Summer Lightning

by Jill Tahourdin

  “Give me some coffee, Mark, my dear,” she added. “Black, and hot, and strong. It’s the only thing that does any good.”

  Gravely Mark handed her the coffee. Louise took it and piled sugar into it. She seemed to be waiting expectantly for adverse comments. She was a little on the defensive, perhaps expecting open criticism from Dominic. His bland politeness seemed to take the wind out of her sails. She eyed him warily. Then she laid herself out to be intelligent about what she was going to see at the dig. Chloe’s fears of a ruined morning began to die away. Louise is no fool, she thought, unaware that already Louise had paid her the same compliment.

  When she had finished breakfast, Chloe excused herself and went off to get her photographic paraphernalia, which she had left all ready in the library the night before.

  Films, filters, exposure meters, cameras, tripods, flashlight apparatus, notebooks—she checked them over again, then carried them out to the car. Nibblu helped her stow them in the trunk.

  “You must take a picture of Dominic and Mark and me when we get to the dig, Miss Linden,” Louise said graciously. “We’ll send it to the Prattler.”

  “Good lord, no,” Dominic protested. “We certainly won’t.”

  “Oh, but I insist. ‘Famous archaeologist Professor Dominic Vining, with his cousin Louise Carlyon, and friend, alongside his latest Stone Age discovery.’ It’ll be marvelous publicity for you, darling.”

  Dominic said nothing, even more eloquently than yesterday when they were entering Mdina’s splendid silence.

  Chloe didn’t have to look at Mark to know he was grinning delightedly again. She fancied he would be particularly enthralled by Louise’s “and friend.”

  At the dig, feverish work was in progress. A gang of men were burrowing into a long, tunnel-like passage leading downhill. The members of Dominic’s team were supervising or sorting piles of pottery, ornaments, bones, statues of grotesquely fat males and females, or making notes and sketches.

  Dominic made quick work of introducing them. Toby French, plump, bald and enthusiastic. Hugh Warren, a lean and canny Scot. Dr. du Plessis, a South African with a strong Afrikaner accent and a tough look to him. Harry Lemon, a friend of Mark’s Oxford days. Walter Fiennes, the oldest member of the team, and the only married man among them.

  Dominic didn’t give Louise time to go into action. He hustled his party without delay into the sanctuary. For Stone Age families it had been first a place of worship of their pagan gods and then a place of burial, he told them.

  Chloe looked around her with keen professional interest. She began assessing the problems involved in underground color photography. She started mentally planning her work, the scope of which Dominic had already explained. She saw that it was going to be very novel and exciting.

  They passed through a semicircular forecourt into a large chamber, elliptical in shape. This was divided by a central passage from a similar chamber.

  The passage led into other chambers. Dominic named them. The shrine of the presiding deity. The altar room for animal sacrifices. The place of the oracle...

  They stared in wonder at the vast blocks of stone that had been used in their construction—colossal slabs, tooled as precisely as dominoes, precisely fitted together.

  “And by people who didn’t know the use of metal tools,” Dominic said.

  “Fantastic. And what’s that booming, menacing noise—like a ghostly voice—all around us?” Louise wanted to know.

  “Actually, it’s my voice. The acoustics of this place are very strange indeed. In some way the male voice—though not the female—is magnified. The oracle had to sound superhuman, you see.”

  He halted at a flight of wide, shallow steps leading down into a lower set of chambers. A chalked notice said DANGER—NO ENTRY.

  “Down there are the chambers where they kept their treasure,” he said. “Now watch this.”

  He knelt down on one of the upper steps and pressed down heavily on one of those below him. At once it canted and rose smoothly on end.

  “That’s a trick step. It was meant to send intruders to their death.”

  They leaned over to peer at the wide hole, with blackness beneath it, that the raising of the step had revealed. “What a horrible idea,” Chloe exclaimed.

  But Louise thought it fascinating. “Show me how it works, Dominic.” He explained that it was done by counterweights, and she watched him press it back into place. “Fascinating,” she said again.

