'I may do so,' she answered, a little embarrassed, and was thankful when Juan said that they had to be leaving.
*
As they drove away Juan was quiet, his firm chin jutting out and a slight crease between his eyes. Pippa longed to clasp his hand and reassure him that David Nightingale meant nothing to her, he was a mere acquaintance and she would not mind if she never saw him again, but she dared not. It would seem like taking liberties, and she could not yet accustom herself to behaving towards Juan as she would have done, a few weeks ago, to Frank.
'After the old, the new,' Juan said suddenly, turning to smile warmly at her. They had been heading eastwards again, along a road near to the coast, and he turned off now towards the sea.
'New? You mean new buildings?' Pippa asked. 'But there must be hundreds of them all over the island since the tourists came.'
'Not like Binibeca. We're here, we'll park at the top.'
He led her down a steep slope towards a tiny bay. On their left were many houses, crammed together in haphazard style with alleys leading into courtyards and through to the road above and behind the houses.
'How do you like our new old-world fishing village?' Juan asked as they reached the small beach and turned to gaze at the row of houses running out along one side of the bay.
'You mean it is all new?' Pippa exclaimed. 'I thought it had just been painted and tidied up!'
'It makes a pleasant change from the rash of holiday chalets and new town developments everywhere else,' Juan said with a grin. 'The houses are at different levels, and have a variety of ornamental Spanish and Moorish decorations, but it is a little like Hollywood's attempt to build a medieval castle.'
They drove slowly along the coast past some of the other types of new housing, and Pippa sighed for the lost landscape which was no longer flat and empty as it fell gradually to the sea, but scarred with new roads and brash new bungalows.
They went through Villa Carlos and Juan explained that the old name had been Georgetown.
'In honour of George the Third. The British built it in the 1770s and the architecture is typically eighteenth century English, like that house with flat sash windows and a door with brass knocker and lamps, and a half moon fanlight. Mahon is more Spanish, but if we're to pick up Gene's friends we haven't time to explore today.'
*
He drove through the town straight to the quayside, and they soon found the yacht Charleston, and Pippa was introduced to John and Peggy Finlay, a middle aged couple who had known Gene's family since he and Gene had been at high school together.
'We always spend several months cruising in the Med and usually visit Gene a couple of times each year,' Peggy explained once she had discovered exactly what Pippa's position in the household was. 'I'm glad he's started his memoirs at last, he's been talking about them for long enough. It will give him something to think about. How far has he got, my dear?'
'We're still sorting out all the notebooks and tapes, I'm typing them,' Pippa explained, but almost before she had finished Peggy was talking again.
'I guess it'll take him years. Do you remember the time he wanted to write a film script, John? It took him two years just to plot out the idea.'
She went on talking but Pippa stopped listening. So the Finlays did not know Gene had only a short time to live. She realised Gene had never mentioned that fact to her. She had overheard it during the quarrel with Sally-Jayne. Most likely he preferred people in general not to know. He would hate their sympathy and the feeling they were watching him for signs of failing powers.
Peggy maintained a virtual monologue during the drive to Casa Blanca. Her husband contributed the occasional 'Yes, dear,' and Juan interjected remarks every so often, but Pippa answered only when Peggy, in the manner of one distributing favours evenly amongst her companions, spoke directly to her.
Sitting back in the corner of the back seat Pippa studied the Finlays. He was big, broad shouldered and with a decided paunch. His hair receded and the wisps that remained were a pale grey colour, contrasting with the red weatherbeaten complexion. From one of Peggy's remarks Pippa deduced he had made a fortune as an exporter, but quite what he had exported remained obscure. It had been, however, to the Mediterranean countries. Although now retired from active business, with three sons carrying it on, he liked to keep in contact with his former territory.
Peggy herself could have been twenty or thirty years younger than John, with carefully bleached and sculptured hair, a still good clear skin, and a trim, well controlled figure. Although she talked endlessly she made no unpleasant remarks about mutual acquaintances, even when she referred to Sally-Jayne.
