by Flora Kidd
'But, Mrs Jarrold, we were working, discussing his book and planning chapters and layout. Oh, please don't talk any more, you're straining your throat. You'll be ill again,' cried Tory.
'And would you care if I was? Would Magnus?' demanded Rita in a hoarse whisper. 'Oh, no, you can't expect me to believe that, or anything else you say.
I've heard all about your entrance to the reception on Friday night. My father told me, and this morning with my own ears I heard Magnus saying to you that my return would make no difference to you and him, that you'd go on as before.'
'But he didn't mean what you're thinking. He was referring to the book, I swear he was,' protested Tory.
'No, he wasn't. You see, Miss Latham, I know Magnus much better than you do. I know this strange attraction he has for young women who are looking for someone to care for. They fall for that diffident, helpless manner of his. Don't think for one moment this is the first time it has happened. When he was working in the States there was a little lab technician who couldn't do enough for him. I was away on tour at the time. When I returned I found her cooking for him, doing his washing—I leave you to guess what the next step was going to be. Something similar happened when he was appointed to a position in Copenhagen, and when we were in England I guessed that there was someone who took up his time, and you'll be surprised to learn that once I saw you both coming out of a tea-shop in the High Street. But I was ill and a change of climate was thought necessary, and it didn't take much to persuade him to accept the position of the Directorship here, in the island where I was born. But it wasn't possible for me to stay. I had to have treatment. I'd been gone only six months when I heard he had a new assistant ... one he didn't really need.'
'Mrs Jarrold, I'm sorry, I had no idea,' said Tory earnestly. 'Honestly.'
The dark eyes appraised her narrowly and insolently.
'Do you know, I could almost believe you. It must be the blonde hair, the wide clear eyes, the soft skin which make you appear so innocent. But I don't believe you. I've squared with you, Miss Latham, told you exactly how I feel, and in return I expect you to square with me. I give you until Wednesday night to leave this house, to find other lodgings. If you're, not gone by then I shall see to it that your contract as a government employee is cancelled and that you find it difficult to obtain work of a nature suited to your qualifications and abilities elsewhere by making sure you are given poor references. Is that clear?'
`Yes, very clear, Mrs Jarrold.'
Tory turned away and almost collided with Carla, who was standing behind her listening to all that had been said. The girl grinned maliciously and Tory had the impression she would have liked to make a rude grimace, only the presence of her mother prevented her.
As she ran up the stairs to her room it occurred to her that Carla could have been responsible for Rita's sudden return. The girl had possibly carried tales to Lise Campos, possibly to her grandfather, to get her own back on Tory for being turned away from the marina.
Feeling sweat break out on her body because she had moved too quickly for the heat of the day, Tory went straight to the bathroom to clean her teeth, her mind echoing with some of Carla's more caustic comments. You're sweet on my father. Why don't you take your own advice before you're taken advantage of?
Oh, how blind she had been, how foolish, far worse than Carla who at least had known that Denzil wasn't married. And Carla had had the advantage that Denzil was a person who cared about people, who had the · courage to be cruel to be kind so that when he had realised what was happening he had sent Carla packing. Whereas she had been led on by Magnus; not deliberately, but, because he was ineffectual, helpless and incapable of being unkind, he was actually more cruel.
And now she was faced with Rita's ultimatum. Find alternative lodgings or else ... She couldn't let the contract be cancelled. She had to be loyal to herself in this instance as well as loyal to her employers. But where could she stay? She was quite prepared to believe that Magnus had been telling her the truth when he had' told her that good, reasonably priced lodgings were difficult to obtain. There were a couple of hotels in Port Anne, but to live in them all the time might prove expensive, and she would have to find some form of transport.
She took the problem to work with her and during the day asked the other assistant botanists and some of the gardeners, all of whom lived in bungalows on the botanical estate or nearby, if any of them knew where she could rent room and board. But none of them were able to help her. She decided not to approach Magnus, as she realised with a terrible feeling of disillusionment that he wouldn't be able to help her. She didn't even bother to tell him what had passed between herself and Rita. Let him continue to believe that his wife's presence in the house would make no difference, and that things would go on as before. Let him be shocked into awareness of reality as she had been, Tory thought with a touch of spite.
Then she felt pain twinge within her. How easily her feelings about Magnus had changed! How quickly she had fallen out of love with him once she had learned the truth about him. Her first love affair was over, and looking back on it Tory could see now that it had been a very adolescent, one-sided affair. She had been in love with an image and not with a real person at all.
Some idea of the difference the return of Rita Jarrold was going to make to the situation in the Director's house was made very clear that evening. When Tory went downstairs for the usual sundowners on the terrace she was intercepted by Mrs Dunnet, who informed her that the Jarrolds had company for dinner and that she was to take her meal in the small, room off the kitchen. Later, when she decided to go into Port Anne to search for accommodation, instead of borrowing the cream car to drive herself in she had to phone for a taxi to come out and pick her up. She asked the grinning cheerful taxi-driver if he knew of any house where she might find a room. He gave her two addresses and left her outside one, but one glance at its seedy appearance and the rough-looking men who were hanging about outside and she knew that she would have to be in dire straits to even consider it.
