Sea Gem (24 page)

James could think of no suitable objection to this and he nodded slowly. ‘Go easy though,’ he advised. ‘They’ve had a terrible shock.’

As Victor departed, it crossed James’ mind to wonder if the rumours had reached Madam le Page. He knew very little about Nicole le Page except that she hailed from Alderney, was reputed to
be a gentle, quiet, almost docile girl but, he thought, that’s often the type in which still waters can run very deep indeed.

Thank God the Noyens had recently installed a telephone. At least they were only a few rings away from him in case of need. He took a deep breath. Known only to himself, Madam Noyen senior had
telephoned for an appointment only yesterday and he had arranged to see her tomorrow afternoon. He was not sure what this involved but he had a shrewd idea that it might concern Noyen’s
death. Something had certainly shaken the old lady to make her turn to him instead of one of the older lawyers whom she had favoured in the past. Did she feel the time had come for him to know all?
This could pose a problem. If she had some plans which ran counter to those of Madam Noyen junior, then he would be ethically bound to send the old lady packing. Mary Noyen had come to him first
and he had accepted her instructions, which made her the senior client. He shook his head, composed his features and returned to his drink and Emil. He had to have his wits about him with Emil. The
policeman was sharp, intelligent, ambitious to get on and there was precious little happening on the island which did not come to his ears sooner if not later. Sometimes he wondered about the
probity of having a policeman as a friend, but Emil’s cousin Jane was a most attractive young lady who had caught his eye a few weeks ago. To his utmost surprise, the lawyer had found himself
thinking more and more of Jane and less and less of his yacht.

Sam sat with the mistress. The past week’s shocks and distress had put ten years on her. Seemingly overnight, the skin of both face and neck had sagged into heavy
wrinkles and her hair had turned from light grey to white.

‘But for the grace of God and a big wave, Mary would be dead now,’ she said heavily. ‘I can hardly bear to think about what might have been.’

‘Life has to go on,’ Sam reminded her practically, ‘no matter what.’

‘At what cost though for all of us? Especially Mary!’

Sam drew on his pipe. ‘Mary’s tough!’ he stated flatly. ‘She’ll survive once she’s recovered from the whole shocking affair and she’ll be better off
without Duret. He never was much good when you think back.’

Louise agreed. ‘Let Mary do what she wants for the time being. We must run the place.’

Sam nodded but knew now was the time to bring up something. ‘She won’t find it easy rearing three children alone,’ he started carefully, ‘and there’s that big house
to run. I’m not getting any younger and neither are you.’

Louise gave him a questioning look. She knew that when Sam started going all around a subject it was because he had some proposition he thought she might reject.

‘I think Raoul should work on the house property. He’s clever with his hands and could gradually take over from me. Mary has been talking of buying a car and Raoul wants to learn to
drive. It wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t have a mechanical flair. I’m too old to learn about engines so I suggest Raoul is asked to leave the glasshouses. He could, if he
wanted to, always go back and help if they were short-handed. As to the tomatoes, why not engage that young Raymond Falla? He’s courting Raoul’s sister so would want to settle in this
parish and have local work. Another point: once Mary gets the holiday cottages going, wouldn’t it be better to turn the whole thing into a small private company and the tomatoes into another?
If you did that, Raoul could perhaps help check on the properties, see to repairs and jobs like that which means if he were given a small percentage cut, he would have an incentive?’

Louise was impressed. She could not last remember when Sam had come forward with ideas. Was it because Mary’s dynamic nature had recharged all of them? How good she had been for the
family, a fresh gale which was long overdue.

‘I like it,’ she agreed, a little colour coming back to her cheeks with something else to think about. ‘It makes sense.’

‘Good!’ Sam grunted with pleasure. The ideas were his own and he felt wanted now he too could contribute. ‘Hello! There’s a car drawn up outside.’

Louise stilled. She did not have to look to know who it was. She compressed her lips and looked over at Sam.

‘Go and tell Mary Victor is here. He’ll want to see her. It’s not good me trying to send him away until he has. He’ll only get difficult. Pop back to the house and warn
her. Let me see, I know!’ she said brightly. ‘Tell her to take a walk up to the Rocques and I’ll send him up there in thirty minutes.’

