Unfortunately there were quite a few people, all hoping like her to catch the receptionist at a quiet time, so that it was something like half an hour later before she got back upstairs.
She expected to find Stephanie in one of the little cotton negligees that she wore, padding about between the balconies and revelling in the cool night air, which was their practice at this hour of the day.
She couldn't have been more mistaken.
Seeing that the main room was empty, she drifted smilingly into the younger girl's bedroom all prepared to relate her adventures downstairs. She got as far as the door when she was pulled up short by the sight inside.
Stephanie was wearing a tight white dress, one of those garments which Carol had tried to discourage her from buying in the London store. From somewhere she had found a pair of shoes with a small stiletto heel, and her hair she had piled into a dark froth on the top of her head. But this wasn't the worst part. Her face she had made into a coloured mask.
Bright green eye-shadow now surrounded the lovely brown eyes, which she had lined with dark pencil. Her honey-gold complexion was lost under a scaly film of peach make-up and her lips were painted a dark red.
Stephanie had always had a penchant for browsing amongst the make-up in the shops around the hotel. - She bought oddments as a fifteen-year-old will do, simply because she liked the look of the case or the bottle, then just as soon forgot them.
Carol had smiled to herself at these first signs, common in all schoolgirls, of wanting to hasten the process of growing up. But she wasn't smiling now. Put to use, these paints and powders had done their job. With her classic features and air of confidence Stephanie could easily have passed for a twenty-year-old.
With a touch of the family imperiousness she coolly ignored Carol's gaze on her and continued to drop oddments into a small handbag.
Her heart turning cold, Carol asked, 'Where are you going?'
'Out,' came the nonchalant reply.
'Like that?' Carol said abruptly.
'Well, what's wrong with me?' There was something like flippancy in the tones.
'You look cheap and horrible,' Carol said flatly. It wasn't quite true, for Stephanie's air of breeding was such that even her awful get-up wasn't enough to stifle it completely.
Taking no notice of the remark, the girl tossed her head and said, 'So?'
Carol could see she was making no headway. She watched the other girl and considered uncertainly, 'I suppose we can go down into the hotel lounge for a while, if you want to.'
'I'm sick of the hotel.' Stephanie snapped her handbag shut and turned with an air of finality.
Stifling her fear, Carol asked steadily, 'Well, where did you have in mind?'
'Oh, down the Strada,' Stephanie said carelessly, making for the door.
The main road? At this time of night?
Paling slightly, Carol thought furiously as she wondered what she could do. It would be ridiculous to try and stop Stephanie by force, and she doubted whether she would have had much success anyway. She considered locking the door and withholding the key, but this was no good because Stephanie, in the habit of tripping back and forth constantly from the beach, had by this time procured one of her own.
Carol looked on helplessly. She had to do something, so as the younger girl opened the door, she grabbed her handbag and said shakily, 'Hang on. I'll come with you.'
Stephanie sailing off along the corridor had that expression which said she didn't care either way. Locking the door hurriedly Carol followed quickly behind. It occurred to her as they went down in the lift that she might be doing the wisest thing in letting Stephanie have her own way. Once they were out she would probably see it was a dangerous game she was playing and be only too glad to get back to the security of the hotel.
Thankfully the foyer was only partially lit and the night receptionist was tucked away in his little cubicle at the back somewhere. Heaven knows what he would think, or any other member of the hotel staff for that matter, if they saw the redoubtable Englishman's niece going out looking like this. Thinking of Gray Barrett Carol's nerves stretched a little tighter. She shuddered to think what would happen if he ever found out about this.
She didn't really breathe freely until they were outside and well clear of the hotel grounds. She had had no time to think about her appearance. Luckily the simple cotton dress she was wearing was adequate for the hot night.
Within a few minutes they were amongst the crowds in the main Strada. They had seen its domestic bustle in the mornings and sampled its lazy air in the after-noon, but nothing compared with the sight of it at night time.