She did eventually find a room in a pleasant clean house overlooking the bay, only to receive a phone call on Wednesday afternoon to say that the owner of the house had changed her mind. In desperation, because she had only a few hours in which to find somewhere to live, Tory went to tell Magnus the state of affairs.
'I'll have a word with Rita, my dear,' he promised, looking very worried. 'I'm sure she'll understand when I tell her how important it is to my work that you stay. I mean, how am I going to finish that book on time without your help? She can be very difficult at times and gets the most peculiar ideas. For instance, she believes that you and I have been having an affair. Anyway, leave it with me. I'm sure it will be all right for you to stay another night when I explain to her.'
So she had left it to him, and now she was sitting in her room trying to finish the letter to her parents which she had started on Sunday night after once again eating alone in the poky little room off the kitchen. The atmosphere was sultry and outside everything was still. Not a leaf rustled, not a frog croaked in the darkness beyond the window, and she guessed from past experience that a storm was brewing.
A knock at her door surprised her and she opened it
to find Rita standing there, looking elegant in a dark red evening gown which swathed her slim body. Her straight dark hair was swept up on top of her head and long golden earrings dangled from her earlobes.
'I'm surprised to find you still here,' she said, walking straight into the room and looking round it as if searching for damage to the walls or the furniture. 'You're supposed to have left by tonight. Is it possible that you want that contract torn up?'
Her dark glance came down from a survey of the ceiling to stare at Tory.
'No, I don't. Hasn't Magnus told you? He said he would have a word with you. I thought I'd found alternative lodgings, but this afternoon I had word that the landlady had changed her mind.'
A faintly malicious smile curved Rita's full
lips.
'Yes, I'd heard about that,' she murmured smugly. 'The woman phoned here for references. I told her that I considered you to be untrustworthy. Magnus did mumble something about it being important to his work that you be allowed to stay on and I told him I had nothing against you as a botanist—I daresay you're very clever—but I don't want you living in this house. Now come along, get your things packed. We're going into Port Anne to visit my father. We could drop you off at one of the hotels.'
Tory discovered that she was trembling with the effort to control the anger which was surging up inside her.
'No, thank you,' she said coldly. 'I prefer to find my own way there.'
'Well, just be sure you're gone by the time we return at about ten o'clock, won't you?' Rita's glance swept once more over the room. 'This is really a very pleasant room. I think we might have it redecorated for Carla. The room she's in doesn't have its own bathroom. Goodnight, Miss Latham.'
She left the room and for a few minutes Tory stood, face buried in her hands as she tried once again to control the shakiness which swept over her. Never had she felt so humiliated. Never had she expected to come up against such relentless malice and hate, and considering Rita's recent remarks, she realised that not only did Rita want her out of the house, she also wanted her off the island, and that any attempts on her part to find lodgings were going to be blocked by the woman.
Gradually the shakiness passed, leaving her numb. She got out her cases and began to pack them, not caring very much how she threw the clothes in, wanting only to leave the house as fast as she could. While she was packing she heard the leaves begin to rustle as a wind shook them, but there was no relief from the humid heat which only seemed to increase until it pressed against her skin like something tangible, causing her to sweat at every movement.
She changed into slacks and a cotton blouse, pulled on her anorak and lugged the heavy suitcases downstairs. By now the wind had increased in violence and she could hear it moaning. In the hallway the electric light flickered once or twice as the overhead cables swung in the wind and tugged at their poles. Tory was looking through the small telephone directory for the number of a taxi service when the light went out altogether. Repeating the number she had found to herself so that she did not forget it, she groped for the instrument and picked up the receiver. A nasty buzzing noise indicating that the line was out of order came through the ear-piece, and as she replaced the receiver Tory could not help smiling ruefully. Even her efforts to leave the house under her own steam were being thwarted by natural causes!
By this time she expected Mrs Dunnet to appear with the usual candles which were put into use whenever
the power failed. Then she remembered that Wednesday was the woman's evening off. Sitting down on a chair near the telephone table, she considered her next move, and peered at her watch to try to make out the time from its luminous dial, hearing the wind increasing in violence. She judged she had two hours before the Jarrolds returned and she didn't think that either the telephone or the electricity would be back in service by then. Experience of two previous tropical storms during her stay on the island warned her that such services would not be back in working order until two or three days after the storm was over, because of the islanders' easy-going attitude to work.
The only way she could get to Port Anne tonight would be by walking, and she couldn't walk the eight miles with two heavy suitcases, so she would leave them to be picked up later. Her decision made, Tory stood up, slung her canvas holdall which contained her nightwear and her handbag over her shoulder, opened the front door and stepped out of the house.
The darkness was complete, a black void in which trees and bushes swished and groaned. Wishing she had a flashlight, Tory went down the steps and set off in the direction of the entrance to the Gardens. She was skirting the pool, keeping a wary eye on where she was going in case she stepped into it, when the rain came in big spots, pinging down on broad leaves and hitting the water of the pool in a steaming hiss. Quickly she pulled the hood of her anorak over her hair which was already tangled by the wind, and ran for shelter beneath one of the tulip trees.
