At the Villa Massina (15 page)

She thought faintly, he knows about Norma; what am I to do?

Unsteadily, she said, “Once you had discovered all this it was unfair not to tell me. I could have come to you with Lyle and saved myself a heap of worry.”

“But why should you be so disturbed?” he demanded. “What was there about Lyle Whitman which appealed to you so much that you promised to keep his name secret? He made love to you, so bemused you that you promised without reason!”

It was appalling, but a relief. Ramiro didn’t know about Norma; he only knew Lyle’s identity and about the stones, and that was why he leapt at once to the obvious conclusion that Lyle had beguiled Juliet Darrell into keeping his secret; beguile her by making love to her.

She said slowly, “You knew who he was. Why did you keep asking me?”

His nostrils thinned with distaste. “You would not understand, Miss Darrell. I wanted honesty from you; it was more important to me than your friend’s dishonesty. But you were loyal to him, and so you could not be truthful with me. A woman is capable of such extreme loyalty to only one man—the one she loves. I am sorry for you, my child. For a long time your life will be very unhappy.”

She had to get the chaos of her mind into some sort of order. Her hand went up to her brow, but she dropped it again instantly, and turned her head from him.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you, senor,” she said in low tones. “Nothing is as you think it is, but I can’t explain. I’ll tell Lyle that he must come to you.”

“But it is of no use for him to come to me now!” No one else could have imbued the words with such crisp fury. “The cat’s eye is no longer in my possession. I certainly do not wish to see it again. You may tell Mr. Whitman that if he wishes to regain the stone he must go to the office of the Guardias Civiles in San Federigo.”

“Police?” she whispered.

He bent forward, and said with an icy deliberation which scarcely masked his rage, “You have questioned nothing about the man, have you, senorita? He is British, so whatever he says you will believe. He collects unset gems and you have admired them, he has a way with him which catches at the heart.” His eyes glittered. “Let me tell you some things about this man you loved at first sight! He is a gambler of sorts. A smuggler. He receives uncut diamonds and arranges their transport across France to Amsterdam and London. His payment is in lesser stones—those you have seen.” He was on his feet now, gazing at her with burning jet eyes. “It is not yet known how he disposes of his payment, but it is thought that he has contact with a jeweller who sets them before they are placed on the market. All very shrewd—except that he is a man of conceit, who cannot resist showing his possessions to a pretty girl. He is even so foolish as to let one of his prizes slip to the floor!”

Juliet’s lungs seemed to have had the air squeezed out of them and her heart thudded so loudly that it might have been audible inside the Castillo; today it was being forced to work incredibly hard.

“Senor,” she managed, “I can’t believe it. Lyle’s just an ordinary man who has somehow missed his way. Those gems ...” Then she remembered that many of them had been bought by the Conde’s sister, and the mosaic floor of the terrace lifted towards her as though it were hinged. But she clung to her senses. “You ... you told the police about Lyle?”

His teeth snapped and a muscle jerked in his jaw. “I did not. I told them only that the jewel had been found and they must keep it till it was claimed.”

“You did that! Why?”

“Dios ... why! I do not know,” he said, steely-voiced. “Except that you are young and unbelievably foolish, that you do not deserve to be mixed with that creature!”

“But how do you know so much about his activities?”

“I have taken it upon myself to discover, from the police and others. It was only when I knew for certain that he was a smuggler that I passed the stone to the authorities. They suspected that the smuggler lives in the Bahia de Manca, but they do not know him.”

“Do you think they will find out all about him?”

“In time, yes. It is inevitable. And he will deserve the punishment they give him. As for you, senorita...”

She got up, nodded shakily, “You don’t have to say it, senor. I ... I don’t quite know what I’m going to do, but I certainly shan’t approach you about it again.”

“And this Whitman,” he said forcibly. “I command you not to see him!”

“I can't promise because ... well, I’m not sure how things will go,” she said weakly. “Please believe that I don’t want to see him.”

“I will believe that if you obey me,” he said curtly. “Your distress is comprehensible, of course, and you will naturally be desolate for some time. Perhaps you have learned a lesson—perhaps not.” That cruel tightness came back into his expression. “I will give you my opinion, Miss Darrell. You came here without a guardian and played with your freedom. Mario Perez was Spanish and quite new to you in his ways; Whitman was experienced and a little different from the Englishmen you knew in England. Both of them flattered you and you were ready for a love affair. With Mario it could not advance very far, but Mr. Lyle Whitman did not scruple to use his charm for his own ends. You were in a mood to be enchanted.” The violence had completely gone and left him cold and stern. “I regret that such a man should make you suffer. I do not know if he is truly bad or if he is merely the victim of his own weakness. However it is, he is no fit mate for any woman. I advise you to forget him.”

