Vengeance in the Sun

by Margaret Pemberton

  “Why didn’t you let people know where you were? Max has been going out of his mind with worry.”

  “He had no need to.…” My voice seemed to be coming from a great distance.

  “We sent you an invitation to the wedding but it came back marked gone away, and even Max’s mother wouldn’t say where you were, though I’m sure she knew!”

  In the doorway I saw the plump, balding figure of Fedor Katchorsky, he was talking to someone over his shoulder and I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that it was Max.

  I said wildly: “Would you excuse me a moment.…” and pushed Steve’s hand away, wriggling through the laughing cliques of guests to the terrace. Dancing couples brushed past me as I hurried the length of the villa towards the darkness of the cliff path. Then, in the shadows, I saw Ian Lyall smoking a cigarette, his back to me. I paused, trying to get my breath, my heart pounding painfully. I was outside Helena Van de Naude’s study. I grasped the handle of the French window and pushed, letting myself into the darkened room. Behind me the music came muted, the laughter only a faint echo. I folded my arms around me, breathing heavily.

  Dear God! to have even sent me an invitation to the wedding! Anger, not grief, flooded through me. I didn’t blame Claudette. I was the one who had broken the engagement off and Claudette wasn’t to know that I still loved Max. But Max knew. Max knew what my feelings were. Max had always known. And he had the audacity to have sent me an invitation to his wedding to another woman! I picked up a cushion and hurled it at the opposite wall.

  “Hell,” I said aloud. Hell! Hell! Hell!”

  “Hello, Brat,” a voice said behind me in the darkness. “Having a tantrum?”

  Chapter Ten

  I spun round, the word strangled in my throat: “ Max!”

  “Yes,” he agreed comfortably. “Why the game of hide and seek?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come off it, Brat. As soon as you saw me you took to your heels.”

  “I didn’t see you,” I said truthfully, edging round the back of a velvet covered chair, grasping the back of it for support.

  He sighed, leaning against the windows, a dark silhouette against the moonlight.

  “I want to know one thing and one thing only, Lucy. Why?”

  “I should think the reason is obvious.”

  “Not to me it isn’t.”

  “Then you’re more of a fool than I thought you were!” I said cruelly.

  When he spoke again there was an edge to his voice I had never heard before. “ I think I deserve an explanation.”

  “Our engagement was broken off, I needed a job and Helena Van de Naude offered me one. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Without letting me know where you were.”

  “It was no longer any of your affair. My life is my own now.”

  “Is the man you were with when I entered the room part of your new life?”

  “Yes,” I said, my nails digging into the soft velvet. “And he will be wondering where I am.”

  “He’ll be wondering where you are!” Max said explosively. “I’ve been wondering where you are for the past two months! Did you know that Claudette wanted you for a bridesmaid?”

  “A bridesmaid!” I hissed.

  “And what’s so wrong about that?”

  “If you can’t see it, I can’t tell you!”

  “Why the hell you and Claudette can’t be friends I don’t know!” Max shouted exasperatedly. “From now on have it your own way. I’ll keep out of your life if that’s what you want. But when I get ditched for another man I like to know about it firsthand!”

  “When you get.…” I struggled to say, choking with anger. “You were the one who two-timed me with Claudette! What was I supposed to do? Sit at home and read good books!”

  He moved swiftly, his temper snapping completely, grasping me savagely by the wrist. “I explained that to you once!”

  “And I was fool enough to believe it!”

  He said through his teeth. “I’ve never laid a hand on you, Brat. But by God I’m going to do now!” and he swung me over his knee, his hand coming down hard as I kicked and struggled. I never heard Steve enter the room, one minute Max was beating me in a rage of temper that terrified me, and the next I had rolled onto the floor, and Steve had Max pinned against the wall. Max grasped his wrists, forcing them away, saying harshly:

  “If you want my cousin, she’s all yours!” and while Steve hesitated, torn between concern for me as I stumbled crying from the floor, and the decision whether or not to begin a full scale fist fight. Max strode from the room, slamming the door behind him, the sound of my sobs filling the darkened room.

