Stormy Encounter

by Roumelia Lane

  When Janet tried to tell him, with great impatience, how long the mayor would be away in Valencia, his shrug was typical of the Spanish disregard for rime. He shook hands with them charmingly and walked to the door with them with a smile. Judging by his demeanour, ten days might have been no more than ten minutes.

  As they went down the steps again all Mrs. Kendall could talk about was that sit down and that cooling drink she had been waiting for, Janet accompanied her, engrossed in her own thoughts. If she had left her introspection until later she might have been more prepared for the scene outside. But too late—as they came out of the wide doorway she saw Bruce Walbrook and the man he had been talking toearlier occupying seats at a cafe table only a step away.

  There was no time to avoid the attorney's blue glance. He watched hex step out of the building, pink cheeks showing that she too had got nowhere with the official inside. It was his turn to glint ironically.

  Mrs. Kendall having already smiled brilliantly at him, and waved a hand gaily, he rose suavely, bringing his companion to his feet, and suggested, 'Would you care to join us?'

  Janet would have liked to tell him coldly that they preferred to sit at some other table, thank you, but her mother, besotted at the sight of two urbane gentlemen bowing before her, pranced up and exclaimed delightedly, 'How very nice of you!'

  Janet moved in unsmiling. They relieved themselves of their shopping bags, while Bruce Walbrook made the introductions.

  'This is Francisco Cavanillas, a law associate of mine.'he told them.

  Janet shook hands with a young man of about twenty-six or twenty-seven. Dressed in a pale coffeecoloured suit, he had a tall lithe figure and longish oliveskinned features. With his luminous, dark brown eyes and tightly waving glossy black hair he was breathtakingly handsome, yet his gentle smile indicated that he had none of the arrogant vanity that usually goes with such a face.

  They were asked what they would like to drink, and Mrs. Kendall chose, rather daringly, Campari with ice. Janet made do with a CocaCola. She had removed her sunglasses while indoors. Now she felt an urgent need to search them out again. Not because of the sun's rays—it was just that they were useful to retire behind in Bruce Walbrook's presence. That wasn't to say that he was taking the slightest notice of her. His ear was tuned sympathetically to her mother's complaints on the business of shopping these days, and the high prices of food.

  All the more opportunity to study him closely, Janet told herself, sipping her drink.

  He was in a town suit of tropical summer fabric, exquisitely tailored, and pale blue in colour. The paler blue of his shirt exactly matched the iceblue of his eyes and a royal blue tie gave his cleanshaven, sharply etched features a slight tanned look. It was impossible to guess at his age,but he must be well over thirty to have arrived at his position in life, Janet decided.

  She turned her attention to the young Spaniard beside her who was shyly trying to catch her eye. 'Have you been on the island long?' he asked, eager to make conversation. He spoke in cultured English with only a slight accent.

  'No more than two days,' Janet smiled. She asked him in return, 'Do you live here?'

  'Yes, I'm an Ibicenco,' he nodded, 'but I work on the mainland also.'

  They chatted for a while. He told her a little about a law student's career, and the office he had worked in since he was twenty-three. Then Janet saw fit to drop a broad hint across the table to the effect that if they didn't hurry they would miss the only bus back to the village. Preparing to rise, she tried to drag her mother to her feet with her glance and her casual remark, 'It's quite a walk with all this shopping, so we'd better give ourselves plenty of time.'

  She was rewarded by a vague movement from under the salmon pink hat, then Bruce Walbrook's crisp tones were informing her, There's no need for you to take the bus back to San Gabrielle. Francisco and I are leaving for the villa presently. We can give you a lift.'

  Janet would have liked to stem her mother's obvious entrancement at this reply with a sharp kick under the table, but there was no opportunity. She had to watch her sink happily back into her chair, exclaiming on a ripple of girlish laughter, 'Oh yes, that would be so much nicer. And I haven't finished my Campari yet.'

