He waited until the launch was underway, then, his big dark shape silhouetted on the quay, Gray Barrett turned and moved off.
Over the next few days Carol set herself about the task of keeping Stephanie occupied, with renewed vigour. Though she herself had returned glowing-eyed from the Venice trip she knew that the outing had been no more than a series of disappointments for the younger girl.
Often during that day, when they had been in the midst of the guided tour, Carol had noticed Stephanie trying to catch her uncle's eye, reaching out to take his arm, or chattering across the print in his guide book in an attempt to share his interest. But he had been as aware of her as he was the other thirty or forty-odd tourists around him.
Almost ashamed now of the wonderful day she had had herself, Carol was seized with a desire to give her attention wholeheartedly to her young charge. They romped on the beach, threw themselves around the tennis courts, sampled the pool, and tried every swing seat in the caf£s around the hotel.
The one gay adventure they couldn't indulge in any more was taking wine with their evening meal. They didn't know what orders Stephanie's uncle had given the staff, but no matter whether they sat on the dining terrace or in the indoor resturant, whenever they asked for the wine list the waiter always turned a smiling deaf ear and brought mineral water.
Carol didn't only make herself pleasant during the day. In the evenings too, upstairs in their rooms, she set herself out to be as entertaining as possible.
Lying on her bed, her chin on her elbows, Stephanie listened spellbound to Carol's stories describing the escapades of the various members of her family.
When that subject had been exhausted she went on, to describe the rest of the odd residents in their house. 'You ought to see Mrs Ritz,' she grimaced humorously one evening, rubbing the towel over her damp hair. 'She's an Austrian countess really, but she's been in England for years. She lives in the room next to the phone alcove and she hates being disturbed.'
'What does she do?' Stephanie asked, her brown eyes misty with interest.
'She paints,' Carol smiled, and hastened to add, 'Oh, her pictures are quite good, but she's terribly eccentric I She's fat and grey-haired and sometimes she goes about for days in a soiled old dressing gown, her hair standing on end like an old witch. We've seen her because her room has a door opening on to the garden at the back and she goes out and slings her tea-leaves across the lawn.'
They both laughed at this, then Carol went on, taking up the brush to her hair, 'But when she decides to go out you wouldn't believe she was the same person. She comes out of her room dressed very smartly— she wears a lot of deep purples and dark maroons—a little hat perched on her head, tripping out to the taxi she's ordered. The awful thing is she's got a fat old face and a big mouth and she will slash bright red lipstick right across it.'
Stephanie rolled on to her back in a fit of the giggles and Carol finished off musing, 'But she's really quite a dear. When she's in a good mood she asks my mother if she can take one of the younger children out for a treat, and they go to town and sit in the Cadena Cafe and drink hot chocolate.'
'I wouldn't fancy that,' Stephanie flopped back on to her elbows and pulled a face. Her eyes were washed with laughter as she asked, 'Are there are more weirdies?'
'The house is full of them,' Carol joked, sitting down at her dressing table. 'There's Miss Pitt. She lives on the first floor. She had an operation on her knee when she was younger and now she walks with a stiff leg. She's an awful busybody—she stands with her door open a few inches and listens to what's going on downstairs. And then there's Miss Gosling.' Twinkling, Carol fastened her hair in elastic bands. 'She's a retired nurse and she lives in the turret room at the top of the house. We hardly ever see her, but if she catches one of us along the road she talks and talks and we can never get away from her.'
And so the chat went on until both were sleepy and ready to turn out the lights for bed.
Neither expected to see Gray Barrett for at least another two weeks, so it was a surprise to them when he turned up one evening only ten days later.
They had just come from dinner and were going through into the lounge when they saw him talking at the reception desk. Stephanie gave a gasp of pleasure at the sight of him. Carol could only think that she must be smitten by the younger girl's high spirits. Why else should she feel something like a burst of sunshine inside her when she gazed on those stern tyrannical features?
