Sally Wentworth - The Sea Master

by Sally Wentworth

A remark that brought the conversation to an abrupt end as Guy got up and walked out of the galley.

  On Sunday they were woken by the Cathedral bells ringing out across the harbour, and the sound filled Michelle with a feeling of peace and contentment which was dispelled as soon as she saw Guy. He seemed extra terse and abrupt with her this morning, going on deck to do some odd jobs immediately after breakfast and staying up there. She watched him go, feeling wretched but determined to stick to her guns; if his attitude was meant to break her down then he would be disappointed, because she was certain that the only chance she had was to stay with him just as long as she could.

  Dispiritedly she started washing up and was soon sunk in a reverie of what could be, what might have been if she hadn't resisted him at first, but presently her thoughts came back to here and now when her attention was caught by several large, gleaming limousines that drove fast up the main road and stopped at the end of the jetty, near the Customs shed. A

  woman and several men got out of the cars, including some in official-looking uniforms, and they began to hurry along the jetty' Then another couple of cars pulled up and half a dozen people carrying cameras jumped out and rushed after the others. Their attention was on a tall, dark-haired man wearing sunglasses who seemed to be heading the procession and the woman beside him who was mostly hidden by the taller men around her, the uniformed men clearing the way for them through the Sunday crowds of people. They were all hurrying along and Michelle watched them curiously, wondering who they were, but then they turned off the main jetty and started up the pier between the moored boats in the marina and she got a better look at the man and woman in the lead. The plate she was holding dropped from her hands back into the water as she stared. She ought to have known Who it was at once, because the man's distinguished, handsome features were known to millions all over the world and the woman's still beautiful face was equally, if not better known. Anyone would know Sir Richard Bryant or Adele Verlaine when they saw them!

  For a moment Michelle stood in utter confusion, wondering how on earth they had found out where she was. But there was only one way they could have known, only one person who could have told them. She ran out of the galley and along the deck, too furious to care that the photographers might see her.

  Guy was standing in the bow, his hands on his hips, watching the crowd of people making their way towards the boat. There was a grim look on his face that swiftly changed as he heard her running footsteps.

  You told them! You pig! You promised you wouldn't! Her face contorted by rage and mortification, Michelle tried to lash out at him, but Guy caught her arms and forced them down. Tears of frustrated anger came to her eyes as she vainly strained to break free of his grip, 'You promised!,' she yelled at him. 'Oh, why did you do it? Do yea hate me that much?'

  His fingers bit hard into her flesh, hurting her suddenly. 'No,' he answered fiercely. 'Of course I don't hate you.'

  'Then why did you do it? Why?'

  'I had to let your parents know you were alive. To have left them in ignorance a moment longer than necessary would only have condoned what you've done, and I'm not dial cruel, Mitch. But I kept my promise, I didn't tell the authorities here. Instead I radioed to England and told them to get in touch with your mother. I left it up to her whether she came for you or not.' ,

  'Oh, she'd come all right. But you don't think it's me she cares about, do you? She just couldn't bear to pass up a chance for all this free publicity, that's all.' ,

  'Mitch, that isn't true. She's probably worried sick.'. .'

  'Look at them,' Michelle broke in angrily on his attempt at reassurance. 'Don't you see the photographers? How the hell do you think they knew? Because she told them, of course. They're actors, Guy. They live by publicity, they thrive on it, my mother especially. Oh, why did you have to do it?'

  He looked down at her face, at the tears on her cheeks, and the grim look came back to his mouth. 'Go on down to your cabin and clean yourself up,' he ordered, 'I'll stall them till you're ready.'

