In spite of its unprepossessing exterior, the inside of the home was spotless. Left to herself, Justine washed her hands and face, and did what she could to tidy her hair without a comb. When she had finished, she did not at once leave the room, but leaned against the rim of the basin, frowning at her reflection in the mirror clipped to the wall.
What David had said by the stream—and, more particularly, the way he had touched her—had made her fed like a half-grown girl of sixteen. The more she thought about it, the more her chagrin intensified. '
I'm nor a girl—I'm a woman!" she exclaimed aloud.
And, suddenly, in a flash of comprehension as stunning as a physical shock, she knew why she felt so fiercely angry and resentful. For the very first time in her life, she was in the grip of a compelling physical attraction. Trembling, her heart thudding, she sank down on the edge of the bath and buried her face in her hands.
"Justine? Are you all right?"
The knock on the door, and the sound of David's voice, made her start and draw in her breath.
"Y-yes . . . I'm just coming," she stammered.
Opening the door and confronting him was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do. "I'm sorry—have I kept you waiting?" she murmured, avoiding his eyes as she joined him in the stone-flagged passage.
"Well, for a girl who doesn't use make-up, twenty minutes seems a longish time to take to freshen up. You're not feeling groggy, are you? The walk hasn't knocked you out?"
"No, of course not. I was just . . . thinking. I didn't realise I'd been in there so long."
"Look, I understand that you can't help worrying about your father," he said quietly. "But the operation must be nearly over by now. There's a telephone here. After lunch, we'll call the hospital."
Justine paled, stricken with guilt and shame. The last time she had thought of her father had been while they were in the forest Incredibly, she had forgotten him.
They had lunch in a cool room at the back of the house. While they were having coffee, David said, "Shall I ring the hospital for you, or would you rather speak to them yourself?"
"Would you do it for me, please?"
"Certainly." He pushed back his chair, and left the room.
He was gone about eight minutes, but it seemed much longer. Justine waited in mounting tension. She was thankful Maria did not come in to talk to her. She could not have borne the effort of thinking in another language just then.
At last, David came back. "Good news," he told her briskly. "The operation finished a few minutes before I rang up. Your father came through it very well. As you've already been told, you won't be able to see him until tomorrow, but you needn't worry any more. The worst is over."
Justine felt her mouth beginning to quiver, and pressed her lips tightly together. After some seconds, she was able to say fairly steadily, "Thank you . . . thank you very much."
"Have some more coffee." He refilled her cup, and his own. "What would you like to do this afternoon?"
"Could we go back to Ajaccio, please? Father gave me a note for the bank, and I must find somewhere to stay."
"That isn't a problem. You'll continue to be my guest on board Kalliste."
She said lamely, "But I've been so much trouble already. Really, I'd be perfectly all right in a hotel. They can't all be full up. Of course I'm very grateful for your offer, but—"
"That's settled, then," he cut in firmly. "We'll drive back to Ajaccio. You will rest for an hour or two, while I attend to some business matters. This evening, after we've been in touch with the hospital again, I'll take you to a café to watch the passeggiata".
So, fifteen minutes later, after they had thanked and taken leave of Maria, and found the driver of the taxi, they began the run back to the city.
To Justine's relief, David did not talk on the return journey. After they had gone a little way, she closed her eyes and tried to make her mind a blank. Emotionally, she had had as much as she could take in one day, and she longed to be alone for a while.
When they got back to the yacht, the man on watch said something which made David frown and look annoyed.
"Is anything wrong?" Justine asked.
He shrugged. "Julien is here to see you. I would have preferred you to spend the rest of the afternoon sleeping."
They found Julien and Diane relaxing with an iced lager under the awning on the main deck.
After she and her brother had heard the news about Professor Field, Diane said, "I have come to stay with you, Justine. It is not proper for you to be alone at this time. Grand'mere has been most anxious for you. I should have come with you last night, but everything happened so quickly there was no time to consider what was best."
Before Justine could answer, Julien put in, "Yes, Diane is right, petite. It is bad for you to be alone. You must let her remain with you until your father is better. Where do you stay?"
It was David who answered him. He said, "Justine is staying on board for the present. You know what the hotels are like at this season. Everywhere is fully booked."
Diane's smooth forehead puckered. "Ah, oui—one forgets it is the season. The city is crowded with tourists. I had overlooked that difficulty." She fingered the pearls at her throat for a moment. "Néanmoins, I do not think it is convenable for Justine to stay here." She looked up at David, her blue eyes grave and faintly troubled. "Forgive me, m'sieur, but perhaps you have not considered what may be said. Of course it is very foolish—but people are so malicious. They love to gossip, to make un scandale."
"A scandal?" Justine said blankly.
"What Madame means is that people who do not know the facts are likely to misinterpret our relationship," David explained sardonically. "I must confess it's not a contingency which had occurred to me, but I daresay she is right."
Her face grew hot. "Oh, that's ridiculous. How could anyone think that—" She broke off, biting her lip.
"What else should they think?" said Julien. "If one sees a girl on a yacht such as Kalliste, one will naturally conclude—"
"The point is taken, Julien. We aren't obtuse," David cut in, rather curtly. He turned to Diane. "The problem is easily resolved if you are willing to act as Justine's chaperon, madame."
