by Anne Mather
Dionne gasped and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, and he looked sideways at her, his eyes narrowing speculatively.
‘What did you expect?’ he demanded contemptuously. ‘Coming back here just as I was beginning to accept the inevitable; destroying what small peace of mind I had achieved!’
Dionne shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. But I didn’t know – it would be like – like this!’
‘Didn’t you?’ His lips twisted. ‘Or didn’t you really know exactly how I would react?’
Dionne flushed hotly. ‘How could I know that?’
‘How could you not?’ Manoel glared at her angrily. ‘After all that has gone before! We were lovers, Dionne; do you think I can forget what it was like – holding you in my arms – making love to you?’ He ran a hand round the back of his neck, flexing his muscles wearily. ‘Do you think I haven’t lain awake nights imagining the warmth of your flesh, the softness of your skin, the very scent of you?’ He heaved a heavy sigh. ‘And do you think I haven’t imagined you in some other man’s arms allowing him to touch you as I touched you?’
Dionne uttered a cry, putting out a hand helplessly. ‘No man – no other man has ever touched me!’ she exclaimed chokingly.
Manoel’s eyes ran over her almost insolently. ‘How can I believe that when twice I have found you at the mercy of members of my sex? Have you lived the last three years in a convent?’
Dionne bent her head. She ached with love for him and she badly wanted to tell him the real reason why she was here, but these were the dangerous moments. These were the moments when she must be on her guard against confessing something which might destroy her. After all, no matter how she might attract him physically, and there was no doubt that she did attract him in that way, he was going to marry Yvonne and there was no place for Jonathan in that household even if she could be persuaded to let him go.
‘Please,’ she said now. ‘Please take me back to the hotel. I – I have packing to do. I’m leaving in the morning.’
‘You’re what!’ He was obviously astounded by her statement and she repeated it quietly. ‘But you can’t!’ he exclaimed grimly. ‘You haven’t got the money – and besides, Gemma wants to see you again.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid she’s going to be disappointed,’ said Dionne, between tight lips. ‘I – I’ve booked my flight.’
‘Cancel it!’ If she had not known him better she would have said there was agony in the depths of his grey eyes.
‘No!’ Dionne wet her dry lips with her tongue. ‘No, I can’t.’
‘Dionne!’ He slid a hand along the back of her seat, under her hair, gripping the nape of her neck with cruel fingers. ‘Dionne, you can’t do this to me!’
‘Do what?’ Dionne found it difficult to articulate.
‘You know!’ he groaned. ‘Please, I’m asking you, don’t go – yet.’
Dionne swallowed noticeably. ‘I – have to.’
‘Why? Who is waiting for you in England?’ His eyes darkened. ‘There is some man! You are lying to me!’
‘No, you’re wrong. There’s no man.’ Dionne’s eyes pleaded for him to believe her.
Manoel stared into her face, his fingers still encircling the nape of her neck. ‘Where do you live, then? You once told me you shared your aunt’s house. Do you still?’
‘Oh, yes, yes!’ Dionne took short jerking breaths and Manoel studied her silently, obviously trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth.
‘And this two hundred pounds,’ he said huskily. ‘This is for your aunt?’
Dionne wrenched herself away from him. ‘If it makes you happy that I should say yes, then all right – yes, I want it for my aunt!’
Manoel caught a handful of her hair making her wince as he twisted it round his fingers. ‘Oh, Dionne,’ he muttered thickly, ‘how can I let you go?’
Dionne’s long lashes fell over her eyes, veiling their expression from him. When he spoke to her like this she could almost believe he loved her and that everything that had gone before was a tragic mistake. But Jonathan was real enough, and she must not jeopardize his future for a whim.
‘Tell me something,’ she said quietly, and his brows drew together in a deep frown. ‘Why have you and Yvonne – waited so long to get married?’
Manoel’s expression darkened and he released her abruptly as though the recollection of his fiancée brought him to his senses. For a moment she thought he wasn’t even going to bother to reply, but then he said: ‘Yvonne is paralysed. She has been paralysed since three months after you left. She has had various operations. They all took time. She is due to have another in a few weeks. Already there are some signs of improvement and the surgeons believe that this final operation will enable her to walk again. Oh, she may never run or dance or play games again, but she has every chance of being able to live a – full and – reasonably active life.’