“And if I can’t?

“I myself will tell the police where to find their smuggler. I will also cable your relatives in England!”

Juliet said nothing at all. She felt Ramiro very close, and found that her hands were clenched wetly against her sides and a cold sweat was standing out across the bridge of her nose and at her temples. He took her wrist suddenly in a grip that bruised; she cast him a startled glance, backed instinctively and felt the stone wall against the soft flesh of her side.

The next moment Tony chased round the pond below and yelled something about being followed by the Moors.

The tension snapped; her hand was dropped. Ramiro moved away, called down to the child with stony calmness.

“Find your sister, Tonio. I am taking you all back to the villa.”

They drove away from the Castillo and as, from a bend in the road, Juliet caught a glimpse of the old sculptured walls, she had the fatal conviction that she was seeing them for the last time.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE next couple of days passed quietly at the Villa Massina. Luisa went down to town and to church, so that Juliet was often alone in the house and garden with the children. All three of them forged ahead with Tony’s fishpond, and the physical exertion provided relief. Rina was persuaded to stay in the shade and she was given some raw tiles to paint and was promised that those which were good enough would be sent to one of the cottages where they made pottery, for glazing. Tony used an ancient spirit level which had been borrowed, through Juan, from a retired builder, and though he was not too sure what he was about, he worked feverishly and with excitement.

On Saturday morning the children went down to the beach, and she followed them, bringing with her a thermos flask of ice-cold milk flavored with strawberry and a few biscuits. They all bathed and dug, snoozed in the sand under the pines, and when they were fully awake again Rina spoke of school lessons. She hadn’t had any at all since Christmas, so she did some simple arithmetic with a twig in the sand and Tony took the keenest pleasure in scrubbing each sum out as she finished it. He was very willing to wait till early September before starting school.

Juliet had slipped on her wrap and was pushing her feet into espadrilles when Luisa’s distant cry reached them. She turned and waved up at the gesticulating figure, made motions to show that they were coming at once. She looked at her watch. It wasn’t quite one—a little early for Luisa to become agitated about spoiling the lunch.

She took the children’s hands and raced with them, let them run ahead up the stone steps and across the garden. Noise drew her round to the french door of the sitting
-
room, where she stopped precipitately, scarcely able to believe her vision.

The children were ecstatically clasping one leg each of their father, and Norma stood there, smiling regally as she looked about her.

“Good heavens,” said Juliet, in a flood of gratitude and relief. “Norma and Ruy! How lovely to see you here!”

“I have no third leg for you, Juliet,” said Ruy, “but we will touch hands. No, not that one with the large white wrist—it is all show and very little wrong underneath the dressing. How are you, my dear?”

“Fine, and so very glad to see you!” Juliet told him fervently. She turned to Norma, but somehow there was no close greeting between them. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”

Norma pushed her white bag further on to the table, sank gracefully into a chair. “We didn’t know till the last moment,” she said, with the familiar languid inflection. “Ruy suddenly decided to have the operation on his wrist at once. We were told on Tuesday that he could travel if he wished, but then there was the trouble of booking seats on a plane at this season. We were given a couple of cancellations late yesterday afternoon and decided to take them and surprise you. And you are surprised, aren’t you?”

“But you can’t imagine how pleased I am!”

Norma’s light blue eyes were wide and clear for a second; then she flicked her eyelids. “Well, naturally. Children, run along and wash. Luisa is getting lunch, and we’ll give you your presents after you’ve eaten.”

As the children disappeared, Juliet said, “I shall have to do the same.” But she paused. “Did you make any arrangements for my trip home?”

Norma shrugged her shoulders; they were beautiful shoulders even under the corded navy silk of her suit. “There wasn’t time, but it’s never difficult to get a single passage on a ship.”

“And we do not want you to leave at once,” Ruy said sincerely. “You have been splendid to care for the children here—Rina is so bright that one hardly recognizes her, does one, my dear Norma? Juliet must now enjoy herself without having to think of the children.”

“Unless she has other plans,” put in Norma negligently. “It’s possible she’s had enough of the Villa Massina. I think you
’
d rather go, wouldn’t you, Juliet?” And she looked up with one of those straight stares which Juliet remembered from her own childhood days; the stare which meant, “The answer is yes.”

