Vengeance in the Sun

by Margaret Pemberton

The man I had seen earlier boarding the yacht with Helena Van de Naude, said pleasantly: “ I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  I managed a smile, grateful for the intervention of Peggy with a laden tray. So it was Danielle’s tutor who had shouted at Helena Van de Naude.…

  “Helena tells me you have already made friends with Danielle,” John Van de Naude was saying. “ You will find her an easy child to handle. She can be a little stubborn at times, but she is very sweet-natured.”

  Leonie Blanchard’s eyes rested on me thoughtfully. She was in her mid-twenties with a beautiful heart-shaped face and curving mouth. Her eyes were a brilliant, feline green, lustrous under rather heavy lids, and the slender gold bracelets on her wrists and the deceptively simple chiffon dress she wore, indicated she was not totally reliant on her salary as secretary. She toyed with the stem of her glass, saying in a husky voice: “ Excuse me asking, but I’m sure I recognise you. Aren’t you engaged to Max Wyndham?”

  “No,” I said, the blood rushing to my face.

  She leant her head against the high carved back of her chair. “How strange. I could swear I’ve seen you with him. It was at the Monaco Formula one race last year.”

  “I was engaged to Max. I’m not any longer.”

  There was a ripple of interest around the dinner table and I inwardly cursed the smiling Miss Blanchard.

  “How is Max?” she asked intimately. “I haven’t seen him for ages.”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “A magnificent driver,” Ian Lyall said unexpectedly. “ I saw the Monaco race on television. Finished in the third fastest time if I remember rightly.”

  I remembered the Monaco race. A long, laughing week in the Riviera heat.

  “I thought your face was familiar,” John Van de Naude said. “Must have seen it in the papers a dozen times.”

  “And your engagement is off, is it?” Leonie asked, her eyebrows raised delicately.

  “Yes,” I said shortly, “and I would really rather not discuss it.”

  “Of course not,” John Van de Naude said hastily, “foolish of us to have discussed it at all. It was just the surprise.…”

  “Prawn cocktail or melon?” Helena Van de Naude asked practically, breaking the awkward pause.

  “Melon.”

  “Peggy tells me you play tennis?”

  “Yes,” I said, forcing back the memory of a soft autumn day and Max teaching me on the familiar courts at Crailsham Place.

  “Good,” John Van de Naude said smiling. “ Leonie doesn’t play and Ian’s playing is atrocious.…”

  Ian Lyall laughed. “Atrocious or not, I still won the last set we played.…”

  The light-hearted bantering continued throughout dinner. Employees at the villa D’Este were certainly not made to feel their place. Afterwards we sat out on the lamplit terrace with our coffees, the purple silhouette of the pines deepening slowly to black against the night sky.

  Ian Lyall, who had been deep in conversation with Leonie, came across with his drink and sat next to me.

  “You look a little tired,” he said considerately. “All a bit much in one day. New job, new people.”

  “Yes, I am rather,” I agreed, finding it hard to believe that the quiet spoken young man beside me had, only hours ago, sworn angrily at his employer’s wife. And about me.

  “If you’re tired, have an early night,” Helena Van de Naude said. “You’ll feel better for it tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully. “I will.”

  As I walked away from them, towards the French windows, I could see their reflections in the dark glass. Ian Lyall’s head turned, watching me thoughtfully.

  All trace of friendliness had left his face. His mouth was a thin line, his eyes narrowed. I shivered. Ian Lyall had not wanted me to come to the villa D’Este. But why? What possible difference could my arrival make to him?”

  Chapter Four

  In the next few weeks I settled down into a comfortable routine. There was no talk of my leaving, and the Van de Naudes seemed happy with my work. The mornings were my own and I spent them mainly in swimming and sunbathing, occasionally taking the car into Palma to shop. The afternoons and early evenings were spent with Danielle. Ian Lyall continued to be pleasant to my face and to watch me unnervingly when he thought I wasn’t aware of it. Despite his friendliness I avoided him as much as possible. Leonie I saw very little of. She drifted into dinner each evening with a half smile on her lips and lazy amusement in her eyes, and though Max’s name was never mentioned again, I knew that she knew him, and knew him well. The knowledge didn’t help our relationship.

