A small muscle flexed in his jaw as he questioned her icily, 'Do I take it that this has been going on ever since I left?'
'Yes,' admitted Carol weakly. For long enough she listened to the wild pounding of her heart. The only other sound in the room was Gray Barrett's tightly inhaled breath. At long last he removed his moody gaze from her and swung it on to his niece.
He took another deep breath and hunched forward „ in his chair to fire at her menacingly, 'Now you listen to me, Stephanie. Any more of this kind of behaviour and you'll have me to answer to. Do you understand?'
'Yes, Gray,' came the whispered reply.
'I will not have you behaving like a common trollop, and certainly not in a foreign country,' he bombasted bitingly. 'And as from now I forbid you, absolutely, to go to this ... this Devil's Den. Is that clear?'
'Yes, Gray,' came the quiet answer.
Shaking in her own shoes, Carol stole a look at Stephanie to see how she was standing up to the lashing. Strangely enough she didn't seem at all cowed by the dressing down she was being given, but more—well, somehow elated. It was as though she was saying to herself, there was her uncle, who was always too busy or preoccupied to notice her, actually addressing her and no one else. He was actually seeing that he had a niece, and that she could get up to mischief. The young girl's eyes held a new light. To Carol she looked, oddly enough, exhilarated at having stumbled on a way to gain her uncle's attention.
Stephanie let a long pause elapse and then asked with feminine guile, 'Have you come to stay for long, Gray?'
'On the contrary, I was merely making a flying visit,' he said sternly. He didn't look at Carol now as he added, 'However, it seems to me that my presence is needed here. I shall give Venice a ring in the morning and tell them I won't be in for a day or two.'
'Yes, Gray,' Stephanie said gravely over her delight.
Hfc-gave her a steely look and told her sharply, 'Now go and wash that muck off your face and get to bed. Heaven knows, it's late enough.'
Stephanie nodded obediently and turned towards her room,. She glanced back to sneak him a smile, 'Goodnight, Gray,' then switching on the light in her bedroom she closed the door behind her.
Carol stood where she was, waiting to be dismissed. Gray Barrett rose to his impressive height and began to collect his oddments from the table, cigarette case, lighter. There was a wrapped package alongside them which she hadn't noticed before. He picked it up and, while her heart was still banging, he gave it to her, saying in a gruff off-handed way, 'You wanted to take one of these things back with you, I believe.'
Flabbergasted, Carol took the parcel from him. Slowly, completely mystified, she began to unwrap it. Then there before her eyes was a glass figurine. It was the reproduction of a seventeenth-century troubadour complete with stringed instrument. His colourful clothes caught the light at all angles.
'Oh!' Carol's eyes shone with pleasure as she stared at it. Forgetting to be terrified, she gasped, 'It's ... just beautiful!'
She removed her starry gaze at last and let it fly to Gray Barrett. But she felt that to express her thanks would only embarrass him. He was watching her, but turned away when their glances met to say in his brusque manner, 'I happened to be in St Mark's Square today. It's the only place to buy these things.'
Energetically he patted his pockets to check that he had everything, then making for the door he told her, 'I'll see myself out.'
A second or two later she heard the door close behind him.
Carol gazed in wonder again on the figurine before carefully wrapping it back in its paper. It was fairly fragile, so she would have to take care of it. A good place to save it from getting knocked would be at the back of the top shelf in her wardrobe. Switching off the lounge light, she went straight to her room and packed it away.
Completely shattered by the night's events, she wasted no time after that in getting between the sheets.She could hear Stephanie still moving about between her room and the bathroom. Before switching off the lights the younger girl pushed open her door and - tripped up to her bed. She dropped a kiss on her cheek, her small face glowing, and said gaily, 'Goodnight, Carol. Hasn't it been a wonderful day?'
Had it? Carol watched the girl prance out again feeling utterly confused. They certainly hadn't expected the big bad uncle to appear tonight, that was for sure. Her own face was still a little flushed when she thought of Gray Barrett and those few moments in the lounge, just now.
