"Come along, you two," Mrs. Hammond called gaily, as she filled two more cups from the silver teapot.
Alan passed one over to Rose and she sat down in an armchair and balanced her cup on her knee. Lance and Enid had obviously made up their quarrel, for he was sitting close to her, one arm resting lightly along the back of the sofa, so that occasionally his fingers touched the girl's shoulder and the nape of her neck. From time to time Enid glanced at him, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes langorous, and Rose, had she not know better, would have thought her to be completely in love.
Unexpectedly she was engulfed in such a wave of jealousy that the cup shook in her hand. The reason for it could no longer be held back and she was aghast at herself. It was impossible. Impossible. Yet it was true: she herself was in love with Lance Hammond.
"I must be mad!" she thought desperately. "It's because Alan has talked about him so often and I've read all the gossip and publicity."
But even as she tried to find reasons she knew it was hopeless. Magnetism, physical attraction, affinity, no matter what name one gave it, it was merely another way of saying the word love. And she loved Lance. The thought was so new, so devastating, that she had to force herself to join in the conversation around her, saying anything that came into her head.
As the tea things were cleared a waiter brought round trays of drinks and more guests began to arrive. Conversation grew louder and voices and laughter echoed in her head, causing it to throb. Lance turned on the radio and as music throbbed through the room he pulled Enid into his arms and started to dance.
Rose looked at the two blond heads close together and jumped up quickly.
"Come on, Alan, it's ages since I've danced with you."
"Lance's engagement party," he replied and looked into her flushed face. "What's the matter? I've never seen you like this before."
"Like what?"
"So flippant and exuberant."
"We're in exuberant company," she retorted, "and when I'm in Rome I always do as the Romans do."
He did not answer but she felt his gaze on her and knew he was puzzled.
By seven o'clock the driveway was filled with cars; dark limousines, vivid roadsters and gleaming coupes, their chromium glinting in the floodlights that had been switched on to light up the terrace. Rose forced herself to join in the talk and the dancing, to eat the exquisite canapes and drink the vintage champagne. Unaccustomed to alcohol, she felt her head begin to throb and in an effort to find a cool place she stepped down from the terrace and walked across the lawn. She did not know quite where she was going, but a longing to be alone, to ponder over this amazing discovery that threatened to alter her complete life-nay, even to ruin it—urged her footsteps over the grass.
Soon she reached the lowest lawn and knew that a few rough-hewn steps would lead her down to the beach. Cautiously for there were no lights here and night had descended with unexpected suddenness, she made her way down to the sands, and leaving her shoes at the bottom of the steps, strolled along the beach. Finally she stopped and gazed out to the horizon, giving herself up to the thoughts that all the afternoon she had fought so hard to keep from rising to the surface of her mind. Her main feeling was one of chargrin that she should have fallen in love with someone like Lance Hammond. If he were not completely out of her reach, he was still completely unsuitable; a philanderer. a Casanova, a dilettante content to wander idly through the days without any desire to work.
She turned away from the sea and began to retrace her steps. Was Lance really content with his life of idleness, or was it perhaps that he did not have an incentive to work? Many men in his position would find it difficult to work when they had no need to do so. It was something that must be encouraged, and she could not imagine Mrs. Hammond, with her butterfly mind, urging her son to give thought to anything more serious than his own enjoyment. Yet if she herself were behind Lance she would be able to imbue him with an interest in work. She did not know anything about the Hammond supermarket, yet listening to Alan describing the few years he had spent in the Head Office had told her that it was a business capable of fantastic expansion, capable of absorbing new ideas, new methods.
Suddenly Rose was overwhelmed by the stupidity of what she was thinking and she sank down on the sand, her body racked with sobs.
Luckily there was no one to see her, no one except the pale cold moon and the stars that twinkled millions of miles away.
At last she stood up and climbed the steps again, making her way over the grass until she reached the arbour. Voices came from inside it and, conscious of her dishevelled hair and flushed face, she drew back behind the hedge, unwilling for anyone to see her. On silent feet she ran beside the bushes, searching for another way to reach the villa. But every path she wandered down led her to the rose arbour and eventually, feeling she had walked for hours, she came upon a marble seat and sat down, deciding to wait until the couple giggling and caressing some few feet away had returned indoors. Suddenly she heard the woman's voice and with a feeling of horror she realized it was Enid.
What unkind fate had led her to the unhappy coincidence of being an eavesdropper for the second time? Desperately she wondered whether to barge through the rose arbour and thus give warning of her presence, but even as the thought entered her mind Enid spoke again, the words so raw with emotion that Rose remained transfixed.
"Of course I don't want to marry Lance! But what else can I do? I love you, Tino, but I'm not so besotted that I don't know we'd never make a go of it if we had to scrape around for every penny." Her voice grew savage. "If only that idiot of an uncle of mine hadn't decided to marry again!"
Tino Barri spoke for the first time, his voice low and intense. "The marriage I can forgive—but to produce a son—that is the disaster!"
Enid gave a hard laugh. "It certainly is. And the old fool's so crazy over the brat, he's as good as told me I won't get a penny."
