The Spotted Plume

by Yvonne Whittal

  Jennifer tried to banish all thoughts from her mind while she undressed herself and climbed into bed, but one thought persisted maddeningly. Hunter was probably with the seductive Louella right that minute, and Jennifer could not bear the painful images that flashed through her tortured mind; images of Hunter and Louella, and a passion shared.

  He was always condemning her unjustly for supposedly lacking in morals, but where was the morality in what he was doing at that moment?

  'Dear God!' Jennifer groaned into the darkness. 'Losing Colin was nothing like this. Help me! Help me, please!'

  She had no idea what time it was when she finally managed to fall asleep, but she awoke the following morning with a throbbing headache. She was served breakfast in her room, but she couldn't face anything except a strong cup of coffee, and she popped a couple of aspirins into her mouth to swallow them down with the first mouthful.

  Hunter had said that he wanted to leave no later than eight that morning and, glancing at her travelling clock, she hastily packed her suitcase before going along to Alice Maynard's room.

  Alice was stomping about the room on her crutches when Jennifer entered and placed her suitcase against the wall close to the door. The older woman's tight-lipped expression reminded Jennifer very much of Hunter at that moment and, crossing the room towards her, she asked tentatively, 'Is something the matter, Mrs Maynard?'

  'I'm furious, that's what!' Alice exploded, thumping a crutch against the carpeted floor very much as one would stamp one's foot. 'Hunter has just been in to tell me he's giving some girl called Louella a lift to Plettenberg Bay!'

  Jennifer tried to ignore the pain that seemed to tear at her insides, and said with her usual calm, 'What's so terrible about that?'

  'You know what a stink he was in to get back to the farm, and now there's suddenly time to stay over for the night at the hotel in Plettenberg Bay where this girl has supposedly been booked to sing.' She scowled angrily. 'I smell a rat, I tell you, and that rat is called Louella!'

  Jennifer went cold, but her face mirrored no expression as she glanced at the woman before her. 'Shall I call a porter to collect our suitcases?'

  'Yes!' Alice Maynard barked at her, but a rueful expression flitted across her face the next instant. 'I'm sorry, Jennifer. I shouldn't be snapping at you.'

  'I understand.'

  Grey eyes regarded Jennifer thoughtfully for a moment, then she said with a curious intonation in her voice, 'Do you, I wonder?'

  A puzzled frown creased Jennifer's brow, but she had long since discovered that it was futile trying to analyse Alice Maynard and her son, and it was with this thought in mind that she crossed the room towards the telephone to request a porter to come up and collect their suitcases.

  Hunter's silver Mercedes was parked at the entrance to the hotel, and fifteen minutes later they were seated in the back, waiting for Louella to put in an appearance. Another fifteen minutes passed, and Hunter, leaning against the side of the car with his arms folded across his chest, muttered something uncomplimentary about women never being on time.

  This was just too much for Alice Maynard and, putting her head out of the window, she said icily, 'I beg your pardon, Hunter. We were here well before the time you said you wanted to leave.'

  'I wasn't referring to you, Mother,' he replied angrily, sliding behind the wheel and agitatedly lighting a cigarette.

  'May I suggest, then, that you refer your insults to the woman who's caused this delay, and not to women in general?'

  'For God's sake, Mother, get off my back!' Hunter exploded harshly, making Jennifer jump, but his mother was unperturbed by his display of anger.

  'You're a fool, Hunter, and I shan't waste my sympathy on you if you don't come to your senses in a hurry.'

  Hunter turned in his seat to frown at his mother. 'I don't need your sympathy, merely your silence.'

  His eyes flashed a warning, but Alice Maynard refused to heed it as her own anger rose sharply. 'Why should I sit back silently and meekly while my son seems to be determined to ruin his future?'

  'I know what I'm doing, Mother.'

  'I'm beginning to doubt it, but don't say I didn't warn you,' Alice remarked coldly.

  During the tense silence that followed Jennifer found herself wondering confusedly at the reason behind this verbal altercation between mother and son, but she was still confused moments later when Hunter crushed his cigarette into the ashtray.

  'There's Louella,' he muttered and, leaving them alone in the car, he went forward to meet the girl who was pushing her way through the swinging glass doors at that moment.