  They emerged at length, by way of a sloping stone ramp on a rocky terrace, fragrant with wild thyme, starred with tiny flowers. The main courtyard of the sanctuary was behind them. Opposite, the tiny island of Filfla rested lightly in the purple blue sea. Below, the gentle swell washed on the ledges of apricot cream rock.

  “The cliffs down there are honeycombed with caves. Perhaps when we get to exploring them, we may come across what they’ve found elsewhere—the skeletons of great Pachyderms, bears—extinct species. Humans, too.”

  “But surely pachyderms and bears never lived on Malta?” That was Chloe.

  “No, they came from Africa. Once this group of islands was joined to it, you see. The great beasts came to Marsa Xlogg for fresh water, we suppose. It’s...”

  “Oh, God, must we go into all that?” Louise broke in rudely. She couldn’t bear not to be the center of attention. And she was bored. “Can’t Miss Linden take our pictures now, for heaven’s sake?”

  Chloe looked at Dominic for guidance. He took Louise by the arm.

  “Sorry, my dear. No time for that now. Another day, perhaps.”

  “But I...”

  “Now—” briskly “—where would you like to go from here? Mark will drive you.”

  “I insist...”

  “He’ll bring the car back here for us, so you can feel free to do exactly as you like. We three won’t be back for lunch or tea. So enjoy yourself. Telephone Santa Clara whenever you want to go back, and Nibblu will send a car for you. So long.”

  His manner had such firmness that even Louise didn’t try to argue. In fact she was seated in the car with Mark, and on the move away from the dig, before she had recovered from her astonishment and sense of outrage. Dominic looked at Chloe. He grinned in boyish triumph. “And now, C. Linden—to work,” he said briskly.

  Chloe collected her impedimenta and followed him into the sanctuary. No doubt his new attitude to her meant nothing but that he was delighted to be rid of Louise. But her inner glow of happiness made nonsense of this cautious appraisal. She was convinced he liked her. It was a beginning...

  Mark, driving Felicia to her Mecca, the Felicia, wasn’t nearly so happy. They hadn’t gone far before she laid a long, slim hand, scarlet-nailed, on his arm. “Mark, sweetie.”

  He shot her a sideways glance of suspicion, which she met with a dazzling smile.

  “Listen, pet. Will you do a little thing for Louise?”

  “Depends what it is.”

  She held out a paper, but they were driving through a casal, and he couldn’t spare a glance.

  “What’s that?”

  “My account from the hotel, pet.”

  “Very interesting.”

  “They let me go without settling it when I gave Dominic’s name.”

  “Oh. They did, did they? Courteous of them.”

  “Fix it for me, will you, sweetie? And explain to Dominic.”

  Mark frowned.

  “Explain what?”

  “The situation. Financial. Tell him that of course I instructed my bank, before I left England, to transfer my account to their branch in Valetta. But the idiots have let me down. Nothing has arrived. Not a sou.”

  “Very odd. Perhaps I’d better send them a telegram and find out what went wrong?”

  “Oh, no, darling, don’t do that. I’ve written myself by airmail,” Louise said hastily. “I’m furious with them.”

  “But didn’t you bring travelers’ checks?” Mark persisted. He felt there was something very fishy about Loui
se’s story. Banks didn’t let one down. More likely she’d cleaned out her account and there was nothing to transfer.

  “Of course. Only the bridge and poker stakes on board got pretty high, and my luck was out. To tell you the truth, I’m broke. You might persuade Dominic to stake me till my money arrives, pet.”

  “How much?”

  She flicked her extravagant lashes at him, but he was looking at the road ahead.

  “Shall we say two hundred fifty, poppet?”

  “I’ll mention it to Dominic,” Mark said austerely. Poppet, indeed! And two hundred fifty—just like that. She’s got a nerve, he thought with strong disapproval.

  “My dear, don’t you think it’s a very good thing I came out when I did?” She was ready to change the subject now she had made her point. “This girl, I mean.”

  “You mean Miss Linden?”

  “Who else?”

  “What about her?”

