by Hilary Wilde
She had not sent for him —but someone
must have!
But if the hole had been made for Juan . . . ? Usually she walked in front on the few occasions they were together, as the mass of boughs across the pathway were more or less new. Normally she would have been the one to fall down the hole.
It was a frightening thought, and sitting very still, she remembered other things. How often a stone fell down the side of the cliff when she lay on the sands. Even Mike had noticed it and saw to it that she didn't lie too near the cliff.
Was it her they were trying to kill?
If so—why? What had she done?
Surely, she told herself, she was thinking melodramatically, as her parents would have teased her. No doubt some animal had dug the hole . . . after all, she hadn't taken that walk for some time.
`Penny!' Catalina called, showing her the sand castle she had made for the younger ones.
`Very good,' Penny said, and smiled. 'Clever girl!'
` Cle-ver gel . . .' Catalina repeated slowly, and gave Penny a little secret smile.
`That's right. Clever girl,' Penny repeated with a smile, and told herself that of course it was absurd to think as she had been thinking. After all, who would want to kill her? And why?
***
As she dressed for dinner that night, Penny wondered how Juan would be—perhaps still annoyed with her for having sent for the doctor? Yet what else should she have done? She had been so frightened as she saw him curled up in that hole.
But she dreaded those questioning eyes of his that seemed able to read her thoughts. Whatever happened, Juan must never know the truth—that though she felt he was arrogant and often callously cruel, yet she still loved him! Of all the stupid silly idiotic things to have done!
She chose her prettiest dress—the skirt pale green, long and with frills round the hem that swung as she moved. The bodice was white and close-fitting. She frowned a little as she gazed at herself in the mirror—she had hesitated about buying it, but Fiona had merely laughed and said it was perfect.
Downstairs, Penny went into the long shabby drawing-room, prepared for Juan's anger—but he wasn't there. That was a relief, but it soon vanished when she found every member of the family there wanted Penny's account of Juan's accident. Apparently Juan had damaged his ankle, but it was not serious, though the doctor had advised a few days with his leg up.
`But how could it have happened?' Anita
frowned as she asked. Apparently Juan had refused to see anyone and had had a bed moved down to the study so that he had no stairs to face. Needless to say, this annoyed Anita, and her manner showed it. 'Juan falling over! I can't imagine it.'
`Well, it happened,' Penny answered, feeling a little annoyed. 'There was this hole in the pathway . . .'
But he should have seen it!' Julieta, Dona Justina's great-niece, said. 'Why wasn't he looking where he was going?'
`He turned his head to say something to me at that moment and . . . and just tripped over something and fell in,' Penny said for about the hundredth time—at least, that was how it felt to her.
`What?'
`What?' Anita and Julieta spoke at the same time, their voices annoyed, their faces angry, as if Penny had no right to be alone with their beloved Juan and that it made it even worse that he had something to say to her.
`I don't remember,' Penny admitted, and laughed because it was the truth, but she saw that neither of them believed her.
Alfonso strode over to join the group round Penny.
`Where was this hole?' he demanded in his arrogant voice, but there was a look in his eyes that made Penny shiver.
She started to tell him, but he interrupted
her. 'I know that pathway. There are no holes there,' he said firmly.
`There was this one.' Penny lifted her pointed little chin and stared at him. 'If you don't believe me, you can ask Manuel and Soldigo.'
`I didn't say I didn't believe you,' Alfonso said with a smile. 'I know the pathway. Your favourite walk—yet you seldom go there nowadays,' he added with a smile.
She was tempted to tell him the truth—that she avoided that pathway because she hated his habit of following her or of suddenly appearing from behind a tall bush, and his insistence on wooing her . . . but fortunately she looked round and saw the interested faces, even though many of them were malicious and accusing, but she also saw Magdalena's unhappy face.
Was she thinking that Alfonso loved Penny? Penny was sure he didn't. That was the last thing he would feel for her. Now, staring at his swarthy handsome face and those cold cruel eyes, she shivered again. She could imagine him planning to kill her . . . but why? Why? Why?