  There was nothing for it after that but to sit it out. At least Francisco was pleasant company. Janet paid no more attention to Bruce Walbrook.

  When at last Mrs. Kendall's glass was empty the men rose, Bruce Walbrook paid for the drinks and led the way to where his slim, polished car was parked in a nearby side street. He enquired if anyone preferred the hood up, but theair was warm and Mrs. Kendall was plainly intrigued at the idea of an open ride. She simpered a little as the attorney suavely assisted her into the front seat beside him.

  Janet sat with Francisco in the back. She soon found that her straw hat was a hazard in the breeze. Apart from that, she had to admit, the drive was an enjoyable one. The country roads were completely devoid of traffic and the sea caught in snatches was a wedge of deep blue amongst pineclad hills.

  Occasionally the car had to slow down for a strolling farm cart or a chugging tractor, but for the most part they cruised smoothly along. Janet could see her mother listless and animated in the front seat, and as usual not short of something to talk about, although the buffeting breeze deadened the sound. Because of her amiable disposition Mrs. Kendall had a naturalness that entertained. This was evident in the way Bruce Walbrook turned his glance her way from time to time, and with it on occasion the gleam of a white smile.

  Though the ride itself was exhilarating, Janet wasn't sorry when the village of San Gabrielle showed itself on the hill up ahead and they were turning off and crunching along the farm road. The car didn't stop outside the villa. It continued on to the railway track and turning in cruised up between the two houses.

  Mrs. Kendall warbled her thanks in her laughing way as she was assisted out beside her own terrace.

  Janet accepted Francisco's help out. He bowed to her mother correctly and kissed both their hands with the natural gallantry of his race, yet with a simplicity of style which was both pleasing and unaffected. Bruce Walbrook, dropping the car keys negligently into his pocket, turned and nodded courteously, 'Good afternoon to you both.'

  'Good afternoon to you!' Mrs. Kendall tripped off behind Janet with her share of the shopping. When they were round on their own patio she giggled amidst her parcels,

  'What a charming man!'

  'Mother!' Janet reproached her with exasperated disapproval. 'He is our archenemy.'

  I know, dear,' Mrs. Kendall shrugged with a mischievous look, 'but he's still a very charming man.'

  As soon as the front door was opened, Dale, who had been barking frantically at their arrival, rushed out and threw himself at the two of them before tearing to streak with wild abandon round the garden. Janet waited for him to calm down and fixed her gaze on the side entrance of the villa where the two men had just disappeared. She stroked the cat in the chair with a stormy look in her goldenbrown eyes. Her mother might be dazzled by Bruce Walbrook'a courteous charm, but he didn't fool her one bit.

  For the next two days she saw no signs of activity along the track except for the lorry delivering her mother's butane. Then on an afternoon the most of which she had spent fiddling with the old sewing machine down in the shed, trying to get it to go, she caught sight of a figure leaving the house as she strolled back up the meadow.

  She couldn't be sure from this distance, having only seen him once, but that tall lithe figure moving leisurely back to enter the side gates of the villa looked very much like Francisco Cavanillas.

  On the alert she quickened her steps, her mind busy with conjecture on the reason for the visit. She didn't have to go inside the house, for her mother was arranging the teacups on the back terrace as was her practice at this hour.

  Janet strolled up, forcing a nonchalant air. She remarked lightly as she dropped into her chair, 'Did I see we had a caller just now?'


  'Yes, it was that nice young lawyer we met in town the other day.' Mrs. Kendall, in a flamboyant housecoat of fireeating dragons on cream silk, fluttered over the tray like some exotic bird. She was obviously bursting with news.

  Janet, knowing she would have to go and wash her bands, couldn't stir until she had heard what it was.

  Mrs. Kendall sliced the lemon and prattled in those tones of hers, spiced with intrigue, "It's the Fords. They want us to go over there tomorrow afternoon. They say as neighbours we ought to get acquainted. Apparently they're having a few guests tomorrow and we're invited.'