She had a funny feeling that he had made the trip over just to bring her the figurine. But that was ridiculous. Wasn't it?
The next morning the sun smiled down in happy ignorance of the disastrous happenings of the night before. Stephanie, looking docile, followed her uncle ; into breakfast alongside Carol, who was equally subdued.
They spent the morning in the circular garden adjoining the pool. Gray Barrett read his London newspaper. The girls sat demurely each reading a book. After lunch, for a change of scene, they went to the beach. A surprising thing happened. Though still in his town suit, Gray Barrett walked over the sand with them and sat down on a sun bed. The August heat was terrific, and soon, even under the shady umbrella, he had to discard his tie and his jacket.
Carol couldn't help noticing how much more relaxed he looked in his white open-necked shirt, his brow puckered against the sun. Stephanie was openly delighted. Her uncle had never sat with them on the beach before. Admittedly he had his newspaper with him, but it was as yet unopened.
The whole eight miles of the Lido was crowded that summer afternoon. The Albany stretch of beach had its own quota of Italian families and various other nationalities.
The two girls went for their usual swim, then splashed around at the edge of the water for a while before making their way back to dry off. For some time now Carol had taken to wearing a bikini so that practically the whole of her body was a smooth golden brown. Her hair, bleached by the sun, tumbled in silver strands around her throat. Though she gave no sign of it as she padded over the sand, she was well aware of the appraising glances of the dark-eyed, handsome Italian bathers. They seemed to like her slim statuesque build. She had no idea that she walked with a graceful motion.
Something else which she was ignorant of until they arrived back laughingly to grab their towels was Gray Barrett's dour look. As she began to pat herself off he picked up his paper and said into it, testily, 'Have the goodness to dress a little more adequately when you're on the beach with my niece, Miss Lindley.'
Carol blushed under her towel. Lots of girls on the beach were wearing bikinis. That was why she had thought nothing of her own sparse garment. And anyway, Stephanie, drying herself off some distance away, was wearing a bikini, and he hadn't said anything to her.
Needless to say, the three of them dined formally in the big stately restaurant that evening. Afterwards they took coffee in the lounge. At eleven o'clock Gray Barrett decided it was time the girls were in bed. Since he could see their rooms if he chose to stroll outside, they didn't hang about. By eleven-thirty all their lights were out. As she lay listening to the distant pandemonium of the Strada, Carol couldn't help twinkling to herself. It was good to tell that Gray Barrett was in residence at the hotel.
The following morning Stephanie was very daring. Instead of filing meekly into the restaurant she took her uncle's arm and pleaded impulsively, 'Oh, it's such a gorgeous day! Couldn't we sit outside?'
Gray Barrett, surprisingly enough without his suit jacket this morning, sighed heavily, 'If you insist.' But. Carol thought she saw a gleam of tolerance in his eyes.
It was fun out on the dining terrace. In the dappled shade of the chestnut trees, beneath a bluer than blue sky, they carved their rolls and passed marmalade and jam back and forth. Stephanie was full of girlish chatter. Even her uncle's brow seemed to pucker more in a quizzical way than in a frown, as knives clattered and cups were accidentally knocked.
After breakfast, following the routine of the previous day, they went to sit in the garden
to read. Presently, however, Stephanie became fidgety. After a whispered consultation with Carol she approached her uncle. 'Carol and I would like to go for a game of tennis,' she told him, waiting for his permission.
'All right.' He folded his newspaper which seemed to hold little interest for him this morning, and added with a slight bark. 'Get me a racquet too. I could do with some exercise.'
Stephanie's eyes became large and round. 'Are you going to play?' she asked delightedly.
'I'm not that ancient, child,' he said drily, rising to his feet. 'I dare say I'll manage to keep you two on the move.'
He did too. Though he played as he danced, a little rustily, as though he hadn't done it for a long time, he had an athletic approach, and his serves were fairly powerful.