She managed to control herself and smiled. `I like a change,' she said simply.
At that moment Doria Justina, who was sitting on the other side of the room, lifted her hand and waved to Penny, with her usual unconsciously gracious movement, so Penny
seized her chance to get away from the group and hurried to her side.
`My poor child,' the old lady said gently. 'It must have been a frightening experience for you.'
`Oh, it was,' Penny said gratefully. This was the first word of sympathy she had had. 'I had such a shock. He just disappeared.'
`It must have been a deep hole.'
`Oh, it was. Long and narrow—like . . . like a coffin,' Penny said, half-closing her eyes as she remembered that terrible moment, then she opened them again and saw the distress on Justina's face. 'But he spoke almost at once,' Penny added quickly, wishing she had not used that word coffin, for it obviously upset Dotia Justina. Penny managed a smile. 'Actually, he was cross with me.'
`Did he think you had pushed him in?' Doria Justina asked, and Penny was startled.
Had Juan thought that? She had been close behind him . . . but surely he wouldn't think she . . . ?
`I . . . I don't think so. I mean, why should I . . . ?'
Doha Justina smiled. 'Of course not, my dear child, but in the shock of the moment, one can think anything. What was he cross about?
`I think he was in great pain and didn't want me to know.'
The old lady slowly nodded her head. 'That
is typical of Juan. He is a proud man and does not wish to admit any weakness. He must have been angry with himself for not seeing the hole and even more annoyed because he needed the help of a woman.' She smiled. 'He is like so many men—they are the strongest . . .' She chuckled. 'Or so they like to think. He would not wish for your help,' she added.
`I couldn't help him. I tried, so he told me to fetch help and I did, but he was mad at me because I sent for the doctor,' said Penny, unaware of the wistfulness in her voice.
`My dear child, you were wise to send for the doctor. Juan could have been badly injured—it could have been serious.' As she spoke, Dofia Justina was looking across the room and there was great sadness on her face.
***
The next day when the siesta was on and the house so still and quiet, Penny was glad to get out into the sunshine. Mike had asked her to go swimming, but she had said she didn't feel like it.
Mike had been puzzled. 'Why didn't you come to Valentin and me to help him yesterday?
`It was the siesta. I didn't know where you were—besides, he told me to get Manuel and Soldigo.'
`And of course whatever he says must be
obeyed,' Mike had said sarcastically, and walked away.
Penny went quickly towards the rocks, down the narrow lane to where the hole had been. She wasn't surprised to see it had been filled in, for Juan would have instructed that to be done, in case anyone else fell into it. But it had been a strange hole. What sort of animal would dig so deep a hole—or long and narrow? —just, as she had clumsily said to Dotia Justina, like a coffin.
The pathway was covered with leaves and dead flowers—just as it had been the day before. As if . . . as if it had been covered on purpose, because the last time she had walked to the rocks the pathway had been clear
of debris.
It was hard to find the exact place, and she was leaning down, moving the dead flowers, when a voice said:
`Just exactly what do you think you'll find?'
Penny stood up quickly, startled, shocked, and annoyed with herself, because she should have thought of Alfonso being around.
She looked at him and shivered, hoping he didn't notice, for if he knew she was afraid, he would make use of it.
`Are you deaf, little red-head?' he grinned, stretching out his hand.
Penny moved backwards quickly and lifted her chin. 'No, I am not deaf. I was merely surprised at seeing you.'
`I'm sure you were,' he said sarcastically. Actually,' Alfonso continued, his smile ugly, 'I thought this was our meeting place. What are you doing here?'
She knew there was danger in the air. If it was his doing—the accident, that was—then she mustn't let him know that she suspected him of trying to kill her. She thought fast and got an idea.
`I was looking for my bracelet. I was wearing it yesterday and it must have dropped in the hole.'
