The Bay of Moonlight

by Rose Burghley

  He regarded her frowningly, and she realized that he could, at times, be a difficult man to convince.

  'You are sure about that, senhorita?'

  'Quite sure. Frank Ironside was the young man who picked up my St. Christopher badge in the dining-room yesterday lunch time, and last night we were merely ... having a little talk.'

  'Two English-speaking people not unnaturally attracted to one another for the simple reason that their forebears all hailed from the same island in the beginning, is that it ?' he suggested drily.

  She nodded.

  'I suppose there's something in that.'

  'I'm very sure there is.' But he was still frowning. 'I have not perhaps made it clear, Miss Cunninghame, that if it is arranged that you take charge of my small relatives you will not be remaining here in Lisbon. I have a house on the coast to which I am removing them almost immediately, and naturally you will accompany us if you join forces with us.'

  'A house on the coast?'

  'The Algarve. If you enjoy sea air, and sea-bathing, then you will be happy at La Cristola. There is a very fine bay which the house overlooks, and the gardens are exceptionally pleasant, too. It is still no more than late spring, and with the summer ahead—'

  A door creaked open at the far end of the room, and a small and rather anxious face appeared round it. It was the face of Roberto, and his blue eyes were appealing. Behind him there was a kind of scuffling noise, and then Maria put her head round, too.

  'We are hungry, Uncle Philip,' Maria said in a small voice and plaintive tone. 'We have not yet had any breakfast—' And then she caught sight of Sarah, and her face brightened. 'Is she going to look after us? Is she, Uncle Philip?' she asked eagerly.

  Sarah glanced at him, saw the dubious look on his face - and a return of the faintly harassed look that had been there when he opened the door to her - and suddenly and unalterably made up her mind.

  'The answer is "Yes", if you're quite sure you think I'm the right person to have charge of them,' she told Saratola. 'But I would like you to be sure, senhor.'

  He glanced at her a little wryly for a moment, she thought, and then nodded his head. She could almost feel his relief.

  'I am quite sure, Miss Cunninghame. I would not have sent for you this morning if I had not been sure,' he said.

  As soon as she was released from the suite Sarah went in search of Frank Ironside. She felt guilty because she had dismissed his offer to take her out for the day as if it was quite unimportant while still under the influence of Philip Saratola's obvious displeasure; and when she couldn't find him - he had obviously decided that she didn't want to go out with him after all and gone off on his own - wrote him a note which she handed one of the clerks at the reception desk to give him as soon as he came in.

  The note explained the situation, and finished apologetically:

  I'm sorry if you thought me rude. I fully intended to take advantage of the opportunity to go sightseeing with you, but naturally I couldn't let the children down. They really are pets, both of them, and if I find it possible to fit into a Portuguese household I shall probably enjoy looking after them.

  Anyway, I haven't signed a contract, or anything like that. If I find its all too much and too strange I shall have to ask to be released, or possibly I'll be given the sack!

  Perhaps we'll meet again one day!

  And she signed herself, Sarah.

  Then, as she had been given to understand that there was not much time, she started packing her things and preparing to evacuate the extremely pleasant room that had been hers for over a fortnight. Before she left it she looked round it regretfully, wondering whether she would ever again enjoy quite such a fortnight as she had enjoyed in Lisbon with her Aunt Constance. There had been moments when her aunt's air of exclusiveness and her determination to be spared contact with the less pleasurable things in life had exasperated her; but, on the whole, they had got on well together and it had been a wonderful fortnight.

  She felt inclined to sigh as she looked round the room. Yes; it had been a wonderful fortnight, free of responsibility ... and that was more than she felt able to predict at that stage about the immediate future. She was inclined to suspect that she would be slightly weighed down with responsibility.

