House of Storms

by Violet Winspear

  Debra gazed up into the big craggy face in which the eyes were curiously guileless and she felt a rising excitement. So Jack Salvador hadn't gone away without telling someone of his whereabouts and that person was big Mickey Lee who could probably keep a secret because he retained a childlike trust in his friends.

  Suddenly her own need to get away from Cornwall as soon as possible took second place to seeing Jack Salvador so she could impress upon him the fact that he was needed by his little boy. Though Dean was still only an infant, he was a bright and inquisitive child and he would turn his affection to other people if Jack continued to stay away from him. A rift would grow between them and to Debra's way of thinking that would be a great pity, especially as the child's mother was dead.

  'Mickey,' she stepped forward and took him by the arm, 'you're right about my pay certificate, I should collect it from Mr Salvador, so I think it best if you take me to him. I wouldn't want it to get lost in the post, and if that happened it would cause a lot of bother.'

  He nodded in agreement, and glanced at her slender hand upon his arm; for several moments it seemed to fascinate him, then his eyes slid to her face again. 'You leaving because of her?'

  'You mean Mrs Salvador?'

  'No.' He shook his head and his gaze travelled to the waves splashing the shore where the rocks stood dark against the sullen sky. 'She wasn't golden any more when they found her, she was all white like the marble tombstones in the churchyard of the Sacred Sorrows. You can hear the bells across the water when the wind is right—shall I show you where they found her, miss?'

  And before Debra could quickly say no, he began to take long strides along the beach where the wind had torn seaweed from the rocks so it was scattered across the sand like drowned hair. Debra followed in the wake of Mickey Lee, for she had to conciliate him if she was to persuade him to take her to Jack Salvador.

  He approached a jagged line of rocks where large pools of water would be deep enough to drown someone when the tide swept in, and there he paused and pointed with the clawhammer towards one of the pools. 'The tide left her there.' Mickey Lee stared downwards as if he still saw Pauline floating there, battered and lifeless, her hair like the seaweed on the sands. 'She was stony-drowned and there was no more laughing in her eyes.'

  Abruptly he swung round and Debra noticed how hulking and dark he looked, as if chiselled from rock himself. She realised how alone with him she was, here on the beach which during her first weeks on the island she had freely used without realising any danger until Rodare had ordered her to take care.

  She gave a sudden shiver and couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had it been Mickey Lee who had been standing over her instead of Rodare, seeing her not with Rodare's worldly eyes but with eyes which had noticed Pauline's golden looks.

  'We must be on our way, Mickey.' Debra infused a note of authority into her voice. 'It's going to rain and I want to see Mr Salvador as soon as possible so I can collect my pay certificate. Come along!'

  She turned and hurried back towards the boathouse, aware of him lumbering along behind her, that horrible-looking hammer in his hand. She was glad when he discarded it in order to stow her suitcase on the motorboat and then hand her in. The motor chugged into life and they were off, bouncing over the waves as they headed in the direction of the nearest mainland harbour which was at Penarth. She couldn't ask Mickey too many questions or he would guess that she hadn't any idea where Jack Salvador was staying.

  Jack's family presumed that he had gone abroad, but as he was obviously in touch with Mickey he was more than likely in Penarth itself, needing to be near his son and yet unable to face a return to the island where everything reminded him of Pauline. In love with her or not her death was haunting him, and Debra knew from working on his book that he had a strain of sensitivity that other members of his family seemed to lack.

  Debra had to include Rodare; she knew of his power and his pride but she doubted if he was a sensitive person.

  'It's a shame you're leaving,' Mickey said at last, as if being on the water had lightened his mood. 'Mr Jack will be ever so sorry because he told me he was glad he had you working on his book.'

  'That was nice of him.' Debra tried to look at ease, as if she were on her way to see a man she knew rather than someone who in person was a stranger to her. She knew Jack's voice, for she had listened to it often enough. She admired his work, but beyond that she wouldn't have known him had she passed him in the street . . . unless, of course, he resembled Rodare physically.

  There wasn't a thing about Rodare that she would forget easily. The way he looked and spoke and carried himself, just a hint of a swagger in his walk.

  'Why are you leaving?' Mickey wanted to know.