  Steve’s arms closed round me, but I was too shocked, too upset to listen to what he was saying to me. At last I heard him say: “What the hell happened? What made him lose his temper with you like that?”

  I laughed hysterically. “They wanted me for a bridesmaid.”

  He swore beneath his breath, wiping my face tenderly with his handkerchief. “Feeling better now?”

  “Yes,” I lied. “I’m fine.”

  With his arm tight round my shoulders we walked back out onto the terrace.

  “I’d like to speak to Katjavivi if I get the chance,” Steve was saying. “Get the low down on Ovambia.”

  We joined the circle round David Katjavivi, Steve bringing me a welcome brandy. Across the room I could see Max looking for Claudette. She was standing with Fedor Katchorsky, laughing at something he had said, the expression on the little Russian’s face one of worshipping admiration. She turned as Max approached, putting one hand lightly on his arm, leaning towards him. He whispered to her and I saw Claudette’s face cloud over and her slim shoulders shrug eloquently. Leonie had joined them now and Max was smiling, only the whiteness around his mouth showing signs of his recent fury. Fedor spoke to Max and then led Claudette out onto the terrace where couples were dancing beneath the fairy lights. It seemed to me that Leonie moved nearer to Max, her cloud of pale blonde hair seeming to brush his shoulder as her green eyes smiled up into his. He bent his head to say something to her and Leonie’s light peal of laughter floated clearly across the room.

  Helena Van de Naude, accompanied by the large purple clad lady, still enveloped by her stole, came up to us.

  “Lucy, I don’t believe I have introduced you to Lady Bingham, have I?”

  Lady Bingham shook my hand saying gruffly, “I believe you’re related to the racing driver chappie.”

  “We’re cousins,” I said briefly.

  Lady Bingham gazed across at Max, “ Where’s the bride?”

  “Dancing,” I said, grateful for the normality in my voice.

  “Uumph. Pretty girl. Shouldn’t think she has any brains. Foreign isn’t she?”

  “French.”

  “Well, it won’t last. Not with a husband like that. Not compatible. Any fool can see that.”

  “Like to dance,” Steve asked, offering me escape. “Yes,” I took his arm eagerly. As we excused ourselves I heard Lady Bingham saying brusquely, “ Nice little thing. Reminds me of the other girl you had. Janice … Janet.…”

  Claudette, head and shoulders above Fedor, danced past.

  “He looks like a nice little man,” Steve said, trying to ease the tension he could feel in me.

  “He is. He’s one of those jolly men who are always smiling and never speak an unkind word about anyone.”

  We continued to dance and I could feel myself freeze as Max and Claudette drifted past, so close that I could smell her perfume. Her arms were round his neck and they were laughing. Steve, understanding without being told, led me back to the buffet and more food. Through the open French windows we had a clear view of the terrace. Max still danced, this time with Leonie, her red laquered nails wound tight in his hair. I wondered if Claudette minded.

  “I think I’d like to go to bed,” I said to Steve.

  He bent his head and kissed me, a tender, loving
kiss. “ Goodnight Lucy. Sleep well.…”

  Over his shoulder Max’s eyes lifted to mine. A muscle twitched in his cheek and his jaw was clenched, his face hard with controlled anger.

  I lifted my mouth once more to Steve’s.

  Chapter Eleven

  I went down early to breakfast in the hope of avoiding Leonie. Helena Van de Naude was sat on the terrace a sheaf of letters in her hand. She glanced up as I entered the dining-room, joining me and pouring herself a coffee.

  “I’m sorry about last night, Lucy.”

  I buttered a slice of toast. “You mean Leonie’s friends?”

  “Yes. If I’d known who she was bringing I would have spoken to her about it. I gather you didn’t know?”

  “No. It was one of Leonie’s better surprises.”

  She said tentatively. “I may be wrong, but I thought Max was very angry last night.”

  “He was. He was furious. Apparently he wanted me for a bridesmaid and I had the bad manners to leave no forwarding address.”

