Vengeance in the Sun

by Margaret Pemberton

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “Know of him, m’dear. Fellow’s a South African, lives in exile now. Made a fortune in mining or diamonds … or are they both the same? I know he couldn’t take his wealth out of the country. I only hope you know what you’re doing … seems a bit drastic to me … haring off to Minorca.…”

  “Majorca.”

  “Just because you and Max have had a tiff.”

  “It wasn’t a tiff. I never want to see Max again.”

  “Quite, quite,” Uncle Alistair said, totally untaken in by this lie. “When is the wedding? Never did have a head for dates?”

  “There isn’t going to be a wedding,” I said for the hundredth time.

  “Bad as that, is it?” he said sympathetically. “ Well, well, still think this jaunt of yours is a mistake. Where there’s smoke there’s fire and all that.”

  “All what?”

  “Nasty business, remember thinking so at the time.”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about. What was a nasty business?”

  “The whole thing. Him being a politician as well. Wasn’t on m’dear. Wasn’t on at all.”

  “Uncle Alistair,” I said patiently. “What are you talking about?”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “No,” I said, wondering if it wouldn’t be better to put the telephone down and forget all about it. “Tell me.”

  “He was a widower with a young son when he met this second wife of his. A high ranking government minister. Couldn’t have been worse.”

  “What couldn’t?”

  “Marrying her.”

  I counted to ten slowly. “Why?”

  “I should have thought that was obvious when you met her. I mean, if someone is black as the ace of spades you notice, don’t you?”

  “Generally. Helena Van de Naude isn’t.”

  “Rubbish,” Uncle Alistair said crossly. “Of course she is. That’s what all the fuss was about. Can’t go marrying who you want in South Africa. Against the law.”

  “She’s hardly any darker than Max.”

  “Can’t help that. She’s coloured and that’s that. It was the ruin of Van de Naude. Lost his wealth and became an exile. I think they said at the time she was a communist, but governments always say that if they want to discredit someone. Only hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for. Don’t mind her being coloured,” he said generously. “But don’t want you coming back a communist. Your Aunt Katherine wouldn’t like it. She’s set her heart on becoming a Justice of the Peace!”

  “Then I’ll try not to jeopardise her chances. Don’t worry about me, Uncle Alistair. I shan’t come to any harm!”

  Chapter Two

  A car horn tooted loudly. The driver slammed his door behind him and walked across to me, a wide smile on his face.

  “Miss Matthews?”

  I nodded, rising to my feet. He was a big man with a head of untidy hair and friendly eyes, wearing a white tee-shirt that had seen better days and a pair of creased cotton trousers.

  “Mario Arteche,” he said, shaking my hand vigorously and picking up my case, throwing it easily into the rear of a battered cream-coloured estate car. “ I am sorry I am late.”

  We swerved recklessly out onto a sun bleached road: “Is this your first visit to Majorca?”

  “Yes.”

  “The villa D’Este is not near the tourist resorts. It is high in the mountains. A little lonely perhaps, but very beautiful.…”

  I leant back against the musty leather of the seat, content to let him do the talking, enjoying the sun and the sounds and smells of a new country. Trying not even to think of Max.…

  “In another few minutes we will be among the mountains,” Mario said, pointing ahead to where white granite peaks rose sheer against the vibrant sky. With an ear splitting blast on the car horn he scattered a group of laughing children and the dust blown streets were left behind us as the land fell away steeply at the roadside and we began to climb.

  Soft green trees, silvered in the brilliant light, gave the otherwise barren mountain-sides a milkish hue. Waist high pampas grass brushed against the car as the road narrowed in its tortuous ascent, winding tirelessly round curve after curve, each fresh view one of blinding blue sky and searing white rock.

  “Daniella is looking forward to meeting you,” Mario said, the wheel spinning beneath his large brown hands.

  “Good. I’m looking forward to meeting her too.”

  “She is a nice little girl. You will like her. And,” he turned and gave me a dazzling smile, “ she will like you.”

  “What about the others? Mrs Van de Naude’s secretary and Danielle’s tutor. Are they easy to get on with?”

