by Iris Danbury
She turned to smile at him. “Of course.”
On the return journey Nicola was invited to share Sebastian’s car. She agreed instantly, but she was vaguely surprised that it meant that Ramon and Adrienne would be allowed to drive home in his car unchaperoned. She sat with Elena in the back while Sebastian drove, Ignacio beside him.
Dona Elena was graciousness itself during the drive, breaking a sentence only once when Sebastian met a large coach and had to back to the very edge of the rocky cliff.
On arrival at the Villa Ronda, Elena said, “Senorita Brettell, you must sit down and tell me about yourself.”
Nicola realised now as she regarded this formidable young widow that Elena had urged Sebastian to include Nicola, so that they would be home before the other two, Adrienne and Ramon.
“Yes, Dona Elena,” Nicola said gently, as they sat in one of the small patios of the villa. “What would you like to know?”
Elena removed her dark glasses. “About your family. Your life in London. Dr. Montal says you came here only for a holiday.”
“Yes.” Nicola decided that without being impolite or obstructive, she need not make it easy for Dona Elena.
“Then why did you stay?” asked the other.
“I had arranged to meet my sister Lisa in Barcelona, even step into her job which she had given up. But I haven’t been able to trace Lisa yet.” Nicola realised that the doctor might already have given Elena some of these details.
“How very interesting!” Elena had replaced her dark glasses. “Are you still looking for her?”
“Of course.”
Elena’s lips curled into a faintly derisive smile.
“Have the police been able to help you?” she asked.
Nicola inwardly shivered. “So far I haven’t asked for their help.”
“I see. No doubt you have good reasons for that.” Nicola remained silent. This was no time to make hot protests or Elena would probe and suspect until she arrived at the truth about Lisa.
“I feel I must give you a friendly warning,” Elena continued. “About Adrienne. At the moment she is very taken with you. She finds you a pleasant companion. But she is very young—and she changes her mind most rapidly. If you should suddenly find yourself on bad terms with her, that is something you must entirely expect.”
After a brief pause, Nicola said, “Thank you, Dona Elena. I’ll bear in mind what you say.” She had no intention of revealing that she had pledged herself to stay for a year, and evidently Dr. Sebastian had not mentioned the fact to Elena. Of course, Nicola reflected, Adrienne might make the situation so impossible that Nicola would be glad to go and Sebastian only too willing to release her. It was obvious now that Elena would do everything in her power to sow trouble between Nicola and both Adrienne and her uncle.
Elena rose, a beautiful woman, slightly above the average Spanish height, with a regal carriage and a proud tilt of her head so that it showed the camellia-white pillar of her throat. Beside her, Nicola felt undistinguished and at this moment even grubby after the day’s outing. She was longing to get away from Elena and take a cool shower. At last Elena dismissed her with a cool smile and a final warning: “You will remember what I said, won’t you?”
Nicola fled to her room. She was going to be no match for this elegant, sophisticated woman. In many ways, although she was older, she could not always follow Adrienne’s sometimes tortuous reasoning and impulsive actions, but at least the young girl was frank about her intentions.
Elena and Ramon stayed to dinner at the Villa, and although on the surface the atmosphere was gay and light enough, Nicola sensed an undercurrent of uneasy watchfulness. Ramon suggested that he might take Adrienne and Nicola out for a trip in the motor dinghy which he used with his yacht.
“Tomorrow?” queried Adrienne. “Oh, we shall be delighted.”
Before Nicola could agree, the doctor interposed. “Tomorrow is not a very convenient day for me.”
Ramon laughed lightly, his dark eyes twinkling. “Forgive me, dear Sebastian, but I had no idea that you would want to come with us. But of course you’re welcome.”
Sebastian’s face did not relax. “I was not thinking of wasting my time on boat trips. It was merely that I thought Miss Brettell might be able to give some of her time to work for me.”
“Oh, I see.” Ramon gave Nicola an oblique glance accompanied by his most charming smile.