Ruy smiled. “Let us not decide at once. It is so pleasant for us all to be together here. Take your shower, Juliet and we will eat. We all have a great deal to tell each other.”

Luisa, as usual when faced with a minor crisis, gesticulated as if the world were coming to an end and managed admirably, both at lunch and afterwards, when she bustled away to prepare the beds in the main bedroom. The children showed off their increased appetites and Tony grew slightly riotous and was told by his mother that he must get back to good behaviour now that his parents were in the house. Juliet made no comment; Norma’s pinpricks were negligible compared with what she herself had on her mind. The children went off to bed, and Norma went to her room, to unpack with Luisa.

Ruy, sitting in an armchair, smiled with the joy of any parent restored to his children, and said he was looking forward to a month’s holiday before taking up his business contacts in Spain. The wrist had increasingly caused trouble, so that he could not even sign a letter, and the operation, “one of those where they manipulate the tendons and muscles,” he explained, was thought to be highly successful, though he would not be able to use it for some time.

“However, one recovers from everything in San Federigo,” he said. “Even Norma, you will have noticed, is a little ... tense, but the warmth and laziness will be good for her. This year, she seemed afraid to come to Spain—you remember how it was when it was arranged for you to take charge of the children? She is better now, I think, but there is still some sharpness. It pleased me very much that she was suddenly anxious this week to come to San Federigo.”

“She looks very well.”

“She looks magnificent,” he said fondly. “But the social life can be wearing. Here is San Federigo she will rest until she feels quite fit to entertain. And you, Juliet. You are well?”

“You’ve asked that twice, Ruy.”

“And each time you have said you are fine.” He shrugged. “I will accept that if you wish. I will also accept that those shadows in the eyes are the result of too much sunshine. I am afraid the children have been a large responsibility for one so young.”

“Not at all. They’ve been marvellous, no trouble at all.”

“But,” he smiled again, with a hint of teasing, “you were so pleased to see us! Part of your pleasure I understand because you are fond of your cousin and, I hope, just a little fond of me! But there was something else in you, Juliet. Was it relief?”

“Well ... it’s time I went home to see how Uncle George is getting on.”

“Oh, that.” He sounded relieved himself. “I can set your mind at rest. The new assistant is excellent; in fact, your uncle was saying that he might spare you for the advanced librarian’s course you were always wishing to take—if you are still of the same mind.”

“Oh.” There was nothing Juliet wanted less, but she added brightly, “We shall have to see, shan’t we? Shouldn’t you be resting, Ruy?”

“If I obey the doctor, yes.” He stood up, looked at her with a grave smile. “I thank you for Rina—you know that. You must certainly have some happy times with us before you leave.”

“Thank you, Ruy.”

She heard him go upstairs, heard Norma call to him from the upper corridor, “I’ve taken off the bedspread, darling. Just lie down and lose yourself. You’ll feel wonderful in a day or two.”

“I feel wonderful already,” he answered. “Perhaps because we are again united with the children, this year seems to be what you call something special. Rest yourself, Norma. Please do ... for me.”

For some reason Juliet had to blink moisture from her eyes. It was easy to decide that Norma didn’t deserve Ruy, but regarded from his angle, he did deserve the things he wanted most.

Rina and Tony were allowed up later that night, and dinner for the adults was served at nine. They had scarcely finished coffee and liqueurs when Ramiro turned up with his sister. They had heard of the Colmeiros’ arrival and decided to pay their respects at once.

Ramiro bent over Norma’s hand, touched his lips to her wrist in his practised fashion. “You are even more beautiful than when I last saw you,” he said, “when the ninos were small. Ruy, you are the most fortunate man on earth!”

Ruy agreed, of course, and Norma parried the compliment while making the most of it. She added, “I would have though you yourself would be married by now, Ramiro.”

He gave a prodigious shrug and told her calmly, “Since coming here to San Federigo I have had it constantly in mind. Inez has insisted on it! Between ourselves, I think my bachelor days are numbered, but in its early stages this romantic business is explosive. Perhaps, after all, I shall wait another year or two.”

“You will not wait, caro mio,” said his sister softly.