`What hole?' Alfonso, Penny noticed, was moving slowly towards her. Aware of danger in the air, she moved backwards as slowly, too, wondering if she could run away fast enough— or if it would set him off to doing something to kill her, strangling her, perhaps. He was smiling triumphantly. `Do you really think we believe there was a hole? We all know that Juan attacked you and you—like so many girls of today who have been trained in selfdefence—caused him to fall. Of course his pride will not allow him to admit that he had been defeated by a red-headed girl.' Alfonso laughed, and began to move a little faster towards her.
`Of course there was a hole!' Penny's voice grew shrill with the fear she felt. 'Manuel and Soldigo saw it.'
`So they say. They are Juan's slaves and would do whatever he said. But none of us
believes the story. Juan —born in a family of murderers and a murderer himself—must have tried to kill you and you escaped. That is what happened. We know,' he added.
`It's not true . . . of course it isn't true!' Penny's voice was even more shrill with fear and Alfonso darted forward before she could move and caught her in his arms.
She struggled, but it was like being held by bars of iron as his hands ran over her body and his mouth crushed hers roughly. She waited for his hands to reach her throat—but she fought on, struggling, kicking, while Alfonso laughed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Penny felt exhausted as she struggled in vain and suddenly a voice shouted:
`Penny . . . Penny . . . wait for me!'
It was Mike's voice and Alfonso must have recognised it, too, for he let go of her, dropping her on to the ground and hurrying away.
`Penny!' Mike shouted again.
She was breathless and couldn't make a sound, but suddenly Mike was there, helping her to stand up, putting his arm round her for she felt absurdly weak.
`What happened . . . who was that man .. . was it Alfonso?' Mike asked anxiously. 'Did he . . . did he . . . ?'
`I thought he was going to . . .' Penny stopped; she didn't want even Mike to know she thought Alfonso planned to murder her. Mike wouldn't believe it, because it didn't make sense. Why should Alfonso want to kill her? Suddenly she was clinging to Mike and he was patting her on the back to comfort her, as if she was a child.
`There, there,' he said soothingly. 'In future you're not to go for any walks alone. Understand that?' He pretended to be stern. 'I don't like that man, and the way he's been chatting you up is . . . well . . .'
`He thinks I'm easy,' said Penny, her voice returning. 'Juan warned me about it. He said that to the Spanish, we English girls have so much freedom that we're all easy.'
`I know you're not.'
Penny managed a laugh. 'Thanks, Mike. And thanks for following me. Why did you?'
`I saw the way you went and I wondered if the hole was still there . . . then I heard you crying out and I thought the best thing was to let whoever you were with know that someone else was around.
`He let go of me at once—pushed me on the ground.'
Mike gave her a final hug before letting her go. 'You give me your word that in future you go walking with me. Right?'
Penny smiled at him. She had no idea how very young she looked, as well as frightened and also grateful. Mike knew a moment of despair. If only she loved him!
`Right, Mike, and thanks a lot.'
`My pleasure.' He gave a little bow and smiled. 'Come on, there's time for you to show me your favourite seat in the sunshine.'
`This way,' she said gaily, taking his hand and leading the way, her hand stretched back and his forward. 'Isn't it beautiful?' she asked when they finally reached the rocks where she liked to sit. There was no sign of Alfonso.
`Very beautiful,' agreed Mike, but he was not looking at the blue sea with the white
waves or the mountains above them, or the bright yellow and purple flowers. He was looking at Penny.
It was four days before Juan was able to walk about, and even then he had a crutch to help him. He made his way slowly out to the children's playground.
`Well,' he asked Penny gruffly, 'how's it going? Making any progress?'
Penny stared at him. He looked tired— something she had never seen him look before. A flood of tenderness swept through her and she said quickly: 'I'll get you a chair.'
He frowned. Tor crying out loud, stop fussing! There's nothing the matter with me.'
`I'm sorry,' Penny said quickly. 'How do you feel?'
