Had Craig not been in love with Diane it would have been so easy; but he was in love with Diane, and although his concern appeared to be very real, Jeanette felt that the likelihood of his being genuinely interested in the affairs of another woman must be extremely remote.
'Shall we go, then ?'
She nodded, looking up at him unhappily as they moved from the gaily-lighted cafe into the darkness. The breeze had freshened; automatically she brushed a hand through her hair as it flicked on to her face. It was a dejected little movement and to her surprise Craig sensed it immediately. He drew her arm through his and although he did not speak she derived a strange comfort from the gesture and from the knowledge of his quick perception.
Mrs. Fleming was sitting alone, reading, when they arrived back at the yali. She glanced up with a slight frown as they entered, and then her eyes moved to the clock on the wall. Jeanette felt like a naughty child who had stayed out late. Her chin lifted and she half turned to look at Craig. A glint had entered his eyes, but his tone held no ill-humour when he spoke.
'Where are the others?'
'In bed. Tony and Mark have just gone up.' She closed her book and laid it aside. 'I expect you're going up now, Jeanette?' Clearly she wanted to have a word alone with her son and Jeanette obligingly said good night and turned to the door.
'Good night.' Craig smiled and opened the door for her. 'It's too late now to show you my work; I'll let you see it tomorrow.' His mother looked up sharply, casting him a glance of interrogation. 'Jeanette is going to assist me with the book,' he obligingly informed her, and opened the door wider for Jeanette to pass through.
'But, Craig, surely you're not going to—-' Jeanette heard no more; she mounted the stairs slowly, wondering, with a perfectly natural curiosity, what Craig's mother was saying about her. More important perhaps - what was she thinking?
The following afternoon she was given some idea. The men had gone out to tinker with the boat; Diane was in the garden sunbathing, and Jeanette, having come into the house to find her sun-tan lotion, was called into the sitting-room by Mrs. Fleming.
'I just wanted to have a word with you,' she said, in cordial enough tones, but there was a hint of hostility in her clear blue eyes. 'My son tells me you are coming"over here at the week-ends to help him with his book?'
'Craig did suggest I do that, yes.'
'Well, my dear, that would hardly be the thing, would it?'
Jeanette eyed her squarely.
'I don't think I understand you, Mrs. Fleming.'
'Does your brother know what you intend doing?'
Mrs. Fleming sat up straight, her manner serene and aloof. Her greying hair was attractively styled, her skin free from lines and glowing with health. She had the aristocratic bearing of her son, with the same proud features and firm set jaw.
'Mark has no authority over my movements,' Jeanette submitted quietly. 'He would never be so presumptuous as to interfere.'
'Perhaps not, but I'm sure, my dear, that it would embarrass him to know that you were spending every week-end over here alone with Craig.'
Jeanette quelled her rising anger; she also had the sense to pause, lest she should on impulse say something she would later come to regret.
'I don't expect to be spending every week-end here, Mrs. Fleming. Craig asked me to help him and I agreed. I can't go back on my word - even if I wanted to.'
'And, I take it, you don't want to.'
'That's correct.'
A slight pause and then,
'I hope, Jeanette, you haven't been so foolish as to fall in love with my son? He's shortly to marry Diane, as you obviously know.'
A deep flush mounted Jeanette's face. The words shocked her; she would never have believed Mrs. Fleming could have asked so blunt a question.
'I have most certainly not fallen in love with your son,' she retorted, her anger still fairly well under control. 'And I assure you, Mrs. Fleming, that there's not the remotest possibility of my doing so.'
Mrs. Fleming's face cleared, but she remained thoughtfully silent, apparently absorbed in the contemplation of a pair of priceless Sevres vases set on the buhl cabinet under the window.
'Your answer relieves me,' she said at last. 'My son is a most attractive man, and you wouldn't be the first woman to lose her heart—'
'I haven't lost my heart!' Real trouble now with her temper. Jeanette sought vainly for some excuse to end this conversation.