"Oui, certainement," Diane agreed, after a moment's thought "That is an excellent suggestion. As you say, it is most unlikely that we can find two suitable rooms at this time of the year."
"Well, now that's settled, you can have your nap, Justine," said David. "Off you go."
Down in her stateroom, Justine took off her clothes, and decided to have a shower. Afterwards, cooled and refreshed, she drew the curtains across the ports, and climbed into the wide luxurious bed. The sheets in which she had slept the night before had been changed for a pair of palest eau-de-nil ones. It seemed to her very extravagant to have clean sheets every day, although she could not deny that it was a pleasant sensation to feel their smooth silky texture against her bare skin. She wondered, a little scornfully, if David also slept on crepe-de-chine.
David—the thought of him made her groan and shut her eyes. What did one do when one found oneself violently attracted to a man? Perhaps, being a purely physical reaction, it would eventually pass off—like measles. In the meantime, the only palliative seemed to be to try not to think about it
But here, in this room, she could not shut him out of her mind. Remembering how, last night, he had brought her the doctored brandy, she turned her face into the pillow, her nails digging into her palms. When he had told her about it, she had thought she was angry at being tricked. Now she realised that what she had really felt was disappointment at having been in his arms without knowing anything about it. It was not an experience which was likely to come her way again. He would never want to hold her close. If he knew the effect he had on her, he would probably grin and dismiss it as a schoolgirl crush. It was obvious from the way he teased her that he didn't think of her as an adult, with an adult's emotions and responses. And even if it did dawn on him that she
was a woman, it would make no difference to his attitude. To attract a man like David, one had to have poise and allure.
Restlessly, she changed her position. If only, just once, he would look at her as she had seen him look at Diane. But of course he never would, and to indulge in such wishful thinking would only prolong her unhappiness.
At dinner that night, Diane wore narrow silver trousers, and a sapphire silk mandarin jacket with wide sleeves and intricately frogged fastenings. She looked like an exotic butterfly—and made Justine feel like the drabbest of grey-and-white moths.
The news from the hospital was that Professor Field, had come round shortly before six and was resting comfortably. Justine would be able to see him—but only for a few minutes—the following morning. His condition was satisfactory, but he would be very weak for several days, and must have complete rest and quiet.
A few minutes before dinner was served, they were joined by Captain Stirling.
"Will you be going home as soon as your father is well enough to travel, Miss Field?" he asked, as he took his place beside her at the table. "I imagine it will be some time before he's fit enough to resume his work."
"Yes, I should think it will," she agreed. "But I doubt if he'll want to go back to England. We haven't a house there. I don't know what's going to happen." She unfolded her napkin, and smoothed it across her lap. "I'm afraid it may be difficult to make him convalesce as long as he should. He's always been so active."
To Julien's ill-concealed annoyance, the Captain engaged her attention for the greater part of the meal. There were intervals of general conversation but, for the most part, David talked with Diane, and Julien was obliged to listen to the interchange between the other two. Nor did he get a chance for a téte-â-téte with Justine after dinner, for no sooner had they left the table than David said it was time for him to return to Pisano in the vedette.
"Would you care to take a walk before you retire, Miss Field?" Captain Stirling suggested, after Julien's rather summary dismissal.
Before she could reply, David said, "A good idea, Angus. She'll sleep better after a turn along the quay. Off you go, ma fille."
It had been Justine's intention to accept the Captain's invitation, but she could not help resenting the way David had taken the decision out of her hands. Nor did she like being called 'my girl' in that patronising tone.
"Have you been with Kalliste long, Captain?" she asked, as they walked down the gangway and turned in the direction of the Citadel and the old, Genoese part of the city.
"Aye, ever since she was launched, ten years ago," he said, with a note of pride in his voice. "She was built for an Australian. He died in '63, and Mr. Cassano bought her and gave me command of her. I'd been first mate up to then. Captain Wallace, her previous master, was near retiring age when she was sold, and he didn't take too kindly to the idea of a Corsican crew."
"Don't you find it rather strange?" she asked curiously.
"No. I like the Corsicans verra well. No doubt you'll have heard the saying—'If you're going into danger you should take a Corsican as your friend, and if you want a good wife you'll not do better than to marry a Corsican girl'? It's sound advice, in my opinion—at least as far as the first part goes. Being a bachelor, I couldn't say if the second part is true or not."
When they returned to the yacht, about half an hour later, a steward informed them that Monsieur and Madame had gone ashore. Monsieur had left instructions that the young lady was to go to bed early, and to have a glass of hot milk before she did so.
"I will prepare it at once, and bring it to you, mademoiselle," the man said, smiling.
Even the crew treated her like a child, she thought vexedly. It was surprising that David hadn't ordered that someone should read a bedtime story to her.
She was already dressed when, next morning, Battista brought her breakfast tray.
"As you are up, no doubt you would prefer to have breakfast on deck, mademoiselle," he suggested.
Justine agreed, but wished she had not when she found David at the table.
"Good morning," he said, rising. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you," she answered stiffly.
