“Yes, thank you.” She paused. “Are you in a bad mood?”
“I wasn’t, till I got here.”
“Has something upset you?”
“Upset isn’t quite the word.”
Just then he said no more, for the waiter appeared with whisky, gin and fruit drinks. Dane poured something for Sally, gave himself whisky and water, used the ice and sat back. Without the usual salute, he took down half his drink and set the glass back on the table. His face was dark and unreadable, but Sally could see the jut of his jaw and pinpoints of light in his eyes. She found herself wishing they were seated among the illuminations, but she hadn’t quite the courage to ask him to switch on more terrace lights. So she sipped, and listened to the noise of Lucette’s party.
At last Dane said, “Haven’t wasted any time, have you? Had you been necking when I nearly knocked you down on the drive?”
“Necking?” she echoed, outraged. “We were taking a walk!”
“In the middle of a party?”
“It’s an impromptu affair—nothing formal. It’s most unfair of you to make such an accusation.”
He shrugged, sourly. “Looked to me as if you were coming from a car and still in a clinch.”
“We weren’t, but don’t apologize!”
“I’m not going to.” He got out cigarettes and shook one free so that she could take it, helped himself and found his lighter. “What else have you been doing while I’ve been away?”
“Else! You seem to have acquired a poisonous frame of mind. I’ve been earning my salary and taking a spot of pleasure during my free hours. Do you want a report on Mike’s progress?”
He lit her cigarette. “If you like.”
She puffed quickly at the cigarette, then held it and lay back. “I’ve been exercising him each morning, swimming with him in the afternoon and massaging the leg each evening. I did it a little earlier tonight because of the party.”
“Any response?”
“He’s getting about, but one day soon he’ll come to a full stop. He needs deeper therapy than I can give him here—bath and so on. He’s swimming very well.”
“Do you two go alone?”
“No, we still take Tony, or meet him at the lagoon. I could manage Mike alone, but if he did get cramp in his right leg and I had to tow him in, he’d be humiliated and hate me afterwards. That wouldn’t do him any good.”
“Besides,” Dane said deliberately, “it must be pleasant to have Tony along. Makes you feel like a woman as well as a nurse.”
Sally stubbed out the newly-lit cigarette on the ashtray. “You’re impossible. I’ve no designs on Tony, and you know it.”
“All right, forget it. What about getting Mike to go to England for treatment—no progress?”
“None, so far. I wish I knew why he won’t leave Morocco.”
“You could have known, if you’d asked. Mike’s flame at the time of the accident hurried her parents back to England. From something he let drop while he was in hospital, I gathered that he’d do anything rather than meet her again. He has a morbid conviction that if he leaves Morocco he’ll run into her.”
“But that’s silly. The chances are all against it.”
“He knows that, but he has time to brood.” Dane inhaled and blew smoke. “How do you feel about Mike, as a person?”
“At the moment his personality is too colored by his ... lameness to be really pleasant, but when he forgets himself he’s a dear.” She looked away, towards the sea. “There’s been a sort of complication. One day he felt so good that he decided to come here for dinner. I thought it an excellent opportunity to have him meet Lucette, but it was a fiasco. Lucette tried not to show that she’s uneasy with anyone infirm or crippled, but Mike’s sensitive enough to feel it. He wouldn’t come here again.”
Dane lifted his shoulders. “It had to happen some time. You can’t blame Lucette.”
She wanted to look at him, but wouldn’t. “No, it wasn’t her fault. She’s so pretty and full of life that I thought she could help him. I wouldn’t have arranged the meeting otherwise.”
“You’re a good nurse, Miss Yorke. You have the right slant.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“No, but if I were you I’d leave things alone for a bit.” His tone changed. “It seems that Lucette is doing very well for herself right here in the hotel. I think she must be after a millionaire.”
“I’m sure her little affairs are harmless.”
“So am I. In fact, I rather like your friend.”
Sally drew in her lip. Offhandedly she asked, “Did you get through your business at the phosphate mine?”
“Pretty well. We appointed an assistant manager. For three solid days we interviewed applicants—two hours each.”
“And for the rest of the week?” she queried casually.
“For the rest of the week, young Sally, we looked into other things and paid a few overdue social calls.” He added mockingly, “Did you miss me?”
A tide of alarm rose in Sally, but she smiled. “Yes, I did, rather. When you’re about I’m on guard all the time. I don’t know why it is.”
“Don’t you?” with the same mocking inflection. “I think I know why it is. You wish Mike or someone else were your employer, so that you could be your normal self with me. But you don’t do too badly, my child. I’ll bet few other employees have ever talked to an employer as you have to me, and got away with it.”
“On the other hand,” she pointed out, “you must be the most exacting employer in the world, and you’re not exactly indulgent towards me, either.”
“I’m just a man.”
To Sally, this was the understatement of the year. ‘You suspect almost everything I do,” she accused him.
“That’s because you look so sweet,” he said cynically. “You’re not very tall, but you have a long slim look, like a girl posing as a woman. You wear a steel wristwatch...”
