Are you panting to get back to daily-breading and your dreary hostel? You won't have another chance like this for easy living, free of expense —unless, of course, I settle here, when I would naturally invite you to stay."
"Settle at Penzion? With Peregrine, you mean?"
"Hardly with Perry, darling, unless he cuts loose on his own. I might have to settle for Dom who, after all, does own the place. I admit Perry's much more to my taste, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?"
"Coul
d you really bring yourself to live in the same house married to one man and wanting the other?" asked Laura, to whom such a method of self-torment seemed unthinkable, and Cleo smiled with patient tolerance for the callow sentiments of youth.
"But if I was clever, darling, I could both have my cake and eat it as well, couldn't I?" she said. "Perry wouldn't raise objections—oh, for heaven's sake, Laura, don't look so shocked! I was only talking for the sake of talking—you're so infuriatingly literal-minded! Yes?" she called out as someone banged loudly on the door.
"Hey, Cleo! Are you dressed yet? " Peregrine's voice called, and Cleo sat up, her lassitude forgotten.
"You can't come in—Laura's here," she called, giving, thought Laura, a rather odd reason for his non-admittance.
"Well, put on something warm—we're going on the razzle later, and it's a filthy night."
"Okay!" Cleo called back, and bouncing off the bed, caught Laura round the waist.
"Darling!" she said, with one of her rare demonstrations of a casual affection, "I'm sorry I was bitchy and talked all that nonsense. Forget it, will you? Perry and I had a blazing row on the way home and I nearly ditched his car because I was in such a temper at the things he was saying, but now—this was Troy's way—call you all the filthy things under the sun, and then take you out on a colossal binge? He's so like Troy that it's uncanny sometimes. We used to quarrel and call each other foul names just like this, and then make it up in bed in
the only possible way."
"You're in love with Perry, aren't you?" Laura said, but Cleo only laughed, her sloe eyes brilliant with excitement and an odd, animal passion.
"Love?" she mocked. "Well, perhaps it's the nearest I'll get, but who cares for the finer definitions? I'm a man's woman, and the Trevaynes are certainly all men, even the rather incalculable Dom. Clear out now while I finish making myself seductive."
Laura went away, feeling somewhat exhausted having been subjected to so many unaccustomed emotional moods in one day, and it did not at all surprise her that Peregrine should be lying in wait for her at the bottom of the stairs, for he, like Cleo, was presumably in that same heady state of anticipation. He jumped out on her from the shadows, holding her prisoner from behind, and she stood quite still.