  Peggy and Mario I liked, the Van de Naudes were more like friends than employers, and Danielle was a pet. It was three weeks later that the accident happened and I first met Steve Patterson.

  It had been a lovely day: We had gone for a picnic at Cape Formentor, sharing our sandwiches with some friendly goats at the lighthouse. Later, we had motored down to the beach and Danielle had played in the surf, gathering strands of scarlet seaweed and trailing them in the sea behind her. When she had finished we had raced each other along the sand back to the car and bought ice-creams before heading back to the villa.

  As we approached the treacherous Devesas, I saw that the sun was touching the mountain ridges, the light smoking with the first hint of dusk. I increased speed, not wanting to be caught on the wrong side of the headland in the dark.

  The road narrowed, twisting steeply between wooded slopes and the sickening plunge to the sea. In the distance I heard the sound of a car, and from the whine of the engine he was coming fast. Too fast. I slowed down, climbing round the first of the hairpin bends, and through the serried ranks of pines saw a large Cadillac speeding recklessly behind me. The dusk was deepening, the shadows lengthening across the road. Apprehensively I pulled over as far as I could. Seconds later he screamed round the bend behind me, not giving an inch. With a cry of alarm I spun the wheel, swerving out of his way as he roared down on me, metal rending against metal. Danielle was screaming and the force of the other car as it scraped alongside us sent me skidding off the road. For what seemed like eternity we leaped towards the abyss of sky, rock and sea. There was blood in my mouth and a thundering in my ears and then the tyres finally gripped ground, the brake pedal responding at last. The front wheels smashed into rock, shattering the windscreen and the car slithered to a halt, rocking wildly.

  Above Danielle’s terrified sobs came another sound. Another engine. A sports car hummed round the bend, careering dizzily as it saw us. I was still clinging to the wheel, the world spinning blackly, when he wrenched open the door.

  “My God! Are you all right? What the hell happened?”

  “Miss Matthews! Miss Matthews!”

  I stumbled from the car, flinging my arms around the sobbing Danielle.

  “Danielle! Are you all right? Oh Danielle! Danielle!”

  Her terrified hands clung to my neck. I hugged her fiercely.

  “It’s all right baby. It’s all right. Are you hurt? Let me see.…”

  With trembling hands I felt her body, crying with relief at finding only bleeding knees and cut forehead.

  “Thank God for seat belts,” my rescuer observed dryly. “Do you think you could stop scaring the hell out of me and walk back onto the road?”

  I looked around me. We were only inches from the cliff edge and the hundred foot drop to the sea. I felt violently sick.

  “Don’t mind me,” my rescuer said. I smiled waveringly.

  “It’s the shock.”

  “Have a cigarette.”

  “Thanks.”

  He carried Danielle, and on shaky legs I followed him across to his car. She raised a white face to mine.

  “That was very silly, wasn’t it?”

  I smiled weakly. “It was Danny, it was.”

  “Did that man try to kill us?”

  “No, darling. He was drunk. He must have been drunk. I don’t think he even saw us till he f
orced me off the road.”

  “Feel like a candy?” our rescuer asked her.

  Danielle brightened considerably. “ Yes please. I was very brave, wasn’t I?”

  “Sure were,” he agreed gravely. She turned to me.

  “Will you tell Daddy I was very brave?”

  I squeezed her tightly. “Of course I will, my love.”

  “And can I have a bandage on my knee? A big one?”

  “Anything you like, Danielle. Anything at all.”

  Satisfied, Danielle put another sweet in her mouth and began to look rather pleased with herself.

  “How about me giving you a lift back to where you’re staying?”

  I looked at him properly for the first time and smiled. He was an American, somewhere in his mid-twenties, with untidy fair hair and friendly face.

  “What about the car?”

  “Leave it,” he said. “ You’re in no state to drive and your car is in no state to be driven.”