'We ran into her in Palma,' she explained. 'Does Gene know she is here?'
'She has been to the Casa Blanca,' Juan said shortly.
'Really? She didn't say that but perhaps she hadn't been then. Such a pity she couldn't have stayed with Gene, he's been so unfortunate with both Mary and Louise dying. Yet there didn't seem to be another man around. She's so lovely I'd have expected her to have married again before now.'
'Here we are, Peggy,' Juan said with a faint note of relief in his voice as he halted the car before the door. Luis appeared at once and the Finlays greeted him as an old friend.
'Mr Watson is on the patio. If you would like to come straight through I will take up the cases later.'
*
They disappeared and Pippa ran up to her room to change for dinner. She was pondering Peggy's remark about Gene's wives dying, and wondering what had happened. She had not reached this part of his story yet although that morning she had typed several references to his first wife, Mary, and had realised then he had been very much in love with her, marrying her within a week of being sent home slightly wounded from Vietnam.
She banished fruitless speculations from her mind and wondered what to wear, finally choosing the blue silk dress, demurely high at the neck and with long, close fitting sleeves. She fastened a pair of silver chains about her neck and clasped a silver charm bracelet on her wrist. Then, judging that the Finlays had been given enough time to greet Gene and unpack, she went downstairs.
Juan was waiting on the patio and he smiled appreciatively as she went out to join him.
'Pretty, dainty little Pippa,' he said lightly. 'Gene will be back in a moment, but have your sherry now.'
Pippa sat in one of the white-painted chairs. It was warm and still. The wind which blew for much of the time had dropped and it was warmer than she had yet known it so late in the day.
She sipped her sherry, looking at Juan who was standing at the edge of the patio gazing silently out across the bay. It seemed incredible to her at that moment that he had ever kissed her, and she shivered suddenly. She might love him but why should someone so handsome and rich and eminently attractive feel more for her than a mild liking? She was here and had made it plain she was willing, indeed anxious for his attentions. No doubt he regarded her as a pleasant diversion while he remained with his uncle.
These thoughts fled later, however, when Juan suggested they stroll in the garden, leaving Gene to chat with his old friends over brandies.
As soon as they were out of sight of the uncurtained windows he slipped his arm round her waist and pulled her close, dropping a featherlight kiss on her hair. Companionably linked they strolled on to the end of the path where a stile built into the stone wall gave access to the uncultivated, scrub-covered hillside.
'Shall we walk up to the headland this way?' he asked. 'There is quite a good path, you won't twist your ankle or ruin your shoes.'
'It doesn't look far, yes, let's go.'
He led the way over the stile, holding one hand while Pippa held her skirts away from the stone with the other. As she reached the top he was below her on the other side, and swiftly seized her by the waist and swung her effortlessly down, then pulled her close into his arms.
'Do you realise how tempting, how delectable you are in that prim little dress?' he murmured softly as he nibbled
gently at her ear. A shiver of delight ran down Pippa's back and she clung to him shamelessly, responding eagerly when, after a tantalisingly long time while he explored her neck and cheeks with soft yet insistent lips, he brought his mouth hard down on hers.
Suddenly he released her.
'Come, we'll never reach the headland like this,' he said huskily and took her hand in his, beginning to walk on. Stumbling slightly Pippa followed, dazed, happy, and content in the knowledge he still found her attractive. It no longer mattered when they were so close, hand in hand and isolated on the hillside, whether she was a mere diversion to him or something more. For the moment all that mattered was that they were together, and that every few yards he stopped to kiss her, so it was fully dark and late and the others had all gone to bed when they finally returned to the house.
*
Chapter 6
Pippa woke early on the following morning and lay in bed recalling the delights of the walk the previous evening. Then, restless and energetic, she decided to swim in the pool before breakfast. Covering her brief black bikini with a towelling robe she went downstairs. Noises from the kitchen showed that Maria was already working but there was silence elsewhere.