'No, my dear, you've said so - but I'm merely trying to be kind, to warn you.' She looked her over, from head to foot, and Jeanette gained the extraordinary impression that Mrs. Fleming was making mental comparisons between her and Diane. But why should she do that? The idea was suddenly quite absurd and Jeanette dismissed it from her mind. 'Forgive me, dear, if I've said anything to upset you,' Mrs. Fleming went on in the same cool unhurried tones. 'Perhaps I've been rather outspoken, but my concern for you is genuine. You're a nice girl and I should be most grieved if you were hurt.'
Jeanette at first felt extremely sceptical about this, but as there seemed no reason why Mrs. Fleming should make the statement, unless it were true, she chided herself for her ungenerous thoughts. Nevertheless, she still felt nettled by Mrs. Fleming's assumption that she could be so stupid as to fall in love with her son, knowing as she did that he had waited all these years for Diane.
'You have no need to worry, Mrs. Fleming, I shan't be hurt.'
Instead of returning to the garden, Jeanette went upstairs and changed into a dress; then she went out for a walk, all her pleasurable anticipation of helping Craig crushed under the weight of despair that had begun to settle upon her as the conversation with Mrs. Fleming progressed. Unexpectedly she had been faced with the stark question as to her feelings for Craig, a question which she now knew she'd been persistently avoiding for some time. 'I shan't be hurt', she had told Craig's mother. ...
She walked and walked, for a long while refusing even to allow the question to come to the forefront of her mind, but eventually she had to admit the truth. Despite all her resolutions to remain faithful to Ned's memory she had fallen irrevocably in love with, Craig Fleming.
Tea time had long since passed when Jeanette at length returned. Diane and the three men were swimming. Mrs. Fleming told her, assuming a rather frigid attitude. She seemed exceedingly hesitant about conveying the message which Craig had left for Jeanette.
'He asked me to say where they were, and tell you to join them as soon as you'd had something to eat.'
'Thank you. I'm not hungry....' She went out again and down the garden to the beach. Craig, lying on the sand with Diane, sat up as she approached and regarded her with a faintly anxious expression.
'Where have you been? We were beginning to think you'd missed your way. In fact, Diane and I have just agreed to go up and change and then come to look for you. Where have you been?' he said again on a curious note.
'Walking.' She forced a smile, conscious that her fists were clenched and that the palms of her hands were damp with sweat. 'I'm sorry about tea, but I forgot the time.'
'Well, so long as you're safe—' Diane sat up, smiling at Jeanette and patting the sand beside her. 'Come and sit down; the air's gorgeous, so balmy and warm.'
'Why didn't you bring your costume?' Craig wanted to know, apparently still curious about Jeanette's prolonged absence from the yali. 'I told Mother to tell you we were swimming.'
Jeanette sat down, still smiling; she thought she did very well, considering how she felt.
'I'll not bother to swim now. As a matter of fact I think I'll have an early night - I seem to have tired myself out.'
'No wonder, if you've been walking all this time,' exclaimed Diane. 'I'd be absolutely fagged!'
They sat talking and after a while Tony, and Mark, joined them. The sun drifted down, tinting the sea, and the brief eastern twilight faded as stars and moon appeared in the purple dome of the sky. Jeanette decided to go indoors, noting as she rose that once again Craig regarded her w
ith that intense and curious expression. Not long afterwards the others followed, but Jeanette only heard them, for she had already gone to her room.
How long would this last? she wondered as for the second time in her life she felt herself engulfed in black despair. But she would not again sink into the abyss; this time she would fight against her misery. This time it couldn't be so bad, she told herself. Craig had never been hers; she had suffered no actual loss and therefore the hurt couldn't possibly be so great.
She thought about Craig's book, recalling their companionship and the eagerness with which they had discussed it only a few hours earlier. Craig had given her a rough outline of what he wanted her to do; she'd felt confident, and happiness had surged over her as, patting her hand, Craig had said,
'I have every confidence in you, Jeanette. I think we're going to enjoy working together here.'