  “Miss Blanchard is very sophisticated,” he took his hands from the wheel, to show that she also had a very good shape. “Mr Lyall is … quiet.” Mario dismissed Mr Lyall with a shrug. “The next lot of hairpin bends are known as the Devesas. Lots of accidents happen here.” As he spoke the car swung dizzily to face nothing but sky and far below, the glittering turquoise of the sea. “ It is best to drive slowly round here,” Mario said unnecessarily, “especially at dusk.”

  The road swung briefly away from the sea, leading into a narrow gorge between the mountains. Soaring slabs of rock plunged us into shadow, only the higher flanks catching the golden glitter of the sun. We climbed even higher, and then the gorge widened and we shot off the road onto a sun scorched promontory, the mountains closing in behind us. Ahead of us the headland jutted out over the sea and doll-like, poised precariously with nothing but a background of sky and cloud, stood the pale bleached walls of the villa D’Este.

  We bucketed over the rough grass, weaving expertly between shoulders of serrated rock as the courtyard walls loomed nearer. Then we swept through wide gates and into a riot of colour. In the centre of the courtyard a bronze fountain sprayed a mist of water over a pool full of water lilies. On three sides were shaded colonades and delicate archways, and everywhere there were flowers. They wound up the white pillars, massed the balconies and covered the walls, the scent thick in the heat. Helena Van de Naude stepped towards me, her hands outstretched.

  “Welcome to the villa D’Este, Lucy. I hope you will be happy here.”

  “I’m sure I will,” I said confidently.

  “Take Miss Matthews’ case to her room and ask Peggy to bring drinks out to the pool, Mario. Come this way, Lucy. It’s rather a maze at first but you’ll soon get used to it.”

  We stepped under the arcade and into the coolness of a high ceilinged corridor with pretty tiled floor and brilliant white walls. Walking quickly past innumerable doors and then up a flight of shallow steps, the tiles gave way to polished floors of pale gold wood, the walls hung with big, bold paintings, all with an African theme. An open door gave a glimpse of deeply piled carpet and silk lined walls and then we were once more in the heat of the sun. A long terrace stretched the length of the villa with sun-chairs and loungers around the edge of a large swimming-pool.

  A plump dark-haired woman with a tray of drinks came towards us. She set it down on a glass topped table, looking at me with friendly curiosity.

  “Peggy, I’d like you to meet Lucy Matthews.”

  Peggy shook my hand warmly. “ Very pleased to meet you I’m sure. Danielle’s been doing nothing else all morning but talk about your arrival.”

  “Where is she now?” her mother asked, glancing towards the villa.

  “Mr Lyall let her finish her lessons early and she’s gone to change her dress. Not that it needed changing, but she would insist on putting on her best to meet Miss Matthews.”

  “Mario has already taken Lucy’s case upstairs. I thought I’d let Danny show Lucy to her room. She’ll enjoy doing that.”

  “She certainly will,” Peggy said, giving me another warm smile. “She helped me dust and put fresh flowers in there only this morning.”

  “She’s a nice woman,” Helena Van de Naude said
as Peggy disappeared back into the villa. “ She’ll be a great help to you.” She scooped ice into a glass of fresh orange, saying: “Does it come up to expectations?”

  “The villa?”

  She nodded, handing me my glass and pouring a drink for herself.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said truthfully. “Absolutely breath-taking.”

  Behind the villa was the broad sweep of the headland and beyond that, the mountains rising stark against the cloudless sky, the ridges of barren rock silvered in the sun. In front of us, beyond the terrace, the wooded cliffs fell steeply to the Mediterranean. The sea shimmered translucently, creaming gently against the cliffs, a small breeze tossing up flying scuds of spray, stirring the sleepy scent from the pines that hugged the cliff. Wherever one looked there was sea and sky and rock. And silence.

  “We’ve lived here for ten years and I still love it. The only necessity is a car. There is a Fiat and an Audi in the garage which you can use whenever you wish. There is also that disreputable wreck that Mario insists on driving if the other cars are not available.”