After several lengths at top speed, Pippa clambered out of the pool and stood looking across the bay while she towelled her hair dry. In the distance a powerful speedboat was heading westwards, but she could not tell whether it had come from their bay or further along the coast. A moment later it had disappeared behind the cliffs and she turned to go indoors. Maria was carrying a tray of used dishes back into the kitchen.
'Good morning, Miss. You are up early. Did you enjoy your swim?'
'Yes, thank you, Maria, and ready for a huge breakfast!'
Maria laughed. 'It will be ready in ten minutes.'
It was going to be another hot day, so Pippa found a loose cotton dress and flat thonged sandals. She would swim again later, she decided, and hoped that Juan might suggest another visit to the cove. Eager to see him again she ran downstairs but Gene was alone in the breakfast room.
'I'm going to Cuidadela this morning with Peggy and John,' he said when she sat down opposite him. 'Some distant relatives, a cousin's son I think, lives here. They want to call on him. Have you plenty of work?'
'Yes, there are still lots of tapes,' Pippa answered, and since Juan did not appear she soon excused herself and went to begin them.
A short while later she heard the car leaving and then all was silent until Maria brought her coffee.
'I'll have it outside, I think, Maria, its so hot.'
She sat on the patio but there was no sign of Juan. With Gene and Luis gone the house was eerily silent. When she had finished her coffee she strolled along to the end of the house and stood there for a moment. A quick glance had shown her that the Mercedes was still in the garages, so where could Juan be? She did not care to ask. Disappointed, she went back to her work. He would be there at lunch.
The tape she was now doing gave her one answer to some of the questions she had asked herself the previous night. Mary, Gene's first wife, had shared in some of his early successes but had given up a promising career when she had become pregnant. She had lost three babies with early miscarriages and then, despite the warnings of the doctors, tried yet again, spending almost the whole of her pregnancy in bed.
'It was my fault because she knew how much I wanted a son,' Gene's voice had said, still full of emotion after all these years. 'I let her persuade me that with great care she might carry the child. I let her dismiss the dangers, thinking that they only referred to the probability of another miscarriage, which would have been dreadful enough but nothing like the horror of losing my darling.'
Mary had given birth a few weeks before term, but the child had been stillborn and Mary herself feverishly ill.
Distraught with sorrow she had appeared to make no effort to recover her strength, and a month afterwards had succumbed to an infection and died.
*
After weeks of self hatred and despair, during which he had disappeared and been found eventually living rough in the mountains, Gene had thrown himself into his work. These next few years had been his most successful. Never short of work he had obtained increasingly important roles and was predicted as one of the future great stars.
Pippa was dealing with some of the many studio rows when she heard the car return, and soon afterwards Luis announced that lunch was ready on the patio.
They were seated at a small table under a couple of huge gaily striped umbrellas. There were only four places laid.
'Where's Juan?' she asked before she could stop herself.
'He'll be back in a few days,' Gene said easily. 'I think it must have been connected with a phone call which came late last night. He went in the boat so I take it he's gone to Majorca. There are more flights from there if he has to go to Madrid, but he may have gone to London or Paris, he didn't say.'
And he'd left her no message, Pippa thought bleakly. That must have been his boat which she had seen after her morning swim. He might have written her a brief note, if only to say he would soon be back. When Peggy announced she and John were going to adopt the siesta habit and Gene disappeared into his own room, Pippa went back to the study and tried to distract her thoughts from Juan by typing until her head was swimming.
She went out and walked along the same path they had taken the previous night, stopping at each spot where Juan had taken her into his arms and trying to relive the kisses and embraces they had shared. But it did no good, the elation and joy she had experienced then had vanished and all she could think of was the fact he had not bothered to tell her he was going away or when he would return.