Gray Barrett gave them only a cursory glance as they came up and Stephanie's happiness was soon deflated when she saw that he was in the middle of booking places for an excursion the following day.
'We're in luck,' he said as though he had left them only a couple of hours before. 'There's a steamer trip tomorrow to the islands in the lagoon. The trouble is,' he nodded to where Alberto the receptionist was talking on the phone in his rapid Italian, 'I'm having a job to get the tickets so late in the day.' He glanced at. his watch, decided it was time the girls were in bed and told them as they moved obediently towards the lift, 'Be down in good time for breakfast. We can sort out the details for the trip then!'The girls found out soon enough the next day what the details were. The steamer would be calling at the islands of Burano, Murano and Torcello, and their names plus Gray Barrett's had been included in with the usual contingent of tourists booked with the Albany Hotel.
As everyone lined up to be checked over before starting out Stephanie put on a brave face for what she considered a boring event. Carol felt for her, but she couldn't adopt her blasé attitude. She was thrilled to pieces at the idea of visiting the islands and she didn't care who knew it.
Unfortunately it was true that, once the day got underway, her excitement at the scenery tended to make her lose sight of her duties concerning Stephanie. Oh, she did try to mend her ways, several times! But there was always a breathtaking vista, or a fascinating commotion somewhere to take her mind off her work.
Luckily for her Gray Barrett didn't seem to notice her slipshod methods. Or if he did he was prepared to overlook them while he was pointing out to her in his gruff way some scene that she and Stephanie might have missed.
And what scenes there were! Sleepy meadows, and vineyards and salt water creeks. Peasant houses and antique churches and canals where one could walk through the tall grass and where there were only water insects and long-legged birds to break the silence.
The people of the islands were lean and handsome. Barefoot fishermen returned with their boats. Farmers tilled the muddy fertile silt from flat-bottomed dinghies. And there were the lace-makers, beautiful olive-skinned girls and black-robed wives working sedately over their hard melon-shaped cushions.
There was Romano's, the restaurant on Burano, and the mellow picturesque old buildings of Torcello, which Coral couldn't get enough of even when, at the close of the day, they sailed away leaving the medieval shapes shot with the red and gold of sunset.
After the steamer cruise Gray Barrett fell into the habit of dropping in at the hotel regularly once a week. Stephanie ceased to complain at the outings he arranged for her benefit. She was seeing more of him than she had ever expected to do, and though her happiness was dulled a little at having to share him with thirty or forty other trippers, it was at least apparent.
Carol was glad of this. She couldn't help being in the seventh heaven herself at seeing all there was to see around Venice. Often, to help Stephanie to appreciate the idea of travel, she would try and inject some of her own bubbling enthusiasm into the day. Sometimes it went amiss.
In Verona they were almost left behind by the coach when they explored the Roman arena. And they had to hurry to catch up to the others when they browsed too long in the arcaded streets of Padua.
Carol was always expecting the wrath of Gray Barrett to fall on her head, but as he was alongside them most of the time she liked to think it was as much his fault as hers if they got into a scrape. Perhaps he thought so too. In any case she didn't have to suffer the bite of his t
ongue too often, and she learned to laugh away the feel of his brown eyes with their strange flinty light resting on her during her carefree moments.
There was a varied assortment of guides to conduct these tours from the hotel. To Carol's disappointment they didn't see much of Aniello, for his territory was Venice.
However, one day towards the middle of August, their guide on the trip Gray Barrett had booked for, Bianca, a slim dark girl who always wore heavy sunglasses, was feeling unwell, so the grandiloquent little Italian stepped in to take her place.
It was only a short tour to an adjoining resort, for the main theme of the outing was to be the gala candlelight dinner and dance which followed, but Aniello being Aniello, he made the whole afternoon go with a - swing. When they returned to the Albany in the evening, everyone was in a mood to enjoy the rest of the festivities.
