Marcus slanted her a mocking glance. “That’s very wise. If you grant too many favors to the Captain, the other one, Essler, will conclude that you’ve made your choice. And you haven’t yet, have you?”
Viola gave her high-pitched, bell-like laugh. “Don’t tease about such things, Marcus. They’re both very nice, but I hardly know them. I owe nothing to Mr. Essler, and if I can show only a small profit to the Captain I shan’t be at all in his debt. In any case, as I pointed out to him at the beginning, the people who come in to buy flowers might easily stroll through the rest of the store and buy something else that they hadn’t really intended to buy. So he won’t know just how profitable the flower department will be.”
“That’s surprisingly shrewd of you. I’ve an idea that you can already do as you like with the Captain.”
“Which is another reason why I’d rather not ask more favors of him.”
“Well, we can arrange transport. One of the gardeners is a good driver, and he’ll take you down and pick you up every day.”
“That’s sweet of you, dear, but it won’t quite do. You see, I already have a few nice orders, and right from the start I’ll need a car. I do drive, you know. Of course, I could make use of the Casa Northwick utility, but it would be restricting because I could only have it when it’s free. I was wondering whether I could use the small car that Josef Carvallo drives sometimes. He could have it most afternoons.”
Sally leaned forward anxiously. “Mother, don’t you think the business should pay for your transport?”
“Frankly,” said Viola, smiling blandly, “I don’t think it will be able to stand the expense for some time. Marcus understands—don’t you, Marcus?”
“Perfectly,” he said. “Use the small car, by all means. Josef is moving out, anyway.”
“To that house you said he could have?” asked Sally curiously.
He nodded and turned his head slightly, so that she could hear him. “I told him that if he can get established in a small way without any further help from me, I’ll see that he gets all the financial help he needs for expansion. All I want is proof that the leopard has changed his spots.”
“You don’t believe he has, do you?”
“No, but it’s one case in which I’ll be glad to be proved wrong. It’ll be good to have him out of the house, anyway.”
“Sally will miss him,” said Viola. “She and Josef always seem able to find something to talk about. And they have secrets too Don’t you, darling?”
“What secrets?” asked Marcus non-committally.
“None that I can remember,” said Sally.
“Oh, dear, have I made a blue?” queried Viola contritely. “Let’s forget it, then.”
“What secrets?” repeated Marcus.
Viola flung a penitent look at Sally before she answered him. “It was only something Katarina told me. She said that the other night Dona Inez needed one of her pills and there were none left in the bedroom, so she went to get a new supply from somewhere or other. It was in the early hours and everyone should have been sleeping, but she heard voices, and traced them to Sally’s balcony. Being nosey, or worried, or something, she went further, and saw Sally in her balcony talking down to Josef in the patio.”
There was a brief silence during which Sally sat, a little numb, waiting for whatever might come next.
“Why did Katarina tell you that?” asked Marcus, still without expression.
Viola shrugged distastefully. “It’s nothing, Marcus. I do hate servants’ gossip and I had no intention of mentioning it to anyone at all—not even to Sally. I’m sure I don’t want our relationships upset in any way.”
“You haven’t said why Katarina told you,” Marcus persisted, in those even tones. “She’s Spanish, and I can understand that the incident might have disturbed her, but did she explain why she came to you—not to anyone else?”
“Because I’m Sally’s mother, I suppose,” said Viola, quite upset at her own stupidity. “She said she had no wish to spy, that what Sally and Josef had said to each other was harmless, but that she thought I ought to know, so that I could watch, and warn Sally against indiscretion.”
“And you didn’t warn Sally,” he said inexorably.
“Of course not. Sally and Josef may play together, but that’s all. I was sure there must be some very simple explanation, and to be quite honest I forgot it—till it slipped out just now.”
