The Guilty Secret

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘Then be firm about it. Tell Tom you want to go home.’

  ‘Tom,’ she said heavily, ‘is enjoying himself. He’s being waited on hand and foot. He spends all day playing tennis or riding with Miles, and in the evenings Rozalinda flirts with him outrageously.’

  ‘Rozalinda flirts with everybody. Even Phil.’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean Tom has to look at her with that stupid, besotted expression on his face, does it?’ Mary’s voice was beginning to crack. ‘And she is so beautiful. I’m sure Tom is going to be bored with me when we get back home …’ her voice broke completely and she began to cry. ‘I love him so much, Jenny. I couldn’t bear it if he left me. I’d die, I know I would.’

  I put my arm round her saying firmly:- ‘The only thing that’s wrong Mary, is that you’re missing the children and it’s high time you and Tom got back to them. Tom isn’t in love with Rozalinda but she is his hostess, and if she comes on as strong as she did last night, he can’t just turn his back on her.’

  ‘You really think that’s all it is?’ she said raising a tear streaked face.

  ‘Yes,’ I said with certainty. ‘But you’ve been away from the children for nearly a fortnight. I think it’s time you went back to Templar’s Way.’

  ‘So do I,’ she said eagerly. ‘Only I didn’t want to leave until you had arrived. I was beginning to think something was wrong …’

  I smiled. ‘There’s nothing wrong. I’m perfectly well, both physically, mentally and emotionally. Just you go back and tell Tom it’s time to go home.’

  She wiped her eyes. ‘You’re quite right. It’s being without the children that’s got me down. Rozalinda doesn’t mean any harm and Tom would never be unfaithful to me …’

  ‘Then go and start packing,’ I said with a smile. ‘And don’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘If we go now we won’t be able to meet Jonathan.’

  ‘I’m marrying the man, Mary. You will have plenty of time to meet and get to know Jonathan once we’re home in England.’

  ‘Will you be living in Templar’s Way?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know whereabouts Jonathan lives. But wherever it is, we’ll still see plenty of you.’

  She smiled. ‘I feel such a fool. Crying like that and thinking that Tom could be unfaithful … you won’t tell anyone will you, Jenny. I feel as if I’ve been disloyal to him.’

  ‘Don’t be a goose. Of course I won’t tell anyone.’ There was no-one to tell. Mary’s expression the previous night had given away her thoughts to anyone interested enough to look. Aunt Harriet was probably giving Rozalinda a lecture about her behaviour right this very moment.

  ‘I think Miles is going back to the States soon as well,’ Mary said reflectively. ‘That means there will only be Aunt Harriet, Phil and yourself here.’

  ‘And Jonathan.’

  ‘And Jonathan,’ she agreed smiling, her distress rationalised and dispensed with.

  ‘That doesn’t matter, does it? From what Phil has said Rozalinda doesn’t want too much company.’

  ‘No, but she wants her friends.’ Mary said, her brow puckering, ‘She practically had a nervous breakdown before Harold brought her out here.’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘No. It was awful. No-one said anything to you because they didn’t want to put any extra worry on to you, but now you’re all right again and if you’re staying on here, you’d better know what happened.’

  ‘Is that why Aunt Harriet is looking so ill?’

  ‘Yes. Rozalinda was filming in the south of France. We weren’t expecting to see her for at least another two months and then she was home. No make-up on, dark circles under her eyes and refusing to see anyone. She locked herself in the bedroom and stayed there. Aunt Harriet tried to talk her down but it was no use and then she rounded on Harold who was bumbling away about her having a touch of flu, not being quite herself, etc. Aunt Harriet said she wasn’t about to be fooled by him and what had happened? She can be terribly intimidating when she wants to be. Harold just crumpled. Said Rozalinda had been receiving anonymous letters and that she wasn’t able to stand the strain of it any longer. Aunt Harriet went back upstairs and couldn’t get any answer from Rozalinda and she asked Harold to break the door down. He dithered as usual, saying Rozalinda wouldn’t like it, but Aunt Harriet was terrifying. Said she knew her niece better than he apparently knew his wife and that if he didn’t break the door down immediately she was going to telephone for the police.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She was unconscious. There was an empty bottle of sleeping tablets and a half drunk bottle of whisky and a note addressed to Harold.’