  “It isn’t my car.”

  He grinned. “Then I don’t envy you the explanations. What the hell happened?”

  “I don’t know. He must have been drunk. He came hurtling round the bend as if he was on a speedway track, and then he just kept on going, didn’t pull over, didn’t slow down, nothing. If I hadn’t swerved he would have rammed straight into us.” I looked at the tyre marks where my car had left the road, burning their way over the coarse grass to the cliff edge. “Only there was nowhere to swerve to.”

  “Except the sea,” he said grimly. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  “Are we going in that speed buggy?” Danielle asked interestedly, pointing towards the sports car.

  “Sure are, and with a bag of candy,” the American said, settling her in the tiny space at the back, saying to me: “Resiliant little things, aren’t they? If that had happened to me I wouldn’t want to go near a car again. Especially a speed buggy!”

  Danielle curled up with her bag of sweets and he said: “ Did you get a good look at the driver?”

  “No. I doubt if I would recognise him again. He was young and he was dark. That’s all.”

  “A Spaniard?”

  “It could have been.”

  “Are you on holiday here?”

  “No, I live here.”

  “I reckon your husband is going to be one angry man tonight when he sees where that car is!”

  “I’m not married. Danielle isn’t my little girl. I’m her nanny.”

  “So it isn’t such a bad day after all,” he said disarmingly. “ I’m Steve Patterson. Twenty-three. American and single.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr Patterson. I’m Lucy Matthews. English and twenty-one.”

  “You’re going to have to do a lot of explaining to your employers!”

  “Don’t,” I said feelingly. “I’ve only been with them a few weeks.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a broad grin. “I’ll keep you company if the going gets too tough!”

  Helena Van de Naude was alone on the terrace when we got back to the villa. At the sight of Steve Patterson she rose to her feet, and then as she saw Danielle’s blood-caked knees and forehead her face whitened and she broke into a run.

  “Lucy! What happened? Has there been an accident? Is Danielle hurt?”

  “A little. She’s cut herself but the bleeding has stopped.”

  Alarmed, she swung Danielle up into her arms. “Are you all right, Danny? What happened?”

  “We crashed,” Danielle said with satisfaction. “ We nearly got killed and I was very brave and our friend gave me some sweets called candy and I like them.”

  “Dear God!” Her arms tightened around her. “ Was it your car?” she asked, looking at Steve.

  “No. I’m just the knight on a white charger who was passing by at the time. Steve Patterson by name.”

  “Then who.…”

  I said: “It happened on the mountain road. At the Devesas. We were driving on quite happily when I heard this car coming up behind us. It was obviously going too fast. I’d rounded the first of the bends and slowed down and pulled over … he could have got past … but he didn’t even try. He must have been doing seventy at least. It was all so quick.…”

  Steve said: “He forced her off the road. There was all of a foot left between them and the sea.”

  Helena Van de Naude’s eyes seemed to have sunk into her head.

  “You’d better have a drink,” she said unsteadily. “ I’ll take Danny upstairs to Peggy and join you in a minute.” Still carrying Danielle in her arms she left the room.

  “She seems like a nice lady,” Steve observed, settling himself on a sofa.

  “She is.”

  “No hysterics.”

  “No, she isn’t the type.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said comfortingly. “She realises that.”

  “I nearly killed her only child,” I said bleakly.

  “Rubbish. You saved her life. Another fraction of an inch and it wouldn’t have been paintwork that would have ripped off the car. It would have been the whole side. Danielle’s side. That was a piece of smart driving. You must have been taught by an expert.”

  “I was.”

  The door clicked open and Helena Van de Naude said: “What will you have to drink? Whisky? Brandy?”

  “Whisky,” Steve said. She poured him his drink.

  “Did you see what happened, Mr Patterson?”

  “No. I only saw him fleetingly through the trees. It was a distinctive car though. A powder-blue Cadillac, and travelling fast.”

  “He was drunk,” I said. “There’s no other explanation.”