Carol and Stephanie were used to these gala dinners. As they had done several times before, they sat at their table one of dozens of them in the big splendidly festooned restaurant, and made their way through course after course of the finest Italian dishes. The candlelight added a touch of mystery to the scene and the waiters gliding about in maroon and gold jackets were typical of the ceremonial pomp of the Albany.
Carol had chosen a dusky blue dress in pleated nylon. Her hair, silvered by the sun, fell in strands on her shoulders as she bent over her plate. Stephanie's dress was a buttermilk cream and expensively simple. Gray Barrett was wearing his roll-collared dinner jacket.
The waiters would have been happy enough to go on serving all night, but eventually the courses came to an end. People began to transfer to the lounge.
Carol held her breath as they rose from their table. Though Gray Barrett had been in on these festivities before, this was the first time the gala dinner and the dance had coincided. She wondered if he would pack them off to bed as he usually did at this late hour. Perhaps Stephanie feared this too, for she boldly took his arm and led the way across to the lounge as though there was no question of her staying up with him until two or three o'clock in the morning. It looked as though her bluff had worked, for her uncle followed without a word, seemingly intent on finding seats for coffee.
Stephanie made sure she found some near where the dancing was going on; so near in fact that their suite of chesterfields and coffee table was almost on the edge of the dance floor. She settled herself down beside her uncle on the settee and nestled up to him, proud of the way she had used her feminine wiles.
There was no hope of keeping a section to oneself tonight. The hotel was crowded and in the lounge people were flopping down wherever it suited them. As the armchairs beside them were already occupied, Carol had to sit on the settee on the other side of Gray Barrett.
The hotel spared no expense when it came to the gala dance. Great sprays of flowers, streamers and balloons added colour to the already rich ddcor. In the golden glow, people crowded on to the dance floor. The orchestra played popular tunes, interspersed with lilting Italian melodies.
Most of the English-speaking guides were there, standing in a laughing group near by; Tullio, tall and studious-looking, who did the Padua and Choggia tours. Lorenzo and Vittorio who were responsible for the more distant excursions. Bianca was there, smiling but looking pale after her recent indisposition, and of course the diminutive Aniello, who, with his electrifying personality, always kept things on the move. This was his show tonight and he was making sure that everybody joined in the gaiety.
The two girls knew most of the guides at the hotel by this time. Likewise the guides knew all about Stephanie, here for the summer with her companion, and her uncle who came to visit her from time to time. This being the case, Gray Barrett was left undisturbed to drink his coffee and Stephanie was happily able to pour her chatter into his deaf ears.
But that was only until Aniello had got practically everyone on to the dance floor. Then there was no stopping him. Dapper in his somewhat well worn evening suit, he came sweeping up to their settee in his military fashion, and excluding his usual charm hailed them, 'Buona sera, Signor Barrett, signoras. Come vanno le cose? How are things?'
Firm friends since the Venice trip, the two men chatted pleasantly for a while before Aniello, looking suitably pained as he watched Gray Barrett pulling - lazily on his cigarette, exclaimed, 'But, signore! To sit at such a time! What a waste!' He turned and with the bunched tips of his fingers, threw a kiss expressively towards the orchestra. 'A waste of beautiful music. In Italy when we hear such a rhapsody we dance.'
As though encouraged by this display, a gentle-eyed Italian boy, standing near by, came up and shyly led Stephanie on to the floor.
At Aniello's whimsical expression Gray Barrett stubbed out his cigarette lengthily, then turned and drawled, 'What about it, Miss Lindley? Shall we risk it?'
Carol's heart flew into her throat at his suggestion. She had been sitting there, quietly enjoying the scene. Now, suddenly, her legs turned to water. Her dance with Gray Barrett? She couldn't.
But she did. A mass of stammers and blushes, she rose and allowed herself to be guided on to the crowded dance floor. Strangely enough from then on everything was all right. She found her height went well with his, and she wasn't as knotted up with shyness as she thought she would have been, when his arm came around her. If anything she experienced a feeling of snug security moving within the curve of his big shoulders amidst the crowd.
