Taking out a notebook from her handbag she scribbled down a description of the sumptuous furnishings of the Cambrian. If she could not find any gossip, she would at least be able to cable something descriptive to Frank Preston when the ship docked at Cannes.
Slowly the rest of the day dragged on and she was glad when she could return to her cabin and change for dinner. The weather was a little better, and when she entered the dining-room at eight-thirty it was about a quarter full. With a tingle of excitement she wondered whether Stephen Drake would suggest she sat with him, but as she walked towards her table she saw from the corner of her eye that he was already half-way through his meal.
As soon as she had finished her sweet she went up to the saloon and ordered coffee. What would Janey do in similar circumstances? she thought as she sipped it. One thing was certain: she would not sit here moping by herself but would go in search of excitement. 'But I'm not Janey Belton,' Jane admitted soberly, 'and I've neither the nerve nor the inclination to do anything except go to bed.'
She stood up, clutching hold of the back of her chair as the ship suddenly sloped to an alarming angle. The swell had increased considerably and she walked carefully down the corridor, gripping the rail that ran along one side of the wall. Even so it was difficult to keep her balance, for not only was the ship rocking from side to side, but it had started to pitch. The unusual motion made her feel lightheaded and she stood still and closed her eyes, waiting for the nausea to pass. It seemed to steady momentarily and she made a dash for the stairs, colliding with a man coming up them. Mortified, she recognized Stephen Drake!
'Not again!' she gulped. 'I'm always bumping into you.'
He looked at her in surprise, then seeing the paleness of her face he caught her arm and helped her down the stairs.
'What's your cabin number?'
'Eight.'
He propelled her along the corridor to her stateroom, and when they reached the door he took her handbag, extracted the key and unlocked it. Shaded lamps cast a pink glow over the turned-down bed and the violet chiffon nightdress draped over the pillow. Jane pushed it aside and fell back on the bed, not caring what she looked like or what happened to her.
Gradually she became aware of the whirring of fans and felt a cool breeze blowing against her face. The nausea had passed and she opened her eyes. At first glance she thought the cabin was empty, but as she turned her head she saw Stephen Drake by the dressing-table, looking at the books she had brought with her. At once Jane could have kicked herself; if there was one thing that gave away a person's character it was their choice of reading material. The man seemed to think so too, for he picked up a couple of books, looked at them and then put them down again.
'Proust, Ouspensky, Jane Austen,' he murmured. 'You're beginning to interest me, Miss Belton. A young girl with beauty, money and intelligence enough to hide her intelligence!'
'I never knew I made any attempt to hide it,' she said, and wondered whether she ought to close her eyes again and pretend to be ill.
'You haven't tried to hide it today,' he admitted, 'but I'm a newspaper proprietor, remember? I can recollect some pretty mad escapades you got up to. And none of them gave any indication that you read anything heavier than Peg's
Paper!'
'Oh, really?' she said weakly. 'What escapades are you thinking about?'
His eyes glittered dark. 'Well, there's the time you ran away from boarding school and went to Paris for two days, and there's your elopement with an Italian painter, and the time…'
His voice droned on, and Jane listened in horror to a recital of all she was supposed to have done, wondering why none of the stories had been in the press cuttings Frank Preston had given her to read. No wonder Stephen Drake found her books a contradiction of her character. Italian painter indeed! She moved on the bed and instantly he came over to her.
'Shall I ring for the stewardess to undress you?'
'There's no need. I don't think I'll bother getting undressed at all. I'll sleep the way I am.'
'Your dress isn't far short of a nightgown anyway,' he said humorously. 'Sometimes it beats me why women bother to wear anything at all! Particularly when what they wear is more revealing than nudity.'
'What a sharp tongue you've got,' she retorted. 'Now I've met you I'm quite sure you write some of the Morning Star editorials.'
'You've guessed my guilty secret! But in any case I'm glad to welcome you as a reader.'
She cursed herself for speaking without thinking. 'I read it because my - my father thinks I should read all the popular papers. He says it's important for me to keep in touch with the masses.'
