"Oh, I wouldn't go as far as that," he said, with an impenitent grin. Then: "You're very hot in his defence. Diable! You haven't a tendresse for him, have you?"
She could have thrown something at him, but she managed to check the impulse. "Don't be silly," she said, with a creditable attempt at insouciance. "It's merely that I think you're unfair to him. I think you're more of a ... a roué than David is."
She moved to another tank in which some small bones were soaking in bedacryl-tolual solution. "If you really think so poorly of him, I'm surprised you want your sister to marry him."
Julien shrugged. "His peccadilloes won't trouble Diane. She's no angel herself. You ought to see her in one of her wild moods. She can rant and rave like a fishwife. Oh, she's as sweet as sugar when everything's going her way. But if something riles her — whoosh!" He flung up his hands, indicating all hell being let loose.
"How about coming to the dancing in the village with me tonight?" he suggested.
She shook her head. "I can't tonight, Julien. After I've been to see Father, I must do some work on our records. It's taking me all my time to keep them up to date. Now, please, do go away. I can't get on, and talk to you at the same time."
But Julien was in a determined mood, and he coaxed and wheedled until, finally, worn down by his persistence, she agreed that, if he would only go and leave her in peace, she would go to the dancing — but only for an hour or so.
He was waiting to take over the wheel of the motor-boat when one of the crew brought her back from her visit to the hospital.
The dancing was taking place in the largest of the three café-bars in the village. Before they arrived there, Julien explained some of the local etiquette. None of the village girls would dream of going to a dancing on her own, he said, but it was perfectly correct for them to attend in pairs or trios, and they must dance with whoever asked them. To refuse a partner — however politely — was considered offensive, and the girl who was unwise enough to do so was likely to be ignored for the rest of the evening.
"If you dance with anyone else, don't be indignant if he walks off and leaves you when the music stops," he warned her, with a grin. "It isn't correct for our girls to talk to their partners, or to be escorted from the floor. And they never permit a man to take them home, however much they like him. That would be considered most scandalous. It's not so many years since men and girls were not allowed to speak to each other at all in public."
The music for the dancing was provided by a gramophone, and most of the records were of the tango and paso-doble variety, interspersed with some waltz-type music for a dance which consisted of all the couples on the rough concrete floor whirling round like spinning tops. To Justine's relief, none of the villagers asked her to dance, although there were many more men than women present. This, she learned from Julien, was because it was acceptable behaviour for married men to attend dancing on their own, leaving their wives at home to mind the children.
When they were back on board, Julien was not at all pleased when she thanked him and said goodnight. But even if Captain Stirling had not appeared, and spared her an argument she would have resisted Julien's efforts to persuade her to stay up.
On the way to her stateroom, she wondered if the Captain would tell David she had been out with Julien, and if David would be displeased with her. She hoped not, for it had not been her intention to annoy him.
Julien's elation at the success of his scheme to persuade his grandmother to sell Pisano gave place to sulky umbrage when he discovered that the capital was to be tied up in a trust, and that all he would get was the income which Madame di Rostini had decided was adequate for him.
"It's not fair!" he protested bitterly, venting his resentment on his sister. "I'm the heir to Pisano. The money is mine by right. Why should I live on a pittance when I'm entitled to all of it?"
"Sixty thousand francs a year is scarcely a pittance," Diane answered tartly. "I'm not getting a sou out of the deal."
"You've got Mathieu's money. You don't need any more," he retorted. "And if you hook David, you'll have twice as much as my income for your clothes alone."
"Oh, be quiet... go away . . . you bore me," she said impatiently. "You ought to think yourself lucky the old girl has agreed to sell at all. If I were you, I'd be crossing my fingers that she won't change her mind at the last moment. Nothing is signed yet, remember."
"You don't think it's likely, do you?" he demanded in alarm.
"It's possible," Diane said maliciously. Then, because she was anxious to get rid of him, "No, no, you fool — of course she won't change her mind. Go away — I'm sick of your whining. I want to rest."
When he had gone on deck, she lay down on her bed, and gave herself up to the almost physical pleasure of contemplating her future as Madame David Cassano. Forty-eight hours ago, she had been in a very different state of mind. Then, she had reached the infuriating conclusion that David was merely amusing himself with her. But, yesterday morning, Julien had reported what he had overheard David saying to his sister. Now she knew it was only a matter of time before her scheme, too, was fait accompli.
For four days, life on Kalliste ran smoothly. Justine reverted to her habit of having a dawn bathe. One morning, she came on deck to find David there ahead of her.
"May I join you?" he asked, smiling. "Or do you prefer to have the sea to yourself at this hour?"
She shook her head, her heart hammering. When he smiled at her like that, with only friendliness in his eyes, she felt half-way to heaven. She knew it was madness to let herself be so exalted by a smile from a man whose interest was in someone else, but she couldn't help it.
They swam until the sun was up, and Kallista's white hull was patterned with shifting golden reflections from the surface of the sea around her. The water was so clear that when, from some distance away, Justine swam down into the depths, she could see the yacht's keel as clearly as if she were close to it.