  Two porters, each carrying at least three suitcases, followed close on her heels, but it was not the porters nor the amount of luggage that drew their attention. It was Louella's tight-fitting slacks and skimpy sweater that made both Jennifer as well as Alice Maynard draw in their breaths sharply. They did not need X-ray vision to see that Louella had nothing on beneath her sweater, while the low-cut neckline left nothing to the imagination, but in the daylight Jennifer did notice that Louella's blonde hair had been artificially acquired.

  'Heaven help us!' Alice exclaimed in a shocked voice. 'Will you look at that?'

  Jennifer turned instead from the sight of the woman approaching the car on Hunter's arm, and only one glance at Alice's face was enough to make her say anxiously, 'You're upsetting yourself, Mrs Maynard, and I can't allow that.'

  'Can you blame me?' Alice demanded on a slightly hysterical note. 'For Hunter's sake I was prepared to tolerate Carla, but can you imagine what would happen if he should bring that creature to Vogelsvlei?'

  'Please, Mrs Maynard,' Jennifer said sternly, thrusting aside her own concern. 'If you don't stop this I shall have to give you a sedative.'

  Alice closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them again moments later she was perfectly controlled. 'I'll behave.'

  A wave of exotic perfume accompanied Louella into the car, and Hunter introduced her briefly to his mother before returning to the near impossible task of finding room for her suitcases in the boot of the Mercedes. When at last he slid behind the wheel and started the car, his face was an expressionless mask, but Jennifer somehow sensed his irritation, and she had difficulty in suppressing the smile which threatened to lift the corners of her generous mouth.

  'It was wonderful of you to offer me this lift, Hunter,' Louella was saying, her husky voice coated with honey, and her suffocating perfume cloying the interior of the car. 'I simply dreaded having to take the bus. It's such a long and tiring journey.'

  'It's my pleasure, Louella.'

  'Hmph!' Alice grunted disdainfully, but the traffic was heavy, and the sound went unnoticed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Louella somehow dominated the conversation all the way from Port Elizabeth to Plettenberg Bay, and her husky voice, like her perfume, became a permanent fixture in the car. Once, when Jennifer's eyes met Hunter's in the rear view mirror, she was almost certain that she glimpsed a look of angry exasperation there, but she could have imagined it, she told herself afterwards, for in no other way did he give any indication that he did not enjoy Louella's company.

  They arrived at Plettenberg Bay in time for lunch, and afterwards Jennifer accompanied Alice Maynard up to her room, leaving Hunter in the hotel dining-room with Louella.

  'I just couldn't stand that woman's voice a moment longer,' Alice complained loudly in the lift that took them up to the sixth floor, and Jennifer agreed with her in silence.

  Restlessness drove Jennifer from her own room later that afternoon. A stroll on the beach would perhaps blow some of the cobwebs from her mind, she decided when she crossed the spacious, luxuriously carpeted foyer of the hotel.

  'Well, this must be my lucky day!' a young man exclaimed, falling into step beside her, and when she glanced at him blankly, he said: 'Don't you remember me, Sister Casey?'

  His face seemed vaguely familiar, she realised as they walked out on to the patio and headed towards the
steps leading down to the beach. 'I know we've met before, but I—'

  'Dirk Pienaar,' he refreshed her memory at once. 'We met at the Spring Ball at the Valley Motel, remember?'

  'Oh, yes, you're a guide at the Cango Caves,' she recalled now, taking in his dark hair which was cropped close to his head, and the amber-coloured eyes. 'You're the best guide they have, I believe you told me,' she added with a touch of humour in her voice.

  'You shouldn't have paid too much attention to what I said,' he replied, looking a little flushed as they negotiated the last of the steps before stepping on to the sandy beach. 'Like most people there that night I had had too much to drink,' he explained.

  'You hid the fact well.'

  He glanced at her, and she could see that he was a little uncertain of himself. 'Do you think so?'

  'I would have said you were normally an arrogant, self-opinionated young man,' she remarked, tongue in cheek. 'I would never have attributed it to the amount of alcohol you'd consumed.'

  A rueful expression flitted across his lean face. 'I didn't make a very good impression, did I?'