“A very good watch! My father gave it to me when I got my diploma.”
“Don’t get heated; I’m sure your father is a great chap.
But we’re talking about the overall effect of you. That’s a pretty frock you’re wearing, but it needs something to lift it out of the ordinary. With that bronze hair you could be quite striking.”
“I don’t want to be striking.”
“Yet I’ll bet,” he said coolly and reflectively, “that Cumberland is losing its pull. Shake it off, little one, and take a good look at yourself next time you use a lipstick.”
“Aren’t you afraid,” she said in tones which had gone a little hard, “that if I make myself more attractive Tony will neglect his plantation? It could happen, you know.”
“I don’t think so,” he answered easily. “You see, I had a word with Pierre as soon as I got in this evening. Tony leaves tomorrow, and he’s to report here only once a month.”
Sally sat there, disliking him intensely. “You did it because you saw us on the drive, didn’t you? Well, I think your way of dealing with Tony is beastly, and there’ll be nothing to stop him coming to Shiran if he wants to. He doesn’t have to stay at the Mirador. He could visit Mike...”
He leaned forward suddenly, jammed his cigarette into the ashtray and said curtly, “Mike won’t invite him—I’ll see to that. Too bad you have to lose your most ardent admirer, but you’ll get used to it.”
“What I feel about it isn’t important,” she returned at once. “Tony hasn’t been accustomed to solitude and it’s hateful of you to thrust him into a position that he can’t alter. Occasionally, he’ll want to talk things over with his father...”
“There’ll be nothing to stop Pierre visiting him!”
“He’ll need a change from everlasting date palms. He’s been used to a little fun now and then, and plenty of companionship. Anyone of his type would go nuts if they were cut off from everything.”
“He won’t collapse during the first month,” Dane said grimly. “We’ll wait and watch.”
“You’re being vindictive.”
“I’m not. Tony has to prove himself, and he’ll never do it while he can go to his father when he wishes or drape himself round a woman. There are lots of tougher assignments than the one he’s taking on. Your kind of softness is bad for a fellow like Tony, and the sooner you realize it the better it’ll be for both of you.”
Sally was breathing as if she’d walked a hard mile. She stood up and found him standing with her. “I think I know what’s in your mind. You want me to hurry up and persuade Mike to take hospital treatment, so that you can send me away. I’m bad for Tony, because I’m willing to understand him. But you don’t want him understood. You want him to force himself into a precision-type plantation manager, because any project you take up has to succeed! Nothing at all must stand in the way of that, and it musn’t take too long either. As soon as anyone becomes an associate of yours he has to cut out the human element and become a machine...”
“That’s enough! I’m acting as I think best for Tony...”
“... and for you.”
“For me!” she flung at him. “All you’ve ever done for me is to establish me in a luxury I didn’t want and pay me a large salary. Even your kindness springs from some feeling of superiority. I’m just someone you generously brought out from England for Mike ... and now you’ve decided I’m not working on him quickly enough. All right, Mr. Ryland, get someone else! I’m through.”
He grabbed her shoulders before she could move. “You little idiot,” he said through his teeth. “How the hell did we arrive at this? I’m not dissatisfied with the way you’re working on Mike—far from it. If you hadn’t let yourself go a little crazy over Tony everything would be just right.”
Sally was trembling. “Does interest in Tony mean that I’m crazy over him? Won’t you believe that it’s sometimes possible for a woman to see deeper than you can?” The fire went out of her. “It’s no good. I’ve known for some time that I’ll never be really happy here, and that I’ll never be able to satisfy you completely. For Mike’s sake, it’s best that I leave soon. Anyone with a knowledge of massage could do what I’m doing for him, and I’d be willing to ... to train someone...”
The whole scene had become too much for Sally. She wasn’t weeping, but her throat seemed clogged with salt and she felt hollow and weary. She knew that Dane was angry, far more angry than she had ever seen him before, but she realized also that there was something which restrained him in that moment He let go of her shoulders, let out a furious breath.
“For the present,” he said, “you’re going on as usual with Mike. Tomorrow we’ll have a talk, a proper talk.”
“More discussion won’t do any good. I’d rather go.”
“You’re staying,” he said grimly.
“Am I another of your ventures? Is that why you’re determined that I shall stay and succeed with Mike in the least possible time?”
He blazed. “Be careful, young Sally...”
And then Cécile came along the terrace, a tall graceful figure in a dark silk suit. In the half-light she rested a glance on Sally’s flushed and distressed face, shifted it to the arrogant lean features of Dane Ryland. What she guessed must have pleased her, for she smiled.
“Good evening, Miss Yorke,” she said graciously. And to Dane: “Cheri, I have word from Le Perroquet that they have a party who wish me to sing for them tonight. I know it is rather late—but as they were good enough to release me for a week, I feel I should oblige them. Will you take me, Dane?”
“Yes, of course,” he said automatically. “Are you ready now?”
Cécile laughed musically. “Are you suddenly blind, mon vieux? I am wearing the suit in which I travelled. Give me ten minutes to change into an evening gown. I will meet you at the entrance.”