  He pushed her ahead of him along the deck, making her obey him, and Michelle went unresistingly, knowing that it was all over, that her fight for love was lost before it had even begun. The people were only about a hundred yards away now and she heard someone give a shout of recognition as she moved to descend the galley steps, but she didn't look back, just ran ahead of Guy down into the bathroom and-locked the door. Behind her she heard Guy shut the door leading from the galley to the cabins, and she quickly closed the window and curtains in the bathroom, afraid that some photographer would poke his camera through. ' Slowly, miserably, she began to wash her face, trying to hide all trace of tears. The boat rocked as the people swarmed on board and there was the rise and fall of excited voices. She couldn't make out much except once when she heard Guy's raised voice saying sharply, 'Did you have to bring, this circus with you?' Someone moved along the deck and tried the window and she started back in fear, but then they moved away again and she began to comb her hair, then pulled it back off her head and did it in a long plait which hung heavy on her back. She was barefoot, as usual, and had on the shorts and sun-top that Guy had bought her. Her skin was tanned golden brown, but her face was very pale now beneath it. She wore no make-up, and that, plus the pigtail, made her look even younger than nineteen, but the sadness and loss that darkened her eyes was far beyond her years.

  She waited for what seemed a long time. The boat rocked again a couple of times, but she didn't dare to draw the curtain to look out. At length she heard someone come out of the galley and then there was a rap on the door.

  'Okay, Mitch, you can come out now.'

  Hand shaking, she unlocked the door. Eagerly her eyes went to Guy's face, but his features Were set into a hard, enigmatic mask. He motioned her ahead of him into the galley and up the steps into the main saloon, and she obeyed him numbly.

  She had expected the boat to be thronged with people, but to her surprise there were only four others in the saloon, all of whom turned towards her expectantly as she walked in.

  'Darling!' Immediately her mother crossed to her and put her arms round her, holding her close and kissing her cheek. 'Oh, my poor darling! We thought… oh, we thought something terrible had happened to you!' Adele Verlaine moved back a little tears in her eyes as she searched Michelle's face.

  'Hallo, Mother,' Michelle said woodenly, het nostrils full of the expensive perfume Adele Verlaine always wore. She looked over her shoulder to where her father stood and he gave her the lazy smile that had won him three wives, a good many mistresses and untold millions of fans. 'Hallo, Daddy.'

  'Hallo, child. Welcome back to the land of the living. You did have us feeling just a mite worried, you know.'

  'Worried!' her mother put in. 'I was out of my mind!' She put up a hand to stroke Michelle's face, but then said, 'But I'm being selfish. Look, darling, here's Peter.'

  Michelle turned her head to where Peter was hovering in the background, waiting for someone to notice him. He didn't get much chance with two experienced actors upstaging him like mad. He came towards her and put his hands on her shoulders, went to kiss her, but Michelle turned her head away and he ended up giving her a self-conscious peck on the cheek, aware of everyone watching him.

  'Hallo, Peter,' Michelle greeted him tonelessly.

  He looked at her uncertainly, started to say, Darling, I…' but then his voice trailed off before the set expression on her face.

  The fourth person in the room came forward into the sudden, uncomfortable silence. He wasn't wearing a uniform, but it was obvious that he was some sort of official.

  'Miss Bryant, I'm sorry to bother you at such an emotional moment, but a good deal of time has been expended on looking for you and I need to know how you came to be aboard this boat.' His words were very polite, but there was a blunt, no-nonsense - look about him that hinted at steel beneath his unprepossessing exterior.

  Her voice flat and devoid of any emotion, Michelle explained how she'd
fallen in the Thames, been carried to the boat and gone to sleep in the cabin, not waking until it was out to sea.

  'I see.' The man made some notes on a pad. 'Were you aware, Miss Bryant, that this boat contains a radio powerful enough to transmit to England?' Yes.

  'And did you know that no radio message informing your parents that you were alive was sent until the early hours of yesterday morning?'

  The early hours of the morning? So Guy must have waited to use the radio until she was asleep. She turned her head to look at him and found that he was leaning against the bulkhead, arms folded, watching her intently, his mouth set into a thin line.

  'Miss Bryant?'

  Slowly she turned to look back at the policeman, or whatever he was. 'Yes, I knew.'

  'Was this by your wish, Miss Bryant, or did Mr Farringdon here refuse to pass on a message?'

  She paused before answering and saw Guy stiffen, although his features didn't alter. If she was going to carry out her threat to accuse him now was the time. Lifting up her head, she looked straight into his eyes and said clearly, 'It was by my wish. I gave Mr Farringdon a fake name when he found me. He had no idea who I was until Friday.'