  “Of course she’s wangled this job deliberately. Hoping to catch him, wouldn’t you think? The eligible Professor Vining. That story about having taken some boyfriend’s place is too transparent, isn’t it? I wormed it out of Dominic—couldn’t imagine he’d willingly have engaged a female to work for him. He must have been furious.”

  “If he was, he isn’t any longer. He realizes she knows her job. I bet her work is first class,” Mark said with emphasis.

  “Really?” She wasn’t interested in Chloe’s ability. “Would you call her attractive?”

  “Extremely. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Including Dominic?” Louise’s voice was sharp.

  “Surely. He’s a man.”

  The blue green eyes flashed.

  “Has he told you his opinion of her?”

  But Mark had had enough.

  “Hadn’t you better ask him yourself?” he snapped.

  Louise’s eyes narrowed, but she laughed and laid a placating hand on his arm.

  “There, ducky, don’t be cross. I hadn’t realized you’d fallen so hard for her. Well, go ahead and have fun, pet.”

  “Thank you very much,” Mark said savagely. “And here we are at the Felicia. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and fix up this unpaid bill of yours.”

  “Bless you, honey. And later on, when you’ve opened that account for me at the bank—Dominic won’t mind, you know, you can tell him I told you to do it—you may come back and I’ll buy you a nice cold martini.”

  But Mark had gone.

  Louise smiled maliciously as she crossed the foyer and made her way out to the courtyard with the tables and umbrellas.

  A puppy, she thought, but he'll soon come to heel. And he’ll be useful for heading Dominic off this Chloe Linden...

  Chloe was dog tired when they returned to Santa Clara that evening.

  She had had a fascinating day, but the work had been difficult and at times strenuous. She had had no conception, till she began to scramble around them, of the immense scope of the excavations.

  She had spent the morning taking notes. Then she had shared a picnic lunch with the team. They had been friendly but casual, treating her as a working unit, like themselves. That had pleased her a lot. She hoped Dominic had noticed. She was still smarting a little from his earlier strictures.

  During the day she had watched him at work and thought him an ideal leader. He was tactful with the team, kind but firm with the labor. He was familiar with every inch of ground, every detail of the work. She could see how both team and labor admired and liked him.

  She recalled moments when he had helped her over a rough and dangerous place, or laughed with her at something amusing, or made helpful, knowledgeable suggestions when she struck some snag.

  It’ll be enough just to work with him. It’ll be all I want, she thought. She didn’t let herself wonder if it would always be enough...

  As she passed the door—ajar as usual—of Mrs. Vining’s room on her way to her own, the old lady’s harsh, imperious voice called out, “Is that you, Chloe Linden? Come in and talk to me for a little while.”

  Chloe sighed. She longed for a hot soak, to rid herself of the day’s dust and sweat, a rest on her bed, fresh makeup, clean clothes.

  Reluctantly she walked into the vast, dim bedroom, and summoned a smile.

  “Good evening, contessa. How are you today?”

  “No better, no worse, my dear. Don’t let us talk about my wretched health. It’s a boring topic, anyway. Tell me about yourself. You spent the day with my son?”

  “At the dig. Yes.”

  “Did you enjoy it?” The restless, brilliant eyes were fixed on her with that avid, disconcerting stare. With an effort Chloe went on smiling.

  “It was terribly interesting,” she said.

  “Hmph. Interesting! But was it exciting, being with Dominic? My son is handsome, cultured, attractive, surely. Did you enjoy his company? His conversation? Were you happy together?”

  For the first time doubt of Mrs. Vining’s sanity entered Chloe’s mind. Surely a sane person wouldn’t talk in this extraordinary manner?

  “We were working. Any conversation was about our work—there was no time...” she stammered.

  “I asked if you were happy.” The strong fingers were gripping her wrist now, hurting her.

  “I enjoyed every minute of it,” she said with desperate honesty. “It was all new to me, you see. The temple is wonderful, incredible. I’d never imagined ... And Professor Vining knows so much—he makes the past live...” Chloe could see that wasn’t at all what the contessa wanted to hear from her. Now she had turned sulky.