‘I – I see.’ Dionne understood what he meant. Yvonne would be a normal woman again; she would be able to have a normal marriage; and bear him the sons he needed to carry on the St. Salvador line.
‘Do you,’ Manoel said now in a tortured voice, ‘do you really see anything beyond your own selfish pursuits?’
Dionne caught her breath. ‘This conversation is getting us nowhere, Manoel. You’d better take me back to the hotel.’
Manoel clenched his fists for a moment and then without a word he started the engine and drove smoothly back to Arles. They did not speak on the journey; each was occupied with their own thoughts, and when Manoel stopped outside the hotel it took great stamina for Dionne to turn to him and say: ‘Thank you, and good-bye.’
Manoel looked as though he was about to say something and then changed his mind. He didn’t speak. He merely thrust open the door for her and after she had alighted he drove savagely away.
Dionne had a telephone call from Henri that evening. He wanted to apologize for his behaviour, he said, but whether it was a sincere desire to put things right, or whether the fact that Manoel St. Salvador was involved had something to do with it, Dionne could only guess. But she let him off lightly and then returned to her room to pack her cases.
About nine-thirty there was a knock at her door. Dionne was surprised and a little apprehensive. She couldn’t imagine who it might be, and unless it was Manoel she wanted to speak to nobody. But it was not Manoel. A feminine voice called: ‘Dionne? Dionne? Can I come in?’
Dionne went to the door and opened it wide. ‘Louise!’ she exclaimed in surprise. ‘What are you doing here at this time of night?’
Louise grinned and held up an envelope. ‘I came on a delivery trip,’ she said lightly. ‘Manoel asked me to give you this.’ She glanced round the empty bedroom. ‘Can I come in?’
Dionne took the envelope with fingers that were not quite steady and then gathered herself quickly. ‘Oh – oh, of course,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come on in. I’m afraid I’ve nothing to offer you, though.’
Louise smiled. ‘Never mind. I just want a chance to talk for a while. Are you packing?’ She frowned. ‘Does Manoel know?’
‘Yes, to both questions,’ replied Dionne, with assumed brightness, thrusting the envelope into the pocket of her slacks to be opened later. ‘Do sit down. Have you come all the way into town alone?’
Louise nodded. ‘Well, I can drive, you know, and Manoel makes sure that all the automobiles are in excellent condition and not in any danger of breaking down en route.’ She sighed. ‘Now – why are you leaving so soon? Can you not stay on for a few days more? I know Grand’mère is expecting to see you again.’
‘Yes, I know that, too, and I’m sorry. But it’s impossible. I have to get back.’ Dionne bit her lip, searching for something else to say. ‘I can’t get over how grown up you are You seemed such a child before.’
Louise laughed. ‘Thank you. But seriously, Dionne, I didn’t come here to talk about myself. I want to talk about Manoel.’
Dionne coloured. ‘I don’t think you
should,’ she said unhappily.
‘Why? Aren’t you interested?’ Louise was watching her intently.
Dionne’s colour deepened. ‘Maybe,’ she murmured awkwardly.
‘Has he told you why he and Yvonne aren’t married yet?’
Dionne shrugged. ‘A little.’
‘He came after you today, didn’t he?’
‘After me?’ Dionne frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This afternoon. I came here to see you. The manager told me you’d gone out with a young man and he thought you had said you were going to Les Saintes Maries. When I went back and told Manoel he left like a thundercloud.’
I see.’ Dionne’s lips trembled a little. ‘I wondered – that is – yes, he found me.’
‘If you ask me, Manoel was as jealous as hell—’ began Louise, but Dionne turned away, pretending to interest herself in putting sweaters into the suitcase.
‘It’s been a very warm day,’ observed Dionne uncomfortably as an uneasy silence fell between them.
‘Yes.’ Louise crossed to the bed and perched on the edge, looking down at the other girl’s bent head. ‘Tell me, did Manoel tell you how Yvonne came to have the accident?’