Carol was too shy to play much at first. She let Stephanie have the run of the court on their side, stepping in only occasionally to lob a ball back when it got too hot for the younger girl. But she had been fairly good at tennis at school and her interest in the game made her forget her awkwardness. Soon she was dominating the play, thwacking the ball at Gray Barrett with a force which made him gleam wincingly before he lobbed it back. At somewhere around a draw, they finished hot and perspiring and returned to the hotel to shower and change.
Over lunch Stephanie asked spontaneously, "Will you swim with us at the beach this afternoon, Gray?'
'I'll think about it,' he said with a non-committal frown.
But when they met at the front of the hotel later, he came through the foyer, big in a white terry-towelling bathrobe, and sandals of all things on his feet. Carol, remembering to dress decorously in his presence, was wearing a patterned one-piece swim-suit under her beach dress. Stephanie, copying her, was in a white swim-suit and open beach dress.
The heat was enervating and the two girls wasted no time, once they were on the sand, in disrobing and flying off for a dip in the cool sea. Gray Barrett took his time. From where she was splashing around up to her chin Carol saw that he had a truly athletic build. Though she knew that swim shorts didn't date all that much, she had a feeling that his pale blue ones had been bought some years ago, and used very little.
As usual, she was eaten up with shyness when he arrived at the water's edge. She left Stephanie to laugh and splash around him as he joined them. He swam strongly and once he was hidden by the waves Carol felt safe in matching his prowess with her own. With Stephanie tagging on behind they swam towards one of the long-prowed schooners which was anchored out from the shore waiting to do the mid-afternoon sea trip.
The water was as smooth as glass, but distance was deceiving. They seemed no nearer to the boat now than they had been five minutes before. When all the other bathers on the fringe of the sea had been left behind, Gray Barrett turned and said abruptly, 'That's far enough.'
A little breathlessly they followed him laggardly back to the shore. They spent the rest of the afternoon soaking up the sun.That evening at dinner Stephanie was prattling on about their beach sessions when her uncle interrupted, her with the words, 'I was planning to return to Venice tomorrow, but I see the hotel is running a trip to Cortina. It's good for you to visit these places. I don't know what the state of the booking is, but I think it's fairly safe to say we'll be going.'
'To Cortina? Whoopee!' Carol's eyes danced. Then remembering her place under his ironic gleam she looked at her plate and stammered, *I mean ... that should be nice.'
Stephanie seemed a little crestfallen at the proposed trip. At least it looked that way to Carol, but later when they were upstairs and she asked, 'Don't you want to go on the coach ride, Stephanie?' the younger girl replied in measured tones, 'Of course! I'm looking forward to the trip to Cortina tomorrow.' She said goodnight laughingly and swung away towards her bedroom, but there was an odd secretive light in her brown eyes that Carol didn't like the look of. She made her way thoughtfully to her own room. What was Stephanie up to now? she wondered.
They had to take a launch to the mainland for the coach to Cortina. There was just about a bus load of tourists making the trip. Carol, bubbling with excitement, had found pleasure in dressing up for the occasion. She wore a sleeveless pleated dress in a pale floral design, its low scooped-out neckline edged with a tie which fastened in a soft bow at her bosom. Stephanie was looking pretty in a bright tangerine dress edged with floral piping.
The biggest surprise of the morning for Carol was Gray Barrett's outfit. He had actually discarded his town suit and had come to meet them in the foyer, wearing biscuit-coloured slacks and a coffee-coloured silk sports shirt. At first she couldn't take her eyes off him. He looked so big and considerably more relaxed than she was used to seeing him. She felt shyer than ever with him now aboard the launch.
The trip across the water was soon at an end. The group was led from the quay towards the car park. The coach for Cortina was a long luxurious affair with huge windows, and curtains for those who preferred shade.
Everyone was in high spirits, Stephanie included. She was one of the first in the coach and jauntily led the way to the front seats. Bianca was to be their guide for the day. The dark smiling Italian girl had that gift which most couriers possess, the ability to get on with anyone. She and Stephanie were old friends. When she asked the younger girl to share the front guide's seat with her Stephanie readily accepted.