  She snapped, “Please don’t bore me by talking of my son’s work. It is his heart with which I am concerned. Does he seem to like you? Do you think he finds you attractive? Does he seem pleased in your company? Did he...?”

  Chloe felt she could stand no more. “Will you please excuse me now, contessa?” she broke in. “It was kind of you to talk to me. But I must go now to bath and change. It’s very hot and dusty on the dig, you know. And it’s been a long day.”

  “Oh, very well, very well. In a moment you shall go. But you must come and see me often. I want to be kept informed how things are going, you understand.”

  Her grip tightened on Chloe’s wrist. “Do you understand?”

  Chloe was afraid she understood only too well. She could only hope Mrs. Vining hadn’t made her wishes plain to Dominic. She loved him, but she didn’t fancy being flung at him in this wholesale fashion.

  “I saw her today,” the old lady went on. “Louise. She dared to come and visit me here, without an invitation. I told her just what I thought of her, coming here, forcing her unwanted company on us.”

  With a harsh chuckle she went on, “I made it plain I knew why she had come—because she wants Dominic— means to have him. But I sent her away angry. I told her Dominic was hardly likely to look at her, with a young and beautiful girl like yourself here, ready to fall into his arms—”

  “Contessa!” Chloe tore her wrist free. Her face flamed. The old lady cackled shamelessly; her dark eyes seemed to snap with delight as she remembered Louise’s fury and discomfiture.

  “No good your looking shocked, my dear. I like you. I think you would do very well for Dominic. In fact, I’m going to see you married to him—and the sooner the better. I’ll make sure he’s safe from her, and that there’ll be sons to carry on the family name. I’ll do it if it’s the last thing I do before I die,” she finished, with the arrogance inherited from a long line of noble ancestors. She didn’t ask whether Chloe wanted to marry her son. She didn’t consider Chloe at all, except as an agreeable vehicle for her plans...

  Chloe sought for words to express her feelings but before she could get a single one out, footsteps approached the door, halted. The door opened.

  Her color rose again, uncontrollably, as Dominic came into the room. Her heart began to race, her breath to come faster. Nothing in her previous experience had prepared her for these disconcerting physiological discomforts of love.


  Dominic bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.

  “Well, mother—what is this last thing you are going to do before you die?” he asked fondly, with a quick smile—a sort of plea for understanding and tolerance—at Chloe.

  But Chloe didn’t dare wait to hear his mother’s reply. She smiled back at him, fleetingly, and almost ran from the room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The days began to slip by in a smooth routine.

  Chloe rose early—though not as early as Dominic and Mark, who often breakfasted at the dig. After her own breakfast of coffee, crusty rolls, honey and fruits she followed then in the small Austin Dominic had offered for her use.

  It was delightful, driving across the country in the early morning. The Judas trees, pyramids of purple bloom, were in flower along the roadsides. The fields were turning green with the young crops. The warm southern air caressed her skin, she had a sense of extreme well-being.

  She soon learned her way through the casals along the road to the dig. The people in them got to know her and her little car, and would wave as she passed. Children ran alongside as she navigated cautiously, watching out for the cats, mongrel dogs and toddlers littering the narrow alleys. They offered her bright flowers that had wilted in their hot little hands. “Sahha—goodbye,” they called as she left the casal.

  At the dig she worked steadily—and usually alone. She wondered, with wry amusement, if she had to thank Dominic for that. No fraternizing, she thought.

  “We never see you,” Toby French complained.

  “Just as well, I’m awfully forbidding when I’m working,” she told him with a laugh.

  “So long as you don’t forbid me—”

  She laughed again, but he could see she didn’t mean to waste time on him. He sighed gustily. It was a tragedy to be bald and plump and have the soul of a romantic where a pretty girl was concerned...

  Chloe was taking black and white pictures, as well as color transparencies, of the selected subjects.

  She developed these herself, later in the day, in the little darkroom behind the paneling in the library. The color films went to London by airmail for processing, and would be flown back at once for Dominic’s approval.