  ‘Good God …’ I stared at her stunned.

  ‘Doctor Rogers came over and she was taken straight into the local hospital. How it never leaked to the papers I’ll never know. She was back home in twenty-four hours, saying it was all a silly accident. When she knew Harold had told Aunt Harriet and myself about the letters she was furious with him and when Aunt Harriet asked to look at one, said she destroyed them as soon as they came, and that they weren’t important, and that what had happened was an accident. She’d had a few drinks, and mistakenly taken too many tablets.’

  ‘But Aunt Harriet doesn’t believe that?’

  ‘No and neither do I,’ Mary said frankly. ‘I was there and the bottle was empty. And there was the note.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  Mary shrugged her shoulders. ‘Harold says it was simply to remind him that they were going out for dinner that evening. No-one else has seen it. Aunt Harriet asked to have a look at it whilst we were waiting at the hospital, but Harold said he’d thrown it away. It’s never been seen since.’

  ‘Does Phil know all this?’

  ‘No. He knows Rozalinda is here to rest and that her nerves are in a bad way, but that’s all.’

  ‘What about Miles?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. He wants her to star in this new film with him. If he knew she’d been on the verge of suicide he’d be as eager for her to rest as everyone else is.’

  ‘Are they still having an affair?’

  Mary’s face clouded. ‘I don’t know. If they are, they’re being very discreet about it. And you would think Rozalinda would have confided in him about the letters. She hasn’t I’m sure of that.’

  I poured myself another coffee, feeling badly in need of it.

  ‘What on earth was in the letters that would drive a person like Rozalinda to suicide? If it wasn’t you telling me, Mary, I wouldn’t believe it.’

  ‘I don’t know. I think Aunt Harriet has a suspicion. She had a long talk with Rozalinda and she’s the only person Rozalinda finds it impossible to lie to.’

  ‘Almost, but not quite,’ I said, remembering a couple of childhood incidents. ‘Are the letters still arriving?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Mary looked shocked. ‘They couldn’t be. No-one knows where she is.’

  ‘And if they did, Rozalinda wouldn’t know about it. Not with both Harold and Aunt Harriet as watchdogs.’

  Mary began to look worried again. ‘Perhaps we should stay on. We’re the only real friends she has …’

  ‘The children need you more than Rozalinda,’ I said, remembering only too clearly Tom’s adoring attitude the previous night. The sooner Mary got Tom back to Templar’s Way and family life the better.

  ‘Did I tell you I’m teaching Helen to read?’ Mary asked, her thoughts reverting to her children. ‘Timothy can walk quite steadily now. He’s much more outgoing than Helen …’

  I gave the appropriate sounds of admiration, my thoughts elsewhere.

  On letters so threatening that Rozalinda had attempted to take her own life. I would have been less than human if I hadn’t wondered what they had contained.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘There’s Tom now!’ Mary said suddenly.

  ‘He’s going for a walk on the beach. If I hurry I shall be able to catch him up.’

  ‘Then
hurry. It will be a good opportunity for you to be alone together.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? I could talk to Tom tonight …’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Go now. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘You are a love,’ she kissed me impulsively and scurried down the spiral staircase as if her life depended on it. I began to dress, rifling through my suitcase for tee-shirt and jeans. Then I walked out onto the tiny balcony and brushed my hair. In the distance I could see Mary scrambling down the sand dunes onto the beach, Tom so far away as to be unrecognisable. With her sturdy legs and plain woollen jumper and skirt, she looked remarkably like one of the local Portuguese women. I hoped Tom Farrar wasn’t as bewitched by Rozalinda as he had appeared. If he was, and didn’t agree to leave Ofir, he was a bigger fool than I would have thought possible.

  ‘Hello! Anyone at home?’ Miles called out from downstairs.

