by Anne Hampton
‘But didn’t want you back?’ He sounded heartless, she thought, and her heart wept for the times that were gone when all she had from him was kindness.
‘He’s selling up—the house and the business. It wouldn’t be any use my going back. In any case, Greta’s there and so is Steve.’ His slow nod of the head made her ask, ‘Did you get in touch with Steve?’
‘I phoned just before we left Miami. He said that he and Greta were going to try again.’ He looked hard at her, his scrutiny searching and faintly scornful. ‘So he’s lost to you—for the time being.’
Her eyes flew open. ‘The time being?’
‘Oh, yes, you can go on hoping,’ he said with a sort of mocking contempt. ‘It’s on the cards that the marriage will break up one day. Just depends on your patience as to whether you and he get together or not.’ She said in a voice made husky by unshed tears, ‘You’re very unkind to me, Luke.’
‘Perhaps my patience is at fault.’
‘It’s—run out, y-you mean?’ Had he forgotten that he had promised to care for her when she left her home?
‘It was bound to, wasn’t it?’ The sardonic inflection was matched by the look in his tawny eyes. ‘Well, Christine, what are your immediate plans now that Steve’s made it up with Greta?’
‘I—I want to get a job, and a flat. I w-want to be independent.’
‘You want to leave here? I’m rather glad about that,’ he said. ‘You see, if I decide to marry, my wife wouldn’t want another woman in her home, would she?’
She shook her head. Was this the man she had known for so long? No, he was different altogether. Unkind, heartless, uncaring what happened to her, forgetting he had said he’d not allow her to get a job. And he had as good as said he was thinking of getting married.
She turned away, her eyes misted as she stared at the serried barrier of water palms that formed the western border of the grounds. It was a charming house, this. Perhaps Luke would buy it and bring his wife here.
‘Ah, there you are, darling!’ Clarice’s voice brought her round reluctantly. ‘And little Christine,’ she added condescendingly in that acid-sweet voice which made Christine want to hit her. Little Christine! Anyone would think she was an infant! ‘Luke was telling me you’ve to stay here for a while because your father’s selling up. How very sad! What shall you do?’
‘That,’ bit out Christine, ‘is my business!’ She caught Luke’s expression and wondered why he was so amused.
‘Christine,’ he chided gently, ‘that was not very nice of you. Please remember you’re in my home and Clarice is my guest.’
‘I’m sorry,’ offered Christine, blushing under the rebuke.
‘You don’t sound sorry. However, I expect Clarice will forgive you, seeing that your life appears to have been turned upside down. I’ll probably be able to help you get a job,’ he went on in cool dispassionate tones. ‘What have you in mind?’
She glanced up at him suspiciously. His face was a mask, devoid of expression. ‘I haven’t even thought about it yet,’ she said, fear behind the careless inflection.
‘I shall be needing a receptionist for the hotel. Perhaps a post like that would appeal to you?’
She shot him a furious glance and was unable to articulate words because of the choking sensation in her throat. She saw the muscles twitch at the corners of his mouth and knew he was suppressing laughter. He was not only being rotten with her he was also laughing at her!
‘I’ll find my own job, thank you,’ she threw at him tartly at last.
‘Something upset you today?’ he enquired tonelessly. ‘You don’t appear to be in the best of spirits.’
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped. ‘If you’ll excuse me—’ She shouldered past him and wanted to curl right up on hearing the laughter that followed immediately on her departure. They were both laughing at her!
It was obvious that her supposition that he might love her had been nothing more than a pipe dream.
There were only two bathrooms in the bungalow, and as one was en suite to Luke’s bedroom Christine and Clarice had to share the other. Christine had told Luke—when she saw him alone for a moment—that she wasn’t having any dinner.
‘You’ll have dinner with Clarice and me,’ he told her darkly. ‘I’m not having you slight my guest.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ she began when he interrupted shortly, ‘Don’t be peevish. You don’t like being treated like a child but what do you expect when you act like one?’