  She handed over the key of her room and dealt with one or two minor matters that had not been dealt with by Aunt Constance at the reception desk, and returned upstairs in the lift to the Saratola suite. The children had been doing their own packing and were thoroughly enjoying themselves jumping up and down on suitcases in order to get them fastened, while a chambermaid stood watching them with horror. She had offered to help them fold some of their things, and was concerned because the expensive luggage was receiving such rough treatment, but neither Maria nor Roberto was willing to delegate a task that offered them much amusement and was one they had never been permitted to undertake before.

  When Sarah entered Maria's room she was slightly taken aback by the chaos, and by the sight of Maria's dressing-gown that was an adorable confection in pale blue velvet protruding half in and half out of a suitcase, while one of her frilly frocks appeared to have been abandoned altogether and was lying underneath the bed. She rescued the frock and folded it carefully and repacked everything inside the suitcase that had been trying to accommodate the dressing-gown, then made certain that all the cases were locked and that nothing was likely to be left behind.

  Considerably to her surprise, the children had hurled themselves upon her when she appeared. They had hitherto responded to her occasional friendly advances with slightly restrained smiles and a mild air of suspicion; but now they were obviously determined to take her to their hearts.

  'We're so glad Carmelita isn't coming back, and that you're going to take her place!' Maria cried, displaying the agility of a monkey as she leapt off the bed and practically into Sarah's arms. 'Horrid old Carmelita! We don't want ever to see her again, do we, Roberto?' appealing to her brother.

  Roberto - who would undoubtedly have all the dignity of the Saratolas when he was older - made an effort to behave with less exuberance than his sister. For the first time in his life he had bathed and dressed himself, and there was a positive shine of cleanliness on his face.

  'She's old,' he remarked, as if that explained the reason why Carmelita was better out of the way. 'And Mama was going to get rid of her soon, anyway. She couldn't take us for walks because her legs are too full of rheumatism for her to walk very far, and she was always complaining of her other aches. I don't think she ever stopped aching, and that made her bad-tempered.' He grinned rather wickedly. 'It wasn't my fault that she slipped on the soap in the bathroom this morning, but she seemed to think it was. She said so to my Uncle Philip, and I don't know whether he believed her or not because he was trying to get her up off the floor at the time, and she was moaning and groaning and crying and pointing a finger at me. It was quite awful!' he concluded, turning pale at the memory.

  'When the hospital people came they said she'd broken a leg and they stuck a needle into her,' Maria supplied, 'and that stopped her making such a fuss. They took her away in an ambulance.'

  'And she's got to stay in hospital for weeks,' Roberto contributed.

  'And you're not a bit sorry for her?' Sarah demanded, wondering whether they were really quite such a ghoulish pair as they seemed.

  Roberto shrugged.

  'We'll write to her, and send her things ... and say prayers for her, of course,' with the air of one who had been brought up to recognize the value of prayers. 'And perhaps when she comes out of hospital we'll go and see her. I don't know.' He shrugged his shoulders again.

  Sarah went into the bathroom where the accident had occurred and collected toothbrushes and sponge-bags and an inflatable rubber duck that would otherwise have been left behind, and inserted them into a vacant space in one of the suitcases. Then, while Maria hopped about on one foot and gleefully informed her that they were going to La Cristola where they could swim in th
e sea and collect fossils for her collection, and where Roberto was to have his first tutor during the summer months although she, apparently, was to escape any serious form of instruction for another year, because she was delicate and had to be watched over and guarded against fatigue, she searched the suite from end to end (apart from the bedroom occupied by Philip Saratola) for any other items that were likely to be left behind, and satisfied herself that there were none.

  Then Saratola made his reappearance from somewhere deep in the heart of the hotel where he had possibly been refreshing himself at the bar, or saying goodbye to the management, and looked slightly more withdrawn and aloof than he had done when he concluded his final arrangements with Sarah, and asked her whether she was ready to leave. On top of such an ordeal as having to cope with an hysterical and badly injured elderly servitor and supervise her removal to hospital, as well as a couple of small relatives who had to be fed and prepared for the day, Sarah was not surprised that his expression was also distinctly harassed, and that he was inclined to be short-tempered... or, at any rate, somewhat terse.

