Bruce shook his hand, and as he did so the woman in black appeared. With the dignified but benign Spaniard waving them goodbye, they were shown into the street.
There were signs of life in the little town now that the heat of the day had abated a little. Shawled figures dung to the shadows along the passageways, and at one point Janet felt herself being drawn to a pause by Bruce's hand on her a second later a string of little donkeys passed by. Their red caparisons were faded. She wondered what their bulging panniers held.
It was a charming scene, and as she watched them move on she began to see now why Bruce had turned off the main highway earlier on; why he had driven her here to this white town in the valley ... its narrow streets, tiled and cool, the houses cluttered with flowerpots and wroughtiron work, the proud blackclad figure of Don Ignacio, his beautiful garden...
The man guiding her along beside him had gone out of his way to show her a true corner of Spain. She knew that now. But as they wandered on past silent doorways and stone-built alcoves, she reminded herself that he was simply trying to make amends for the death of their cat. As theFords' attorney he no doubt shouldered the responsibility for damage done by villa guests and this would be his way of atoning for it.
Though Janet told herself this, she couldn't help feeling a tiny ache of pleasure inside her. When they came suddenly upon a small open space separating the narrow streets, she didn't know why she stopped. There was nothing here except bare walls and heavily barred windows. And yet one could almost hear the click of castanets, the rattle of tambourines on the sundrenched stillness.
This odd ache growing inside her, she was filled with an urge to linger. Moving on her own, she drifted to where a centuries-old fountain, its cherubs chipped and disfigured with the passage of time, stood amidst the smell of hot dust. As she paused she let her gaze travel slowly around the sultrycorners and shadowy stretches of the square. It was strange, but here more than anywhere she felt the primitive force of Spain.
Or perhaps it was just her own mood that created atmoshere of age-old feuds and unsuppressed passion? She couldn't explain the potency of the stillness, except to say that her own feelings seemed to be tied up with it in some way.
She had walked away from Bruce, but he was beside her now. She wondered if this meant that he sensed a little of what she was feeling.
His nearness swelled that odd little ache inside her. She longed for the touch of his fingers on her arm. He hadguided her round Don Ignacio's garden, led her through the streets of the town. Yet as the lowering sun brushed the misshapen cherubs briefly with gold, before bathing the square in deep shadow, he made no move to touch her now.
It was his gruff tones that broke the silence at last as he asked, 'Shall we go?'
'Yes.' As she drifted off with him, Janet realised it was the first word she had spoken to him all afternoon.
The car was parked in the next courtyard. She stepped into her seat as the door was opened for her. Within minutes they were leaving the narrow streets of the town and making for the highway back to San Gabrielle. With the whitewalled tyres whispering along the trafficfree route, the breeze was left to make what it could of the silently cruising pair.
The warm air of dusk was heavy with the scent of villa blossom, when thecar pulled up along the track. Janet had an urge to let herself out quickly, but Bruce was round to open the door for her before she could gather her things. She felt his lowered blue gaze on her as she stepped out against him, and was glad when the excited barking of Dale, and theappearance of her mother, gave her something else to think about.
She got to the terrace by feigning to fuss over the dog. The dark blue polished car slid on to park at the foot of the villa steps.
As Janet walked into the house, her mother was all fuss and laughter. Her hair awry, her finery discarded for an old cotton kimono, she raised her eyebrows and asked with a sly gleam in her eyes, 'Well, what happened to you? Francisco had me home ages ago.'
'Oh we had to stop off to see a client,' Janet shrugged airily, and sailed away to her bedroom. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts; with this small glow in her heart.
Perhaps it was just her foolish imagination again, but looking back now to those heady moments beside the oldfountain, it seemed to her that not only had she found thembreathlessly disturbing. They had held something for Bruce too.
CHAPTER NINE
There was no postal service outside the boundaries of Sad Gabrielle. The mail was brought in every day on thenoon bus, but the inhabitants of dwellings dotted over thecountryside were obliged to call at the cafe" in the village, of the tienda de comestibles, the grocer's shop, when they were expecting letters.
Mrs. Kendall had to rely solely on someone passing on their way to the farm to receive mail from her family. As Janet had nothing special to do between six and seven in the evenings, she had got into the habit of strolling up to the village shop to collect whatever there was.
She arrived back one night as her mother was serving out Ithe evening meal, and dropped the afternoon's delivery on thetable.Mrs.Kendall,always avid aboutthepost,' swooped on to the letters the moment she had put the pan in the sink. 'Oh, good, there's one from Ian. It's over a fortnight since I heard from him. And Jean,' she smiled fondly over her oldest daughter's handwriting, 'I expect she's telling me how little Jane got on at the ballet class.' Her eyes fell then on the stiff white envelope with the crest on the back of it. 'Why, what's this?' She held it up in the evening light. 'It's got a local stamp on it.'