“But of course I’m available to work whenever you say, Dr. Montal,” Nicola said hastily before any further remarks or significant pauses could complicate the situation.
“I protest!” exclaimed Ramon. “You must give Nicola a few chances to have leisure with us.”
“Miss Brettell will not be worked unduly hard, I assure you,” replied Sebastian. Now his face was lit with a smile that softened his forbidding features. Why didn’t he look like that more often, thought Nicola, instead of keeping his smiles hidden away and unused?
“I could accompany Adrienne,” suggested Elena, who was immediately rewarded with a flashing angry look from Adrienne.
“Oh, no,” put in Ramon quickly. “You know how you hate my small boats.”
“It seems that we’d better compromise,” Sebastian advised. “Ramon can take you two girls out in the morning and after lunch I shall be home and Miss Brettell will then be free to assist me.”
For a moment Ramon stared at his host. “As you arrange it, so shall it be,” he said politely with the merest nod. It was clear to Nicola that he was displeased with the cavalier way in which Sebastian had ordered the day’s arrangements, but no doubt Ramon was familiar with Dr. Montal’s moods and character.
On the way down to the harbour next morning, Adrienne giggled with amusement.
“Did you see Elena’s face last night when she offered to chaperone me in the boat?” she asked Nicola. “She was divided into two pieces, one to be with me and Ramon and the other with you and Sebastian,” Adrienne’s laughter rang out joyously as she drove her white car down the winding lane towards the shore.
Nicola, too, was beginning to see that she must tread most warily in this circle where convention still had to be respected.
Ramon was waiting for the two girls where the road ran along by the harbour. His white shirt and shorts intensified the blackness of his hair, his tanned skin and dark, luminous eyes. He was undeniably handsome, Nicola had to admit, and his courteous manners added a new dimension to politeness. When he handed Nicola into the dinghy he became the courtier receiving his princess. She noticed that he held her hand in his firm clasp rather longer than was necessary.
He navigated carefully among the crowd of other vessels in the harbour, but once outside in the open sea, he opened the throttle and the boat skimmed along like a white bird, leaving a creamy wake of foam astern. The wind tore through Nicola’s hair and she was thankful that she had recently had it cut into a shorter style for the summer. Adrienne’s long fair hair blew and twisted into a tangle of untidy strands. Ramon steered away from the shore and the coastline diminished so that it became only an undulating line of blue-grey shadow.
“Not so far out, Ramon!” called Adrienne. “You’ll have us in Majorca in no time!”
He flashed his white teeth at her in reply, but soon turned the boat in a wide arc that brought the dinghy parallel with the shore. He slowed down so that the boat seemed to drift lazily on top of the scintillating waves. He lolled against the thwart and lit a cigar.
“Why don’t you have lunch with us on the yacht?” he asked.
“No. We promised we would be back at the Villa at two o’clock,” said Adrienne firmly. “Nicola must be there for Sebastian, you remember?”
Ramon laughed. “I remember! His Imperious Excellency never lets an opportunity go by to play the Conquistador. You, Nicola, must preserve your Anglo-Saxon character and refuse to yield to his orders.”
Nicola smiled. “I can hardly do that. I’m not just a guest. I’m paid to work for Dr. Montal.”
Ramon took the two girls aboard the Clorinda in the harbour. Adrienne knew her way around the yacht, but Ramon conducted Nicola on a quick tour of inspection. She admired its trim luxury, shining white paint and gleaming brasswork. A steward served drinks at an elegant teak table where an awning stretched across the well-deck made a cool patch of shade as the yacht rode at anchor.
Ramon renewed his invitation to lunch, protesting that he disliked eating alone. Adrienne wavered, but Nicola put in decisively, “It’s very kind of you, Senor—I mean, Ramon.” She felt herself blushing under his intense stare. “But perhaps another time when we have made the proper arrangements?”
“By all means! I shall be enchanted.” He raised her hand to his lips, then preceded the two girls into the dinghy to take them ashore.