The forecourts of the shops and cafes were ablaze with lights. Discotheques rocked with sound. The ice cream bars were full. There were kiosks selling canned beer, and stalls displaying curved portions of melon and pieces of coconut cooled under tinkling fountains of water.
Most of the cafes had an open floor-show of some kind going on, usually a group of teenage musicians playing electrified pop music which assaulted the ears, or a mature handsome type, crooning Italian love songs into a microphone.
Cars honked, scooters swerved and buses trundled past wine shop fronts cluttered with basketwork bottles of every shape and size. Stalls piled with leather goods, rugs, copperware, jewellery and fruit were offered to the stream of late night humanity spilling over the sidewalks. Sunbronzed holidaymakers mingled with white- suited American sailors and the pom-pom-hatted French. There were girls, olive-skinned and dark-haired, and tall blue-eyed Scandinavians.
Carol stuck close to Stephanie as they moved along in the hectic rush. She had never before had so many smiling young men coming at her all at one time. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes twinkled into hers and hung on to her gaze as they loomed in and slowly passed by. The accents expressing the usual nocturnal endearments were just as varied, and masculine ego ran high.
Out of all the nationalities who cheerfully accosted them, the Italian male was the least subtle. The men would breeze up in their tight-fitting suits using the little English they had learned in an engagingly pedantic way. 'How do you do I I'm delighted to meet you. Allow me to introduce my friend...
Though they were devastatingly attractive Carol could ^ee beyond the playful light in their luminescent dark eyes. She smiled her way past the lot of them, her arm tightly linked in Stephanie's. She was convinced that their pawing flattery would be enough to put the younger girl off and that soon they would be scurrying back to the safety of the hotel. She couldn't have been more wrong.
Stephanie's eyes were shining. She was soaking up all this overwhelming attention like a lost puppy who had suddenly been claimed. Left to her, the girls would have had half the Lido Romeos after them. As it was they were surrounded by at least half a dozen when Stephanie stopped outside a pulsing discotheque and said gaily, 'Let's go in there.'
Carol was horrified, but she was shouted down by the group's impetuosity. 'Si, si! Presto, presto!' and everyone rushed forward to pay. She only hoped that the sign flashing over the doorway, The Devil's Den, was a name and nothing more.
Inside, the decor certainly resembled something grotesque, and packed tight on a small dance floor, couples writhed in an eerily changing green and red glow. The music was such that even shouting it was impossible to hear oneself above it.
Carol wanted to coax Stephanie into leaving as soon as they had ditched their hangers-on, but the younger girl gave no sign of having noticed her subtle gestures and laughingly allowed herself to be escorted into the shaking mass of dancers. Someone with a charming smile was forcing Carol on to the floor too. However, she firmly stood her ground and pointedly ignoring the rest of the Romeos, manoeuvred herself round to a small bar. It was necessary to buy a drink to discourage the attentions of other would-be partners. She ordered a lemonade and kept her gaze fixed on Stephanie.
She had no idea how long she stood there. The music was shattering, the smoke stifling. Her head throbbed at the flashing lights. Her
eyes ached from the strain of keeping tabs on Stephanie. In contrast to the nightmare experience she was going through the younger girl was revelling in the madness. She danced with anyone who asked her and gave herself willingly to their smooth embraces. Despite her gaudy make-up and ill-fitting dress, in the swirling green lights she radiated a kind of tawdry beauty which attracted the men rather than the boys. They obviously thought she was no more than a couple of years younger than themselves.
The only thing that Carol had to be grateful for was that the music, or to be more precise, the racket, was non-stop, and so was the dancing. Stephanie, enjoying herself no end, stayed on the floor the whole of the time. She had spotted Carol and gave her a wave from time to time.
The problem would be when the music stopped. It obviously couldn't go on all night. Around three o'clock when she had peered at her watch for the tenth time, there was a gradual winding down of the performers on the stage. People began to drift towards the doors.