If he noticed her reserve, he made no comment. "I expect Diane is still asleep. We were out rather late last night," he remarked. "But she will be called in time to go to the hospital with you."
"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to go by myself today. Afterwards I'll go to the bank and do some shopping."
For a moment, she thought he was going to insist that Diane accompanied her. Then he shrugged, and said, "Just as you wish. Lunch is at one o'clock. I expect Julien will be here when you get back," he added, without expression.
Professor Field was dozing when Justine visited him, and the Sister told her that it would be best not to rouse him.
"I'll tell him you've been," she promised. "And if, later, he wishes to see you, we know where you can be reached. But it's unlikely that we shall call you. It's usual in such cases for the patient to be very drowsy for the first day or two, and it's better so. Presently there will be considerable discomfort from the wound."
After she had been to the bank, and drawn thirty pounds, Justine set out to buy an inexpensive cotton frock. It was impossible to go on wearing her white blouse and grey skirt every day, and even her father would not expect her to wear her khaki working kit on board Kalliste.
The first dress shop She passed was an elegant little boutique, showing a cocktail dress and a hat made of organdie roses. The price tickets made her gasp and quickly move on.
She had been walking the streets for some time, and was beginning to feel rather hopeless, when she came to a shop where an attractive grey-haired woman was leaning through the curtains behind the window to rearrange the display. The beach clothes in the window were not cheap, but neither were they astronomically expensive, and the woman had such a pleasant face that Justine felt she would not mind being asked where there was a cheaper shop.
As she opened the glass door, the woman withdrew from the window, and smiled and said in French, "Good morning, mademoiselle. May I help you?"
Her accent, though good, was not that of a native of France. Nor, when seen at close quarters, did she look like a Frenchwoman. Something about her reminded Justine of her Aunt Helen.
On impulse, she said, "Excuse me, madame, but are you by any chance English?"
The woman laughed and nodded. "Yes, I am. Are you? I wouldn't have guessed it. You have such a nice even tan. You've obviously been sensible and browned yourself slowly."
"Well, I'm not on holiday. I've been here all summer," Justine explained "I'm afraid I didn't come in to buy anything," she went on diffidently. "I wondered if you could direct me to somewhere where they sell very cheap clothes."
"Oh, dear, that's rather a problem," the woman answered, looking thoughtful. "Unfortunately Ajaccio is rather on the expensive side where ready-mades are concerned. There are some cheap shops, of course, but I doubt if their stuff would suit you. What exactly did you want, my dear?"
"A cotton frock—but I can't afford to spend more than three or four pounds."
The woman's face brightened. "Oh, well, I can help you there. I've several little dresses at that price. I'll show you. What size? A forty, I should think, by the look of you. That's an English ten. I shan't be a minute. Do sit down."
While the proprietress was in the back premises, Justine could not resist having a look at the clothes in the front part of the shop. They were all so attractive that, if she had been able to afford them, it would have been hard to decide which she liked best. Then she came upon one dress which appealed to her so much that she ventured to take it down from the rail and look at it more closely. It was a white dress, with a sleeveless crochet bodice and a slightly flared matt crepe skirt—the perfect dress to wear for lunch or dinner on Kalliste.
"Ah, yes, that's one of my favourites," said the Englishwoman, reappearing. "It would look wonderful with your tan. But I'm afrai
d it's above your limit. It's a hundred and twelve francs—that's about eight pounds in English money."
The dresses she had brought from her stockroom were precisely what Justine had had in mind, and from them she chose a lemon tunic which cost only forty-five francs.
To her surprise, when the proprietress had folded it and put it in a paper carrier, she asked Justine if she would care to have coffee with her.
In a small but delightfully decorated sitting-room above the shop, she told Justine that her name was Laura Marnier. She was the widow of a Frenchman who had come to Corsica for his health.
"Jules died last year and, as I didn't want to go back to Paris or to England, I had to find some way of making a living here," she explained. "I've always loved clothes, and when this shop came up for sale—it used to sell rather horrid souvenirs—I had just enough money to set up in business. Now I'm doing quite well. Do tell me, what are you doing in Corsica?"
Justine explained about her father's work on Pisano, and how he was now in hospital.
"Oh, my poor child, how dreadfully worrying for you. Have you found somewhere decent to stay? If not, I could put you up here. I've a minute guestroom on the top floor. You'd be very welcome to it if you're stuck in some third-rate hotel without a soul to talk to."
"It's very kind of you," Justine said gratefully. "But at the moment I'm staying on a boat in the harbour."
"Well, if you should need help at any time, you have only to ask," said the older woman. "As a matter of fact, it's a treat for me to talk to another English person. I love this country and the Corsicans. Nevertheless, it's nice to slip back into one's own language occasionally. In spite of being married to a Frenchman for ten years, I still think in English, I'm afraid."
Presently, when the conversation had returned to the subject of clothes, she said, "Look, you're going to think me frightfully impertinent, but I simply must tell you something. The way you wear your hair in that bun ... it doesn't suit you a bit. Haven't you ever considered having it cut? It would make all the difference. You've got a lovely figure and gorgeous eyes, but your hair spoils the effect."
Anne Weale Page 9