  Janet sat rigid as she listened. Her eyes flew to the high pink walls of the villa. Go into the enemy camp?The thought both fascinated and appalled her. She didn't see what good it would do meeting the Fords on their own ground. Yet she knew it would be both petty, and in a way, a sign of weakness if she and her mother refused.

  Mrs. Kendall was of the same opinion, though for slightly different reasons. She stirred the fragrantly scented tea in the pot, her mind on the invitation as she schemed excitedly, 'I must wear my blue damask. I hardly ever get a chance to give it an airing out here. There's only the British Residents' annual dance and then half the people turn up in beach wear.' She shot Janet a frolicsome gleam and confided, 'I must say I've always fancied a peek inside the villa, and it'll be fun to rub shoulders with the wealthy for a couple of hours.'

  Though Janet was convinced that this was not at all the right attitude to take, there was nothing she could do about it. So the following afternoon found her in her room preparing for the visit

  She was determined not to make any kind of a splash over her appearance and chose deliberately a simple dress in pale limegreen, patterned with a white flower. It had a light ruffle at the elbows and a full skirt.

  She applied the normal dusting of makeup, brushed her russetbrown hair so that it fell in its usual soft waves at each temple, and changing her bedroom mules for a pair of white sandals, she went to see how her mother was getting

  Mrs. Kendall was not only ready; she was itching to get over to the villa. Cars had been arriving for the past twenty minutes, she said. She was in such a state of agitation, they might have been missing the best seats at the theatre.

  Janet glanced peremptorily though witheringly at the line of polished vehicles forming beyond the livingroom windows. She explained patiently the wisdom of waiting until the gathering had warmed up a bit before putting in an appearance. She had to admit her mother looked at her best. The heavily embossed dress in lavender blue was perfect for her figure. The single string of pearls, and pearl drop earrings just the right touch.

  A few minutes after three Janet gave a nod and they turned towards the outdoors, Dale, who had been padding miserably between the two rooms watching them get ready, slunk into his basket, his ears flat, his eyes big with hurt at being left again. Janet would have liked to give him an encouraging word, but she knew if she did, his ears would spring to attention, and his face alight with expectation, he would leap rapturously for the door, taking it for a reprieve.

  Her mother locked the door behind them, dropping the key into her handbag, and together they crossed the terrace and the rocky width of the track, making for the side gates of the villa.

  Janet noticed the cars lined up outside. Racy and expensive of continental design, one didn't need to look twice to know that these models were way out of reach of the ordinary motorist.

  The big gates were open. They climbed the low flight of stone steps up into the grounds which were a mass of luxuriant greenery. Across an open square some distance away was the rear side of the villa; pinkwalled with typical overhanging Spanish eaves to discourage the sun and tall whitepainted shutters. Though a pair of heavy double doors were thrown wide plus several sets of french windows, showing glimpses of elegantly furnished interiors,much of the activity seemed to be round at the side of the house.

  A whitecoated waiter was just turning the corner with a tray of empty glasses balanced precariously on the raised palm of his hand,'Buenos tardea, senora, senorita.' Smilingly he bowed them a greeting as though the tray were stuck to his hand, and waved them to where the sound of voices and laughter could be heard with that panache that only a Spanish waiter possesses.

  Janet walked with her mother in the direction indicated. As they came round the side of the house, the first thing she noticed was the swimming pool. Its sparkling clear water timed blue to match the sky, it curved to take in the side and the front of the house and was built down on a lower level. A fountain played in a separate section at one end, and gay sun-beds beside a heavy fronded palm decorated the edge.

  Up the steps from the pool two more majestic palms shaded the front terrace of the villa, and here, only a few yards away, three or four white-clothed tables, decked out with enormous sprays of flowers, held plates and dainty delicacies of food.