Somehow she maintained a cheerful expression that evening, smiling and responding to Peggy's remarks. She was thankful for the older woman's garrulity which enabled her to remain quieter than usual, and soon after they had moved to the drawing room she tactfully excused herself, saying she ought to write some letters home.
Finding she could not read, the words of her novel dancing about before her eyes as she constantly thought of Juan and his apparent desertion of her, without explanation, she did try to write letters. One to her parents, briefly describing her job and trying to reassure them she was coping excellently on her own, was soon completed. She contemplated sending one to Frank but in the end wrote a friendly message on a postcard, wishing him well and giving no hope of any future reconciliation. Then she settled down to a long letter to Dolores, describing all she had seen. Although she tried to conceal her feelings for Juan as much as possible his name inevitably cropped up several times in her letter, and she almost tore the pages across. In the end however, she sealed the envelope. Dolores might tell Frank she appeared to have met a new man and it would be easier than telling him herself, especially as she had nothing to tell apart from the fact that Juan had kissed her several times and she was in love with him.
Eventually she undressed and went to bed, but sleep was elusive. She dozed until dawn and then fell into a deep sleep, waking only when Maria came in to see whether she was all right.
'The others have finished breakfast and gone out in the boat,' she explained as Pippa opened weary eyes.
'Oh, dear, what will Mr Watson think of me?' Pippa exclaimed.
'He said you had worked very hard yesterday, more than you should have done, and you were to rest. Shall I bring your breakfast up here?'
'No, of course not, Maria. I'll be down in a few minutes.'
'It's no bother.'
'But with guests in the house you have far more than usual to do. I'll be down soon.'
*
Feeling depressed and exhausted, Pippa had a cool shower and splashed her face with cold water. Feeling much refreshed, but still carrying a heavy weight over her heart she went downstairs. After breakfast she again worked hard at the tapes, but she was so tired she willingly agreed with Gene's concerned suggestion at lunch that she took a siesta.
'You have been
working too hard,' he told her chidingly. 'We are all going out tonight to dinner, you too if you will, and I don't want you to be too tired.'
She slept heavily, waking still unrefreshed. A quick swim in the sea helped a little, and then she dressed in the same frock she had worn when Juan had taken her out to dinner.
They went to a small roadside restaurant on the new road to the Cala Santa Galdana, which Gene said had a growing reputation.
'We stayed at the Cala Santa Galdana once,' Peggy said. 'It's a beautiful cove, one of the loveliest on Minorca apart from the small private ones like your own, Gene. But who was Saint Galdana?'
'There isn't one. The region used to be called after Santa Ana, then the Arabs called it Guad-al-Ana, and after the Spanish reconquered the island in the thirteenth century they put Santa before the Arab name and it became Santa Galdana.'
'Pity, Galdana would make a pretty name for a girl,' Peggy commented and went on to discuss her favourite names, bemoaning the fact she had never had a daughter. Pippa's attention wandered as she thought of David Nightingale, who was staying in the village. She must take up Gene's offer and borrow the small car Luis used when he went shopping and perhaps she would visit David, or at least go and see the bay which was supposed to be so beautiful.
Somehow that idea was not very attractive. David was a pleasant enough man, from what little she had seen of him, but he wasn't Juan! Yet she was being foolish to spend her time thinking of Juan. How could he possibly find it anything more than a pleasant flirtation with herself? She was fairly pretty, she thought without vanity, but Juan must be able, with his looks and wealth, to attract the most ravishing of creatures. She was insignificant while he could have anyone he wanted. Probably he was laughing at her for the easy way she had fallen into his arms.
He had not always paid her compliments. Her face burned as she recalled their first few meetings. He had been sarcastic on the first occasion, finding her preening herself before the mirror, and angry later. It was only when she had been living in the same house that he had been pleasant towards her. That might have been because he considered it his duty as her employer's nephew, or because it would be awkward to have remained cool.
Question of Love Page 7