  'Because I've had an argument with Mrs Salvador—the same as Miss Tucker. She isn't an easy person to please, I'm afraid.'

  'I keep well out of her way.' Mickey scowled, and spray stung Debra's face as the motorboat sliced its way through the heaving sea. Overhead the sky was like armour-plating, heavy and dark with the threat of a downpour.

  'The likes of her can't fire me because Mr Rodare is master of the house and what he says goes!' Mickey nodded to himself, his brows heavy and dark over his eyes. 'She don't like me and I don't like her, but there ain't a thing she can do about it. Never wept a tear she didn't, but it's known hereabouts that witches don't cry!'

  'You mean at the cremation?' Debra murmured. 'Were you there, Mickey? Did you see Mr Salvador scatter the ashes?'

  'I was hanging about,' he growled.

  'You liked Pauline, didn't you? She was kind to you, Mickey?'

  'She didn't treat me like I was a dog, like the other two do!' All at once a sly smile passed over Mickey's face. 'Miss Pauline liked the men and I could tell you something if I had a mind to, but you'll only go and tell Mr Jack. Women can't keep secrets, not like I can.'

  'Is it a very deep secret?' Debra could feel her own excitement and tried to control it. She had to look and sound casual or she would send Mickey Lee back inside his shell. She believed he was being talkative because he had sometimes seen her chatting with his mother.

  'Deep as the sea,' he grinned. 'There's no one can come up against the sea and beat it, miss. She got punished, that's what!'

  'Why should Pauline be punished, especially in that terrible way?'

  'People get punished when they do a wrong thing,' he said ominously. 'She didn't ought to have gone with someone else behind Mr Jack's back—they didn't know I saw them rolling and laughing on the sand, her gold hair all untidy and him all over her! She was wed to Mr Jack and it weren't right, and I'll tell you something else, miss, I'm not the only one who knows what she got up to.'

  'You mean Mrs Salvador, don't you, Mickey? She knew that Pauline was playing around with another man?'

  'She'd be bound to find out,' he muttered. 'She's got nothing better to do than to stir up the pot, the old witch!'

  Debra felt tempted to ask Mickey who he had seen with Pauline on the beach, but they were rapidly approaching the harbour of Penarth and he had to guide the motorboat in and out of the chopping seacraft until the motor chugged to silence and the boat was secured to the quay.

  Light as a cat for all his bulk he leapt to the wet steps and held out a helping hand to Debra, which she accepted, feeling the welt of rough skin across his palm. She followed him up the steps to the cobbled pavement, feeling the rain in the air and the way it intensified the smell of fish. A huddle of stalls stood beneath awnings where women were doing their shopping and enjoying a gossip.

  'Let's go straight away to Mr Salvador.' Debra drew up the collar of her jacket and wished she had worn a warmer coat. 'He's staying here in Penarth, isn't he?'

  'At The Cap And Bells.' He gave a laugh that was more like a growl. 'No one knows but me, for it ain't the kind of place the two ladyships are likely to call in at—' Abruptly he paused and stared down at Debra with his brow furrowed. 'D'you reckon I ought to take you there, miss?'<
br />
  'Of course,' she said briskly. 'I'm not a ladyship, am I?'

  'You won't split on him, will you?'

  'The thought never entered my head, Mickey.' She wasn't lying to him, but she did harbour the hope that she could persuade Jack Salvador to return home for the sake of his son. Why on earth did he stay away from Dean . . . did he suspect that the child might not be his?

  'Come on, then.' Mickey strode across the road and Debra had to hasten her steps in order to keep pace with him. The rain was also coming down harder, and by the time the Tudor-like edifice of The Cap And Bells came into view, Debra could feel her hair plastered to her scalp and she was almost out of breath.

  They went in through the hotel entrance and mounted a flight of stairs with faded carpet on them; the old oaken stairs creaked with age and the atmosphere of the place was musty and somehow forlorn up here on the landing where Jack Salvador had taken a room and was hiding away from his family.

  Mickey Lee tramped to the end of the landing, his heavy frame inducing such creaks from the floorboards that Debra feared an imminent cave-in. They came to a door with a yellowed plaque on it which announced that this was the Green Mantle room, and it made Debra feel sad that the writer of books which had a vast and eager readership should spend hour upon hour brooding alone in this place with his memories.

