Crescendo

by Charlotte Lamb

  'For a quiet little community you seem to have a lot of scandal.'

  'The quieter the community the more the scan­dal,' Marina told him gravely. 'Grandie firmly be­lieves she makes it all up, but I'm not so sure.'

  Gideon moved silently beside her as they entered the cottage. 'Does she invent anything about Grandie?'

  Marina turned her head quickly to look at him. 'What?' she asked.

  Gideon's face was unreadable. 'God knows. You tell me.'

  Marina frowned. 'I've never heard her say any­thing, but then that isn't the way she operates. She tells you everything about everyone else, but she never lets on what she knows about you.'

  Gideon began to whistle softly under his breath. Grandie looked up as they entered the kitchen, his face tense and frowning. Marina kissed him lightly, hoping he wasn't going to be cross. He stared at her for a few seconds with intent probing, but then he smiled.

  'You look as if you've had a warm climb.'

  'It was fun,' she said. 'We lost some of our picnic to a horrid old crow, but Gideon ate the rest.'

  'You had some salad and an apple,' Gideon pro­tested, his black eyes teasing.

  'Big deal.' She looked at the bubbling saucepan Grandie was stirring. 'Stew?'

  He nodded. 'Lamb,' he told her.

  'Do yon like lamb stew, Gideon?' she asked.

  'Love it,' said Gideon. He handed Grandie the paper and Grandie sat down with it at the table. Marina walked to the door.

  'I think I'll change and have a wash.'

  Grandie was staring at the newspaper and didn't answer. Gideon smiled at her, his eyes on her face.

  'You've got a smut on your nose,' he told her as if it delighted him.

  She made a face at him and went out. Glancing back as she closed the door, she caught sight of Grandie's face. He was still staring at the news­paper and he looked pale.

  She washed and changed into a pale pink linen dress with a stiff round collar. When she got down to the kitchen the two men were talking quietly. They looked round and stopped speaking as soon as she entered the room.

  Marina sat down and looked around for the paper. 'Where's the paper, Grandie? I want to read my stars. What's your birth month, Gideon? You look like an Arian.'

  'Good lord,' he said, mocking her.

  She opened her eyes. 'You aren't?'

  'No,' he said, 'I'm not.'

  They laughed as their eyes met.

  'Don't tease,' she said. 'What are you?'

  'A man who doesn't believe in a word of it,' he re­torted.

  'Where's the paper?' she asked.

  Grandie glanced at Gideon with a hesitant face.

  'I'm sorry,' said Gideon, grimacing. 'It's my fault,

  I wrapped the remains of our picnic in it and flung it into the range.'

  Marina looked into the impassive black eyes and she knew that he was lying.

  Grandie went to the saucepan and took off the lid. A savoury steam rose into the air. 'Nearly ready,' he said. 'Are you hungry, Gideon?'

  'Ravenous. I'll lay the table,' said Gideon. 'If you don't mind moving, my lady.' He bent over her chair and his cheek brushed hers. The black eyes smiled at her and Marina found herself smiling back, but with a reluctance she could not explain. She liked Gideon. He was very attractive, he could be very charming, but he was a liar and she could not fathom what was going on at all, only that what­ever it was, it was putting shadows under Grandie's tired old eyes and lines around his mouth, and some­how that look had only been there since Gideon arrived.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHEN she woke up next morning the sun was streaming across the walls and she heard a black­bird somewhere in the garden telling the world that morning had broken. Leaping out of bed, she pattered on bare feet to the window and leaned on the sill, taking deep breaths of sea air, then glanced down at a movement and saw Gideon with his hands on his lean hips and the wind ruffling his black hair. At that instant he seemed to sense her presence and glanced up. She smiled and got a crooked smile back, his eyes warm.

  'Come down, lazybones,' he called. 'I'm waiting for you.'

  She felt no urge to hurry. Propping up her chin with her elbows on the sill, she threw back, 'It's too lovely a day to waste in rushing about. I'm going to take my time.'