‘I hate you,’ she said slowly through her teeth. ‘It’s plain that you don’t want me here so why can’t you tell me to go?’
‘I would,’ he rejoined swiftly, ‘if you’d anywhere to go.’
‘Oh . . .’ Her eyes filled up, blinding her. ‘I never thought you’d ever be as hateful as this with me!’
‘I did say my patience had run out,’ he reminded her softly.
‘You—you’re punishing me—f-for last n-night, aren’t you?’
‘Last night?’
‘You can’t have forgotten!’ she flashed. ‘You were too angry to forget!’
‘So it’s only the anger that would remain in my memory?’
Again she glanced at him suspiciously. ‘I don’t understand you,’ she complained. ‘You talk in riddles!’
‘So you’ve told me many times before,’ was his cool rejoinder. ‘I believed that one day you’d make some attempt to understand me but the effort seems to be too much for you—or perhaps it’s that you’re not interested.’
‘More riddles!’ she said with a glowering look.
‘Let’s get back to the question of dinner, shall we?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll expect you to be joining us for aperitifs in half an hour’s time.’ And with that he strode away and Christine, furiously angry, went along to the bathroom only to find it occupied by Clarice who, by the sound of things, was luxuriating in the water. With a sigh Christine went back to her bedroom to pick out what she would wear. She was doing as she was told even yet again! But how could she defy the man in whose house she was living? He’d as good as said he didn’t want her here but he’d not turn her out because she had nowhere else to go.
What a situation to be in! This after the luxurious home she had known for eight years. No home of her own and no job. Suddenly her eyes glinted. She would rectify both! Tomorrow she would begin looking for work, here on Grand Bahama Island.
But almost immediately on this resolve came the picture of Luke married to Clarice and living here. That would be too unbearable, she decided and realised the only course open to her was to return to England, for there she would not only be given help until she found a job, but she would also be four thousand miles away from Luke and his wife.
It was almost half past eight when at last she put in an appearance for predinner drinks.
‘I was just about to come and fetch you,’ Luke told her crisply. ‘What kept you?’
Her chin lifted at his imperious manner. ‘I couldn’t get into the bathroom!’ She glanced at the door through which she had come. ‘Where’s Clarice?’
‘Making a phone call.’ Luke flicked a negligent hand and Christine found herself moving towards the chair indicated. ‘What will you have?’
‘A dry sherry, please.’ She leant against the cushions and stared at his broad back. Always he appeared immaculate no matter what he happened to be wearing. At present he wore an off-white jacket of smooth linen which might have been moulded to his figure, so well did it fit. He turned with the glass in his hand and her eyes flicked over the frilled shirt of slate-blue cotton. In the perfection of the slacks was revealed the sinewed hardness of his thighs. Her heart caught as he walked towards her across the wide, high-ceilinged room, self-confidence and majesty in every step he took. As always she saw the poise and maturity of a much older man. At only twenty-seven he had so much before him, and naturally her thoughts flickered to Steve and she accepted that even if they had been in love with one another he was far too old for her. Se
venteen years her senior, and he himself pointing out the fact that he would be getting old when she was in the prime of her life.
With Luke all was right . . . except that he was contemplating marriage to someone else. Christine’s lip quivered and she saw his tawny eyes narrow, saw the grey flecks take on a metallic quality.
‘Your drink,’ he said, and for some inexplicable reason his studied civility seemed to widen the gap that had come between them. She took the glass and fluttered him a glance but soon lowered her eyes beneath his steadfast gaze. She thanked him in a small voice and watched him move away and relax his lithe frame in the big armchair from which he had risen immediately on her entry into the room.
He spoke and she answered. Polite conversation which to a listener outside would merely be a general murmur of conventional banalities. Never had she and Luke been like this before. She had always basked in the warmth of his friendship and only now did she realise that she had come to take a great deal for granted . . . had taken Luke for granted. And now he had had enough; his patience was exhausted. He had no interest in her any more. He didn’t feel obligated to take care of her.