This put Carol in rather a quandary. She had been standing in the aisle waiting to sit with Stephanie, which was her usual practice. Now she was left with Gray Barrett. She hung about eager to take the seat near the window, but not knowing whether she ought to offer it to him. Reading her mind, he waved her in before him, saying drily, 'I've seen most of these places before. I come on the trips strictly for Stephanie's benefit.'
Carol jumped at the opportunity, though she suffered an excruciating shyness as he settled his big frame next to hers. Luckily by this time everyone was aboard and the driver had taken his seat. Soon Bianca's voice over the microphone was giving her something else to think about.
There wasn't a lot for the guide to describe when they first started out, for the countryside around Venice is flat and featureless. However, as they progressed north, the landscape became more wooded and green. In the villages which they passed through Carol was fascinated at the practice of the housewives, which was to hang every scrap of bedding out of the upstairs windows. Striped mattresses greeted the coach like banners along the route.
Sometimes she would see a tall ochre-coloured house standing on its own in fields of lush green growth. Nearly always there would be a slender palm nearby and a garden of luxuriant shrubbery. The Italians too, she noticed, were fond of flowerpots. It wasn't unusual to see a whole line of them, brilliant with colour, trailing down a back outside stairway.
Bianca was warming up now with her anecdotes, linking them with various scenes along the way. She knew all there was to know about the route, and had a dramatic tale to tell about the most ordinary stretch of river or small bridge they passed over. Like all Italians she enjoyed most telling stories to do with disasters or calamities of some kind.
She knew too everything that grew in the fields and pointed out tall sugar cane and forests of slender poplars which were cultivated specially for making plastic.
Halfway through the journey the coach pulled in at a cafe for a break. Though the scenery had been gradually growing more picturesque, Carol was unprepared for the view that met her eyes as she came out on to the steps of the coach. They had parked in front of open-air tables set out on the cafe veranda. The road running down alongside it was steep and curved. Across the curve, beyond one or two more cafes on the other side, mirroring the backcloth of climbing pine-clad hills in its depths, was a lake, vast, green and silent.
'Oh!' was all Carol could say when she saw it.
Gray Barrett, waiting for her outside, remarked on her dreamy state with his usual irony. 'You're holding up the rest of the passengers, Miss Lindley. And this is only a twenty-minute stop. I suggest we go and see about a
drink.' So saying he took her arm and helped her down.
Recovering herself in a laughing fluster, Carol accepted his assistance blushingly. At least he didn't seem cross at her starry-eyed wonder, which was something. And anyway there were only three or four people behind her, Stephanie included.
As the girls moved towards the cafe together and chattered about the ride, Carol exuded to the younger girl, 'Have you seen the view? Isn't it fabulous?'
'Super,' Stephanie said with an absent smile. Her gaze was fixed on her uncle up ahead.
Gray Barrett chose a table on the veranda. As it was already extremely hot, all three had cooling drinks. Afterwards with a few minutes to spare before boarding time, a lot of the coach passengers were crossing the road to get a better view of the lake beyond the buildings on the other side. This was a precarious business because the traffic travelling down the curve of the road came round the blind bend at speed.
Carol was eager to see more of the lake and Stephanie, in unusually good humour, offered to accompany her. Gray Barrett frowned on the idea. At first Carol thought he was going to forbid her to go, but his clamped jaw slackened as he looked at her and moving in he said levelly, 'If you must go I'd better come with you. This is a tricky bend.'
Stephanie caught hold of his arm happily. On the other side of him Carol didn't know what to expect as they stood waiting for a lull in the traffic, but when he took her hand in his she was amazed at how natural it felt. She noticed the firm feel of his hand, the strong grip of his fingers holding hers.
So conscious was she of his touch that when they got to the other side of the road she forgot to look at the lake. Oh, she stared at it, but inwardly all she could think of was the feel of her hand resting in his.
Across the Lagoon Page 12