  'Come down or I'll come and get you,' he said softly, almost as though he were enjoying making the threat.

  For a second she thought of challenging him to do just that. The glint in his eyes told her he knew what she was thinking. They observed each other, smiling, and he moved slightly, poised to come into the house and carry out his threat. Marina laughed. 'I'm coming,' she said, backing down.

  'Wise of you,' Gideon advised her gently, grin­ning.

  She moved away from the window and stood with her arms curved over her head, standing on her tiptoes, smiling. She felt as though her veins ran with new life. She wanted to burst into song. It was such a lovely morning, the world had been reborn. Marina was reluctant to move even now, cherishing the happiness which she had discovered inside her­self.

  When she did come down she found the table laid for breakfast and the fragrance of coffee in the air mingling with the smell of bacon. Gideon turned and slid the dark eyes down her. He didn't say a word, but she knew he approved the thin yellow cotton dress with a pleated skirt and demure scal­loped collar. She walked forward and was going to sit down when he touched her bare arm gently. She turned to look at him in enquiry and his mouth grazed across her cheek and was gone. He moved to get the breakfast from the oven where it was keeping warm. Marina, very flushed, sat down. She was not surprised by the soft kiss, but one part of her mind warned her that she should not let him take it for granted that he could kiss her when he liked.

  She had only known him for a day. It was a very short acquaintance. Her thoughts were confused because the brevity of their friendship seemed to have no bearing on the way they felt and acted. This puzzling familiarity persisted. Common sense seemed to have nothing to do with it.

  'I thought we'd go for a drive,' Gideon said as he drank his coffee later.

  'Where to?' She was excited at once. She had rarely driven in a car. She thought of the small yel­low sports car and her face flushed with anticipa­tion.

  He shrugged. 'Does it matter? We'll just drive and see where we get to, shall we?'

  She glanced at the door and he caught that look and smiled at her. 'Grandie won't mind.'

  Sometimes he called her grandfather Mr Grandi- son quite formally as though he barely knew him. Other times he used the familiar nickname and she caught the echo of a casual familiarity. A small line etched itself between her brows, giving her smooth young face a troubled look, and Gideon gave her a quick, penetrating stare.

  'Something wrong? You don't want to come?' He sounded curt and she responded involuntarily.

  'Of course I do.' She smiled. 'I'd love to come.'

  Gideon took quiet byroads out of the usual rapid rush of the traffic along the coast, avoiding towns and main roads, his speed keeping to a regular pace which gave them a chance to view the countryside. Marina got the distinct impression that he knew this coast extremely well. He seemed to know all these short cuts, weaving in and out of main roads, crossing them and returning to the timeless peace of the deserted countryside again without consulting any maps.

  Glancing at his watch, he said: 'I thought we'd lunch at a pub. You won't mind a scratch meal? I know somewhere quiet where they do a bar meal sandwiches, sausages, that sort of thing.'

  'It sounds fine,' she agreed.

  They had not spoken much as they drove. Marina had been content with the wind rushing through her hair and the scent of the fields on either side. Glancing at him, she wondered if he were silent by nature or if he just had nothing to say to her. He seemed to enjoy being with her. Every now and then he looked sideways at her and his face had a smile on it which warmed her, yet he seemed to avoid conversation, keeping it on that impersonal level, rarely speaking of a
nything about himself.

  It occurred to her that he might be in some sort

  of trouble. Was he hiding down here? And from what? Gideon did not look the sort of man who ran from things, but in relaxation she sometimes caught a grimness in his face, a hint of tension which she could not fathom.

  'How long are you going to, stay?' she asked suddenly as they drew into a small gravelled car park, and Gideon's hands jerked on the wheel.

  She heard the screech of the tyres as he righted the steering and parked. He sat staring at the hedge in front of which the car had come to rest.

  'I haven't made up my mind. It all depends.'

  'On what?'