"Surely you'll get something?" Tino asked.
"A few hundreds when I was expecting thousands! Oh Tino, what are we going to do?"
"I don't know, mia cara. All I know is that I love you."
"Do you really?" There was a pleading in the girl's voice that Rose had never heard before. "If you had a lot of money would you marry me, Tino, even if I didn't have any money of my own?"
"What nonsense are you talking?" he replied. "If I had money nothing in the world would keep us apart! Do you think I wanted to fall in love with you? I know you are hard and selfish—"
"Then why did you?"
"Because love is inexplicable. If it were not so, you would hardly have fallen in love with me. But don't worry, my darling, if my plan goes well, we shall still be able to squeeze some happiness out of life. If Didi accepts me we will be able to see each other without anyone being suspicious. After all, you will be my step-daughter-in-law!"
"Tino, don't! I feel sick at the thought of you marrying another woman."
"How do you think I feel about you and Lance?"
Enid gave a muffled sob and there was a movement as Tino pulled her close. Rose's heart was beating so fast that the blood seemed to pound in her ears. Her one idea was to escape, to pretend she had never overheard this horrifying scene. Hardly daring to breathe, she stood up and tiptoed along the path, but she had not taken more than two steps when a figure loomed up in front of her.
It was Lance, but a Lance she had never seen before. In the moonlight his face was as white as the magnolia blossom behind him and from the expression in his eyes she knew he had heard every word of the conversation between Tino and the women he loved.
"Lance," she said softly. "Lance. Don't feel so badly."
He looked at her uncomprehendingly, then without a word turned and crashed through the rose bushes, crushing the blooms as he went.
"Lance!" she called. "Where are you going?"
The only answer she received was the mocking cry of a bird and the sharp crackle of broken twigs. Afraid that if he were left alone he would
do something desperate, she ran after him but when she reached the end of the lawn he was nowhere in sight. She stopped, wondering in which direction he had gone. Suddenly, below her, she heard the crunch of sand and knew he was on the beach. Quickly, careless that she might fall, she raced down the steps. A hundred yards ahead of her she made out his figure and hurried after him. The sand seeped into her shoes and because she was afraid she would be unable to reach him she kicked them off, and was able to run more swiftly. She did not know what he was going to do; she only knew she had to be with him.
"Lance!" she called. "Wait for me."
He appeared to hesitate and then redoubled his pace, making for the jetty where his speedboat was moored. 'Oh, no,' Rose thought. 'I can't let him go out in the boat alone!' She tried to run faster but there was a pain in her side and her breath was laboured. Lance had now reached the jetty and was bending to untie the rope that held the boat moored. He appeared to have some difficulty with this and by the time he had freed the boat and jumped into it, she was running along the jetty.
The engine sparked into life and realizing she would not be able to reach it in time if she ran down the steps, Rose closed her eyes and jumped.
"You fool," he cried as the boat shuddered from side to side.
Shakily she lifted herself from the bottom where she had fallen and sat on the seat.
"You weren't going to wait for me," she gasped.
"You're darned right I wasn't!"
They were already speeding over the water and as he spoke he pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. Beneath them the boat shuddered and every now and then the bow raised itself in the sea to come down the next instant with an impact that jarred Rose to the bones. Farther and farther they went out, and still he showed no sign of turning back.
"Don't go so fast!" she cried.
He took no notice and Rose began to feel afraid. Clouds of spray had drenched her to the skin and she was shivering with cold and fear. She had no idea how much petrol they carried, but she was certain that if they did not turn back soon they would be stranded.
"Turn back!" she cried. "For heaven's sake, Lance, stop behaving like a child."
She tried to pull his hand from the wheel but he flung her back against the seat. Anger rose in her, anger so strong that it defeated her fear, defeated even the compassion she felt for him. She jumped up again and hurled herself across his body, trying to seize the wheel in both hands.
"What's the matter with you?" she cried. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"Mind your own business," he grated. "I didn't ask you to come, did I?"
"No, you didn't, but I wanted to help you. Lance, please, if you don't value your own life at least think of mine, turn back!"
"I've nothing to go back for."
"Maybe you haven't," she cried. "But I have. Turn back!"
"No! You should have thought of this before you came with me. Now for heaven's sake leave me alone."
He seemed like a man who had lost his senses, and looking into his eyes she knew he was not hearing her, but still hearing Enid's voice destroying his happiness and future.
Knowing there was nothing more she could do, she gripped the sides of the boat and edged back to her seat. The roar of the engine was loud in her ears and they were zooming over the water so fast that they hardly seemed to touch it. On and on they sped, and the beating of the engine, the constant sting of the spray on her face, induced in her a sensation of nightmare that took away the reality of the situation so that she felt she was on a journey that had had no beginning and would have no end.
Suddenly she saw Lance's yacht looming up in the distance and with a sigh of relief realized he must be making for it. Her hand trembled as she wiped away the sea spray and the sweat that was trickling in rivulets down her forehead, but the next moment she was rigid with fear as Lance's voice rose in a shout."
"The wheel—it's jammed! Rose, for God's sake jump!"