  Guy's eyes widened, he straightened up and his arms came down to his sides.

  But the man was going on, 'I must further ask you, Miss Bryant, whether you have been, molested in any way or whether anything has been done to you against your will?'

  'No,' Michelle answered in little more than a whisper. 'Nothing has been done to me, either against my will or with it,'

  She turned away then, her heart heavy with bitter self-irony. The man was going on, saying something about irresponsibility and waste of time but she didn't hear him, she was looking blindly out of the window, aware only of the brilliant radiance of the sun on the surface of the water. But then her father cut the man short and he went away.

  There was a long silence and she knew that they were all looking at her, waiting for some kind of explanation, but she just stood numbly looking out of the window, unable to say a word.

  At length Richard Bryant turned to Guy and held out his hand. 'I think I owe you an apology, Mr Farringdon. When we first heard that Michelle was . with you—well, you can imagine what we thought. But now it seems I have to thank you for taking care of her and to express our regret that you became involved in our,' he hesitated, smiling ruefully, 'our domestic difficulties. I trust,' he added, 'that we can count on your discretion?'

  Guy returned his look sardonically and made no

  move to shake his hand. 'My discretion? When you've brought that pack of press hounds with you?'

  Her father shook his head. 'We didn't bring them, Farringdon; your radio message was intercepted by a radio ham and passed oh to the press. Believe me, there's no one more sorry than I am; I would have kept this quiet if I could—Michelle's had enough to put up with, being our daughter, without this. And,' he went on, turning towards her, 'it seems that we still have quite a few problems to straighten out.'

  'Yes, and I think we can best do that back at the hotel,' her mother put in. 'Darling, do you have any shoes?'

  "Yes, I'll get them,' Michelle answered dully, and left them while she went to her cabin to get her things. She moved lethargically at first, Booking round the little cabin, knowing it would be for ,the last time, and remembering, but then she had' a sudden revulsion of feeling and began to cram the clothes in a bag and throw the jewellery in after them. Cosmetics, diamonds, comb, they all went in anyhow. Scrabbling her hand in the drawer, she found an earring at the very back and went to pull it out, but then her hand paused and she pushed it back again. Maybe it was a forlorn hope, maybe he wouldn't find it, or if he did would just send it to her, but it was a chance of seeing him again, even if a very slim one.

  A silence fell as she strode into' the saloon, the sort of sharp silence when people have been caught talking about you, but Michelle merely said, 'I'm ready,' and made for the door.

  'Michelle!' Her, father's sharp command stopped her in the doorway. 'I believe you have something to say to Mr Farringdon before we leave.'

  Michelle's eyes closed tightly for a moment, then her shoulders came up and she turned to face them all. Going over to Guy, she kept her eyes on a level with his chest and said in a polite, little-girl voice, 'Thank you for letting me stay on your boat, Mr Farringdon, and I'm sorry if I've caused you any inconvenience.' Then she immediately turned and walked out of the saloon with her parents hurrying after her.

  The papparazzi were waiting at the end of the pier, held back by several policemen, and there was also a growing crowd of grinning onlookers, excited that their Sunday strolls had brought them for a moment close to something of newsworthy importance. Her parents did their best to shield her, walking on either side of her and hurrying along to the car, Peter bringing up the rear. For a few minutes it was hell, with flashlights going off close to her face and questions being shouted at her, but then they were in the limousine and racing away from the harbour. Michelle didn't turn to look back, she kept her eyes down until they had arrived at a hotel, passed the curious eyes in the foyer and were safely in the two-bedroom suite her mother had taken on the second floor.

  'Now,' her father said as soon as they were inside, 'you've got some explaining to do, young lady,'

  Michelle looked at them, then fished in her bag for the engagement ring. Holding it in the palm of her hand, she crossed to Peter. 'I want to give this back to you. I'd already written to you to tell you I was breaking off the engagement. You'll probably find the letter waiting for you when you get home.

