Anne Mather

by Sanja

  'Don't be horrible,' she whispered, wetting her dry lips.

  'So it seems I'm right after all,' he taunted. 'My God, Caroline, you're taking a hell of a lot for granted! Just what do you think my friends will say about this? I'll be a laughing stock.'

  'What am I taking for granted?' she protested bewilderedly. 'You knew in the beginning it was a gamble.'

  'You're taking for granted the fact that I'll agree to release you from our engagement,' he replied smoothly.

  'What can you do to keep me to it?' she demanded, and continued relentlessly, 'Where were you last night when your grandmother was trying to get in touch with you? Were you restoring your manly pride with some other girl? After all, as you said, you're not used to being turned down. What a shock that must have been to your pride!'

  John was positively fuming. Caroline, now into her stride, made him appear like some stupid school- boy. She certainly didn't pull her punches.

  She pushed the ring into his hand and looked fearlessly at him.

  'Let's have no more talk of that,' she said abruptly, as his grandmother came into the room. She was carrying a tray on which was a jug of iced lime juice and three glasses.

  'It's so refreshing,' she said, setting the tray down on the table. 'Will you have some, Caroline?'

  'Thank you,' Caroline nodded, and went to sit near the door. John also accepted a glass of the cooling liquid and flung himself into an armchair. He felt utterly fed up. Everything Caroline had said had been true. It was his pride that she had hurt more than anything else, although there had been a time when he had imagined himself in love with her. Her cool, blonde beauty fascinated him. However, it seemed it was not to be, and he was still outraged that she blatantly preferred his father.

  Caroline now felt completely empty. She was glad she had got the scene with John over, but now there was nothing left. She didn't really have a reason for staying any longer. Adam had been so hurtful tonight and she was not John's fiancee any more. She had cut the ties with a vengeance, or more correctly, they had been cut for her.

  After finishing her drink she excused herself. Her headache felt worse and she said she was going to lie down. Teresa was sympathetic and agreed that bed was probably the best place. However, when Caroline reached the seclusion of her room she felt very restless. She took three aspirins and wandered to the window, looking out without really seeing the view. She won- dered achingly whether she might just as well return to London tomorrow. To stay would only make the eventual parting much more painful. She already liked Adam's mother; she didn't want to get any more deeply involved with her.

  The humidity in the room was intense in spite of the air-conditioning, and Caroline, hearing the sound of the waves on the beach, longed to get out of the house. She had seen so little of this place and the idea of a stroll along the beach appealed to her. The storm was still threatening, but she didn't think it was imminent. Besides, the beach was only a few yards distant and she could hurry back if it began to rain.

  Taking a cardigan with her, she left her room and walked along the landing to the top of the stairs. She could hear the voices of John and his grandmother coming from the lounge and she wondered whether she could get out without them seeing her. After all, she had no desire for further conversation with John tonight, and Teresa, knowing her troubled state of mind, might suggest that she accompany her. Much as she liked Adam's mother she wanted to be alone.

  She crept quietly down the stairs, her low-heeled shoes in her hand. Half amused at the picture she must make, she quickly crossed the hall, passed the open lounge doors and reached the front door. Opening it silently she slipped out, just as Liza appeared from the kitchen. Her heart thumping, she stood waiting outside the front doors, hoping Liza had not seen her. When no one came she assumed she had not been spotted and putting on her shoes set off down the drive. She knew no one would see her here as the lounge overlooked the rear of the building. Feeling less like an escaping criminal now she began to enjoy the unaccustomed breeze from the sea.

  She saw no one as she walked towards the headland. It was too late for the people who were dining out and too early for those returning home as it was already nearly nine o'clock. It was dusk, but the curious colour of the sky shed a brilliance over everything. She didn't feel scared. Storms had never frightened her.

  She crossed the highway which ran along the cliff top and reached the grassy slope which led down to the beach. Two promontories curved out on either side of the stretch of beach while the sand in the cove looked white and undefiled. Caroline felt exhilarated by the salty air and she began to descend the slope slowly. There seemed no other way of getting down and besides, the slope was very gentle.

  Holding carefully to tufts of grass, and digging in her heels as she went she moved down with ease. The exercise banished all self-pitying thoughts from her brain and she found she was enjoying herself.

  And then, when she was within twenty feet or so of the beach, the grassy slope gave way to a sheer drop of bare rock. Horrified, Caroline remained where she was clinging to the slope with urgent fingers. From the cliff-top this drop had been hidden and she thought in desperation that a warning ought to be given to strangers like herself. Trying not to panic, she knew that somehow she had got to get back up the cliff face. It would not have been difficult if she had been facing the slope, but she had gone down more or less facing forward and now she was stuck, precariously above the drop.

  No wonder the beach had looked so clean, she thought, furious with herself for being so foolhardy. Sighing, she glanced upwards. It didn't look so far and it was an easy slope. If she could just turn round she would be able to make it.