Before she had a chance to move the sea seemed to rise in front of her and she had the quick, terrifying impression that the boat was disintegrating beneath her. The next moment she was flung through the air. Automatically she braced herself against the shock of hitting the water, but it was not the water that received her falling body, it was the edge of the boat itself. There was a stab of agonizing pain. Then the black of the sea and the black of the sky seemed to merge in her mind and she knew no more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN Rose opened her eyes the first thing she saw was a cluster of yellow roses. They stood in a vase in front of an open window, their leaves stirring slightly in the breeze. Her eyes travelled round the room, bare except for a couple of chairs and so immaculately cleaned and polished that she knew immediately she was in hospital.
With this thought memory returned and she tried to sit up. She could not move! Panic rose in her and perspiration broke out on her forehead.
"Nurse," she cried. "Nurse!"
Instantly the door opened and a young nurse came in.
"So you are awake," a soft voice said in perfect English. "How do you feel?"
"I don't know. I can't move."
"It is to be expected, but do not worry."
"Have I injured my spine? Am I paralysed?"
"What a thing to say. Of course you're not paralysed. You're badly bruised and you must lie perfectly still."
"Where am I?"
"In a clinic in Nice and you're under the best medical care that money can buy."
Rose looked round the room. The best care that money could buy. Hammond money, she was sure.
"Lance!" she said fearfully. "What's happened to Lance?"
"Mr. Hammond is perfectly well. He was flung clear of the boat. You were the only one to be hurt. Now lie still and I'll get you a drink. I'm sure you'd like one. The doctor will be in to see you today and he'll answer all your questions."
For the rest of the day Rose dozed intermittently. Every time she awoke she tried to move, but although her mind willed it, she remained as immobile as a log. Gradually panic rose again and she became convinced there was something wrong with her spine. Indeed, the fact that she did not have any pain only served to increase her fear, and everything she had ever read about paralysis and spinal injuries came back to haunt her. Suppose she never recovered the use of her legs? Suppose she had to lie for ever in this bed? Unable to bear her fear alone she rang the bell for the nurse and kept her finger on it until the door opened.
"Well now, whatever's the matter with you?" the nurse asked as she hurried in.
"I can't move," Rose gasped. "You're not telling me the truth. What happened to me? How badly have I been injured ?"
"You haven't been injured at all," the nurse said soothingly. "At least, nothing that we can see. You're going down to be X-rayed in about half an hour, and after the plates have been developed the doctor will be able to tell you much more. Now lie still like a good girl and don't excite yourself."
Realising it was hopeless to argue with a hospital's dictum, Rose did as she was told.
The nurse had spoken the truth, for within twenty minutes she was lifted out of bed and wheeled along the corridor to the X-ray department. The radiologist spoke little English and did not even seem inclined to speak much in French, so that she had to be satisfied with monosyllabic answers to her questions. Eventually she realised she would learn nothing from him either, and that she would have to wait until she could speak to the doctor himself.
Nearly two hours elapsed before she was wheeled back to her room and no sooner was she settled in bed and left alone than the nurse rushed in again, looking far less composed than usual. The reason for it followed immediately on her heels in the shape of Lance Hammond.
"Mr. Hammond can only stay a moment," the nurse enjoined. "You've had an exhausting time and must go to sleep."
She went out and Lance moved over to the foot of the bed and looked at Rose. He was paler than she had ever seen him, though whether or not this was due to the dark s
uit he was wearing she did not know. He seemed overnight to have lost weight.
"What can I say?" he said abruptly. "Any sort of apology sounds so—so—"
"You've no need to apologise," she interrupted. "It was an accident."
"An accident caused by my carelessness. You needn't try and make me feel better. I'm my own judge and a pretty harsh one."
"Please don't be. You didn't know what you were doing and—"
"And yet you came with me. You shouldn't have done it, Rose. I wanted to be alone."
He sat down in a chair by the window, his face turned away from her. She longed to ask him if he had seen Enid but could not bring herself to do so. Instead she looked at his profile, the straight nose, the curve of the high forehead and the shining blond hair, not quite so immaculately groomed as usual.
"Don't feel so badly about me, Lance. I'll be all right in a few days."
"Of course you will." He leaned forward and caught her hand as it lay on the coverlet. The touch of his fingers set her pulses racing, and she was so afraid lest he notice it that she pulled her hand away. He misinterpreted the gesture and for the first time she saw him turn red.
"I'm not surprised you can't bear me to touch you," he said abruptly. "Not after the way I've smashed you up. Oh Rose—forgive me! Forgive me!"
The intensity of his words made her feel uneasy and she stared at him.
"Smashed me up? Why do you put it like that?"
He did not answer and her fear grew.
"Lance!" she said. "Lance, tell me how badly I'm hurt."
He got to his feet and walked back to the foot of the bed. "We won't know till tomorrow. You can't move because your spine's badly bruised, but we've got to wait for the X-rays to find out exactly what's wrong." He hesitated. "It might mean that you'll have to stay in bed for a while. Three weeks, maybe—or a bit longer."
Rachel Lindsay - Heart of a Rose Page 9