It wasn't pleasant standing there listening to the branches thrashing above her, and she soon left shelter to plunge through the stinging darkness across the lawn in the direction of the path that went over the hill to the marina, thinking she would cut at least five miles
off her journey by taking the short cut.
The path was fast turning into a stream. Slithering and sliding in the mud, Tory managed to gain level ground and began to feel her way along the tunnel woven from vines and ferns. The foliage was so thick that rain scarcely penetrated, and it was so dark that she had to walk with her hands stretched out before her to save herself from walking into tree-trunks or being clouted by low-hung branches and vines. Several times she tripped and fell to her knees, always getting to her feet hastily because she did not like the feel of the ground beneath her hands, sure that once she had touched something slimy that moved.
Soon the enveloping darkness began to have a claustrophobic effect on her. She imagined the trees were closing in on her, and only just restrained a screech of horror when leaves touched her face with a stealthy lingering caress. She felt panic rising within her. She should never have come this way, she should have gone by the road. She might never get out of this tangle of sinister wet branches and leaves that would eventually twine themselves about her and choke her to death.
Panic took over and she began to run. Her foot turned on a rock or a root, she had no way of knowing which, and sharp pain stabbed through her ankle and up her leg, making her cry out. Standing on one foot with her eyes squeezed tightly closed, and her teeth gritted together, she waited for the pain to recede, then cautiously put the injured foot to the ground. Pain was still there, but dulled now, and Tory was able to hobble onwards, feeling relief surge through her as she saw a greyness ahead which meant she was almost at the end of the tunnel.
Slowed down as she was by the twisted ankle, it took her almost as long to reach the end of the tunnel as it had to come from the tulip tree to the point where
her foot had turned, but at last she emerged and looked down through the slanting rain at the dazzle of light at the marina.
How like Denzil to have a generator to supply emergency power, she thought as she limped down the path to the road. There she paused and looked along the road in the direction of Port Anne. Its surface gleamed wetly and she could hear the culverts at its side gushing noisily with the water which had run off the hill into them. Slowly she moved forward and pain exploded from the ankle, jarring her to a stop.
It was foolish to attempt to walk to Port Anne now. There was nothing else for it but to go to Denzil and ask him if she could use his phone, or if it was out of order, ask him to drive her into Port Anne.
CHAPTER SIX
FEELING drained of all energy, her nerves nagged by the pain of her twisted ankle, Tory went up the steps to Denzil's bungalow, using the wooden handrail to drag herself up. She pulled back the outer screen door and knocked with her knuckles on the closed front door. She waited for a while, listening. Faintly, below the sounds of rushing water and wind she could hear the bass accompaniment to music which she could not hear coming through the open window. No one came to the door so she knocked again, harder.
A few seconds later the door was opened by Denzil. He was wearing only white cotton trousers belted low on his hips; his feet were bare and his hair was tousled and there was a heaviness about his eyes which indicated that he had either been asleep or thoroughly relaxed when she knocked.
'Well, look what the high tide has washed ashore,' he drawled jibingly, and his hostility hit Tory like a blow. He made no attempt to invite her in or to move back so that she could enter, and she wondered suddenly if he had company.
'I hope I'm not disturbing you,' she said stiffly, but her attempt to appear coolly controlled was spoilt by the chattering of her teeth.
&nb
sp; 'Not really. I was just having a nightcap and writing a letter to my grandmother.' Her face must have expressed scepticism, for he added with a glint of mockery, 'I do have a grandmother. She's a very rich old lady and I have to keep in with her so that one day she'll leave me all her loot in her will.'
'I wish you wouldn't say things like that about your-
self!' It burst out of her uncontrollably, surprising her as much as it surprised him.
'Why shouldn't I?' he countered.
'It might make people think you're nothing but a pirate, only doing things for your own profit, and you're not like that, you're not like that ...' Her voice rose and cracked a little hysterically, so she put her hands over her mouth to stop the words that seemed to want to babble out.
His eyes narrowed and his glance swept over her down to her muddy feet.
'My God,' he said softly. 'I believe you have been in the tide.'
`No, I haven't, I walked over the hill. Oh, it was horrible! I'll never do it again in the dark.' She lost control then and began to shake, burying her face in her hands. She had come to him instinctively for help and his derisive, hostile attitude had shattered her control completely.
She was vaguely aware of him puffing her indoors, of the door closing. Pain shot up her leg from her ankle. She winced and cried out.
'Now what's wrong?' he demanded.
'I twisted my ankle. My foot turned on a rock,' she muttered, and took her hands from her face to look round the room. There was no one else there.
'You deserve more than a twisted ankle for even attempting to come through the forest in a storm. Have you no sense at all?' he rapped, and gave her a sharp shake. The harshness of his voice and the roughness of the shake jolted Tory. She took a long sighing breath and gripped her hands together.
'It isn't as far as coming round by the road,' she explained. 'It's a long way to Port Anne, and ...'
'You decided to walk to Port Anne in that storm?' Denzil interrupted her incredulously. His fingers were