  “Are you sure that was the reason?” Helena asked doubtfully.

  “Oh yes. Max has never been the most reasonable of men.”

  “Even so, it seems to be carrying things a bit far.…”

  “It is,” I said crisply.

  The frown was back. “ He couldn’t be simply a dog in the manger, could he?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not wanting you himself, but not wanting anyone else to have you. He spent most of the evening simply glowering at Steve.”

  “Even Max couldn’t be so petty. Anyhow, it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t care less about his reasons. Max is no longer my problem.”

  “If you say so,” she said, not sounding convinced. She lit a cigarette. “Try not to let Leonie provoke you. It isn’t worth it.”

  “I wouldn’t give her the pleasure,” I said truthfully.

  She grinned. “I don’t want any ill feeling either. I like a peaceful home.” She glanced at her watch. “ Good heavens, is that the time? I shall have to get a move on. David and John are catching the midday flight to London.”

  “I thought they were going to Lusaka?”

  “Not till the end of the week. They are meeting with the other members of the support committee in London first.”

  She hurried out of the room and I could hear her taking the stairs two at a time. Peggy popped her head round the door, saying cheerfully: “My, you’re an early bird after such a late night.”

  “I’m not the only one. Mrs Van de Naude is up as well.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. She’s regularly up as early as seven o’clock.” She hesitated, then curiosity got the better of her. “ Was that the young man you were engaged to? The one with the film actress last night?”

  “The very one,” I said dryly.

  “My, but he’s a good looking one, isn’t he? I said to Mario, fancy Lucy being engaged to the likes of him. Set a few heads turning last night. That Leonie.…”

  “It was Leonie that brought him.”

  “Did she now?” Peggy asked interestedly. “Well I never. Has she known him long?”

  “It appears so.”

  Peggy pondered on this thoughtfully, then said: “ I reckon you’re better off without him. A real ladies man. I said so to Mario. Handsome is as handsome does. Now, what you need is a nice, steady young man. Someone like Mr Patterson.…”

  There came the familiar tread of Ian Lyall’s footsteps approaching and I rose hastily, making a speedy exit through the French windows. The day would have to be a little older before I faced Ian Lyall.

  David Katjavivi, soberly dressed once more in Western clothes, stood beneath the pines, gazing out to sea. I was in sympathy with his desire to free his country, but seven-thirty was too early for a discussion on the future of Ovambia. Cowardly I tip-toed round the corner of the villa. I wanted no company. No inquisitive eyes. No curious questions. This morning I wanted to be alone.

  The sun was already warm, the sky cloudless. Ten minutes of energetic walking took me into splendid isolation. I crossed the headland and began to climb the rocky foothills at the far side of the mountain road. I had often seen Max angry, but never before with me, and never anything to compare with last night. The naked fury as he had looked across and seen me in Steve’s arms had been even worse than his rage in the study. But why should he be so angry with me? He had Claudette. Surely I was entitled to form new relationships, to find happiness of my own?

  The ground steepened, twisting up into the foothills, trees and shrubs closing in. A stream trickled down, carving a narrow bed between the high banks of maquis. The going was more difficult now, tumbles of stones blocking my way. I sat down, leaning against a rock, looking back the way I had come. Below me was the headland, thrusting out over the glittering sea, and on its tip the sun-bleached walls of the villa D’Este. From where I sat I could see the blaze of flowers in the courtyard and the pines that clustered the cliffs edge.

  I wondered how long Max would stay in Majorca. It couldn’t be for long. His racing schedule wouldn’t allow it. There was a flicker of movement in the courtyard and I narrowed my eyes against the brightness. Seconds later, the unmistakable red of the vehicle emerged from the gates and began its arduous crawl across the headland towards the road. Ian would be giving Danielle her lessons now, so the chances were it was Leonie going into Palma again to meet her boyfriend. I tugged at a clump of asphodel.