Sam nodded to her and clumped from the cottage around the back as Victor came to the front. Sam found Mary grooming the cob for want of some physical activity. Emily and Gwen had closed ranks
around her protectively and she felt there was little for her to do. She had become an empty shell, drifting with the tidal currents, rudderless and useless.

‘Mary!’ Sam said, approaching her. She’d brush the animal away if she kept on like that. ‘The mistress wants you to walk up the Rocques in thirty minutes’
time.’

Mary stilled, then turned to regard him uneasily. ‘Victor?’

Sam nodded. ‘He’s been in England, didn’t get back until yesterday. He’ll want to talk to you and it’s no good trying to dodge him. Better to have it out with him,
once and for all. You both have to live on this island,’ he advised.

Mary knew he was right but was she ready to talk to Victor and make him realise how matters must now be between them? Her earlier decision had not changed. He was a married man and divorce was
something she would not countenance.

‘I’ll go,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but there’s something else, Sam.’ She paused before continuing. ‘After this experience, when I have never felt so
helpless, I’ve made myself a promise. I will never be so defenceless again, come what may. I want to be able to protect myself at all times.’

Sam was puzzled. ‘What do you have in mind?’

Mary told him quietly and Sam’s eyebrows shot up. He had not contemplated anything quite so drastic and felt inclined to argue but one look at Mary’s obstinate expression made him
change his mind. After a quick think, he reluctantly came down on her side of logic.

‘It would just be for insurance purposes,’ Mary ended, ‘and no one would have to know, not even Tante.’

Sam chewed his lip. ‘I think I can manage it though it might take a little while,’ he warned her. ‘It’s possible to get hold of nearly anything from certain ships which
come into St Sampson if one has the money.’ He added quickly, ‘It might be expensive.’

‘Hang the cost!’ Mary replied swiftly. ‘It’s what I want and must have for my own peace of mind.’

‘You’d have to keep your mouth shut!’

Mary threw him a wolfish grin. ‘I will until—’ She let the sentence hang in the air. Sam understood and could not find it in himself to blame after her experience.

‘Leave it to me then,’ he promised quietly. This was one piece of information which simply must not reach the ears of either James le Canu or Emil le Norman. ‘And then
I’ll help you learn. It’s no good having one without being skilled, is it?’

Mary hugged him. ‘God bless you, dear Sam. I don’t know what I’d do without you. My marriage was worth it because it meant coming here and meeting you,’ she told him
sincerely.

Sam sniffed and averted his gaze. ‘Get off with you then,’ he told her gruffly and, seeing through his emotion, Mary turned to walk to the Rocques.

* * *

Victor left his car outside the cottage. He had decided to walk to give himself time in which to think. Grandmère had told him so much that had staggered him, shocking
him into utter silence. Diamonds! Who would have thought it of the family? And he could not help but grin with admiration at his unknown English ancestor. What a wild, rip-roaring hellion, Danny
Penford must have been but what a wonderful chap to know. A man after his own heart and, he mused, in many ways Grandmère was like him. She was ruthless, intelligent, domineering and, when
it suited her own ends, downright devious. A vision of Mary shot into his head. He started to think deeply as he walked without hurrying. Mary was like Grandmère without the blood tie. The
similarity was startling and he wondered why he had failed to see this before. Was it because he had been so besotted with love for her as Heathcliff’s Catherine?

His mind moved to Nicole. She was a good wife and mother. He could not fault her in any way but Nicole had no spark. She was utterly predictable and he suspected that, over the years, he might
even find her boring. Why had he married her then? He knew why and the fault was of his own making. He had tried to be clever with youth’s impetuosity. When he had learned of Mary’s
marriage he had thrown himself at the first available girl. That this happened to be Nicole, whom he had met on Alderney, was pure chance; it could just as soon have been anyone. Who was to blame?
Duret Noyen was for one and now he was dead. Grandmère had been a big culprit in despising him unjustly and for her action in pushing Mary towards Noyen. Mary had been weak for just once in
her life, yielding to emotional pressure and financial dazzlements but—now she was free!