Well, that was all over even before it had begun. Jeanette tried several times to tell him, but the words stuck in her throat. On the way home, sailing smoothly across the Sea of Marmara, she once again found him standing by her side. This time she made an even greater effort to tell him she had changed her mind, but before she could speak he mentioned her dejection, asking if she was feeling off colour. His anxiety seemed obvious, but Jeanette knew it stemmed merely from politeness. She was his guest and therefore he would feel it incumbent on him to concern himself with her welfare.
'No, I'm fine, thanks, Craig.' She looked up at him and smiled, but he was already shaking his head.
'There's something... you've been different since Saturday afternoon.' He paused and a grim little smile curved his lips. 'You're an odd child, Jeanette. I wish you'd stop bottling things up.'
'I'm not - not bottling anything up.' His words startled her. What did he mean?
She saw him stiffen; he spoke with that cold politeness which had become so familiar during that first month when he had seemed so determined to keep her at a distance.
'Very well; I shall never again press you to confide in me.'
'Craig! Do come and look at the, porpoises; they're so playful!' Diane's voice floated to them from the other side of the boat. With a little shrug which Jeanette felt sure was an indication of his relief, Craig left her and went to join Diane. Jeanette turned away, gazing out to sea. How could she confide in Craig? How could she tell him what was wrong?
Their laughter reached her; the feeling of emptiness drained away, leaving in its place a terrible ache which she knew would be even more difficult to bear. This couldn't go on - what could she do?
Suddenly, as if in answer to a prayer, she recalled that Cetin was taking a party of climbers to explore the curious rock formations in the vicinity of Uludag, near Bursa. Sally and Gwen had at last agreed to join Cetin's party; Jeanette had also been invited, but despite her earlier vow to accept the first offer Cetin made, she had remained undecided, partly owing to Craig's warning, but mainly because of a reluctance to do anything of which Craig would not approve.
Now, she decided, the sensible thing would be to join the party, to go along with her friends and enjoy herself, for only in this way could she ever hope to forget her feelings for Craig.
CHAPTER FIVE
The rest of Diane's visit was spent between sightseeing and visiting one or two of Craig's friends. Craig himself again invited Jeanette and the two men to dinner, but Jeanette made an excuse and remained at home. Craig also asked Jeanette if she would like to visit Topkapi again. He was taking his mother and Diane on the Saturday, and Jeanette would be very welcome. Again she refused, saying she had promised to go to her friends' flat for the week-end. This was true, for the preparations for the expedition to Uludag were taking place there. These occupied the whole of the week-end, and also much of the following week. Cetin and his two friends, both of whom were Turks, brought their gear to the flat and when Jeanette saw the ropes she experienced some considerable trepidation; nothing so hazardous as the actual tackling of a rock face had entered her mind.
'Are we doing real climbing?' she asked in rather fearful tones. 'I mean - shall we be roped together?'
Cetin was on the floor, tightly rolling up Gwen's sleeping bag.
'Must be, for safety.' Cetin spoke automatically, his whole attention on his task. 'That's about as small as it will go. Now, Sally, where's yours?'
'Mine is tightly rolled. How about yours, Jeanette?'
'It's already strapped to my pack,' she said, suddenly recalling Craig's warning and wondering if it would be wiser to drop out of the expedition. She had somehow thought of the trip as a journey by car, and then the hike, with the added interest of examining the unusual rock formations, but this seemed a major operation, planned systematically down to the last minor detail. No doubt about it, Cetin knew what he was doing.
'He should do,' Sally asserted when Jeanette mentioned this to her friend as they made coffee in the little kitchen. 'His father is a famous climber. He really does great things.'
By Thursday evening everything was ready; Cretin told them all to be in bed early on Friday night because he intended starting out at dawn on Saturday. Jeanette saw him in a new light. He seemed almost ruthless in his role of organizer; he issued the orders and everyone obeyed. Apparently it was always like this, Gwen informed her, having spoken to others who had joined his climbing parties. He was efficient, but hard.
'You do as you're told whether you like it or not. Many who have been with him once refuse any second invitation he may make.'