Stephanie came towards her at last, but not alone. She had several escorts all smilingly playing for her attentions. Feeling like a formidable matron aunt or a strait-laced older sister, Carol took charge. She threw an arm round Stephanie's shoulders and bundled her towards the door.
She never knew whether the taxi driver took pity on her predicament, or whether her resolute expression forced him to a stop. Whatever the case she hustled Stephanie inside and slammed the door, offering a sweet smile to soothe the injured vanity of the masculine element outside. Then voicing their destination with a touch of the Barrett imperiousness she took her seat and they were off swerving and squealing this way and-that, Italian style, along the now deserted Strada.
At the Albany Carol paid the driver and took Stephanie's arm. The grounds of the hotel were all in darkness. The girls crept through the dimly-lit foyer and up the stairs. Carol turned the key in the lock as quietly as she could, feeling a rush of relief as they stepped inside the apartment. In the darkness they stole away to their rooms.
Later, lying in bed, Carol was re-living the awful night when her bedroom door, slightly ajar, was pushed open. In the shadows Stephanie appeared looking radiant. Her demure little self now in her nightdress, face scrubbed, dark hair trailing, she came tripping up to the bed. 'Goodnight, Carol.' She bent to drop a kiss on her cheek, then turning floated out again.
The following day no mention was made of their adventure. Stephanie hummed a tune to herself as they prepared for the beach, and Carol, thankful that the escapade was now behind them, was prepared to let the matter drop. After all, no harm had been done and Stephanie had at least satisfied her curiosity as to what went on outside the life of the hotel.
They swam and soaked up the sun and enjoyed the meals on the dining terrace. In the evening they sat for coffee in the lounge and watched the comings and goings of the other guests. It was after eleven when they went upstairs.
In the apartment Carol couldn't decide whether to wash her hair or sit out on the balcony in the velvet warmth of the night. Beyond the gardens one could just see the faint white ruffle of the incoming waves and hear their whispered sighs.
Stephanie would help her to make up her mind. She hummed snatches of an Italian song as she drifted towards the young girl's bedroom. She was feeling good after her day out of doors. She waltzed into the lighted bedroom, the question she was about to ask dying on her lips as her gaze fell on Stephanie before the mirror.
Clad in a white skirt and gaudy emerald green blouse which was a little too big for her, she had piled up her hair into an amateurish-looking chignon and was just putting the finishing touches to the green eyeshadow.Carol's heart bumped hollowly as she asked, 'Where' are you going?'
'To the Devil's Den,' Stephanie replied carelessly.
'Not again!' Carol tried to inject a hardness into her tones.
'I like it there. Why shouldn't I go?' came the airy reply.
'Because it's seedy and horrible,' Carol snapped.
'You wouldn't find it so if you danced like I did. But please yourself if you don't want to come.'
Stephanie picked up her handbag and strolled out. Carol watched her go, helplessly. Apart from handcuffing her to the bed she didn't know what she could do. She could ring Gray Barrett, of course, but he wouldn't thank her for disturbing him. She was expected to know how to handle his niece.
Feeling weak and incompetent, she grabbed up her handbag and hurried after Stephanie. Outside on the Strada she quickly waved down a taxi. She had learned a few tricks from last night. They made their way slowly through the throng spilling over the sidewalks, but they arrived at the Devil's Den minus the smiling Romeos, out in force along the way.
The noise inside was just as punishing as last night. Stephanie moved on to the dance floor at the first offer. Carol, ignoring the pawing hands and over-friendly smiles around her, pushed her way to the bar and took up her post.
For the next three hours she wore herself out, standing and keeping an eye on Stephanie. When the cacophony died down and the group finally left the stage, she hustled the younger girl towards the door and stopped an oncoming taxi. At least if it never got any worse than this she could cope. And perhaps Stephanie would quickly tire of the frenetic night life. But this was too much to hope for. She went to the Devil's Den the following night and the night after that.
By this time Carol was learning to relax a little. As she stood watching Stephanie on this their fourth consecutive session in the nefarious cave of flashing lights and weird music, she thought she understood a little the reason for the younger girl's unseemly behaviour.