Clarice came in, her enticing figure clothed in tight-fitting pants of black satin with a matching top trimmed with tiny silver beads. She wore antique silver ear drops and a matching necklace. Luke’s appreciative glance took in everything before his eyes lingered with a sort of sensuous speculation on the voluptuous beauty of her breasts. Jealousy stabbed its way into Christine’s heart and she was wishing she had defied Luke and refused to have dinner with these two who surely would have preferred to be alone.
‘Did I keep the bathroom too long?’ A smooth smile accompanied the question. ‘I’m so sorry. When I get into a bath I always stay a long time.’ Her big eyes swept over Christine in a sort of supercilious and perfunctory examination. ‘I hope I didn’t inconvenience you too much?’
Christine sent her a scornful glance and at first decided to ignore the question. But suddenly she knew a spiteful urge to embarrass the girl and said with a smile that was forced, ‘Not at all; it was Luke you inconvenienced because I kept him waiting and he wasn’t at all pleased, were you?’ Her big eyes challenged; she saw his lips twitch and realised that he knew what she was about.
‘I rather think you exaggerate,’ he said. ‘I merely asked what had kept you so long.’
‘I’m very sorry. . . .’ Clarice was put out by Christine’s riposte and a thread of colour was creeping into her face. ‘I didn’t stop to think.’
‘Don’t let us make an issue of something so trivial.’ Although his voice was smoothly cordial he seemed to be having difficulty in controlling his exasperation. ‘Christine, another drink?’
Before she could answer Anna came to say the dinner was ready.
It was a silent meal for Christine, who was not brought into the conversation, and as soon as it was over she excused herself and went to her room. Luke had been indifferent to her leaving and this had hurt deeply. He hadn’t even asked what was making her leave so early, for it was only half past nine when she said she was going to bed.
Once in her room she could have so easily let the ready tears fall but she resisted the misery that threatened to engulf her. Nevertheless, she felt the need of the fresh air and the peace of the garden and she went from the house silently by the side door. Stars filled the dark sky and she could pick out several constellations as she stood there, at one end of the pool, her neck craned to look up into the flaring heavens. It was strange how she had come to love this island after having lived for so long on Pirate’s Cay. She loved this house, too, and thought that Luke, with his ability to have luxurious alterations done to it, could make it into a palace.
A palace ... for Clarice and himself . . .
She had no idea just how long she stayed outside but when she went in again she was just in time to see Clarice disappearing into the room given her by Anna. On impulse Christine entered the sitting room and stood for a space inside the door, staring at Luke’s back as he gazed out of the window. She spoke at last and he came round to face her.
‘Luke, I have something to say to you.’
‘You have?’ Not a muscle moved in the angular mask of his face.
She nodded and said in a low voice, ‘I’ve decided to live in England.’
‘With Arthur?’ He seemed faintly puzzled now.
Christine shook her head and came further into the room. ‘Not with him, no. I intend to get a job there.’
‘Why England?’
‘It’s where I originally came from.’
‘That’s no reason for going back.’ Luke regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Why this sudden decision, Christine?’ Christine ... A little lump rose in her throat. ‘Has Clarice gone to bed?’ she asked, bypassing his question for the moment.
‘Yes; she’s just gone, a moment ago.’
‘Then—then perhaps I’ll sit down while we talk.’ She took possession of a chair, watched impassively by Luke. ‘How long is she staying here?’
‘Is that of any interest to you?’ he enquired with a chill and speculative look.
‘It’s m-my birthday on Thursday and—and I’m not staying here if she’s going to be here.’
‘You don’t like her?’
Christine set her teeth. ‘You know I don’t!’ She glared at him and added, ‘She’s condescending and haughty and she treats me like a child!’ The impassioned speech brought no comment from Luke but a most odd expression entered his eyes. However, he merely asked again why she had made the sudden decision to leave the Bahamas.