  “Then we’ll find him,” she said, her mouth drawn in a tight line.

  “It shouldn’t be too hard,” Steve said. “ He took half the paint off the Fiat. His own car must be badly marked.”

  She looked at me. “Are you feeling better now, Lucy?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.…”

  “Nonsense,” she said crisply, the colour back in her face. “ There’s nothing to be sorry for. I don’t hold you responsible in any way whatever.”

  “You’ll report it to the police?” Steve asked.

  “Yes. Yes of course.” She looked suddenly old.

  “The sooner the better,” Steve said. “They may be able to pick the car up straight away.”

  “Yes,” she rose to her feet. “I’ll do it now.”

  “Should I have offered to do it for her?” Steve asked. “ She didn’t look as if she liked the idea.”

  “She’s seen rather a lot of them lately and seeing them again will only bring back unpleasant memories.”

  Steve waited expectantly.

  “Her previous nanny committed suicide only a couple of months ago.”

  “Suicide?” Steve said unbelievingly.

  I nodded. “She jumped from a block of flats in Ria Square.”

  “Hellfire! What did she do a crazy thing like that for?”

  “No-one knows. I don’t think Mrs Van de Naude has got over the shock yet. Janet had been with her since she was sixteen. She came here straight from school.”

  “How old was she?” he asked quietly.

  “Nineteen.”

  He put his whisky down. “Poor kid,” he said feelingly. “Poor, dumb kid.…”

  Chapter Five

  Danielle recovered remarkably well from the accident, very proud of how brave she had been. Leonie had raised her pencil-thin eyebrows, saying: “ These mountain roads are so narrow that it’s possible it was your fault, Lucy. Ian thinks you didn’t pull over far enough to let him pass.”

  I didn’t give a damn what Ian Lyall thought. I said: “If I’d pulled over any more I’d have been in the Mediterranean!”

  She closed her eyes, stretching langorously out in the hammock, her face tilted to the sun. “Palma has an interesting visitor?”

  I came in right on cue. “Who?”

  “Max,” she said lazily. “He flew in yesterday. Don�
�t you read your papers?”

  “I’ve had more on my mind,” I said curtly, my heart beginning to race.

  “I must say your Mr Patterson pales into insignificance beside him. I never did go for that fresh faced American boy look.”

  “Steve Patterson is very attractive,” I said defensively.

  The mocking smile deepened. “I’m glad you think so, Lucy.”

  Annoyed with both her and myself I picked up the book I had been reading and walked back into the villa, the sound of Leonie’s soft laughter echoing behind me.

  I was beginning to find the after dinner gatherings on the terrace increasingly claustrophobic, the only relief, Steve Patterson’s company. We had gone into Palma for dinner the night of the Cadillac incident, and he was picking me up again that evening. Until Leonie had mentioned Max I had been looking forward to it. The breath was tight in my chest as I walked along the sunlit corridor to my room.

  Why should Max come to Majorca unless it was to see me? Aunt Katherine must have told him where I was. He could only have one reason for seeing me.… I stood at the open window of my room, hardly able to breath. If he came tonight and I was out with Steve.… Yet if I stayed in, waiting, wouldn’t that be what I had always done where Max was concerned? I turned decisively, my mind made up. I would go out with Steve. It would do Max good to find me out with another man. He would just have to come again in the morning. It wasn’t a decision that brought peace of mind. For the rest of the day I was like a cat on hot bricks, my heart leaping when I heard the sound of a car, plunging again when it turned out to be only Mario returning from the market. Even Danielle noticed.

  “You don’t look very happy,” she said as I tucked her up in bed.

  “I was thinking about something,” I said truthfully, sitting down beside her. “ What would you like to do tomorrow?”

  “Could we go to Valldemossa? I went there once with Janet and we saw where Chopin lived and saw his little piano.”

  “That sounds nice.” I opened the book I was reading to her my thoughts far away.

  “We’ve nearly finished it now, haven’t we?” she said pensively.

  “We’re on the very last chapter.”

  Her bottom lip quivered.