  'I'm teasing you, Mr Pienaar,' she laughed now.

  'Dirk,' he corrected. 'May I call you Jennifer?'

  'You may.'

  'Will you join me at my table for dinner this evening, Jennifer?'

  'Do you usually work this fast?' she asked humorously, slanting a glance at his smiling face.

  'Only when I think I might lose out if I waited.'

  'May I give you an answer a little later?'

  'I'll try to be patient,' he grinned.

  Jennifer took off her sandals and carried them in her hand, enjoying the feel of the warm sand beneath her bare feet as they walked along in silence for a while.

  'What are you doing here in Plettenberg Bay?' she asked at last.

  'I'm on a week's leave.' His amber eyes were narrowed against the sun when they met hers. 'And you? What are you doing here?'

  'We're stopping overnight on our way back to Oudtshoorn.'

  'We?' he questioned at once. 'You're here with Hunter Maynard and his mother?'

  'Yes,' she nodded.

  His face fell. 'I don't suppose I stand a chance, then, do I?'

  'A chance to what?'

  'To persuade you to join me for dinner.'

  Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, she said; 'You've persuaded me already.'

  'I have?' he asked, his face lighting up. 'Well, good for me!'

  'I must go back to the hotel,' she said eventually, glancing at her wrist watch.

  'Aren't you going for a swim?' Dirk asked disappointedly.

  She shook her head. 'I didn't bring a swimsuit with me.'

  'I'll walk you back to the hotel, then.'

  'There's no need for you to do that,' she said at once, taking in his lean youthfulness in swimming briefs, towelling shirt, and beach towel slung casually over one shoulder. 'I would much rather you went for your swim.'

  His glance mirrored uncertainty. 'If you're sure…'

  'Of course I'm sure,' she insisted firmly. 'When and where shall I meet you for dinner?'

  'In the foyer at seven.'

  'I'll be there,' she smiled.

  They parted company, and while he headed towards the crowded, swimming area, she strolled back to the hotel, which stood out like a beacon against the azure blue sky. She had agreed to have dinner with Dirk Pienaar, which had perhaps been a mistake, but she could not sit through another embarrassing meal watching Louella making the most of her time with Hunter.

  'Jennifer!' a harsh, familiar voice stopped her when she reached the patio, and she turned to see Hunter straightening from his leaning position against the low wall. His corded pants hugged his slim hips and muscular thighs, while his white shirt strained across the wide expanse of his shoulders, and her breath became locked in her throat at the sight of him. 'Who was that you were talking to on the beach?'

  Her hackles rose at once at his abrupt query. 'I can't see that it's any business of yours, but his name is Dirk Pienaar.'

  'Dirk Pienaar?' he echoed sharply.

  'He's a guide at the Cango Caves in Oudtshoorn,' Jennifer refreshed his memory, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

  'I'm well aware of that.'

  'May I go now?' she asked, her defiant glance meeting his. 'Or was there something else you wanted to know?'

  For a moment he did not speak, then he stepped away from the wall and lessened the distance between them. 'Mother has decided to have her dinner sent up to her room again this evening, so we'll be dining alone.'

  'Correction, Hunter. You will be dining alone,' she replied coldly, shutting her mind and heart to the invitation which had lurked behind his statement as she added: 'I'm dining with Dirk.'

  Hunter's jaw hardened. 'He hasn't wasted much time in propositioning you, has he?'

  'No, he hasn't, and I must admit that I liked his style,' she taunted him deliberately, knowing only too well that she would hate herself afterwards.

  'He's too young and inexperienced for you, Jennifer.'

  'Oh, I don't think so,' she shrugged casually.

  An icy hostility lurked in his deep blue eyes as he said derisively, 'Don't say that I didn't warn you if your evening ends in disappointment.'

  As usual, his insinuating remarks penetrated her composure, and her eyes flashed green fire up at him. 'I'm seldom disappointed, but often disgusted, and right this minute you disgust me, Hunter Maynard.'

  'Why?' he demanded mockingly. 'Because you haven't succeeded yet in making me believe that you possess the purity of a nun?'

  She bit down hard on a lip that quivered with emotion. 'You may think what you damn well like!'