'As you'll be inheriting Belton's Bakeries I can see the point! You know, you don't seem like a bread heiress to me. You're much more like a delicious French croissant!'
Jane burst out laughing, and he grinned. 'You seem much older than your age too,' he went on.
'That's because I'm an only child And my father and I are very close together.'
'That's contradictory to what I've heard. Your father's got a reputation for being a very difficult man.'
'Only to strangers and business acquaintances.' Anxious to ward him off, she decided to toss the ball of conversation into his court.
'Anyway, you've no right to talk of contradictions, Mr. Drake! What about you? The first time we met you told me you wanted to be alone, yet you come on a cruise where you're bound to meet people!'
'I had to get out of the country quickly,' he said briefly, 'and this was the best boat. I'm under doctor's orders to forget business for a couple of months.'
'You don't look ill,' she ventured.
'Overwork doesn't always show. But I've been living on my nerves for the last few years.' He leaned against the wall in front of one of the lamps. It cast a pink glow over his skin, intensifying the tan and making him look more than ever like a pirate. 'As a matter of fact I intended asking you to have dinner with me tonight, but I took a sleeping pill this afternoon and woke up with a foul headache. Not the best of dinner companions.'
'I feel much better now,' she said brightly. 'I'll be able to get undressed after all.'
'In that case I'll go. Good night, child. Sweet dreams.'
The door closed behind him and Jane walked over to it and locked it. Turning, she saw her reflection in the mirror. Did she appear such a child to him? True, her blonde hair was awry and most of her make-up had smudged off on the pillow, but none the less there was allure in the depth of her eyes and passion in the full, red curve of her mouth. A picture of Claire Saunders, dark and imperious, came into her mind, and with it a picture of the unknown woman to whom Stephen Drake had been engaged. Strange that this woman should become synonymous in her mind with the debutante - probably because they both had the same unusual colouring. Had Stephen Drake noticed it yet? If not, then he would certainly become aware of it soon, for once the weather improved Claire would lose no time in setting her cap at him.
'That'll be a sight worth watching,' she thought, as she undressed and climbed between the sheets. 'But it would be a shame if he got hurt. He isn't really arrogant or unfriendly at all. He's just lonely - like so many men in his position. When you have to outbid and outpace other men you can't help being alone. What a good idea that would be for a series,' she mused sleepily. 'The loneliness of the long distance runner could so easily be changed to the loneliness of the big business tycoon.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Jane had no need to look out of the porthole the next morning to know that the weather had changed, for the sun was so brilliant it shone through the closed curtains, picking out her gold evening shoes on the carpet and glinting on the cut glass toilet accessories on the dressing-table.
She rang for breakfast, and while it was coming had a leisurely bath. Dressed in brief shorts and matching white silk shirt, she sat cross-legged on the bed, munching buttered croissants and remembering Stephen's description of her the night before.
When she stepped out on deck i
t was already crowded with sunbathers and many of them smiled at her as she walked by, looking for a vacant chair. One or two couples invited her to sit with them, but declining the offers she walked to the front of the deck where she had stood the previous day. There were no deck-chairs there either and she stood by the rail and looked out to sea. Below her was another deck and she leaned forward to look at it, surprised to catch a glimpse of a blue-tiled swimming-pool. Quickly she walked back the way she had come until she found a stairway and, reaching the lower deck, soon found herself by the side of the pool. Most of the younger set were here, and she stood by the side of the pool hoping a deck steward would come and find her a chair. The row in front of her was fully occupied and she moved a little away and waited.
'I don't like it,' a woman's voice said. 'I don't like it, and I'm afraid.'
'Don't be silly,' came the reply. 'You've nothing to be afraid of.'
Jane recognized the voice as belonging to Colin Waterman and she coughed loudly and took a step forward, anxious not to appear as if she were eavesdropping. Instantly a head appeared above the deck-chair and she looked into Colin's face.