On the quay Nicola gazed again at the yacht Clorinda, a craft with beautiful clear-cut lines, well qualified to take her place among those other handsome luxury vessels from Los Angeles and Stockholm, London and Monte Carlo.
Ramon was about halfway between the quay and the Clorinda and he waved to the two girls, who waved back.
“You like Ramon?” queried Adrienne as she and Nicola walked towards the road.
“I think he’s a very pleasant young man,” Nicola said smoothly.
Adrienne gave a faint chuckle. “Yes, he has charm and much else besides. Perhaps you had better marry him.”
“Hold on a moment! I’ve only met him two or three times.”
“Does that matter?” asked Adrienne. “Me, I have known him too long—since I was a small child.”
“So he is just like a brother to you.” Nicola’s voice held gentle sarcasm.
“Exactly so! There is no—how shall I say?—no excitement, no turbulence. I should like a man to set me on fire with his glance and make me feel faint with his kisses.”
Nicola hardly knew whether to laugh or take Adrienne seriously. “At your age every girl wants a man like that.”
“Then why shouldn’t we find him?”
“Be patient, Adrienne. One day you might find that Ramon sparks you off just like that.”
Adrienne sighed. “Never, I think, with Ramon. Besides, he is most flirtatious.”
“Then that ought to make you jealous. Doesn’t it?”
“No,” declared Adrienne crossly.
On the way back to the Villa, she stopped the car outside a small cottage. “I want you to visit some friends I have here,” she explained.
“But we shall be very late for lunch,” Nicola objected.
“We shall stay only a few minutes.”
Nicola followed Adrienne through the doorway of the pink-washed cottage. After the dazzling sunshine outside, it took her a moment or two to accustom her eyes to the dark interior. Then she became aware that two women had emerged from the shadows.
Adrienne was introducing her in Spanish.
“Senora Gallito—Senorita Micaela Gallito—Senorita Brettell, mi amigo inglesa.”
The two women, evidently mother and daughter, bowed gravely in acknowledgment. The younger one hurried away and came back with a jug of wine. The two girls drank the rough wine from small stone goblets. Then Adrienne asked, “Barto?”
The young girl, Micaela, shook her head and replied in Spanish. Adrienne asked further questions.
Nicola was appalled. The Gallitos were evidently Barto’s family, and here she was, at Adrienne’s invitation, drinking wine in their house, when she had been most definitely instructed by Dr. Montal to keep Adrienne out of Barto’s way.
How could she now persuade Adrienne to leave? She glanced pointedly at her watch and murmured “Vamos”, then repeated in English, “Let’s go.”
Adrienne smiled. “Momentito. No hurry.”
A few more minutes went by, then Adrienne rose, ready to leave, and Nicola sighed with relief. At that moment the doorway was blocked by a shadow and a young, slim boy came in, carrying a bucket of fish. Adrienne greeted him, then turned towards Nicola.
“This is Barto.”
“Bartolomeo Gallito,” he announced with dignity as he bowed to Nicola.
Adrienne called out, “Adios, Senora! Micaela!” then spoke rapidly to Barto in an undertone. “Come on, Nicola.”
During the short drive between the cottage and the Villa Ronda, Nicola remained silent until Adrienne exclaimed irritably, “You are angry with me.”
“Not exactly angry,” countered Nicola. “But I think you took me there under false pretences.”
“Not in the least,” declared Adrienne. “Now you know what Barto’s family are like. How can you say that they are not honest and charming people?”
“I don’t doubt it, but you’ll get Barto into trouble.”
Adrienne laughed as she swung the car through the gates and along the curving drive. “Sebastian won’t know anything about our visit—unless you tell him.”
Nicola alighted from the car. “That puts me into the position of a spy. I thought you disliked that sort of thing.”
Adrienne stared at Nicola, her grey eyes wide with hurt bewilderment. “I really believe you would tell Sebastian!”
“I’d much rather not,” admitted Nicola.
“But you think you have a duty to Sebastian.”
Nicola shrugged and turned away. “Don’t let’s discuss it further. But please, Adrienne, don’t make me your companion—” she had nearly said “accomplice”—“on these occasions.”