  He turned the black head and his eyes scrutinised her face as though he searched her own eyes for some expression. 'On a number of things,' he said slowly, and she sensed that whatever he had looked for in her eyes, he had not found. What had he looked for?

  She wanted to ask if he were in trouble, but he looked suddenly aloof and she did not quite dare. He got out of the car and came round to help her from her seat.

  The bar was small and highly polished and almost empty. An old man in a flat cap sat reading a newspaper in a corner and a pair of young people whispered together at a table. The barman served them with sandwiches and hot sausages. Gideon had lager and Marina had a tall glass of lemonade with a slice of lemon floating in it and ice clinking around against the glass as she carried it. , There were ornate Edwardian mirrors on the walls and when she looked up at them she was sure

  she had seen them before. Her brow creased. Had Grandie brought her here? she wondered. Gideon saw her frown and asked quietly: 'What's wrong?'

  'Those mirrors,' she said. 'They look familiar.'

  He glanced at them, shrugged. 'You see them in a lot of old pubs. Some London theatres, too. They were very popular at one time.'

  'Do you like the theatre?' she asked him. 'I've been a few times. Grandie takes me. We go by train and stay the night in London.' It had always been an exciting journey. Marina often felt sick with eagerness the night before. Her face reflected that excitement now, her eyes wide and brilliant, and Gideon watched her with narrowed inspection, reading the quiver of her pink mouth, the little coins of red in her cheeks.

  'You're too highly strung,' he said flatly, and she bit her lower lip, admitting it.

  She had always been volatile, responsive to feel­ing and circumstance. Grandie said it was one of her gifts, it was what made her music so charged, but it was also one of her curses because she could not control the depth of emotion which could take hold of her.

  After they had finished their meal and the drinks, they drove off again and skirted the suburban sprawl of a large town. The car slowed as traffic engulfed it and Gideon grimaced at her.

  'It will take us a time to get through this,' he apologised.

  She leaned her elbow on the back of the seat be­tween them, smiling at him. 'I don't mind.' She was too happy to mind anything. Her eyes lingered on the hard face and Gideon leaned slowly over to kiss her lightly on the mouth.

  As he drew away Marina became conscious of being watched. She looked up, flushed after Gideon's kiss, and saw a long sleek red car just be­hind them. It was being driven by a short balding man, but it was not him who was staring. It was the woman beside him, and although Marina could not quite see her face she was aware that there was hostility in the way the eyes behind the dark sun­glasses were watching her.

  Gideon sensed her glancing back and turned his black head. Marina felt the shock run through him. She sat up, staring at him, and Gideon turned to look back at her again. He was white. Marina was not imagining anything this time: Gideon had gone white from the black line of his hair to his straight, tense mouth.

  A horn blared. Gideon looked round again and Marina saw the woman wave her hand in an imperi­ous, compelling fashion. At the same moment the red car drew into the kerb and stopped. Gideon stared ahead at the road. His hands gripped the wheel and Marina saw his knuckles pale at the pressure he was exerting. His face was averted from her, but there was no mistaking the way his black brows knit and the muscle jerking in his flat brown cheek.

  She could sense that he was turning over a course of action in his mind. The horn blared again and Marina looked quickly at him. 'They want you to slop,' she pointed out. 'They know you, don't they?'

  Gideon did not answer. He spun the car into the

  kerb and parked some way ahead of the other car, then he opened his door and slid his legs out. Turn­ing his head, he looked at Marina, his face implac­able. 'Stay in the car,' he ordered in a harsh voice.

  She opened her mouth and he said it again, even more sharply. 'Stay in the car!'

  He walked away very fast, his long lean body stiff and erect. Marina would not look now. She was wounded at the way he had spoken to her, the cold light in the dark eyes. She sat facing the road, but her eyes would not keep away from the driving mirror. In it she saw the woman leave the red car, her movements graceful as she walked round to meet Gideon. She had black hair, as black as his, but brushed sleekly into a high chignon on the back of her head. Marina could not see her face as she walked. The enormous sunglasses hid her eyes, but her mouth was a glossy red and it curved into a smile as she and Gideon met on the pavement.