'Hello,' he said in his precise, thin voice, and stood up. 'Come and sit here. Now that I've found you I'm not letting you out of my sight'
Jane stepped round the side, surprised to see that Colin's companion was Claire Saunders.
'I don't want to take your chair,' she protested to him. 'I'm sure the steward—'
'Don't be silly. Sit down and I'll find myself another chair.'
'You needn't bother, Colin.' Claire stood up, her golden- skinned body clad in a lurex bathing-suit. A gold bracelet glinted on her wrist and a very narrow one on her ankle, adding to her exotic appearance. 'I want to go in for a swim and I'll go and sit on the other side where it's sunny and get warmed up first.'
With a cool nod at Jane she sauntered away, and Colin sat down in the vacated chair.
'I hope I didn't interrupt you,' Jane said.
'Not at all. In fact, I'm glad you did. When you got here Claire was bemoaning her spinsterhood. She's suddenly afraid that if she doesn't find a husband soon it'll be too late.'
Jane relaxed against the canvas. 'That's the sort of feeling a girl usually keeps to herself.'
'Then you can't know many girls of Claire's type. It's the sophisticated thing today to tell everyone your innermost feelings.'
'Then I'm not very sophisticated.'
'Thank goodness for that. It's one of the reasons I like you.' He leaned over, his face close to hers. 'And I do like you, Janey. I was sorry not to have seen you yesterday. But I felt too ill even to pick up the telephone. What did you do with yourself?'
'Talked to Stephen Drake - the man Claire noticed first night out.'
A look of amazement crossed Colin's bland face. 'So that's who he is. I wonder if Claire knows yet. Stephen Drake, eh?' He turned his head to where Claire was sunning herself on the opposite side of the pool. 'Well, talk of the devil,' he said softly. 'There he comes now.'
Jane followed his gaze and saw Stephen climbing the diving-board. His body, silhouetted against the blue sky, was the colour of mahogany, and even at a distance she could see the muscles rippling in his shoulders and outstretched arms. Then he dived, hitting the water as smoothly as an arrow. Tired and overworked he might be, but it was more a mental than a physical illness, she thought, as she watched him surface and then strike out for the side in an effortless crawl.
Claire Saunders was watching the man too, and she stood up and walked aver to the diving-board. All eyes were on her as she climbed gracefully to the top and stood there adjusting the straps of her suit. Her dive was as beautiful and controlled as that of the man, and when she rose to the top there was an appreciative murmur. As though unaware of it, she swam idly to the end of the pool, and watching, Jane was sure it was no coincidence that she should decide to climb out at the exact spot where Stephen Drake was sitting. Holding on to the side of the rail, she pulled herself up, half slipped back into the water and would have fallen had he not leaned forward and grabbed her. Jane was too far away to hear what was said, but she was intensely conscious that the man and woman were soon seated side by side, their feet dabbling the water, their bodies warmed by the sun.
'I might as well go and put my swimsuit on,' she said, and walked away, wishing she did not have to cross to the other side of the pool in order to reach the companionway. But it would look as if she were trying to avoid Claire and Stephen if she went in the other direction and, trying to appear as nonchalant as she could, she walked round the side of the pool. As she came closer to them her shadow fell across Stephen Drake's face and he turned and looked up.
'Good morning, Janey. Feeling better?'
'Yes, thank you.'
Claire said nothing, but the dark eyes watched her with an expression she could not fathom.
'Aren't you coming in for a swim?' he went on.
'I'm just going down to put on my suit.'
'Are you sure you're wise?' Claire laughed. 'Belinda said you hated the water.'
'Belinda?'
'Belinda Mitchell - my cousin. She was at school with you.'
'Oh, Belinda.' Jane forced herself to laugh. That was a long time ago. I've quite changed since then.'
'Only a couple of years,' Claire replied 'And I'd be careful of the pool if I were you. There's no shallow end.'