The gangway was back in place when David signalled that he was going aboard. He waited on the platform at the bottom of the steps and, when she reached it, hauled her easily up beside him. There was a delectable aroma of fresh coffee mingling with the scent of the maquis, and Battista was waiting on deck to put Justine's towel round her shoulders, and to ask, "An English breakfast this morning, m'sieur?"
David looked enquiringly at Justine. "Bacon and eggs today?"
"Oh, yes, please. I'm ravenous." She pulled off her rubber cap, and ran her fingers through her hair. She had washed it since her visit to the hairdresser, and managed to set it herself with hairpins and rolls of cotton-wool.
While they were having breakfast together, Justine found herself wishing that time would come to a stop. The blue sky, the shining emerald sea, the icy coldness of the orange juice, the crispness of the grilled bacon rashers, and — most of all — the nearness of the tall, bronzed man, hungrily intent on his food on the other side of the table, gave her such an intense sense of happiness that she would have been content to spend the rest of eternity re-living these perfect moments.
David glanced up and saw the look on her face. He put down his knife and fork, and leaned back in his chair, appraising her ruffled hair and her white swimsuit, now nearly dry again.
"You should have been called Alexandra," he said lazily.
"Oh... why?"
"My mother was fond of poetry, particularly Tennyson's. You remind me of that poem about Alexandra — 'the sea-king's daughter from over the sea.' "
Her pulses quickened. "I like Tennyson too," she said. "But I should have thought he was too florid for your taste."
"I can't say I ever thought much of 'Come into the garden Maud,'" he agreed dryly. "But I approve of his views of the proper relationship between the sexes. You know the lines I mean, don't you?"
She wrinkled her forehead. "I don't think so."
A teasing gleam lit his eyes. " 'Man for the field and woman for the hearth . . . man to command and woman to obey; all else confusion,'"
he quoted.
Justine sipped her orange juice. "Do you also approve of — 'He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse?'" she asked innocently.
He laughed, and made the sign of a fencer acknowledging a successful riposte. "Touché!"
But he did not answer the question and, before Justine could press him, one of the crew came hurrying along the deck and handed her a sealed envelope, at the same time speaking to David in Corse.
"We've just received a telegraph for you from England," David explained, as she looked blankly at the envelope.
"From England?" She slit open the envelope, and threw out a single sheet of paper. Her frown cleared. "Oh, it's from my Aunt Helen. My cousin has had her baby. It's another boy. She says 'Most concerned Richard's illness. Are you sure you don't need me? Feel I should come. Certain Richard impossible invalid.'"
"Now that her grandchild has arrived, are you sure you wouldn't like her to come?" David asked. "There's plenty of room for her, you know."
"Oh, no, thank you. You're very kind, but it really isn't the least bit necessary. Father is well out of the wood now. There would be no point in her coming."
"Well, you'll want to send a reply. Lend Mademoiselle your pen, will you, Antonio?" he added, in French.
Justine thought for some moments, then wrote on the back of the paper — Delighted your news. No need to worry. Father recovering fast. Everything under control. Love, Justine.
"Don't forget to put your aunt's name and address," David reminded her, as she was about to hand this to Antonio.
"Oh, yes. Mrs. Charles Hurst, The Rectory, Little Farthing Green, Suffolk, Angleterre." With a smiling word of thanks, she returned the pen to its owner.
When they were alone again, David said, 'Tell me about your aunt. You said once that she and your father don't get on too well, but I get the impression that you are very attached to her."
"Oh, yes, she's a darling," said Justine. "So is her husband, Uncle Charles. I've often—" she hesitated, "I've sometimes wished that Father let them bring me up, as they wanted to. It would have been fun to live with my cousins."
He said, "Perhaps the poem which suits you best is the one about the girl who was shut up in a castle, and was only allowed to watch the world through a mirror."
"You mean The Lady of Shalott?" she said, startled and flurried by the unwonted gentleness in his voice.
"Yes, that's the one." His mouth twitched slightly. "But, if you remember, one day a knight rode past, and she couldn't resist having a look at him, and the spell was broken."
Justine looked away at the horizon. "You've got it muddled with some other story. When the Lady of Shalott left her minor, it cracked and a curse came upon her. It wasn't a happy ending."
She turned her head, her breath catching in her throat.
"Don't look so despondent," he said quizzically. "I'm sure, when your knight comes along, the ending will be a happy one."
"Good morning. I see you have both been swimming," Diane remarked pleasantly, making Justine jump at the suddeness of her appearance.
David quickly got up to draw out a chair for the older girl. "Good morning. Yes, we were up early. Did you sleep well?" he asked, as she seated herself.
A few minutes later, Justine excused herself to go and get ready for work. She did not see David again before she went ashore.
She ate her lunch under the awning where she had been sitting on the day she first saw him. And she thought, 'I don't care what happens next week ... or next month ... or next year. I don't care if it's folly to think about him, to dream impossible dreams about him. I shall never love anyone else the way I love him. It's no use trying to fight it any more. Even if it worsens the misery later on, I've got to make the most of this. It's all I shall ever have of love. But I must be careful not to let him guess how I feel about him. That's the one thing I couldn't bear.'