  ‘Just a minute,’ I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. It seemed that villa doors were left permanently open and unlocked. No wonder Mary had run off so eagerly at the prospect of seeing her beloved Tom without unwelcome interruptions.

  In the bright light of morning his smile was the same as it had been at the candlelit dinner table. Warm and intimate, as if we shared a secret others didn’t.

  ‘I thought you might like to go riding. Rozalinda has four of her own stallions at the local stables behind the hotel.’

  ‘No. Thank you for the thought, but I haven’t seen Rozalinda and the others for quite a long time. I’ve a lot of gossip to catch up on.’

  His eyebrows rose fractionally, the smile deepening. ‘That could take quite some time.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it might,’ I said dryly.

  He was blatantly handsome, with an inbuilt swagger that had served him very well in the small parts he had played in as pirate or cavalier. Even now, beneath the long curling hair, there was the glint of a small earring in his left ear. His last part in the film in which Rozalinda had starred, had been his biggest. The chemistry between them had flared on screen as well as off, with great financial success as far as the studio was concerned. I could well understand his anxiety that Rozalinda accepted the part of the Queen of Sheba. If another actress was chosen, the studio might very well reconsider Miles’ suitability to be in it. His eyes were a startling blue, and bold. I turned my head away, the appraisal in them was undeniable. His voice had the lazy drawl that Rozalinda affected, though there was a mocking edge to Miles’ voice that gave the listener the suspicion they were secretly being laughed at. All in all, I found him a disturbing companion.

  ‘A coffee would go down very well,’ he said, the long, mobile mouth smiling as if he knew my thoughts. He sprawled comfortably on one of the sofas. It seemed I was destined for a long chat. Maria was upstairs, presumably making my bed, and I went still barefoot into the kitchen and switched the percolator on.

  ‘What do you intend doing with yourself now?’

  My hand faltered and I had to remind myself that Miles knew all about me. Had been at Phil’s the night it had happened. I knew what his question meant and it didn’t mean what was I going to do that morning, but with the rest of my life. A week ago I would have been unable to have answered. Now I said confidently. ‘I told you all last night. I’m getting married.’

  ‘And staying home to be a housewife?’ he asked, suddenly at the kitchen doorway, very close and smelling of expensive aftershave.

  ‘For a while, until …’ I couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence. ‘What’s so wrong in being a housewife anyway?’

  He laughed. ‘Nothing at all. Just that it seems a terrible waste.’

  Carefully I poured out two coffees and took the milk from the fridge, hearing the villa door close behind Joanna-Maria. ‘You must have been told before that you’re terribly photogenic.’

  I knew what was coming: ‘And you think I could make it in films.’

  ‘Don’t sound so cynical. Rozalinda is the biggest box office draw your country has today.’

  ‘I’m not Rozalinda. And I haven’t the slightest desire to live the kind of life Rozalinda does.’

  ‘Why not? It would be far more interesting than being a housewife.’

  ‘No. You think it would be.’

  We went into the other room and sat down with our coffees.

  ‘I know I don’t have to tell a stunning looking girl that she’s stunning looking. What’s the problem?’

  ‘There isn’t one.’ I said, trying to keep my temper. ‘Just that I’m not made of the same sort of stuff as Rozalinda. If I’d wanted to go into films I could easily have done so. Goodness knows I’ve been asked often enough by Rozalinda’s agent and friends. It’s just not my scene. I was a nurse.’

  ‘I know.’

  The silence stretched uncomfortably and then he said:- ‘ From what Harriet says I gather you don’t feel you can return to it.’

  I put my cup down. ‘I don’t like enquiries about my personal life.’

  ‘Jenny,’ his hand closed over mine. ‘ Don’t forget I know what you’ve been through. We haven’t been talking about you. I simply asked her if she thought you would be open to an offer. This new film has a superb opening for a new actress and I think I could get it for you.’

  I thought Miles had a very inflated idea of his own importance, but restrained myself from saying so. Instead I said. ‘I’m not an actress, so let’s forget it.’