  On seeing who Leonie’s guests were I hadn’t stayed around long enough to be introduced to the boyfriend. I wondered if Steve had, and what he had been like. Not the possessive type by the way she had been flirting with Max. The car edged onto the pale ribbon of road that led through the mountains towards Palma. I heard the faint hum of the engine as it increased speed, then the morning was as still, as quiet, as before. I settled myself more comfortably against the buttress of warm rock and closed my eyes. I had slept precious little the previous night. The sun was hot on my face and strangely comforting.…

  I was awakened by the sound of another car bucketing from the rough grass of the headland onto the narrow road. This time it was the Van de Naude’s vehicle that skimmed away in the distance. I looked at my watch. Eleven o’clock. John Van de Naude and David Katjavivi being driven to the airport by Helena.

  Reluctantly I rose to my feet and began the long walk towards the villa. There was only Ian and myself for lunch and I was spared conversation with him because Peggy came in seconds after I had sat down, saying that Steve was on the telephone. Gratefully I left the table and went out into the hall.

  “Did I get you out of bed?” he asked cheerfully.

  “I’ve been up for hours.”

  “What are your plans for this afternoon? Anything special?”

  “I’m taking Danielle into Palma to have her hair cut.”

  “Great. I’ll meet you. There’s something I want to tell you.”

  “You sound very excited about it. What is it?”

  “Secrets. Where are you taking Danielle to have her hair cut?”

  “Juanita’s on the Parade Maritime.”

  “I’ll meet you there at three. By the way, could you ask Peggy if she has a photograph of Janet Grey?”

  “A what?”

  “You heard,” he said good naturedly. “ There’s no need to tell anyone else I want it.”

  “But I can’t just ask for a photograph of a dead girl without a reason!” I protested.

  “Say you want it for Danielle. Say anything.”

  “But why do you want it?”

  “Meet me at three and I’ll tell you,” he said tantalisingly. “Bye.”

  Puzzled I went back into the dining-room. Ian had already taken his coffee out onto the terrace and I was left in peace. When I had finished my lunch I strolled into the kitchen.

  “I wonder if you would do me a favour, Peggy?”

  “Of course, love. What is it?”

  “I wondered if perhaps you had a photograph of
Janet that I could borrow?”

  “Well now, let me see. There was the time we both went to Can Pastilla. I took some photographs that day. I’ll just go and have a look for them. Would you mind keeping an eye on my mayonnaise?”

  I stirred the mayonnaise, thankful for Peggy’s uncomplicated nature. She bustled back into the kitchen slightly out of breath.

  “Here it is. Whole lot of them. That’s one of me on the beach, and that’s Janet outside the shop where we bought some pottery.”

  The face that looked back at me from the photograph was half smiling, the eyes steady and firm. Her hair was fair, worn casually at jaw length, the ends flicking up wispily. It was a pleasant, dependable face. I knew as I looked at it, that I would have liked Janet Grey.

  Peggy’s eyes were moist. “ Pretty girl she was. Ever so good-natured.…”

  I said hastily: “Thanks a lot, Peggy. I’m taking Danny to have her hair cut this afternoon, we should be back about six.”

  With the photograph safely in my hand I went back to my room, putting it in my shoulder bag before looking for Danielle. She was in the garage with Mario, sitting on an upturned petrol can and chatting to him as he investigated the insides of his car.

  “Is it because it’s an old car that you love it?” she was asking interestedly. “ Mr Sam, my teddy-bear, is dreadfully old. Years and years, and I love him as well. Mummy says we should throw him away, that if she washed him he would fall to pieces, but I won’t let her. Does she say that about your car?”

  “She does say it’s falling to pieces,” Mario admitted with a grin.

  Danielle saw me and jumped to her feet. “ Goody, is it time to go to the hairdresser? I’m going to a proper ladies’ hairdresser,” she said proudly to Mario.

  He laughed. “ Don’t come back blonde like Miss Blanchard, will you?”

  “Silly,” Danielle giggled. “ Your hair only goes that colour when you’re old!”

  “Don’t let Miss Blanchard hear you say that,” Mario called after her as she skipped along by my side.

  “Steve is meeting us after you have had your hair cut,” I said, bundling her into the car.