'I wondered about that,' Janet said from where she was washing her hands at the sink. 'It's from someone on the island, obviously.'
"But I don't know anyone on the island, dear. Only the people around San Gabrielle.' Mrs. Kendall turned the envelope over in her kind, both puzzled and fascinated.
'Why not open it, and then we'll find out what it is,' Janet smiled, knowing full well that no such thing would occure. She was familiar enough by now with the ritual that her mother adhered to.
The letters would stay unopened on the dining table to eyed with pleasurable anticipation while the evening mealwas being partaken of. They would then be moved to the rack beside the food cabinet while the washing up was in progress, and stay there until the kitchen had been tidied for the night. After which they would be transferred to the living room where they would be opened at leisure and perused over on and off until bedtime.
And so it was that it was well into the evening before learned the contents of the crested envelope.
The lights were switched on in the living room. The red lamp shades here and there gave a cosy glow. Dale was sprawled out. The nights were far too stifling now for himcurl up in his basket. His favourite spot was on the cool under the table.
They had to keep the door closed because of the numerous insects that came battering against the lamps. But with the shutters drawn it was possible to have the windows wide open on the inside. This made the indoors bearable.
Mrs. Kendall was in her favourite armchair, her tortoiseshell glasses half way down her nose. Janet in old slacks and blouse was sprawled on the rug, her Spanish books spread out in the pool of light from the table. They had discussed the family letters from all angles, and she had long since lost interest in the crisp white envelope, when her mother, slitting it open at last, gave a little cry of pleasure.
She drew out a gilt printed card and Janet, her curiosity rekindled again, sat up to ask, 'What is it?'
'It's what everyone has been waiting for, my dear,' Mrs. Kendall confided delightedly. 'The gala party of the season.'
She handed the card to Janet. The golden scroll on it asked for the pleasure of Mrs. Kendall and her daughter's company over at the villa, on the afternoon of the twenty-ninth of July, a couple of days away.
'It looks as though it's going to be quite an occasion.' Janet handed the invitation back thoughtfully.
'Oh, I'm sure of it, dear,' her mother nodded, impressed. 'The Fords
are very high up in the sea transport business. I hear there's going to be all kinds of shipping magnates there. The chairman of this board and Sir Somebodyor other from that.' She smiled down with fresh delight at the card over the top of her glasses. 'How nice of Mr. and Mrs. Ford to send us an official invitation!'
'And through the post too,' Janet pointed out, musing over the envelope.
Twinkling along with her over the fact that they lived but half a dozen yards away, her mother said suddenly, 'Why don't you come over this time, Jan? I'm sure you'd find the experience well worth it.'
Janet didn't answer immediately. She had been toying with the idea ever since she had read the card, but not for the same reason as her mother.
It was over a week since she had seen Bruce. It was true she still caught glimpses of him going into the villa from his car occasionally, but ever since their afternoon drive there was a part of her that couldn't be content with this. She longed for an excuse to go over there. She was eager to create an opportunity similar to those she had known in Eton Ignacio's garden, and beside the old fountain, where they could move close beside one another again.
The gala afternoon on Friday would give her the perfect excuse to go over to the villa. What more could she ask for than an official invitation?
She raised her head at last, having made up her mind, and replied gaily, 'All right! But I can't think what I'm going to do amongst a crowd of shipping magnates.'
"Oh, don't worry about that!' Mrs. Kendall encouraged laughingly, pleased at her daughter's decision. 'The Fords like young people around them. There's bound to be a goodbalance. There always is.' Janet wasn't in the least worried. Bruce would be there.
She doubted whether she would notice anyone else.
Her mother threw up her hands suddenly, her glasses jolting to the end of her nose. 'Heavens, I've just realised! I haven't got a thing to wear!'
Janet gave her a humorous look and shrugged, 'Oh, I expect you'll find something.'
Mrs. Kendall, wearing a worried frown, was already rummaging mentally through the drawers and wardrobes in her bedroom. 'Well, I've got my dragon silk,' she pondered, brightening. 'It needs a couple of tucks in the side, but it's very modish ... quite dashing, in fact... Yes!' She dropped everything and got up from her chair, inspired into action. 'I think I'll rout it out and see what I can do with it.'
Janet entered into preparation for the Villa party with something of the same eagerness during the next two days. She was anxious to look her best, and tossed all her dresses on to the bed in a fit of despondency. There seemed to be nothing at all to come up to the occasion. However, like her mother, she was obliged to have second thoughts and contented herself at last with a lilac dress, sleeveless and simple, but effective because of its tailored cut. Also its paleness contrasted well with the golden tan of her skin.
She washed her hair with an expensive shampoo, and spent hours browsing through her makeup box trying to decide on the right shade of lipstick.
Despite all her efforts, when she had showered and dressed carefully on the afternoon of the event, the end result was a simple summer look. But with her hair soft and shining, and the bloom of gold on her cheeks, she knew she was looking radiant, and she asked for nothing more.