Marcus didn’t say anything more, and from the angle at which he held his head it was impossible to see whether he had completely lost the new urbanity. The car purred down the hillside into grape country, took the long winding lane to Las Vinas. It was Friday, the day when the fishermen loaded their catch into baskets, slung them across their donkeys’ backs and trudged all over the island, selling in the villages; they waved as the car passed them. There would be langouste cooked in wine for lunch today; the thought of it made Sally feel rather sick.
It was a relief, when they arrived at Las Vinas, to find a couple of naval men waiting for Marcus in the courtyard. They bowed to the two women, spoke to him at once.
“We caught a chap in one of our launches—didn’t seem to be doing anything queer, but he was a civilian on official property, which is an offence. We took him up to the office for questioning to see if he knew anything about the launch that was borrowed without permission a week ago, but he’s asked for his rights—to be questioned in the presence of the San Palos magistrate. If you can come down now, Mr. Durant, it could probably be cleared up in ten minutes.”
Marcus nodded. “I’ll come in my own car.” To Sally and Viola he said, “I’ll be back for lunch. So long.”
Sally watched the two cars slide away and then she turned to where Viola sat under the palms. Her mother looked at her brightly.
“Sorry about that gaffe, darling. I was thinking so busily about the car Marcus promised me, and flower decorations for the Naval Ball, that I didn’t really know what I was saying, till it was out. But don’t worry. Marcus knows you too well to care about a tiny lapse on your part.” Adroitly, she changed the subject. “Did you know he’s a magistrate? Doesn’t it thrill you enormously to know you’re going to marry such a man? If only I’d had such luck at your age!”
Smarting as much for her father’s memory as for any hurt to herself, Sally nodded and went indoors to wash the smell of lilac from her fingers.
* * *
During that weekend there was a faint dampness in the air and a haze hid the sun. A servant told Sally it meant the end of spring and the beginning of summer. On San Palos, April was glorious with summer flowers, the first fruit and a huge variety of salads and vegetables. At the end of June it became really hot and July and August were the “full months,” when fields and vines became bare through harvesting, the earth could be ploughed and the winter crops sown. Two complete seasons of growth, and except for heavier rains the winter was warm and spring like.
Josef Carvallo left Las Vinas unobtrusively. No goodbyes, of course, because he would look in for a meal now and then, and to report progress. With her mother, Marcus and Captain Northwick, Sally drove out to the mansion of a retired Catalan business man for dinner on Saturday, and on Sunday a dozen people came to Las Vinas for lunch.
Marcus was charming to everyone, protective and considerate towards Sally. That afternoon, while others rested, was the first time they had found themselves alone since he had proposed turning the sham engagement into a genuine one. They went down into the garden, walked among the flower beds towards the cypresses, without talking much. Sally guessed he was trying her out. For nearly a week they had been together for much of every day. For fifteen minutes each morning they had visited Dona Inez, and each time they left the senora’s room his arm had lain across her shoulder as he pushed her gently in front of him into the corridor. There had been guests galore to see the proprietorial glances, and one gift from him, an impersonal tooled leather writing case packed out with writing materials and with a gold pen and
pencil tucked into the appropriate slots.
Now he offered cigarettes and lighted hers before setting the flame to his own. Her hand must have trembled slightly, for he stated calmly.
“I’ll definitely leave it to you to reopen the subject, so stop quivering. What I have to speak about now is only vaguely connected with the thing you haven’t quite accepted. You always look very sweet, but I’d have to be blind and insensitive not to notice that you ring the changes on half a dozen frocks. I want you to get more clothes, Sally.”
She looked down at the path as they moved. “Very well.” Her reply must have surprised him slightly, for a moment or two elapsed before he said, “A few days ago I asked Northwick to telegraph a Barcelona fashion house to send sketches of stuff they have on hand. He’s received them, and if you’ll choose what you’d like and give the series of measurements they ask for, they’ll alter their models accordingly before sending them over with matching underwear and shoes. You’re not to have any silly ideas about accepting the things.”
“I shan’t mind wearing your gifts here at your house,” she said, low-voiced.