  She glanced at Mickey, who was staring at the door in a hesitant manner. 'I don't know if I've done right,' he said, shaking his head.

  'You've done right, Mickey,' she assured him, and taking the initiative Debra knocked upon the door. It didn't open right away and she was raising her hand to try again when it was flung open. 'About time, I thought you'd gone to pick the hops—' The words broke off and a moody pair of eyes looked Debra up and down. 'Who the devil are you?'

  'Hello, Mr Jack.' Mickey shuffled Debra's suitcase from one hand to the other. 'Miss had to come and see you on account of her pay—'

  'What pay?' Dark brows meshed themselves above the moody eyes. 'I thought I told you to stay away, Mickey—and who is this girl?'

  'I'm Debra Hartway and I have to talk to you, Mr Salvador.'

  'Hartway?' He thrust a hand through dark hair grown overlong at his nape. 'It rings a bell—ah yes, you're with Columbine and you're working on my book. Harrison wrote me; I have a box number, you understand.'

  'You've got to give Miss her pay certificate,' Mickey insisted. 'I wouldn't have brought her otherwise, Mr Jack. You know I can keep my mouth shut and I never let out a murmur, not even to Mr Rodare, and you know what he can be like if he gets a bee in his helmet.'

  'Yes, Mickey, I know my brother and his ways.' A kind of weariness had replaced Jack's irritability. 'Miss Hartway, what is all this about? What are you doing here when you're supposed to be working on my book at Abbeywitch?'

  'I—I'm not working on it any more, Mr Salvador. It didn't work out—'

  'My mother's been interfering again?' he groaned. 'Oh, lord, why didn't you make women sans speech and suspicion? So, Miss Hartway, you've quit the job, but what are you doing here? Why have you persuaded Mickey to bring you to me? What do you think I can do?'

  'You could give me a little of your time,' she replied.

  'For what purpose?' Fleetingly his eyes were as vivid as Rodare's, making Debra's heart jump.

  'For the sake of your son,' she dared to say. That momentary glimpse of Rodare made her aware that she was trespassing and that he would be justified in telling her to mind her own business. She was braced for this, but pain twisted his mouth and for a moment his eyes were bleak.

  'You have your nerve,' he murmured, then as if taking a decision, he turned to Mickey. 'Be a good lad and make yourself scarce, Mick. I want to have a few words in private with Miss Hartway.'

  'Right you are, Mr Jack.' Mickey Lee seemed relieved rather than excluded. 'Shall I leave the suitcase?'

  'Yes, leave it, Mick. Go down to the bar and have a drink.' Jack took out his wallet and gave Mickey some money. 'Mind you lay off the whisky, eh?'

  Mickey gave a nod and a wink. 'I'll keep to cider, Mr Jack, and have a pastie with it.'

  'You do that, Mick—and don't take the boat back to the island for an hour or so.'

  After Mickey had lumbered off down the stairs, Jack invited Debra into his room and was about to close the door when the barmaid appeared with his drink on a tray. 'Will you have a drink, Miss Hartway?' he asked.

  Debra declined and he closed the door. He gestured to a wing-back chair which, like the other furniture in the room, had seen a lot of wear. But it was comfortable enough and Debra was glad to sit down, because all at once she felt a reaction from having nerved herself to come and confront Jack Salvador on an issue that was very private to him.

  He lounged with his drink against one of the stout twisted posts of the bed and she saw that his glass contained a colourless liquid that was probably vodka for a silver-skinned onion was floating in it.

  'Cheers!' He raised his glass, then took a deep swallow. 'So my mother has taken exception to you, Miss Hartway? May I ask why?'

  Debra was at a loss, for she couldn't blurt out that his mother had caught her alone with his brother in the middle of the night and jumped to the obvious conclusion.

  'I think the truth is, Mr Salvador, that she is so unsettled by your long absence that she isn't quite herself. She tends to—to misjudge people.'

  'So she has misjudged you, eh.'

  'I—I'm afraid so.'

  'And you put her edginess down to the fact that she misses me?'