“I’ll be there.”
Cécile turned to Sally. “Shall we walk to the lift together? I would like to know how is this business you have with Mike.”
Sally didn’t look at Dane. She nodded to Cécile and walked away with her, along the terrace and into the lounge.
Cécile was saying, “Is it possible that Dane reprimanded you out there, mademoiselle? You looked very much like a girl who has lost one of her dearest dreams.”
“There was no reprimand,” said Sally.
“Well, never mind. If you are here long enough you will learn that Dane has true feeling for only a few people.” A pause. Then, pointedly, “You may forget anything I have said to you before about him. Do your work with Mike. He needs you.”
This, from Cécile, was bewildering. Later, Sally was to reflect that the woman had merely spoken her thoughts and convictions, that she now saw no danger in Sally Yorke and could treat her as she treated everyone else, with pleasant hauteur. But just then there was a diversion.
Dane had followed them into the hotel by way of the main entrance, and as they waited for one of the lifts, both women saw him speak to Pierre de Chalain, near the reception desk. There came a flurry of dark red topped with black curls, Lucette’s excited exclamation.
“Dane! I didn’t know you were back. Did you remember it was my birthday—is that why you came?”
“Could be,” Dane said lazily, as he looked at her bright cheeks and sparkling eyes. “How does it feel to be twenty-two?”
“Marvellous!” Lucette closed her eyes and swayed, opened them very wide at him. “Your coming back tonight has really made my birthday, do you know that? Oh, and Dane ... that stupendous cake! It’s like the Taj Mahal.”
He laughed. “I hope it’s more yielding. Have you cut it yet?”
“No, we’ll cut it together, as you do a wedding cake.” Then Lucette did something typical. She rested her hands on his shoulders, raised herself on to her toes and kissed him warmly on the lips. “There! That means thank you.” The lift slid open and Cécile, her head high and rigid, walked into it. Sally lingered long enough to catch Dane’s glance across the vestibule and to become aware of the hint of malice in the smile he gave her. She heard him say teasingly, “You could get away with anything, Lucette, and you certainly know the right length for a first kiss. Come on, I’ve just time for one dance before I have to go out. I’m sure you’re a magnificent dancer.”
The lift door closed softly, the small compartment ascended without sound and glided to a halt. Cécile and Sally came out on to the thickly-carpeted hallway, turned along the corridor. Cécile’s suite was the most remote from the lift, so they reached Suite Seven together.
Cécile slowed, and asked, “How long does your friend stay at the Mirador?”
“Indefinitely, I think.”
“Dane told me about her. She has no fiancé in Tangier?”
“No.”
“You invited her here. You must get rid of her.”
“I have no influence over Lucette—none whatever.”
“Then I will get rid of her myself,” said Cécile with icy calm, and she walked on to the end of the corridor.
In her sitting room, Sally sank down into a chair and leant her head against its back. The smell of the numerous bouquets was so overpowering that it made her aware of her own worn nerves. For some time her mind was almost blank. But presently her thoughts went back over the last hour or so. Had Dane returned because of Lucette? According to Tony, he had been expected back tomorrow, and no doubt Cécile would have been willing to extend their break from routine for another day. But Dane had preferred to return a day earlier, even though the hour of their arrival must be very late.
Yet somehow Sally could not see Dane altering his plans for the volatile young woman he had known only a day or two. He had spoken as if Lucette amused him ... but he had also defended her attitude to Mike’s crippled state; he had condoned in Lucette an antipathy towards illness which Sally regarded as appallingly unfeminine.
She couldn’t forget the look he had slanted her own way as she was entering the lift. “Lucette knows how to please a man,” it had said; “This is how a woman should be—pliant and captiv
ating, not independent and defiant.” Well, let him get what he could out of Lucette. Sally didn’t care; she musn’t. There were too many other things that puzzled and hurt her. Dane’s cold implacability towards Tony, his determination that she should do what he paid her to do in the way of persuading Mike to enter an orthopaedic hospital—both these made the rest seem comparatively unimportant.
Her reflections were so entangled with her emotions that her mind became dulled—the painful edge worn off. She began to realize that she was making too much of personal relationships here in Shiran; she had no right to any, no desire for them. That barrier she had thrown up was the safest protection. It wasn’t hard to hide one’s feelings, to pack them away below the conscious level and use an impersonal coldness as a defence. There had been no need for the passionate eruption which had threatened her sanity out there on the terrace. Dane’s accusation had surprised her, but in future she would be proof against surprise. She had to be, to get through.
Yet the shock of watching his acceptance of Lucette’s kiss returned to her with the impact of a sledge hammer. As it receded it left her feeling desperate, and lonely as she had never been in her life before; she couldn’t understand her own reaction. Surely this wasn’t love or need—this gnawing, harrowing sensation which had possession of her?
Sally began to undress. She moved mechanically, took an unconscionable time to hang away her dress and dispose of a few things, and went into the bathroom. The bath helped; it made her drowsy, and she returned to the bedroom fairly certain that she would sleep.
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