Her mother had contrived to give a picture of startling elegance in her brilliantly patterned silk dress. The round high neck bugged her throat, vying with the vivid aquamarine pendant earrings that swung wildly when she talked.
As usual she was all for rushing over to the Villa on the stroke of the given time on the card, but Janet managed to delay the finishing touches to her own toilet until the track was lined with cars. They went right down, alongside the wall of the villa grounds today. She noticed, though, with a little stab of joy in her heart, that the dark blue polished car was parked in its usual place at the foot of the steps.
The gathering sounded to be quite a size as she and her mother crossed the tiled square at the top of the steps. She had been prepared for something a little extra special today, but nothing like that which met her eyes when they turned the corner of the villa.
The whole grounds were a riot of colour, as people dressed in all manner of summer fashion surged around specially arranged tubs of exotic flowers and rose trees. Sprigs of hanging blossom had been intertwined around the porticoed entrance of the villa, and other delicate splashes festooned hoops over the damaskclothed tables.
Amongst the pyramids of food and glinting silverware, whitecoated stewards weaved with precariouslybalanced trays, making excursions back and forth to the far corners of the garden and to the flowerdecked tables beside the pool. A gold silk marquee had been erected on the side lawn along with endless other things that were too much to take in at a glance.
Mrs. Kendall wasted no time in starting out to explore their surroundings, and Janet, a little shy now that she was over here, tagged thankfully alongside her. They ran into Mr. Ford as they were making for the marquee. In his hearty friendly way he dropped an arm round each one of them and introduced them separately to every one of his friends grouped in the shade of a tree. Though the names were highsounding, the men, redfaced and summerclad, looked far less forbidding than they probably would have done if one had faced them, say, across a business conference table.
Drinks in hand, they were content enough now to exchange jaunty pleasantries and laugh gustily at each other's weak jokes. After a few minutes in their company, Janet and her mother left them and continued on their way.
They discovered on arrival that the gold silk marquee housed a small dance floor, shaded from the sun. The music drifting out was from a fivepiece band, the musicians in black trousers and red shirts played happily for the half dozen or more couples who drifted chatteringly around the floor. There was a steward at the door to offer all newcomers a sparkling drink. The only thing to do for the moment seemed to be to stand inside sipping and watching the fun. After this they scrolled past another tent which was showing a travelogue made by one of the shipping magnates, and further on, around a circular platform a knot of people were watching a display of flamenco dancing.
They stayed on the lawn quite a while, then Mrs. Kendall, itching for a chat, drifted off towards the buffet tables. Janet, her gaze raking the groups, moved down towards the pool. Though there was an impromptu game of water polo in progress, she had no eyes for it.
Ever since she had arrived she had been keyed up, her senses poised for the moment when she would spot Bruce. She was still keyed up. He wasn't out here. She knew he was in the villa and wondered why he chose to work tins afternoon of all days. She wished he would hurry up and come out and join the party.
She noticed too, a little wistfully, that Francisco wasn't here either. But she needn't have worried about being on her own, for it was a lively crowd around the pool. Without any attempts on her part she was soon part of a laughing group who were pushing, or being pushed dangerously near to the edge of the water.
Two strapping Scandinavians came to Janet's rescue. They were mature young men, probably on their way up in the shipping business, but not too serious to enjoy the fun inprogress. They took it upon themselves to steer Janet away from the skirmish unscathed. After a drink with them and one or two others, she drifted with the group up to the far lawn for a game of croquet.
The hoops were arranged on the strip of grass adjoining the villa terrace. As it turned out, the men were much more superior at the game than the girls, though there was little serious play as no one was in the mood to obey the rules. Janet, as bad as everyone else, was laughingly trying for a hoop when her pivoting glance caught a glimpse of a familiar lean figure standing beside one of the buffet tables.
Her heart spun. The ache that had kept it tense all afternoon suffused her insides and sped to her eyes in the form of a joyful glow.
Her first reaction was to drop everything. With Sven and Emil beside her, however, urging her on with the hilarities of the games, there was little
opening for her to leave. She had to wait until the fun petered out and everybody's mind turned towards food.
Emil, his great arm across her shoulders, guided her amidst the group to a table only a stone's throw from where Bruce stood. As he chatted to a Spanish couple, she noticed he was wearing one of those impeccable tropicalstyle suits which he used for business. She had been right about him choosing to work today. Still, what did it matter? He was here now.
She couldn't eat, of course. Though her plate was piled with all manner of succulent bits from the array of food, all she wanted was a chance to drift off on her own with Bruce. He had seen her, she knew. She had felt his eyes on her when she had been on the lawn, which must have been from the moment he had stepped out of the villa. And she hadn't missed his hard gaze just now, a look somehow that turned her heart over.
She longed for the time when he would be able to terminate his conversation with the couple, and gradually she put herself on the edge of the party she was with, timing it so that they would both be free at the same second.
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