Dionne sat back on her heels. ‘Oh, Louise! Please! It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘You know that’s not true.’ Louise’s dark eyes were troubled. ‘Anyway, I’m going to tell you, so you might as well listen. It was after Manoel was up and about again—’
‘Up and about again?’ Dionne interrupted her. ‘Up and about again – from what?’
Louise frowned. ‘From his accident, of course. Oh, no, I should have realized. You wouldn’t know about that – in the circumstances.’ She sighed thoughtfully. ‘Well, Manoel was thrown from his horse. He broke his thigh. He was in agony for some time, and then of course he was confined to the mas, and that didn’t suit him at all.’
Dionne stared at the younger girl with intent eyes. ‘Go on. What happened then?’
‘You’re interested now, then?’ Louise teased, and then her teasing vanished as she saw the genuine concern on Dionne’s taut young face. ‘I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll go on. Well, as I said, it was after Manoel was up and about. They had a terrific row about something. I never did discover what it was. But the next thing that happened was that Yvonne went out to the corrals with a whip.’
‘Oh, no!’ Dionne stared at her in dismay.
‘Oh, yes. Yvonne can be very cruel when she chooses. Unfortunately the bulls that were corralled in the yard ready for a buyer who was coming that afternoon were restless, and two of them escaped.’ Louise bit her lip. ‘You can’t imagine what it was like. The screams! The bellowing of the bulls!’ She shook her head. ‘Manoel saved her life. But she didn’t deserve to live!’
‘Louise!’
‘Well, it’s true. If you’d seen the weals on the backs of those poor animals—’ Her voice broke emotionally.
Dionne felt sickened. It was worse than she had imagined, and she put an arm round the trembling girl, and said: ‘It’s over now, Louise, and Yvonne has certainly paid for what she did.’
‘Do you think so?’ Louise looked up at her swiftly. ‘Do you really think she’s paid?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No.’ Louise’s pointed face was mutinous. ‘No, I don’t. She’s got what she wanted. She’s at the mas. Things couldn’t have happened more suitably for her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, her mother dying like that, just after Papa. Her own father couldn’t look after her, not without assistance, and Maman was glad of the company of Yvonne to divert her attention from her own grief. But no one asked Manoel what he wanted! No one suggested that now that Yvonne was paralysed their betrothal was a fiasco!’
Dionne bent her head. ‘Somehow I don’t think Manoel would abandon her because of that.’
‘No, nor do I. But that’s not to say he shouldn’t!’ Louise’s impassioned young voice rose. ‘Dionne, can’t you see, Manoel mustn’t marry Yvonne. She’s evil. Can’t you see she’ll do to him what she did to those animals! Oh, not with a whip. She’s far more subtle than that. But it all comes to the same thing in the end. Can’t you see she blames him for what happened? If they hadn’t had that row it might never have happened. Dionne!’ She caught the other girl’s hands. ‘Dionne, don’t go. Stay and fight for Manoel. Forget about the past; think about the future!’
Dionne withdrew her fingers. ‘Louise, you’re being overly dramatic!’ she began.
‘Am I? I don’t think so.’ Louise sniffed childishly.
Dionne shook her head. ‘It was kind of you to tell me this, Louise. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.’
Louise heaved a sigh, and then an idea struck her. ‘I say, Dionne, you know I told you Manoel was wanting me to go to Switzerland for a year: well, how would it be if I asked him if I could come to England instead. Oh, not to live with you – I wouldn’t be so presumptuous, but maybe to stay nearby so that we could see one another—’
Dionne’s heart missed a beat. ‘I – I don’t think that’s a good idea, Louise. Not – not right now.’
Louise looked disappointed. ‘But why?’
Dionne spread her hands. ‘I – well, I shall be working—’ she began inadequately.
‘But not all the time, surely? I mean – there’d be evenings when we could see one another. And occasional week-ends. Oh, I realize you’ll have your own friends, but I’d love to see you sometimes …’
‘Oh, Louise!’ Dionne shook her head. ‘I – I don’t think it’s possible.
Louise hunched her shoulders. ‘I thought you liked me.’