His mind was spun with implications. She was a widow and he had been admitted back into the family fold but—there was Nicole and his children. He ground his teeth together. It went against
his nature to hurt the innocent under normal circumstances but Victor knew his feelings for Mary had never been normal.

He looked ahead and with his keen eyes could see a female silhouette against the skyline, muffled in a loose jacket. His heart thudded and he wondered why his steps slowed. He should be running
towards her. Something dragged his feet and he had a gnawing feeling that today was not going to be one of his best.

Mary saw him coming and realised the bitter moment of truth was approaching. She turned to face him as he left the road and walked over the short grass. He was dressed in discreet dark clothes
to suit the family’s solemnity.

She felt a stiffness inside her as well as the old magic that sight of him could produce. For a few seconds she writhed at the injustice of it all, then her common sense reared its head. She
remembered what she had decided and there was no going back.

Victor eyed her, suddenly lost for words. She seemed remote, waiting for him to speak. He gave a little shake of his head, moved both hands with an eloquent gesture and said, ‘Let’s
walk, shall we?’

Mary nodded and fell into step as they strolled gently over the turf. There was a brisk wind and it had turned cool. The sky in the west held dark grey clouds which loomed low and threatening.
They reached the top of the rock and looked down to where the sea boiled as the tide prepared to turn. In between the lower rocks were cracks and crevices into which small stones had been deposited
over the years. The greedy waves now teased these, sucking and pulling them in the start of anger. There was constant motion and the sea was as grey as the sky near to them but, further back, it
turned to a dull black. Mary shivered and closed her eyes. ‘There’s going to be a storm. I’m not stopping here long.’

Victor nodded and looked at her carefully. She was dressed in a deep grey skirt with a black blouse but she wore no hat and her hands were unrestrained by gloves.

Mary sensed his thoughts. ‘Why wear full mourning?’ she asked quietly. ‘It would be hypocritical. I have enough on to conform with custom and suit the gossips.’

‘I’d be a canting humbug if I said I was sorry at his death,’ Victor told her slowly.

He wanted to reach out and grasp her hand but something stopped him. She stood rigidly aloof and he felt as if a mile separated them instead of a pace. He knew that if he attempted any physical
contact she would recoil from him because, somehow, she had altered. It was difficult for him to put a finger on the change but he felt as if she had erected an enormous barrier between them,
strong and unclimbable, and she stood well back inside its ramparts. His heart ached with sadness and also joy at her presence in a way which confused him.

‘So where does that leave us?’ he asked quietly.

Mary gave him her full attention. She stared deep into violet-coloured eyes only inches above hers. She knew he wanted to hold her, take her into his protection, lay her head on his chest. Once,
oh! How she would have thrilled to this but now, though Duret was dead and buried, in his going he had done what was impossible while he lived. Mary felt him around her as something not evil but
unpleasant; as if his spirit spied upon them to confirm he
had
been right after all.

‘Nowhere, Victor,’ she replied gently. ‘It was simply never meant to be.’

‘That’s crazy,’ he protested quickly. ‘Nothing has changed between us. I know it. I still want you and only you.’

‘You are married with children,’ Mary told him and was astonished at how calm she felt. ‘I will not be a party to shattering a marriage. My life now is here on this island and
I wish to be respected, not held in contempt. It’s no good, Victor. There are no words to make me change my mind. I have three children to raise and I intend to be a business woman in the
process. I must therefore be whiter than white.’

‘Oh, Mary!’ he groaned in anguish. ‘Don’t reject me out of hand again.’

‘I must!’ she told him simply.

Victor took a slow, deep breath while his mind worked rapidly. He must try another ploy because the look on her face was implacable. How
could
she deny what he knew
had
to be
in her heart? So dirt might fly but surely two people had the right to live the lives they chose?

‘Grandmère told me about your land deals,’ he started carefully. ‘I think holiday lets are a good idea. I know there are people who come here and who might well prefer a
cottage to themselves,’ he said forcing a grin on his face that did not quite reach his eyes. ‘I’ve had a couple in the hotel only a month ago. They were cluttered up with fishing
rods and gear. Now in a cottage they wouldn’t be any bother; they’d be able to do as they liked but in an hotel they were a nuisance to other guests. So how about us joining forces in
business? No one can object to that—surely?’