‘There’s nothing for me to stay here for now,’ she said desolately. ‘Nothing’s the same any more.’
‘Things don’t stay the same,’ he said, ‘Changes must occur and it’s changes you resent.’ He spoke seriously and there was no longer any sign of chill or unfriendliness in his manner. ‘You can’t expect life to follow the same path forever.’
‘I don’t resent changes,’ she denied. ‘I know I have to adjust to them, especially now that the home’s being broken up.’
‘And you believe you can adjust?’
‘It will be difficult at first, until I get a job and a place to live. . . .’ Her voice faded; she felt a terrible weight of desolation descend on her as she thought of the bleakness of the future that awaited her.
‘Steve,’ he said and now his voice was clipped. ‘He’s the real cause of the way you feel, isn’t he?’
She hesitated, but only for a second or two. ‘I don’t love him,’ she admitted. ‘I know now that I never did love him.’
A long silence followed before Luke spoke. ‘When did you find this out?’ he wanted to know and again she hesitated. For if she told him the truth—that she had discovered it last night when he, Luke, had made love to her, then with his keen perception he would surely guess that it was him she was in love with.
She couldn’t let him guess, not when he was thinking seriously of marriage with Clarice. No, it would be all too humiliating!
‘I can’t say just when it was,’ she lied, avoiding his penetrating scrutiny. ‘But I do know now that you were right and it was only infatuation I felt for him.’
‘You’re quite sure you can’t pin down a time?’
She shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. ‘No, I couldn’t say for sure when it was I made the discovery.’
‘It must have been very recently, though,’ persisted Luke and she said yes, it must have been recently.
‘When?’ he demanded and she started at the sudden roughness of his voice. ‘Answer me! When?’
‘I don’t know,’ she cried, his manner frightening her. ‘It just came to me.’
‘Was it last night?’
Her eyes flew to his. ‘Last n-night?’
‘You told Steve today that you’re no longer in love with him—’
‘You know?’
‘I’ve been talking to him on the phone, remember.’
‘You knew all th
e time, then?’ She looked at him accusingly. ‘Yet you let me go on—and you asked me unnecessary questions!’
‘I was trying to find out—’ His voice cut as the door opened and Clarice sailed in, glamourous in a diaphanous negligee.
‘I couldn’t sleep, Luke,’ she said after sending a frowning glance at Christine, sitting there on the low armchair. ‘So I decided to come down and have a cosy little drink with you.’
Christine got up at once. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ was all she said until, at the door, she turned. ‘Good night,’ she added and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
As she walked slowly to her room she was thinking of the conversation with Luke and recalling that his hardness towards her had evaporated noticeably. He hadn’t asked her how she was to get the money for the flight to England. Did that mean he had not taken her seriously? She shrugged away the question she could not answer and yet was instantly asking another.
What had Luke been going to say when Clarice walked into the room? ‘I was trying to find out—’
Find out what? Nerves prickled along Christine’s forearms. She felt convinced that what he intended saying was of great importance. And Clarice had interrupted him.
Again Christine shrugged. Whatever it was Luke had been about to say would never be said now, so it was unprofitable to waste her time dwelling on it.
Chapter Ten
Christine was up very early the following morning and to her surprise Anna handed her a letter.
‘It must have come either late last night or very early this morning, miss,’ she said with a smile. ‘There’s no stamp on it so someone must have put it through the letter box.’
Puzzled because the handwriting was Arthur’s, Christine took the letter out to the patio and sat down at the table. Here on these islands one always had to collect one’s mail personally from the post office boxes so, as Anna said, this must have been delivered by hand.
After slitting the envelope and opening out the single sheet of paper she read:
‘A friend was flying over in his private plane, so I thought it a good idea to ask him to deliver this for you. He had a car to meet him at the airport, so I knew it wouldn’t be much trouble for him to drop this in to you. Have a lovely birthday, dear, and do try to forgive me. Remember what I said about Luke—don’t go far away from him because he’ll take care of you always.’