  'I decided against leaving after lunch because I didn't think it would be good for Maria and Roberto to have too long a day,' he explained his decision to leave immediately. 'We can stop for lunch on the way. Besides, I have to be back in Lisbon by tomorrow night, and I wish to see you all comfortably settled in before I leave.'

  Even Maria was a little subdued as she followed her uncle out of the suite. He was plainly quite fond of his niece and nephew, but he was a bachelor, and the charge of a couple of children seemed to bear heavily on him.

  To Roberto he was actually quite sharp, and reminded him of his manners more than once when Sarah was struggling with a pile of hand luggage that included several of his personal possessions, such as an enormous plastic ball and a pile of books that were to be deposited in the boot of the car. Roberto reacted immediately and apologized courteously to Sarah, and would have relieved her of most of the hand luggage, only she thought there would probably be a disaster on the way to the lift. She shook her head at him smilingly and ordered him to go ahead.

  Saratola frowned.

  'You must not spoil the boy, senhorita,' he reproved her. 'He has to learn to behave like a gentleman under all circumstances!'

  Sarah said nothing, only watched the pinkness behind Roberto's ears spreading, and wondered whether his uncle actually meant what he said or whether a certain amount of latitude was allowed sometimes, and it was merely because he was' under stress at the moment that the head of the house of Saratola was exhibiting rather a hard side.

  When they reached the main entrance hall a flock of porters awaited them, and in a moment Sarah had nothing to carry but her handbag.

  She was looking round for Maria's hand to hold when a voice hailed her, and the procession was stopped by Frank Ironside darting up to Sarah and catching hold of her arm.

  'So there you are!' he exclaimed, in very evident relief. 'I was terrified I'd missed you, and I've been hanging about down here waiting for the moment when you might possibly appear! I got your letter! I must say you're a young woman of surprises. One moment you're on holiday, and the next you've been roped in to act as governess or something! Are you really going to take this job?'

  He glanced round at her newly acquired responsibilities, who were staring at him in open interest, and at Philip Saratola, whose expression was slightly outraged.

  Sarah answered him hurriedly.

  'Yes, and we're leaving now for - for Mr. Saratola's house on the coast. I can't stop to talk to you now, Frank, but I'll - I expect you'll be hearing from me - some time.'

  'But you haven't got my address.' He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced a well-worn wallet, from which, in turn, he produced a used envelope, which he tore in half and then scrawled an address on it. 'There! That'll always find me in New York. But I'll be staying here for another few days. If you want to contact me you can do so here until—'

  'If you'll forgive us, we are in rather a hurry to be on our way.' Nothing could have been more reminiscent of fields of ice than Saratola's voice, and in his eyes was a bleakness and a displeasure that would have had a discomposing effect on anyone who was not one hundred per cent cool American imperviousness, which was what Frank Ironside would have been the first to admit that he was. He was completely insensitive to high-handed snubs, and to him a Portuguese aristocrat for whom the whole hotel jumped to attention when he made the decision to depart was of no more importance than the most casual tourist staying in the hotel; and he was certainly not going to allow Sarah to depart out of his life without making some effort to ensure that the link was not broken if she chose to keep it intact.

  'I'm sorry if I'm holding you up, but I've got to make this absolutely clear.' He consulted his diary swiftly, and then passed on the vital information. 'I see I've booked until the twenty-second ... but I may stay on until the end of the month. So if you feel the urge, Sarah, get in touch with me here—'

  'Yes, yes, I will,' she assured him hastily, and felt Maria's fingers lying passively in hers tighten as she squeezed them convulsively. And Maria's upward gaze was interested.

  'You're sure there isn't anything more you wish to make absolutely clear to Miss Cunninghame before we leave?' Saratola inquired, with admirable patience, and Frank shook his head.