Stephanie had had no real contact with her parents in five years. When she wasn't at school she was either farmed out with obliging friends, or left with an uncle who was too busy to notice her. When she had been younger she had accepted her lonely existence without question. But now she was growing up and she was learning that there were other ways of seeking the affection she craved.
Carol watched the small figure in her tight white skirt and green blouse, laughing in the midst of the crush around the stage. It was true, with her gaudy make-up and her frothy hair-style, the results of Stephanie's efforts to appear grown up were pretty awful, and she was too naive yet to guess what was behind the men's smiles, who held her so tight. But she was probably happier now than she had been in the whole of her fifteen years.
Shifting her weight on her aching legs, Carol looked at her watch. It was almost two-thirty. She blinked her tired eyes and waited for the music to come to an end. Thank heavens they could sleep in, in the morning. Breakfast at the Albany went on until ten o'clock and she had taken to catching up with her rest by snoozing at the beach in the afternoons. She was beginning to feel quite ancient with all this late-night gallivanting about.
The music crashed to a finish at last and Stephanie, looking as fresh as when it had started, drifted across the dance floor.
'Over here, Stephanie,' Carol called, giving her a wave. As they moved towards the door she smote the smiling, smouldering-eyed Romeos who clustered around them with her haughty gaze, and bustled Stephanie before her outside.
Her heart leapt when she saw they were going to be all right for transport. She always had a horror of the taxis all being full or non-existent and the two of them having to walk back to the hotel along the darkening Strada. Thankfully she bundled Stephanie into the taxi that drew up. She slammed the door after them and relaxed once again.
Within a few minutes they were stepping out at the gaunt starlit bulk of the Albany and treading softly through the shadowy lit foyer towards the stairs. Growing used to sneaking in at this hour, they relaxed once they were outside their own rooms. Carol even giggled along with Stephanie as she opened and closed the door softly behind them. Her relief to be back was, as usual, overwhelming.
In the darkness they scuffled along to their bedrooms. They bumped into oddments of furniture along the way and in the confusion giggled their goodnights to one another. They had almost reached their r
espective doors when there was a sharp snick. The room was suddenly flooded with light and they froze in the presence of Gray Barrett.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SEATED in an armchair next to the light switch, his steely brown gaze trained on them, his voice was deceptively calm as he asked, 'And how long, may I ask, has this been going on?'
The girls were rocked at the sight of him. Carol's terrified glance noticed the night air drifting in from the balconies, the ash tray beside the armchair, half filled with cigarette ends.
As though he followed the workings of her mind he rapped, 'I've been here since eleven-thirty. Carlo at the desk saw you go out at eleven o'clock.'
Carol winced at his words. With bright pink cheeks she looked down at her shoes. What could she say without telling tales? She had no wish to get Stephanie into trouble, but obviously the girl's uncle expected some kind of explanation. She was racking her brain to try and think of some feasible story, when Stephanie, showing that she had no wish to be protected, spoke up with, 'It was my idea, Gray. I wanted to go somewhere different from the hotel, and it's my fault that we were out so late.'
'I'll speak to you when you've cleaned that stuff off your lace,' he silenced her witheringly.
That left Carol. She still hadn't got over the shock of finding him here. Tonight was Friday. It had been only Monday night when they had danced together at the gala dinner. How was she to know that he would come back again so soon?
Under his stringent gaze she blurted out feebly, 'Your niece is very strong-willed…I tried to discourage her from going out late at night, but she didn't want to listen, so ... well…'
He sliced off her ramblings with, 'And where, might one ask, have you been spending your time?'
'At the Devil's Den,' Stephanie spoke up beside her.
There was a grinding pause before he rasped, 'I've heard of it. And what I've heard I don't like.' His face was wooden. All his anger seemed to be directed at Carol, even though his niece had openly admitted that she was the culprit. Carol supposed it must be because she was the one he had left in charge. Or perhaps he suspected she was a willing party in their search for dubious night life.
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