‘I do, I do,’ Dionne hastened to assure her. ‘Honestly, Louise, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that – well, when I leave here I want no lingering connections with your family …’
‘With Manoel, you mean.’
‘All right, with Manoel,’ Dionne agreed.
Louise got to her feet. ‘I don’t see why. Besides, I wouldn’t talk about Manoel if you didn’t want me to.’
Dionne shook her head again, and Louise’s face drooped. Dionne felt horribly guilty. By refusing Louise’s spontaneous offer of friendship she felt she was destroying something worthwhile. But how could she see Louise in England when sooner or later Louise would be bound to discover that she had a son?
Louise walked to the door. ‘I’d better go. It’s getting late.’
‘Yes,’ Dionne nodded uncomfortably.
Louise opened the door. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you.’
‘You haven’t embarrassed me,’ Dionne took Louise’s hand impulsively. ‘And – and I’m sorry, too.’
Louise shrugged. ‘Pas du tout. Au revoir, Dionne.’
‘Au revoir.’ Dionne smiled, but after Louise had gone and the door was closed behind her the ready tears coursed down her cheeks.
It was not until she returned to her packing that the envelope crackled in her pocket, reminding her of its presence. She tore it open with trembling fingers and a slip of paper dropped out and fell to the floor. She bent and picked it up reluctantly. It was a cheque made out to be paid by an English bank for two hundred pounds.
Dionne had arranged with the hire car company that she should drive the Citröen to Marignane and leave it there with their representative. It was a satisfactory arrangement all round and saved her the trouble of making her way to the airport by other means.
She was carrying her cases out to the car the next morning when the telephone in the kiosk in the hall rang noisily. Monsieur Lyons appeared to answer it, but presently he called her.
‘It is for you, mademoiselle,’ he explained. ‘From England.’
‘England?’ A chill of foreboding touched Dionne’s heart and she almost snatched the phone from Monsieur Lyons. Putting it to her ear, she said breathlessly: ‘Yes, yes, this is Dionne! Who’s that?’
‘Dionne? You’re there? Oh, this is Mrs. Reynolds.’
Mrs.
Reynolds was Aunt Clarry’s neighbour and Dionne felt her anxieties crystallize into real fear. ‘Yes, Mrs. Reynolds? What’s wrong? Has something happened?’
Mrs. Reynolds voice was soothing. ‘Now don’t you go getting in a panic, Dionne,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing serious, love. But your aunt’s had a bad fall in the garden and she’s broken her leg. She’s not in hospital or anything, but of course she’s not capable of taking care of the little boy—’
It was terrible when Aunt Clarry had a broken leg, but Dionne felt an overwhelming sense of relief. ‘Of course not,’ she said, the relief evident in her voice. ‘But it’s all right, Mrs. Reynolds, you can tell her I’m coming home this afternoon. I’m already getting ready to leave. I’ll be able to look after Jonathan myself.’
Mrs. Reynolds chuckled. ‘Oh, she’ll be so relieved, Dionne. Well, I’ll go, then. See you later.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. And thank you for ringing.’
‘That’s all right, Dionne. ‘Bye.’
‘Good-bye.’
Dionne replaced the receiver and as she did so she became aware that a shadow was darkening the small kiosk, and even as this realization came to her a hard hand curved round the soft flesh of her upper arm, dragging her almost violently out of the kiosk to confront the man outside. She gasped as Manoel thrust his dark, handsome face close to hers and said harshly:
‘Who the hell is Jonathan, you little liar?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
DIONNE fell back a pace and Manoel was forced to release her. There were people in the hall and they were already regarding them curiously, and with an exclamation Manoel said:
‘I’ve got to talk to you. But not here. Your room!’
Dionne glanced round tremulously. ‘I – I don’t have time, Manoel. I have to leave for the airport.’
‘I’ll take you to the airport.’
‘No. No, I have to take the car and leave it there.’
‘To hell with the car! Dionne, I warn you …’
Dionne turned away, trembling. ‘Why are you here? I thought – when you sent the cheque—’
‘Damn you, I couldn’t keep away!’ Manoel touched her neck with his fingers, his flesh lingering against hers, uncaring that they had several interested spectators. ‘God, Dionne, you can’t do this to me!’