  'Of course she misses you—isn't that natural?' Debra studied him and decided that when he was shaven and groomed and clad in a suit he would look distinguished. He was tall but lacked the look of power which made Rodare so much more formidable, and because his hair was flecked with a little silver he didn't seem quite so swarthy. It was also very apparent that the hot sun of Spain wasn't burnt into his skin; he had the drawn look of a man who had been lurking in the shadows a little too long and Debra felt a stab of compassion for him.

  'You stare at me, Miss Hartway.' He sampled some more of his drink. 'Are you looking for a resemblance to the child?'

  'There is a family resemblance,' she murmured. 'Only today I caught a glimpse of your brother in Dean.'

  'How interesting, and do you see glimpses of Rodare in me?'

  'Of course—'

  'You imagine it,' he said curtly. 'Rodare has inherited strong Spanish traits, both physical and mental, and the only thing we have in common is our pride. Do you see pride in me, Miss Hartway?'

  'Yes, Mr Salvador.'

  'So now you know why I've stayed away from the island and caused my mother such— anguish.' A most unamused smile twisted his lip. 'I suppose you are going to tell me that I have no right to absent myself from my son, am I correct?'

  'Yes.' Despite the various emotions which she sensed were smouldering in him, Debra found she could meet his eyes with more ease than she could ever meet his brother's. 'He's a charming little boy and if you stay away too long you'll miss the fun of seeing him start to toddle and talk. Why punish yourself?'

  'You imagine that's what I'm doing?'

  'I think you are.'

  'You don't know me, Miss Hartway, so how can you presume to know why I hide myself away in this dreary little pub instead of enjoying the comfort of Abbeywitch? I surmise that you read a lot of books and maybe take me for a sacrificing hero.'

  'I—I think you're sacrificing your rights as a father in order to brood.'

  'Brood?' he took her up, little angry lights agleam in his eyes. 'Let me put a case to you, Miss Hartway. How would you feel about infidelity?'

  Debra winced ... so all the rumours and innuendoes had been correct, Pauline had taken a lover and Jack Salvador was unsure about the part he had played in the production of Dean. Yet she had seen that glimpse of Rodare in the boy ... a realisation that suddenly took on ominous shadings. Oh God, was it suspicion of his brother that made Jack hide away with his hurt and a
ngry pride? Was Stuart Coltan's insinuation a valid one, that Rodare and Pauline had liked to do more than dance together?

  She gazed dumbly at Jack Salvador, and then rose to her feet. 'I had no right to come here,' she said. 'I tricked Mickey Lee into bringing me and you've every right to be annoyed. I'll go now. I'm on my way back to London.'

  He tossed back the remainder of his drink. 'Stay and have some lunch with me—quite frankly I hadn't realised how much I have missed the company of someone kind and rational. This old pub lays on a good luncheon and you need something to eat before the train—you are set on taking it?'

  She nodded.

  'Anyway,' his eyes were intent upon her face, 'you will take lunch with me?'

  'That's kind of you, Mr Salvador.' Debra was hesitant, but there still remained the faint hope that she could make him see reason where little Dean was concerned. It wasn't as if he had stated definitely that Dean wasn't his son, and even so it wasn't just for an adult to lay any kind of blame upon a mere baby.

  'I'd appreciate the company.' He rasped a hand across his unshaven jaw and gave her a wry sort of smile. 'If you'll give me about fifteen minutes to turn myself back into a civilized human being?'

  'Of course.' She watched him take a change of clothing from the bureau and then he vanished into the adjoining bathroom from whence came the rushing sound of the shower. Debra walked to the window and gazed down into the cobbled yard of The Cap And Bells where the rain was making puddles. She had a feeling of unreality; so much had occurred in her life in the past twenty-four hours that most of it was hard to take in.

  Now she was off the island it almost seemed possible to believe that she had dreamt of Rodare's proposal of marriage rather than experienced it.

  What, she wondered, had been his reaction when he found out that she had left Abbeywitch? He had threatened to follow her if she left, but Debra didn't think he would go that far. The impulse which had driven him to propose to her would have lost its impetus overnight and she felt sure he would be relieved to find her gone.