  Marina could not hear what they said, but there was no need for her to hear. She saw the woman fling her arms around Gideon, her hands clasp his face and pull his head down. As their lips met, Marina made herself look away because she was so angry she wanted to leap out of the car and walk away. She was innocent about men, but she was not a child. She recognised the eager sensuality of the woman's body as she kissed Gideon.

  She would not look at them again. She laced her fingers together and studied them, waiting for Gideon to come back. The clock on the dashboard ticked and she heard every soft sound it made. Time passed like something with leaden feet. Whatever the woman and Gideon were saying to each other, it was taking a long time. She could not bear it at last. She had to look. They still stood there, the woman talking, her face lifted to his, her hand on his arm, the fingers pressing into him possessively.

  Gideon's face was stiff and cold: Marina could see that from this distance. She probed his features, trying to read the feelings behind that hard ex­pression, but whatever they were Gideon was obvi­ously merely waiting for the woman to finish what she was saying. His whole attitude spoke of restless impatience, a desire to go.

  Suddenly the woman hit him. Marina sat up, stiffening, feeling as though the blow had been at herself.

  Gideon moved sharply in reaction. For a second his hand was raised as though he were going to hit the woman back. He bit out something with his mouth moving fiercely, barely parted, the words pushed through his taut lips.

  Then he turned on his heel and walked away. Marina looked back down at her linked hands. Gideon climbed into the driving seat and as he did so Marina distinctly heard running feet on the pavement. She looked up and Gideon started the car. The woman was coming towards them, her racing feet clicking on the paving stones. The car slid out into the traffic and she halted, hands clenched at her sides.

  Marina picked up the emotions eating her and shivered. They were not all directed at Gideon. Some of that bitter feeling was aimed at her, and she shuddered away from it, looking away.

  Gideon drove without speaking, his face in pro­file, as sharp as a newly minted coin, his jaw and cheekbones locked tight in rage. Marina stared out of the window and knew he would not tell her what that had all been about. A silence hung be­tween them like a veil through which she saw darkly.

  Marina could guess at some of it. It had been very obvious, even to her inexperience, that the woman was in love with Gideon, that at some time in the past there had been a relationship between them, and the way the woman had pressed herself against him as she kissed him, warned that the re­lationship had been intimate. Gideon's coldness, hardness, suggested that there had been some sort of quarrel and that althou
gh the woman still cared for him Gideon was angry with her. Just angry? Marina pondered, remembering the look on -his face, the white shock, when he saw the woman at first.

  Whatever was or had been between them, it had left a residue in Gideon which marked his face now with anger and some harsh emotion. Jealousy? she thought. Had the other woman been unfaithful to him? Did that explain the brooding darkness in his face as he drove?

  Although Marina had not been able to see much of her face, she had picked up beauty in the move­ments of the body, the shape of the mouth and the confident, alluring smile she had given Gideon as she kissed him.

  Gideon was not a boy. He was a man who was almost twice Marina's age and obviously he must have had affairs in the past. It was none of Marina's business and she was angry with herself for sitting here with a heart like lead and a sense of depression. She had only known him for two short days. What business was it of hers? He had told her nothing of his past life and she had no right to care that that woman had kissed him so passionately.

  She concentrated on the hedges swishing past. They were back in the quiet countryside and she guessed they were headed for Basslea again. Gideon had not spoken for so long that when he did speak she jumped and looked round at him, startled, her eyes wide.

  'I'm sorry I spoke sharply just now,' he said, his dark eyes probing hers.

  She looked away. 'It doesn't matter.'

  'It does,' he said harshly.

  She shrugged. 'I realised you were upset about meeting your friend.'

  He laughed shortly. 'She's no friend of mine.'

  Marina did not respond to that, although her heart lifted a little at the anger in his voice.