  'I always do,' he assured her harshly as she turned to flee from him, 'and I'm seldom wrong.'

  Her breathing was hard and uneven with the force of her anger when she reached her room. Just who did Hunter Maynard think he was! Right from the start he had sat in judgment on her, and he had given his verdict without so much as offering her the opportunity to defend herself. Granted, she had, in moments of anger, gone out of her way to make him believe the worst, but then he had had no business to condemn her outright.

  It was with these disturbing and infuriating thoughts that Jennifer dressed for dinner that evening. She was glad now that she had accepted Dirk's invitation to dine with him and, after paying a courtesy call on Alice Maynard, she took the lift down into the foyer of the hotel.

  'It looks like Mr Maynard is dining alone,' Dirk remarked when they saw Hunter being shown to a table some distance from theirs.

  'So it seems,' she replied with a casualness she did not feel.

  Dirk shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said tentatively, 'Should I ask him to join us?'

  Her insides twisted into that familiar knot. 'Don't spoil my evening as well as my appetite, Dirk.'

  'You sound as though you don't like him very much,' he observed with a touch of humour in his voice, and she gestured dismissingly.

  'Let's talk about something else.'

  Dirk took a sip of wine and smiled at her across the table. 'I believe they have some entertainment lined up for us this evening.'

  'You're referring to the singer, Louella, I presume?'

  Dirk nodded enthusiastically. 'I never saw her when she was in Oudtshoorn, but I believe she's quite luscious.'

  'If you go for that kind of beauty, yes,' she replied dryly.

  'You've seen her?' Dirk asked, eyeing her with surprise.

  'She travelled with us from Port Elizabeth this morning,' Jennifer explained, wishing- they could step off the subject.

  'You know her, then?'

  'Hunter knows her,' she corrected distastefully.

  'Oh,' said Dirk, the excitement in his eyes fading.

  'Don't look like that,' she laughed.

  'Like what?'

  'Like a little boy who's had his favourite ice-cream swiped out of his hand,' she told him humorously.

  'Just wait un
til I'm Hunter Maynard's age,' he announced, brightening swiftly. 'I'll dazzle the girls into a frazzle!'

  Jennifer laughed softly. 'You're dazzling enough as it is, so simmer down, boy.'

  Dirk's smile broadened. 'You sure make me feel good, Jennifer.'

  Something, a force stronger than her own, made her glance across the room, and the smile froze on her lips when her eyes met the dark fury of Hunter's intent gaze. A cold little shiver travelled up her spine, and the waiter caused a welcome diversion at that, moment to serve the meal they had ordered, but she could not shake off entirely the uneasiness which had taken hold of her.

  She enjoyed Dirk's company, but that did not lessen her awareness of Hunter's formidable presence across the room from them, and the meal which Dirk had ordered with such care went down her throat like sawdust.

  The band was playing softly in the background, but no one took much notice until Louella put in an appearance. In a crimson dress, more daring than the one she had worn the night before, she had the male audience at her feet, and there was a sudden hush when the lights were dimmed to capture Louella in the spotlight.

  She followed the same routine, her husky voice exuding a sensual quality that matched the words of the song, but Jennifer was not paying her much attention. She was watching Dirk instead, and the expressions that flitted across his lean face were a great deal more interesting than the singer, or the song, Jennifer decided with some amusement.

  Dirk was not impressed, and when Louella disappeared behind the green velvet curtains to the accompaniment of the enthusiastic applause, Jennifer succeeded in capturing his glance.

  'Disappointed?' she asked, finding it difficult to suppress a smile.

  'Oh, she's beautiful all right,' he conceded, 'but she reminds me of an over-ripe peach; still good to the taste, but rotten inside.'

  Jennifer giggled, but Dirk was not finished yet with his analysis. 'I like blondes too, but not when their roots are black,' he elaborated and, glancing across the room to where Louella had now joined Hunter at his table, Dirk added: 'She doesn't strike me as Hunter Maynard's type either.'

  'Oh, you'd be surprised,' Jennifer remarked, her voice heavy with sarcasm as she dragged her glance from the sight of Louella leaning across the table towards Hunter while they exchanged intimate smiles.