  He looked at her in shocked amazement. 'But why? Surely you don't…'

  'I think you know why,' she interrupted brusquely.

  He flushed and looked away;, then said desperately, 'Look, Michelle, we both had a lot to drink that night and it wasn't my fault you…' But then he saw the scorn in her eyes and stopped, biting his lip. Reluctantly he reached up and took the ring from her hand, looking down at k miserably.

  'Thank you. I'm sorry your journey here was a waste of time.'

  Michelle turned away and Peter stood looking around at them rather helplessly until Richard Bryant took him by the arm and led him outside.

  As the door closed behind them her mother said, That was extremely cruel.'

  'Yes,' Michelle agreed bitterly, 'but then I've had plenty of opportunity to learn how to be cruel, haven't I? And anyway,' she added with ironical insight, 'he'll soon get over it. He was more in love with the fact that I was your daughter than he was with me.'

  They were silent then until Richard Bryant came back a few minutes later. 'He's going back to England on the next plane,' he told them. He looked at Michelle keenly. 'Do you want to tell us what happened on the night of your engagement party? And why you didn't let us know you were alive?' he added heavily.

  Michelle shrugged. 'It really doesn't matter now, does it?' I was unhappy and there didn't seem to be anything to go back to, so I stayed away. I'm sorry if you were upset at all, but I didn't think you'd care much one way or the other.'

  There was a sharp silence before Richard Bryant turned furiously on -her mother. 'You bitch! What the hell have you done to her? I should never have let you keep her. I should have insisted on taking her to America with me when we split up, as I wanted to do.'

  Adele Verlaine's lovely face was pale beneath the make-up. 'Richard, I swear to you, I…'

  'Don't bother,' he cut in scornfully. 'I've heard all your excuses and .promises a thousand times before.' He turned to Michelle. 'I'm sorry darling, I thought you were happy. I thought… Well, okay, I took the easy way out and presumed you were happy. But it seems I was wrong all along. You're coming back to the States to live with me. You won't have to stay with your mother any longer.'

  'No,' Michelle said decisively. I'm going back to England. And when I get there I'll find a job and a place of my own. I don't need either of you any longer. I don't need…' her voice broke for a second but was quickly
covered, 'I don't need anyone.'

  She went to her own room then, only coming out' to join them for lunch, which was eaten mostly in a tense silence. That her parents had been discussing her, she knew, but didn't much care; which was ironical when she remembered that her reason for going with Guy had been precisely to achieve this end: getting them together and taking some notice of her. The phone rang several times, but they were all media enquiries, wanting them to give an interview. Some people managed to get as far as the door, too, and Michelle would stiffen with anticipation every time there was a knock, but it was never Guy, and she began to give up hope.

  But at six-thirty, when she was changing for dinner, her mother's maid knocked on the bathroom door and told her that Mr Farringdon was downstairs.

  'Oh, yes, ask him to come up, would you. I won't be a minute.'

  Breathlessly Michelle dried herself, wishing that

  she'd been ready, that he'd come at any other time than this, desperately hoping that she could find some way to get through to him. She put on her. underclothes and then a sumptuously luxurious long white bathrobe of her mother's that was hanging behind the door. Her hand trembled as she brushed her hair and she would have liked to put on some make-up. But there was no time, he might just leave the earring and go.

  But even though she was in such a desperate hurry, she paused with her hand "on the door of the sitting-room, suddenly afraid. But then she pushed it open, her eyes going eagerly to Guy as soon as she entered the room. He was standing with his back to her, looking out of the window which overlooked the gardens at the front of the hotel. He was wearing another of his business suits, a navy one this time. When he heard the door open he turned slowly to look at her. He didn't smile or attempt to greet her, just stood looking at her, his face a stern hard mask.

  Her voice dry in her throat, Michelle took refuge in social good manners. 'Good evening. Can I get you a drink?'

  For a moment he continued to look at her, then nodded. 'Thank you. I'll have a Scotch and soda.'

  Michelle went to the drinks tray and poured it for him, her trembling hands spilling some of the amber liquid. 'Would you like ice?'