He danced as though he had been good at it at one time, but had long since forgotten those days. As she hadn't done an awful lot of it in her time, it was as well he was a little rusty.
She wasn't sure whether he stayed on the floor almost to the end of the dancing to oblige Aniello, or whether he found the music pleasant. Whatever the reason, Carol had no complaints. It was odd—she had been terrified of dancing with him. Now she found she didn't want to stop.
She was amazed to find it was after two when they finally drifted back to their seats. The hotel lounge had emptied considerably and there were only a handful of couples left on the floor. Stephanie was sitting all on her own in their section of chesterfields. Though she had danced as much as they had, Carol thought she looked a little forlorn sitting there waiting for her uncle to return.
His news when they reached her made Stephanie even more dejected. He looked at his watch, which was a sign that he thought it was time they were in bed, and told his niece, 'I won't make it back to Venice tonight. I'll have to go first thing in the morning.'
Stephanie's face became clouded with disappointment. 'But Gray! You only came at lunch time. Couldn't you stay another day?' she begged plaintively.
She didn't say, 'I've hardly seen you', but her eyes did, and Carol could understand the younger girl's disappointment. It was always the same. Her uncle rushed over from his work in Venice and booked a trip for her. The rest of the time she had to share him with the crowd of tourists, the guide, the places they went to. And when they returned to the hotel in the evening his mind was always on the work he had left behind in Venice, so that he was only half aware that his niece was there.
He said now in his usual brisk tones, 'I'm a working man, Stephanie. I give you what time I can spare.'
Despondently his niece led the way out of the lounge. Meekly, Carol accompanied her to the lift. Gray Barrett watched them go before preparing to return to his seat, perhaps to smoke a last cigarette.
Carol didn't know why she should have this compulsion to steal a glance back over her shoulder. When she did, it was to discover that his flinty brown gaze was still following her.
Her heart began to behave in a peculiar way as she quickly swung her glance to the front. Somehow she had the feeling that, like her, Gray Barrett was thinking of those moments tonight when they had danced together.
CHAPTER SEVEN
UPSTAIRS Stephanie was very quiet as they prepared for bed. They went through the usual ritual of scrubbing their faces, changing into night attire and tying up their hair, before the younger girl drifted into
Carol's bedroom and asked, out of the blue, 'Have you ever had a date with a boy?'
'Once or twice,' Carol smiled. 'I used to go out with a young man called Keith, when I was eighteen, but after a few weeks it fizzled out. I haven't bothered much since.' She turned from her mirror to twinkle, 'Why do you ask?'
Stephanie came back from her far-away world and shrugged off-handedly, 'Oh, I just wondered.' She gave Carol a haunted look, bade her goodnight and scuffed off to her room.
Carol gazed after her feeling inadequate, but thankful in a way that it hadn't developed into a long chat. They were both tired, and it was long past their bedtime. Besides, nursing a tiny glow inside she hurried to switch out the light and got herself settled between the sheets, she had lots of special little things she wanted to lie and think about.
They-were now in the hottest month of the Italian summer. The next day the sun shone down relentlessly, making the sea a diamond dazzle before the eyes, and the air around the hotel sluggish and sleep-inducing.
As Jhey drifted to and from the beach and hung around the pool in between meals, Carol put Stephanie's lethargic mood down to the heat. She was no more prepared for what she found upstairs in their - artment that evening after dinner than she would aave been if it had suddenly started to snow.
She had got into the habit of slipping downstairs in the evening whenever she wanted to draw money at the desk. Alberto the receptionist was less busy then and she found she didn't have to wait quite so long. Though the girls spent very little around the hotel they had been frequenting the swing-seated cafes quite a bit in the afternoons lately, and to save being short the following day, Carol decided on the spur of the moment to nip down and catch Alberto before he went off duty.
Across the Lagoon Page 10