He took this in, but did not comment. “Then that’s settled. Northwick left the sketches with me and I’ll send them to your room. Make it at least six outfits, and choose some sort of ball gown thing in white, that you can wear at the Lilac Fiesta.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Good.” He paused. “There’s just one thing I may not have made quite clear enough. When we’re officially engaged I’ll make no more demands on you than I’m making at the moment. That will come gradually, as you become ready for it.”
And as he became ready for it, Sally thought bleakly. He had no more wish to make love to her than she had to be made love to by someone whose heart wasn’t in it. Apparently he expected no reply to that, for when they had covered a few more yards he began explaining the history of the gardens. They were back on the slightly formal, very pleasant footing which had prevailed during the last few days.
Viola’s first day at the store was a moderate success, her second very dull and her third not much better. Then on Thursday things began to look up for the weekend; the Naval Ball on Friday and a wedding anniversary party on Saturday. At Las Vinas she was preoccupied, but she did mention that Captain Northwick was expecting Sally for lunch on Saturday.
Marcus had a court session of sorts that Saturday morning and he had been invited to stay for luncheon with the business and naval men of the town. So Viola and Sally drove alone to the square cottage that bulged with nautical monstrosities. But Sally noticed that quite a few of the prints had disappeared from the walls, and the pot of basil had been superseded by a few stiff sprays of pink oleander.
Viola was kind enough not to mention any specific alteration. “You seem much cosier here, Captain,” she said in her smiling, chatty way. “But you won’t mind if I sit with my back to the brass lamp, will you? What is it made of—a piece of deck-rail?”
The Captain, to his credit, took this stoically. Sally was sure the lamp would be cast into the limbo which now held the discarded prints before Viola came again to the cottage. It was really amazing what her mother could accomplish with a single comment. Before the Captain even got round to wondering whether he’d have the courage to think seriously about Mrs. Sheppard, she would have groomed his abode into a presentable, perhaps even acceptable, background for a wife. And he wouldn’t even know it had been happening.
Maybe it was typical of the queer, hazy mood which was so difficult to throw off, that Sally should come round to regarding the idea of her mother’s marrying again without distaste. In England, Viola had been fretful and unwell, longing so much to get away that she had paid fifty pounds she couldn’t easily afford for a nebulous job in Barcelona and uprooted Sally from St. Alun’s. Magically, her mood had lightened during the cruise, and now, secure in a luxury post and playing off a middle-aged business man against a retired naval captain, she was in her element as she had never been before.
Viola had loved her husband as much as it was in her nature to love anyone, but Sally realized now, when her mother was expanding so happily in the sunshine and masculine admiration, that the quiet suburban life of the Sheppards must have irked Viola unbearably as a newlywed after a continental honeymoon she must have been wildly happy; no doubt she had imagined life would be a long succession of honeymoons in exciting places, with Richard taking charge, smoothing the edges everywhere, providing a warm and dependable cocoon. Sally had long ago concluded that her father had worked harder than was normal, so that Viola should go short of nothing she had been used to before her marriage. She thought, a little achingly, of the disillusionment he must have known when, because it was all he could afford, he had taken Viola to Wastwater or Clovelly, and been rewarded by bored sighs.
There was one thing Sally had become sure of on San Palos. Her mother fitted into the island as she had never fitted into the London set; she was like a jewel set in platinum.
After lunch, the Captain took them for a drive out to one of the bays. For exercise, Sally went off along the beach and climbed the rocks which gave a view of the lighthouse she sometimes saw from her window as a wheeling light.
When she got back to the car the others were missing, so she sat inside and waited, watching the curling waves and the lift of the sand in the wind. A couple of island girls in full skirts and blouses went down to paddle and look for shellfish, and not far away some boys eyed them and laughed loudly together to draw the girls’ attention. But when the two walked demurely back up the beach the lads were looking the other way. That was convention on San Palos.