Again Jeanette was filled with uneasiness. One moment she would tell herself that it must be all right, otherwise her two friends wouldn't be going; and the next moment Craig's warning would intrude, shutting out all else. She had absolutely no knowledge of rock climbing and, recalling the various pictures she had seen of men on an almost vertical rock face, her heart seemed to turn a somersault. It left her feeling quite sick and as she journeyed home, sitting beside Cetin, she felt ready to abandon the whole idea, even at this late stage.
'Don't forget,' he said brusquely as he dropped her off at the steps leading to the front door. 'A very early night tomorrow. I don't want anyone falling behind with fatigue. It's hard going and you'll need a reserve of energy.'
Jeanette stood by the car, hesitantly, but before sne could find the courage to disclose her fears Cetin had let in the clutch and, with an abrupt lift of his hand, he swung the car round and drove away.
There was still time, of course, she thought as she made to enter the house. If her courage still failed her she could always send a message.
'Jeanette ... over here!' Her brother's voicei reached her from the patio and she went sound the side of the house to where the coloured lights hung from the trees. She was glad Mark was at home, for she hadn't yet mentioned the trip to him. She had had the odd conviction that he would worry, and had decided not to tell him anything about it, allowing him to think she was spending another week-end with Gwen and Sally. But now she felt guilty, for it seemed faintly deceitful not to inform him that she was going on Cetin's climbing expedition. To her consternation Craig was there, leaning back in a wicker chair, a glass of vodka on the table at his elbow. 'You didn't tell me you were going over to Buyuk Ada with Craig tomorrow evening.' Mark looked inquiringly at her, while picking up a bottle to pour her a drink. 'He's been waiting hours to see you.'
For a moment she could not look at Craig. Had he heard her and Cetin talking? He must have done; in any case, he couldn't possibly have missed hearing the car. He made no comment on what her brother had been saying, but spoke softly, asking who had brought her home. He already knew, she thought, her heart fluttering at the cold dark fury in his eyes. She could not answer him. What right had he to assume that expression? Why did he make her feel like this - half afraid of him, and guilty? She swallowed painfully, releasing that little grip of fear, but for some quite incomprehensible reason her eyelids pricked and her lashes- were suddenly damp. She spoke quietly, amazing herself by the calmness of her tone.
> 'I'm not coming, Craig. We didn't make any definite arrangement for this week-end, and I'm going somewhere else.' Even as she spoke her spirits sank lower. This settled her indecision; she would have to go with Cetin now otherwise it would appear that she had lied. Not only would Craig be puzzled by this, but Mark would be sure to ask the reason.
'You ... ?' Craig seemed unable to frame his words. With a sudden shock of surprise she knew he would have had no such difficulty had Mark not been there. He would have assumed that same authoritative manner which had so surprised and angered her on the occasion of her illness, when he had taken it upon himself to send Cetin home. 'True, we didn't make a definite date, but I naturally concluded it would be this week-end - as Mother and Diane have now left.' He spoke softly, suppressing his anger because of Mark. 'Do you mind telling me where you're going?' he added, in no way put out by her brother's swift glance of surprise. There was the slightest hesitation before Jeanette said,
'I'm going with Sally and Gwen - on a trip.'
'Trip?' It was Mark who spoke, and as Craig's eyes moved from his to Jeanette's she wondered, not without a tingling of apprehension, if Craig were making a guess at the truth. 'You never said anything to me about it. Where are you going?'
Craig picked up his glass and took a drink, watching Jeanette and awaiting the reply to her brother's question.
'We're going to Bursa—' She was interrupted by the telephone ringing in the house. Mark rose at once, before she herself could offer to answer it, and so make her escape.
'May I ask what you're going to Bursa for?' inquired Craig, returning his glass to the table with a slow, deliberate movement.
She looked up, pale but resolute. Craig's interest, as always, puzzled her, but now she was determined to end it once and for all.
'I don't want to offend you, Craig,' she said quietly, 'but what I do is my own affair. Several times you've thought fit to interfere, but please don't in future. I want—' To her dismay her voice trembled and began to break, and it was with difficulty that she finished what she had to say. 'I want to be left alone - to manage my own - my own life.'
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