  There came the sound of running footsteps and a little girl ran out of the villa, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. She ran to her mother, flinging her arms around her waist, burrowing her head in her lap so that all I could see of her were two skinny brown legs and a mop of mousy hair.

  Helena Van de Naude patted her shoulder. “There’s no need to be shy, Danny. Miss Matthews has come a long way to be with us. Aren’t you going to say hello?”

  Slowly she raised her head. She was smaller than I had expected, with none of her mother’s blatant vitality. The mousy hair was straight, her face plain, but there was a gentleness in the wide spaced grey eyes that was attractive and appealing.

  “I’ve done a drawing for you,” she said, smiling shyly, still holding on to her mother with one hand as she held out her piece of paper.

  A matchstick figure with a not of yellow curls and triangular skirt of red and blue was surrounded by birds and butterflies and a sun like a giant cartwheel.

  “Thank you, Danielle. That’s lovely,” I said, smiling and holding out my hand to her. She came hesitantly, saying:

  “I like drawing pretty ladies. Do you like drawing?”

  Thankful I had one talent that pleased, I drew as near a likeness to her as I could. She watched me, eyes wide, then said uncertainly:

  “That little girl looks like me.”

  “It is you. Look … she’s even got one tooth missing, just like you!”

  “You are clever. I’m glad you’ve come. Will you draw me a horse and.…”

  “Later, Danny,” Helena Van de Naude said laughing. “ Miss Matthews has to unpack her things yet, and have lunch.”

  “Can I help you?” she asked, the drawing held tight in her hand.

  Her mother nodded, and I said: “Yes. I think if we look hard enough, we’ll find something in my case for a little girl.”

  “For me?” her grey eyes shone.

  “Peggy has left a cold lunch for you in the dining-room, Lucy. Danny will show you the way. Spend the rest of the day getting acclimatised.”

  My room was lovely. A large, airy room overlooking the sea.

  “The bathroom is next door and then my bedroom,” Danielle said chattily, the last of her reserve melting when I had given her my small present. It wasn’t much. Humpty Dumpty figures that couldn’t fall over, but she played happily with them while I unpacked. There was a soft knock on the door. I opened it to Peggy who said apologetically.

  “Could I have Danielle please? She has a dental appointment in Palma and Miss Blanchard is taking her. Mrs Van de Naude had forgotten all about it.”

  Danielle pulled a face and left reluctantly. I finished my unpacking and then decided to make my own way to the dining-room and my late lunch. The corridor overlooked the terrace and the swimming-pool, and from an open window I could see Peggy clearing away the empty glasses from the table and caught a glimpse of Mario disappearing round the corner of the villa, a bucket and a wash leather in his hand.

  “You should have told me!” a man’s voice said suddenly from behind a nearby door. I increased speed, not wanting to hear more, but Helena Van de Naude’s voice, taut with strain, carried clearly behind me.

  “She’s here now.…”

  “Too bloody right she is!” the voice rose, and as I turned the corner of the stairs, I heard him say harshly:

  “It’s no good, Helena. She’ll have to go. And soon!”

  Chapter Three

  I hurried down the remaining stairs. Peggy was crossing the hall. She looked up as she heard me, saying: “Are you ready for your lunch now?”

  I nodded, feeling more in the need of a stiff drink. She led the way to a table set out on a low balcony.

  “Mrs Van de Naude prefers eating out here at lunchtime. Danielle has gone to the dentists in Palma with Miss Blanchard, and the rest of the day is your own. If you want to use one of the cars the keys are hanging up in the hall, though Mrs Van de Naude thinks perhaps you would like to rest.”

  “Thank you Peggy, but I think I’ll go down to the beach. Is it safe to swim?”

  “Mr Van de Naude and Mr Lyall swim down there, but it’s a steep climb back.” She sat down, preparing herself for a chat. “Do you play tennis as well?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you’ll fit in very well here. They’re all tennis and swimming mad. Janet was just the same.”

  “Janet?”

  “Danielle’s previous nanny. Such a nice girl she was. With her ever since she was a toddler.”

  “Did she leave to get married?”