  Of the people, Janet could see one or two down by the pool, daringly contemplating a dip; for though the April sun was hot the water was obviously cold. Several were lounging in the chairs and others stood talking in groups along the sides. The rest were scattered around the food tables, or strolling over the strips of green-lawned garden, to the right of the house.

  It was all very informal, even Janet and her mother's introduction to the Fords. As they approached the tables, a heavily built man, smoking a cigar, rose from one of the chairs and the conversation in progress, and came forward to greet them heartily, 'Well, here's Mrs. Kendall J' He pumped her hand, afterwards taking Janet's while he calledaround the gathering with gusto, 'Emmalina, come and meet your neighbours!'

  A man inclined to corpulence, but showing little of it in his build, Ralph Ford wore his expensive mohairsilk suit with the same ease that he might wear a bathrobe. His angular, fleshy features were softened with a kindly look, though there was a decided shrewdness in the deep-set eyes. With his thinning, slightly greying hair he was probably just over fifty.

  An arm around a shoulder of each of them, he took them to the rabies and plied them with delicacies, at the same time offering them an infinite variety of drinks.

  After a few moments Mrs. Ford came hurrying up, having apparently extricated herself from some chatter elsewhere. A dark woman with good features, and probably several years younger than her husband, she wore a scintillating afternoon dress with the same casual air. She shook hands warmly with Mrs. Kendall and then Janet, murmuring companionably as the four of them chatted, 'Well, this is very pleasant.' She was friendliness itself, but one had the feeling that though she would have liked to give you her full attention her mind was somewhat taken up with other matters.

  Ralph Ford introduced the Kendalls around, in his friendly fashion, to the people near by. Janet couldn't keep track of all the names that were reeled off. She met a very tall man with crinkly waving fair hair, and another one of slighter build, with a high round forehead and a thick black moustache. A woman with a wide smile and a froth of chiffon at her throat took her hand, and two more sylphlike creatures in figuremoulding slacks and suntops gave her a carefree wave. Then the impressions became blurred and she just smiled around.

  Her mother was already engaged in sprightly conversation with someone close by. Ralph Ford, drifting oft with his wife to mingle with the rest of his guests, left Janet withthe standing invitation, 'You must come over and use the pool any time you feel like it. Miss Kendall. Jose will always be on hand to serve you with a drink."

  Emmalina Ford gave hex a warm genuine smile, arid squeezed her hand to murmur, 'Do feel free to wander where you like. The house and grounds axe yours.'

  Janet thanked them and nibbled at her canape. In the ten or fifteen minutes she and her mother had spent getting acquainted with the Fords, no one had mentioned the railway track.

  She sipped leisurely at her drink, aware of the social atmosphere around the tables. She watched her mother, with her flow of lively conversation which nothing could discourage, twinkling with g
oodhumoured affection. In her smart dress and pearl earrings she was just as much at home here as she was grubbing out the hen huts or potting a new geranium. It came to Janet with a smile that her mother was lucky enough to possess that chameleonlike disposition which enabled her to blend in happily with any kind of surroundings, whether it be joining in the social intercourse in the grounds of a millionaire's villa, or knitting woolly vests for her grandchildren in her own wellworn armchair. Janet knew also that this was the reason for her mother's unlined features and sunny disposition, and at heard she wouldn't have wanted her any different.

  She finished her drink beside the table and wondered what to do next. She could see Francisco talking down by the pool, and remembering how pleasant he had seemed at the cafe table in town, she would have liked to go to him, but she was too shy to walk out across the terrace on her own.

  She drifted instead past the porticoed front of the villa, with its patterned summer divans set back in the shadows, and wandered over to the strip of side lawn flanked by exotic greenery. This was the section of garden, which ran past her mother's house, and alongside the track. But looking from here, the wall surrounding the villa was so far away with nothing at all to be seen above it except the blue of the sky, that she didn't wonder they beard little of the activity which went on inside the grounds.