It was a pity, thought Nicola afterwards, that the doctor was home for lunch that day and required her services in the afternoon, for Adrienne’s ill-temper would easily have evaporated. But he was waiting with barely concealed impatience and when Adrienne and Nicola joined him, he said mildly, but in a reproving tone, “You’re very late home, Adrienne. I thought you must have decided to stay to lunch on Ramon’s yacht.”
“We had some shopping to do on the way back,” Adrienne answered casually. She glanced at her uncle, then at Nicola. “No, that’s not true. Before Nicola can tell you, I will tell you myself,” she said defiantly. “I went today to call on the Gallitos.”
“For what purpose?” asked Sebastian coldly.
“Only to see them. Barto came home while I was there and I saw him for two whole minutes. So what can you do now?”
Sebastian put down his sherry glass. “I’m glad you’ve told me, Adrienne,” he said calmly. “For Nicola’s sake, more than your own. On the way up here I passed your car, which was standing outside the Gallitos’ house.” He paused, finished his sherry, then rose. “We’ll begin lunch.”
Adrienne jumped to her feet, fury in every line of her body, her face contorted in rage. “How hateful you have become, Sebastian!” she exclaimed. “You knew I was there, yet you tried to trap me into saying that we stayed late on Ramon’s boat. No, indeed, I don’t want lunch. I won’t sit down and eat with you!”
She dashed away across the courtyard and was hidden by a clump of oleander and magnolia trees.
Nicola shot a questioning look at Sebastian. Should she follow Adrienne and pacify her if possible, or was her neutrality to be undermined by staying with the doctor?
“Come along, Nicola,” he said, resolving her doubts. “No doubt you’re hungry after the morning boat trip.” He led the way to the table placed under the three palm trees.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t prevent that visit to the Gallito family,” she said, after they had begun the meal. “I didn’t at first realise who the women were, until I heard about Barto. Then I realised they were his mother and sister.”
Sebastian smiled, that rare smile of his which lit his face like a gilt-edged cloud after a storm. “Don’t worry about it. You know now, so you will understand the position next time. It’s an advantage to know where the dangers are. Then you can avoid them.”
Nicola was silent. It was not always quite so easy to avoid complications even when the dangers were plainly in sight. She longed to say to the doctor that if he really wanted to stop his niece from seeing Barto, then he was go
ing the wrong way about it.
He spoke of other subjects during the meal, his work at the big hospital in Barcelona, his clinic in the poorer part of Orsola, and Nicola gave him her attention. There was no sense in letting her mind dwell on Adrienne’s temporary fury.
Nicola would have been ready to start on the doctor’s typing work almost immediately after lunch, but he always insisted on the siesta, although she suspected that he did not often take a real rest himself, but merely sat writing in his study.
At four-thirty, refreshed by lemon tea, she settled down to work in Sebastian’s study and he came in some time later to settle any queries.
“By the way,” he said suddenly, “I met a girl this morning who might possibly be your sister.”
Nicola almost jumped up from the typewriter. “Lisa? Oh, where is she?”
“This girl is in a convent hospital in Barcelona.”
“Is she ill?” Nicola asked.
“Not physically. Her trouble is more mental. She’s had a shock of some kind, I imagine.”
Nicola went cold with apprehension. If the girl were really Lisa, what could have happened to her?
“I must go and find out if she’s Lisa,” she said agitatedly.
“I’ll take you there tomorrow,” he promised.
“Tomorrow?” she echoed. “But—”
“I know,” he interposed. “You’re going to tell me that you want to go now, that you can’t wait. There’s nothing to be gained by going today. The nuns would not allow you to see the girl without my presence as a doctor.”
Nicola choked down her disappointment. Sebastian Montal was hard and unfeeling. Had his profession as a healer taught him nothing of kindness and sympathy? To spring the news on her that Lisa might possibly be found and then to make her wait in excruciating suspense throughout the rest of the day and tonight, surely this was cruelty itself.