  “Oh no,” Peggy’s good-natured face was shocked. “ She was killed.”

  “Killed!”

  Peggy lowered her voice. “ Suicide. And her only nineteen as well.”

  “How … dreadful,” I said inadequately.

  “Such a nice girl she was. Always had a smile and a cheery word. It was just over a month ago. She went into Palma and never came back,” her voice shook and she fumbled for a handkerchief. “She just walked into a block of flats in Ria Square and threw herself from the fifth floor.”

  “Dear God.…”

  “Danielle took it ever so badly. So did Mrs Van de Naude come to that. Not that it was her fault. A nicer lady you couldn’t wish to work for. Very attached to Janet she was, seeing as how Janet had been with her ever since she left school. The day it happened Janet came into me in the kitchen and said she was going into Palma and did I want anything … and then, three hours later, there’s a telephone call and Mrs Van de Naude went chasing off like a woman demented.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “ Terrible it was. Little Danielle asking and asking for her. Then there was Mr Bradley here as well. First time the family had been all together and a tragedy like that happens.…”

  “Mr Bradley?”

  “That’s Mr Van de Naude’s son by his first marriage. He lives in South Africa but he was over here earlier in the year. Gone off to London or Paris or somewhere now.” She moved towards the door. “ I wouldn’t say anything to Mrs Van de Naude. About Janet I mean. She took it very badly. Best wait till she tells you herself. I expect she wants you to settle in first.”

  The path wound dustily beneath the pines, zig-zagging the cliff face in crumbling steps till it reached a sickle of golden sand backed by the soaring backdrop of cliff and pine. There was a small jetty with a dinghy bobbing at anchor, and swaying magnificently in the centre of the bay was a sleek white yacht, its carmine-red sails furled and the name ‘Helena’ painted boldly on her prow. I ran down the last few steps sinking ankle-deep into the soft sand. Within minutes I was in the water, swimming out in the direction of the yacht, then turning over onto my back, eyes closed as I soaked up the glorious sun, the only sound the soft suck and slap of water against the ‘Helena’s’ prow. After a little while I rocked back onto my stomach, swimming through the smooth water towards the shore, the sun almost blinding as it dazzled off the
glittering surface of the sea.

  I swung my towel round my shoulder and began to walk along the sand until I came to a small rowing boat, upturned and disused. Stretching my towel in its shade I lay down and closed my eyes.

  It was the muted sound of sandalled feet that woke me. I sat up, shielding my eyes from the sun. In the distance the unmistakeable figure of Helena Van de Naude in jeans and open necked shirt ran lightly across the sand and into the shallows to the dinghy. Behind her was a leanly built man with a shock of red hair. He took the oars, rowing strongly out towards the yacht. If it was Mr Van de Naude he wasn’t nearly as old as I had been led to believe.

  I rose to my feet, wondering again why he had been so angry at my arrival, and when I would be asked to leave.

  When I reached my room I closed the shutters, took a disprin for my throbbing head, and tried to sleep. It was Peggy who woke me.

  “It’s a quarter to eight,” she said. “I didn’t think you would want to be late for dinner, not on your first evening.”

  “Thanks Peggy, I’ll be down in five minutes.” Hurriedly I changed into a long velvet skirt and silk blouse, but by the time I reached the dining-room everyone else was seated.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said awkwardly. “I fell asleep.…”

  “There’s no need to apologise,” Helena Van de Naude said with her wide smile. “Sit down and let me introduce you to everyone.”

  “I’m John Van de Naude,” the powerfully built man at the head of the table said, standing up and shaking my hand. “ I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you, but I hope you will be very happy with us, Lucy.”

  “Thank you,” I said as my hand was crushed in his. He was a strikingly handsome man with steel grey hair that waved thickly and deep lines running from nose to mouth. He must have been nearly sixty, but there was no spare flesh on his body, only solid muscle and bone. John Van de Naude was a man who kept himself fit.

  “Leonie Blanchard, Helena’s secretary,” he was saying, and I had a swift impression of silky blonde hair and glossy lips. “And Ian Lyall, Danielle’s tutor.”