It was nearly five when Viola and the Captain returned from their jaunt. Sally suspected it had not been too successful, for Viola hated walking and the Captain was averse to sitting on rocks.
Viola said, “The Captain is going to take me down to the hall, so that I can give the final touch to the decorations. Going with us, Sally?”
“No, I’d better get back. You’re invited as guests to that anniversary party, aren’t you?”
“Yes. The Captain says he’ll wait for me at the hall and take me home to dress. He’s going to call for me later, too.”
“And what are you doing this evening, Miss Sally?” asked the Captain, in his courteous, stilted tones. “I believe Marcus has an uncle arriving from Majorca?”
“The uncle is bringing other guests—they’re only staying a few days, though. They’re due to arrive this afternoon.”
“I’ll take you home at once, then.” He smiled, paternally. “They’ve probably come to see you.”
She smiled at him and shook her head. “They’ve been waiting for Dona Inez to be well enough to see them. She’s done splendidly during the past two weeks and Dr. Suarez said it would be good for her to have more visitors; she wants them, herself.”
Viola said urgently, “You must slip indoors the back way and dress up a bit before you meet them, Sally. Drive on, Captain.”
At Las Vinas they left Sally at the foot of the steps. It wasn’t necessary for her to use the back entrance, for the courtyard was empty, and when she paused in the hall there came no sound from the sala. If the guests had arrived they were upstairs in their rooms. She went up quietly and closed herself within her bedroom. She had a bath and put on a slim-fitting black lace frock. Black didn’t suit her so well as it suited some blondes, but when she had to meet elderly Spaniards it was safe. She brushed the blown sand from her hair, pressed the waves softly about her brow and temples, used lipstick and a touch of mascara. It was only six and golden sunlight still slanted across the trees, but perhaps she ought to go down.
Ought? She felt cold as she stood still and contemplated the word. She seemed to have lost all inclination to assert herself. And she knew why. Whatever happened on San Palos, however she was bruised and beaten, she couldn’t give up yet, if ever. Life with Marcus promised to be arid and painful. Without him it would be plain hell.
There was a
knock at the door. “Senorita!”
Sally turned the handle and smiled automatically at the bobbing maid. “Yes, Carmelita?”
“I am to ask you to go down to the sala, please. Ahora, senorita.”
Sally thanked her, came from the room and walked down the staircase. There were sounds now in the sala—several voices discreetly subdued. The door was ajar, and as she pushed it wide Marcus was there, slipping a hand under her arm and squeezing a warning. Sally saw two men bowing towards her, two seated women inclining their heads and smiling. Then, almost precipitately, she stopped.
There was another chair, tall-backed and with a matching stool close to it. And seated there, wrapped in regal black with a band of diamonds at her scrawny little neck and Carlos hovering close by, was Dona Inez!
CHAPTER SEVEN
MARCUS was saying, so that no one but Sally could hear it, “It surprised me too, but take it in your stride. She’s done this solely for us, so we must make it worth her while.”
The old senora’s small cackling laugh broke in. “Come and greet me, my child, before Marcus introduces you to my cousin. He is my young cousin, hardly more than seventy, and he has lived on Majorca since he married forty years ago.” She looked appraisingly at Sally. “Yes, you will suit this room. It badly needs the young face.”
“Do you feel quite well down here, Dona Inez?” asked Sally anxiously. “Not even a little bit dizzy?”
The senora made a feeble snapping noise with her fingers. “You and Carlos! If I knew so much about the human body I might scare myself into dizziness. I feel good!”
The introductions followed. Don Antonio ... Dona Esmeralda ... Dona Bianca ... Don Nicolas. All of them charming and old, wearing black clothes that looked new. Marcus, too, was wearing a black dinner jacket, and though he looked more hawk-nosed and arresting than ever, Sally couldn’t help feeling an hysterical desire to laugh. This was supposed to be a jolly occasion, and everyone had chosen black; the oddest angle of it was that no one but herself noticed it.
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