  'No ... except that I'm sorry you're taking her away.' He grinned engagingly at Sarah. 'Ships that pass in the night. But it was nice knowing you! Hang on to that St. Christopher badge, by the way!'

  In the car Sarah sat beside Maria, while Roberto occupied the seat beside his uncle, who drove. This was not a chauffeur-driven car, and it was not as dignified as the black Mercedes in which the children had taken their daily drives, but it was plainly a very expensive model, and it was very roomy and superbly comfortable. It was also an open car, all white and powerful, and Sarah realized that from the point of view of one who wished to see Portugal she was fortunate.

  Nothing Aunt Constance had hired during their time together had equalled the springy luxury of this. And nothing had attracted quite so many pairs of eyes as they glided away from the front of the hotel.

  Philip Saratola referred once, and once only, to their encounter with Frank Ironside in the hall of the hotel before they left, and that was a brief and slightly biting reference.

  'Your friends are very persistent, Miss Cunninghame. That particular friend could hardly have been more sorry to see the last of you!'

  'He was only an acquaintance,' Sarah replied, a trifle primly - for although she had been embarrassed by Frank's persistence she did feel her new employer had behaved a trifle insensitively in refusing to allow her a moment alone with Frank - from the back seat. 'I explained that to you this morning.'

  He drove at rather an alarming rate of speed - albeit he was obviously a first-class driver - until they were well clear of Lisbon, and then, as if the beauty of the countryside soothed him a little, he slowed and took the trouble to point out certain features of the landscape to Sarah.

  She received the impression that his annoyance had passed, and that he was in a fairly complacent mood once more, and prepared to be as amiable as possible. He discussed the rules of the road and various aspects of driving with his nephew, Roberto, and when the latter appeared to take rather more than an intelligent interest in the subject for one of his age promised that he should learn to drive a car just as soon as he was old enough to do so. He also reminded him that he had to work hard during the summer with his new tutor, and that he would expect results from the co-operation of the two.

  Maria bounced about on the back seat beside Sarah, and wore a happier expression than Sarah had seen her wear at any time since she had had an opportunity of observing her. It could be, she realized, that the child had missed her mother, and been oppressed by the autocratic behaviour of Carmelita. But she certainly did not regret the mishap that had overtaken Carmelita. She was even, when she thought of her, inclined
to wriggle rapturously on the seat and smile gleefully.

  'Poor Carmelita! She loves the sea, and now she won't see it! But it'll be much more fun with you, won't it?' and she slid a hand into Sarah's. . They stopped at a hotel for lunch, and for the first time Sarah shared a meal with her new charges and the man who was their uncle. It was a bit of an ordeal at first because she knew nothing whatsoever about the Saratola children apart from the fact that they appeared reasonably amenable and would now look to her for guidance and direction in everything that affected their daily lives. She didn't even know what they liked to eat, or what was considered good for them in this land that was completely strange to her as yet.

  But she need not have worried about the food problem, for their uncle ordered for them - and for her, too. He was quite obviously aware that she was groping in the dark when it came to making a selection from a diversity of alien-sounding dishes that she discovered were almost always exceptionally good when the moment arrived to taste them for the first time. At the hotel she had been careful about choosing Portuguese dishes and had stuck to the more familiar things that, because it was a first-class hotel, were easily obtainable at all hours of the day. But now it seemed she was no longer to be consulted, and, whether she liked it or not, Portuguese food was to be her main daily diet.

  In actual fact she enjoyed everything that was set in front of her, and she particularly enjoyed the wine, which was chosen after a considerable amount of thought and care by Saratola.

  The children had fruit drinks, which relieved her because she had been afraid he might insist on wine for them, and that might have started an argument. She simply couldn't agree to the children drinking wine, but she was doubtful about whether or not they drank milk. However, that was something she would have to find out later, and a hurdle she would have to cross later if insistence was going to be necessary in order to procure it for them.