During that hour in the sitting-room Ramiro did not once look directly at Juliet. He noticed when she needed an ashtray, offered another cigarette and moved her chair when the curtain billowed over it, but she might have been any young woman in the company of maturer people; she was politely included in the conversation but her opinions were not sought. Only once did the Conde show any sign of remembering her as an individual. A magazine slipped from the low table to the floor, and Juliet bent to retrieve it as he did the same. Inadvertently, their hands touched, and she withdrew hers as if it burned. The Conde replaced the magazine on the table, looked at his own finger-tips and rubbed the pad of his thumb over them, as if to erase the contact; for just that instant, his nostrils flared. Then it was over, and he was smiling again at the others and asking what their plans were for the next week or two. He suggested that it would be pleasant if all of them, with a few other guests, were to sail in the yacht round to Cadiz. Nothing was settled, however, and he left as he had come,
suavely
and with Inez.

The next morning, Easter Sunday, Ruy was called for by one of his old friends, and he went off with the children on a brief round of visits. His own car was on its way from England by sea, and he thought it would be best if, upon news of its arrival in Cadiz, they took Juliet round by boat and waited to see her embark for England, after which the Colmeiro family could drive back to San Federigo. He would rather Juliet stayed longer, of course, but he wanted her to do what she wished. Norma made no demur; apparently the brief meeting with the Conde last night had set her mind at rest regarding Juliet Darrell.

Ruy and the children were gone, Luisa had made the beds and departed to the kitchen. Juliet dusted her room, came out into the corridor and tapped on Norma’s door. There was no reply, so she ran downstairs into the sitting
-
room, and finding that empty, too, she moved towards the open door, in time to see her cousin walking across the back lawn in her bathing-wrap.

She followed her, running lightly, came beside her as they reached the head of the stone steps. Norma looked up briefly and without welcome, and then went on down the steps. Juliet kept firmly at her side, and they trod the beach together. Norma dropped her wrap, adjusted the strapless suit. With the reddish hair brushed back and her untanned shoulders square under the sun, Norma looked superb; mature yet young, supremely conscious of her perfect physique and mentally self-assured.

“I wanted to bathe alone,” she said pointedly. “Do you mind?”

“This is more important than bathing,” Juliet returned with spirit. “Your skin isn’t used to this sun yet, so we’d better go and sit under the pines.”

“I’m bathing. You can do what you like.”

“Look here, Norma, you’re in the dickens of a spot! You can’t put me off for ever, and in your own interests you’d better hear me out right now, and decide what you’re going to do. Do you think I’d follow you around like this for something trivial?”

Her cousin regarded her consideringly. “I knew it would be like this,” she said acidly. “We used to be friends, but I knew we couldn’t be again, once you felt you had me in your power. You’re going to make me let you stay here, aren’t you? If I don’t you’ll tell Ruy that I gave you a packet to post to a man. You’re crazy, Juliet. He’d laugh at you. No one could possibly come between Ruy and his family.”

“That’s what you think!” Juliet got that far and stopped. Did Norma really believe that? Had she so little knowledge and affection that she actually thought Juliet’s anxiety for a private talk was based on ... She shook herself. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking, Norma, but it’s not the same thing as I’m thinking. A good deal has happened here that you know nothing about. It’s terribly serious! If I went away tomorrow and left things as they are, your marriage and your relationship with the people here—everything, would be ruined. Does that shake you?”

Norma didn’t look shaken; she looked slightly amused but suddenly on guard. “What are you getting at?”

“I can’t throw it off in a couple of minutes. Come and sit down in the shade.”

Norma hesitated, then with a resigned sight she picked up her wrap and went along with Juliet and sank down comfortably. Juliet lay back with her hands supporting her in the sand. She felt sick and frightened but still determined. This was Norma’s trouble, and she must face it.

“Well, it all began with that wretched packet you left in the bag for posting. I could tell you what I think of you for landing me with the gift of that bag, but other things are more vital just now. I posted your packet, and a couple of days later Lyle Whitman came to see me.”

“To see you! How did he know you were here?”

“All in good time.”

Juliet got started and went on and on, explaining, answering Norma’s questions which became more and more staccato, ignoring the sharp accusations. She told everything, even to Inez de Vedro’s buying the jade brooch and other gems. The mention of the brooch touched Norma like a hot needle; she was convinced at last of Lyle Whitman’s treachery. Even the information that he smuggled diamonds was more bearable than the blow to her self-esteem.

Juliet ended wearily, “So that’s how things stand. Lyle thinks I’m going to meet him on the Alameda next week with the cat’s eye, but the stone is in the hands of the police, and at any moment they may tumble to its being part of the smuggler’s loot, or whatever it is. You’ll have to meet him and explain what’s happened.”