  ‘Neither is Rozalinda,’ he said dryly. I looked at him. If they were still having an affair it was certainly not running very smoothly. Or perhaps Miles was a better actor than I had given him credit for. He dismissed Rozalinda with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Were you serious last night about this man you met at the Santa Luzia or were you just throwing a line?’

  ‘No. I was serious.’

  He raised his eyebrows and drawled even slower. ‘Marrying someone you’ve known only a week? Surely you’re being a little reckless.’

  ‘Maybe?’

  He laughed huskily. ‘I always thought there was more to you than meets the eye. That night at Phil’s party … only you weren’t interested.’

  He put his cup down. ‘Maybe you’d be interested now. We could have a lot of fun in a week.’ And before I even understood what he meant, he had my wrists pinned fiercely behind my back, his weight on top of me, his mouth hard on mine. I struggled fiercely, but the more I tried to wriggle free, the more forceful he became. As his tongue forced its way into my mouth, Phil said leisurely:-

  ‘Would you like me to come back later, Jennifer?’

  Miles leapt to his feet, looking at Phil as if he would like to have murdered him. I gasped for air and pushed myself upright. Phil sauntered over to me, his long fingers clenched so that the knuckles were white.

  ‘I didn’t know you two were on such friendly terms.’

  ‘We’re not,’ I said hastily. ‘Miles misunderstood.’

  He glared at Phil and then, his jaw clenched tight, pushed roughly past Phil, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Thank goodness you came in when you did,’ I said with a shaky laugh.

  ‘Really? I thought perhaps my timing was out.’ His knuckles were still clenched and he wasn’t looking at me.

  ‘Oh Phil, come off it. You can’t imagine I encouraged him!’

  ‘Why not. I understand he’s devastating where women are concerned. Rozalinda thinks so anyway. Or did.’

  ‘For the hundredth time I am not Rozalinda!’

  Phil’s face crumpled. He turned to me, holding me close against his chest, his head lowered onto my shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jennifer. I didn’t mean it. It was just coming and seeing the two of you like that …’

  I patted his back. ‘ Even you must have seen I wasn’t being exactly co-operative.’

  ‘It didn’t register. Only the fact that he was making love to you.’

  I drew away from him with a smile. ‘I shouldn’t imagine Miles knows what love is about.’

&nb
sp; ‘I should have hit him,’ Phil said, looking so fierce and unlike himself that I laughed.

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t. It wasn’t necessary. Did you see the way he left? I don’t think he’s likely to bother me again.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think he’ll even speak to you,’ Phil agreed, his good humour regained. ‘ I came over to see if you would like to go riding?’

  I forgot that I wanted to talk to both Aunt Harriet and Rozalinda.

  ‘I’d love to.’

  There was no sign of Miles as we walked past his villa and onto the pine needled track that led through the woods to the stables, and if he could hear us laughing, neither of us cared.

  Chapter Ten

  There was no sign of Mary and Tom as the horses thundered over the firm sand. We reined in at the headland, the Atlantic breeze blowing fresh and clean against our faces, the horses snorting and stamping, eager to gallop further.

  ‘Want to go on?’ Phil shouted across to me.

  I shook my head. ‘I want to see Aunt Harriet. And Rozalinda.’

  ‘Rozalinda’s incommunicado.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean I went over there earlier on and Harold was in a fine old state. Apparently Miles upset her more than we realised last night. If she doesn’t take the part she’s open to litigation.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Contracts. It’s more than my tiny mind can take in. When she signed on with the studio she promised to accept the next two parts they offered her. The first was a blockbuster and the last one is breaking all records. Naturally they want her in their Queen of Sheba epic and want her to sign a fresh contract, only Rozalinda isn’t playing.’

  ‘Isn’t it about time Harold told her agent how ill Rozalinda has been?’

  I had forgotten Phil didn’t know about her suicide attempt. He said mildly:- ‘I should hardly call Rozalinda’s stubbornness and tantrums being ill. We’ll go back and you can see her yourself … if she’ll let you in.’

  It was Harold who opened the door to me. His genial face was haggard with lack of sleep, dark circles making the pouches under his eyes even more pronounced.