Aware that she was being baited, Jane tilted her head and walked away. She was nearer the edge than she had realized and the ball of her foot slipped on the shiny tiles. Had there been anything to catch hold of she would not have lost her balance, but there was nothing within her grasp and she teetered precariously for a moment, her body swaying, her arms outstretched, before she toppled ignominiously into the water. Down to the bottom she went and came up spluttering, her hair clinging round her face. She was aware of laughter and she blinked the water out of her eyes and wished she were a million miles away. There was a splash beside her and firm hands gripped her shoulders.
'Don't worry,' Stephen Drake's voice said. 'A lot of people are afraid of the water.'
'I'm not afraid,' Jane spluttered, and tried to struggle away from him.
'Stop it,' he said, 'or you'll get yourself another unnecessary ducking. Lie still and I'll pull you in to the side.'
Jane did as she was told and a moment later was standing beside him on firm ground. Her shirt and shorts clung to her body and she was uncomfortably aware that the white silk outlined her far more than any swimming costume would have done. The man in front of her noticed it too, for his thin mouth curved in a smile and, reaching across to a vacant chair, he lifted off a towel and draped it over her shoulders.
Claire came up to them, her expression malicious, her voice sweet. 'Poor child, you did give yourself a ducking. I wish I'd had my movie camera. You looked screamingly funny!'
'I'm sure I did.' Jane coughed up some more water, and Claire grinned openly.
'It serves you right for saying you could swim. I knew Belinda wasn't lying.'
'Blow Belinda,' Jane said, and Stephen Drake chuckled.
'I'll teach you to swim if you like,' he said. 'It's all a matter of confidence. Once you've got over your initial fear I'm sure you'll be fine.'
'It's very kind of you,' she said, and wondered whether it would be difficult to pretend to be inexpert at a sport at which she excelled. What luck she had had the presence of mind not to go into a speedy crawl when she had surfaced in the bath! 'I don't think I'll go swimming any more today,' she continued. 'But I'll take you up on your offer tomorrow.'
'We dock at Cannes in the morning,' Claire intervened.
'In that case we'll postpone our lesson till the day after.' Stephen Drake touched Jane's arm. 'Perhaps you'll let me show you the sights instead, if you're not already going ashore with someone?'
Jane stood perfectly still, surprised at the unexpectedness of his invitation. Claire was surprised too, for though she had the presence of mind not to sh
ow it on her face, her body had grown rigid.
'No, I'm not going with anyone,' Jane said breathlessly. 'I'd like to go with you very much.'
'Good.' He patted her shoulder. 'Now go and change into some dry things.'
Happily Jane sped away, and while rubbing herself dry in her stateroom thought what an extraordinary man he was: casual and stand-offish one moment, irrationally charming the next. One thing was certain: whatever tomorrow brought it would not be boredom.
'Fancy me going out with the great Stephen Drake! If only Frank Preston were here to see it.'
Thoughts of Frank Preston made her realize that as far as her features editor was concerned she was on the trip for one purpose only: to cable back news. And though she would have enjoyed relaxing by the pool, as soon as she had changed into a play-suit and rubbed her hair dry, she returned to the deck and wandered slowly past the sunbathers. This time she did not refuse when she was asked to join some of them, and the rest of the day passed in chit-chat with different people.
During the afternoon, while Greg Pearson, Ace Films' number one heart-throb, was showing her the correct way to do the cha-cha, Stephen Drake and Claire Saunders strolled past and stopped to watch, Claire's expression one of patronizing amusement. 'Strange that she should make me feel so naive,' Jane thought crossly. 'And there's no doubt she's doing it deliberately.' The knowledge that it was deliberate was heart-warming since it meant Claire feared her. Yet why should she fear her? Because of Colin Waterman? Jane dismissed this at once, since Claire had known Colin for years and had presumably had her chance with him. No, the answer was Stephen Drake. Claire was setting out to attract him and was determined to minimize any competition she might encounter. 'Fancy me, lowly little Jane Berry, being competition for a rich young socialite!'
Rachel Lindsay - Moonlight and Magic Page 5