When she returned to the yacht, after the day's work, she had a shower, and lay down on her bed to rest for half an hour. She had just closed her eyes, when a tap at the door made her open them again.
Raising herself on one elbow, she called, "Yes, who is it?"
"It's Diane. May I come in?"
Justine rolled off the bed, and quickly put on her underclothes before padding across the room to unlock the door.
"Oh, have I disturbed you? I'm so sorry," Diane apologised.
"It doesn't matter. Come in," said Justine, wondering what she wanted.
Diane walked in, and sat down in one of the armchairs. Looking at her lovely, serene face, it was impossible to believe Julien's allegation that she still had a violent temper.
She said earnestly, "Justine, I must talk to you. What I have to say may make you angry — but please listen to me. Believe me, I wish only to spare you pain."
Justine sat down in the other chair, and tucked her legs up beside her. "What do you mean?" she asked warily.
Diane toyed with the gold link bracelet she was wearing, a faint frown between her beautifully shaped eyebrows. "I asked you once if it was for David or Julien that you had changed yourself," she began. "I thought then — although you denied it — that it was my brother who attracted you. But, this morning, when I came on deck, I could see I had been mistaken. You are in love with David. You may say it is not so, but I know it is, ma chire. Another woman can always tell, you were looking at him, and it was as if ... as if there was a light inside you. That look is unmistakable."
Justine said quietly, "Well, go on."
Diane bit her lower lip. "I don't like to tell you this, because I know how much it will hurt you, but I think David will soon ask me to marry him. Perhaps it will happen tonight. You see" — she looked embarrassed — "he has been making love to me for some time. But until this week I was not sure of my own feelings."
"Are you sure now?" Justine asked, her voice still empty of expression.
"Yes, I have decided to accept him," the older girl admitted reluctantly.
"I see. Well, you needn't worry, Diane. I never imagined that he would propose to me, you know." Justine jumped up, and moved to one of the portholes. "This look you say you saw on my face ... did he see it too, do you suppose?"
Diane followed her, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I don't know," she said gently. "Perhaps — he is clever about women. But this morning was the only time I have seen that look in your eyes. So perhaps, if you also are clever, you can make him think he was mistaken. Only a few days ago, he was still worried that you might be in love with Julien. He asked my advice about it"
"What did you say?"
"That it was best not to interfere."
"And what did he say to that?"
In a low voice full of compassion, Diane answered, "He said he had been unwise to discourage your friendship with Julien. He said it would have been more subtle to ensure that, if you became infatuated with anyone, it was with him."
"What?" Justine whispered disbelievingly.
"I am afraid it is quite true," Diane assured her. "He also said it was not too late for that to happen. I think that is why he swam with you this morning."
"Oh, God — how could he?" Justine felt physically sick.
"Lie down, petite. I will get you a glass of water." Diane steered her to the bed, and then disappeared into the bathroom.
When she came back with the water, she said, "Try not to hate him too much, Justine. I know this is difficult for you to understand now, but he does not mean to humiliate you. Men are such strange creatures. I think perhaps David is the type who, although he has had many affaires, has a great respect for girls like yourself — girls who are innocent. David feels responsible for you while your father is in hospital. I don't know why he is so suspicious of Julien. My brother is a flirt, but he wouldn't harm you."
Justine sat on the edge of the bed, and drank some of the water.
"What are you going to do now you know the truth?"
/> "Do?"
"You surely can't wish to stay here. I would not. My pride would not permit it," said Diane, with a sparkle in her eyes.
Justine's mouth twisted. "My pride has become very resilient lately," she replied, in a flat voice. "Thank you for telling me all this, Diane. Is Julien about at the moment?"
'Yes, he is somewhere on the yacht. He had lunch with us. Why do you ask?"
"Would you do me a favour? Would you find him, and ask him to come here?"
When, some minutes later, Julien knocked, Justine called him in and gave him a wide, bright smile.
"If you took me to Ajaccio this evening, instead of one of the crew, after I've been to the hospital we can dine somewhere in the city," she suggestd.
Julien accepted the idea with enthusiasm.
"Good — let's go now," she said gaily. "I'll just write a note to David, explaining that we may be late back."
The sailor who usually took her over was already waiting in the boat at the foot of the gangway. He raised no objection when she said he would not be needed because Monsieur di Rostini was going with her. Justine gave him the note to deliver to David, and hoped that, by the time he read it, they would have too good a start to make it worthwhile sending the big launch in pursuit of them.
When she came out of the hospital, after seeing her father, she half expected to find David lying in wait for her. But he was not, so presumably he had decided to wait until they returned to castigate her for the deliberately provocative note she had left him. Well, he would have a long wait, she thought hardily. She had every intention of staying out till two in the morning.
In fact, it was a little after one o'clock when, at a more moderate speed, they made the return trip. Julien steered with one hand, his other arm round Justine's waist. Submitting to this embrace, she felt rather guilty about making use of him to retaliate against David. Poor Julien. If he was looking forward to some more ardent caresses on board, he was due for an unpleasant surprise. David would probably send him packing before he could even set foot on the gangway.
Anne Weale Page 16