He scowled. 'I told you there's nothing wrong with me.' His voice rose as if he was exasperated. 'I'm sick to death of the way you women crowd round and fuss—as if delighted you've got me at your mercy.'
`I'm not . . . I don't . . .' Penny tried not to show how hurt she was. This man she loved . . . Never before had she realised just what it would be like to be in love. Now she knew! It was not the thrilling, dazzling, gorgeous feeling she had expected. It was painful, but then she had done the most foolish of all things—fallen
in love with a man like Juan del Riego !
She wanted to look after him, to get him a chair; she hated the tired look on his face, the thought that he was in pain. It made her forgive him for his attitude—though he had not even thanked her for getting help so quickly.
He was speaking to the children and suddenly turned to look at her.
`Have you heard the stories on the grapevine?' he asked, his voice harsh.
She felt the colour burning in her cheeks. `Yes.'
`Who started them? You?'
Quick fury flooded her. How could he ask such a question? Even though she loved him hopelessly, it was unforgivable.
`Of course I didn't!' she said angrily. 'You know very well I wouldn't.'
`How do I? How much of you do I really know?' Juan asked sarcastically.
`Well, you must know that I wouldn't tell such a lie—and in any case, why should I? Manuel and Soldigo saw the hole, so it's absurd to say there wasn't one, even if you . .
Attacked you?' Juan's smile was cold. ` Do you honestly think you could throw me over?'
She looked up at the tall man with his broad shoulders and lean hips, his handsome dark face and those eyes, still full of questions. She was so shocked that she spoke impulsively.
`You don't really believe I'd say that, do
you?' She sounded as shocked as she felt.
`This Women's Lib business—I thought perhaps you found it a good way of showing that girls were as strong as men.' He sounded amused now, which annoyed her still more.
`You know very well I wouldn't say a thing like that. I suppose, as usual, you're defending your cousin Alfonso?'
Alfonso?' Juan echoed, and his face became like a mask, no feeling or emotion showing. Even his questioning eyes were hidden as he half closed the eyelids. 'Where does he come into it?' he asked coldly.
`Well, he hates you and is always trying to make the family think you're bad . . .' The words seemed
to burst out of her mouth and though she felt she shouldn't be saying so much, she could not stop. 'He probably said it to make us the talk of the family. Did you hear that I—that I. . . She tumbled over the words she was saying, she felt so angry. 'That I pushed you into the hole—always, of course,' she added sarcastically, 'admitting that there was such a thing as a hole.'
Juan was frowning. 'I believe you had something of a showdown with Alfonso. Mike was telling me.'
`It was no business of Mike's,' Penny said angrily. But your cousin is the end. I keep telling him to leave me alone and he just won't.'
`You shouldn't encourage him.'
`Me . . . encourage him?' Penny almost shrieked the words, she was so angry.
`Why don't you spend the siesta time with Mike and Valentin—the mere fact that you walk off alone could seem to be an invitation.'
An invitation! Look, do you mean to say that I can't do anything alone without it seeming like an invitation? What sort of men are you all?' she demanded furiously.
`Remember you're not in England now. You're on the Isla de Vallora and must live accordingly to its rules. So in future . .
`Don't worry,' said Penny, turning away, for suddenly the tears were near. How could he be so thoughtless, so cruel? 'I won't go out alone until I'm back in England. Mike has made me promise that.'
`Mike has? Good, then I needn't worry,' Juan said curtly, and turned to Catalina, who had been watching them but now looked away quickly as if trying to pretend she had not been listening. He spoke to her in Spanish and then, shortly afterwards, made his way slowly back to the house.
Penny watched him go and she felt unutterably miserable. If this was love, why did people say it was so wonderful? To her, it was nothing but a pain.
Nor did things improve as the days passed.
Love had always meant happiness in Penny's mind, but her love for Juan merely caused difficulties. Those questioning eyes of his—his sudden sharp questions that gave her little or no time to think up an untrue answer. The realization that governed her life was the knowledge that Juan must never know how much she loved him.