  But fate took a hand, as it sometimes does, and as she attempted to turn, the heel of one shoe gave way and, with a startled cry, she felt herself plunging down on to the beach below. She landed on the sand, stunned by the fall, but within a few moments she was able to sit up and look around her. Luckily, the soft sand, had prevented her from breaking anything and she was soon standing up and looking up the cliff in exasperation. Now she had really done it. How on earth was she supposed to get back up there? The cliff face was completely sheer and even if she had been a climber she doubted whether she would have been able to get up it.

  She sighed helplessly. She might even have to stay here until somebody found her, and on the heels of this thought came another, much more terrifying; no one knew she was out tonight. She might not be missed until morning. Suddenly she felt scared. There was very little likelihood of anyone coming along here tonight. It was getting quite dark now, and besides, the storm would deter people from leaving their homes anyway. Mrs Steinbeck would naturally assume she had gone to bed and was not coming down again. If only she had told them she was going out, instead of behaving like an idiot!

  Suddenly she felt a spot of rain and there was an ominous roll of thunder. The storm was about to start. She looked around in desperation for somewhere to shelter, but although she walked from one side of the cove to the other, there were no caves. It was a veritable prison, with no escape.

  She felt utterly stupid and drew back against the cliff face, trying unsuccessfully to keep dry. A flash of lightning illuminated the cove and another crack of thunder echoed menacingly. It was difficult to stop the tears from gathering in her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. It was no one's fault but her own that she was in this position and she had got to make the best of it.

  It was about this time that she realised that the sand beneath her feet was not the normal dry sand in a cove. It was damp and firm and completely clean as she had noticed before. That could mean only one thing; the tide came right in, covering the cove completely and thus making it unsafe to visitors. She went cold; she had felt shivery before, but this was the coldness of a petrifying dread. Was it possible she was to be drowned regardless of whether she survived the night in the open or not? She felt sick with fear. If only she had never left the security of her room. If only.. .! And how long
before high tide?

  CHAPTER NINE

  In the lounge, Teresa Steinbeck looked at her watch. It was nearly ten o'clock and she yawned sleepily.

  'Dear me,' she said apologetically, looking at John. 'I must be tired. It's been rather an exhausting day.'

  'Yes indeed,' murmured John moodily, stubbing out his cigarette. 'I think I'll turn in too.'

  'Caroline must have decided to go to bed after all,' remarked Teresa casually. 'Poor child, I shan't disturb her. She's had a very exhausting day too.'

  John did not reply. He and his grandmother had carefully skirted that topic of conversation for an hour and he had no wish to bring it up now. He was hoping to get to bed and leave all explanations for the morning.

  Teresa stood up. She had noticed John's prolonged silence about his fiancee and refrained from making anything of it now. If he and Caroline had finished, then she would know about it all in good time.

  Then, without warning, the telephone in the hall pealed shrilly.

  Teresa stared at the noise. 'Good heavens,' she exclaimed. 'Who on earth can that be at this hour?'

  Liza came along the passage and answered the telephone before Teresa could reach it. Teresa looked expectantly at her.

  'It's Mr Adam, ma'am,' she said, holding out the telephone. 'He wants to speak to Miss Caroline.'

  Teresa frowned. 'Now?' she exclaimed, taking

  the receiver. 'Adam, is this a joke?'

  'No, Mother,' came Adam's voice calmly. 'I just want to speak to Caroline.'

  'Very well, dear, if you insist.' Teresa shrugged at John helplessly, but Liza looked perturbed.

  'Has Miss Sinclair got back, then?' she asked, with the familiarity of an old servant.

  Teresa put her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. 'What do you mean, Liza? Miss Sinclair is in bed.'

  'Oh no, she isn't,' denied Liza, in her calm, unagitated manner. 'I saw her go out myself, not an hour ago. And I haven't heard her come back.'

  Teresa closed her eyes momentarily as a multitude of thoughts swept over her. John leapt to his feet and came striding into the hall.

  'Has she taken her luggage, Liza?' he asked swiftly.

  'I didn't see any,' said Liza thoughtfully. 'But I can't be sure.'

  'Oh, do go and see,' exclaimed Teresa agitatedly. 'Hurry, John!'

  John ran quickly up the stairs and Teresa removed her hand from the telephone.

  'What's going on?' exclaimed Adam, exasperated at the sudden dead sound to the telephone. 'Is Caroline there?'

  Teresa bit her lip worriedly. 'Well, I'm not sure,' she began awkwardly.

  'What the hell does that mean?' he muttered.

  'Well. . .she went out about an hour ago,' said Teresa slowly. 'I. . .we. . .didn't see her go. John's arrived, you see, and we were talking in the lounge. Only Liza saw her going.'

  Adam snorted angrily. 'Did she say where she was going?'

  'No, Liza didn't see her to speak to. John's just checking to see whether her clothes are still there.'

  John came down the stairs as she said this. 'They're still there,' he said, frowning. 'Where the devil can she be?'

  Adam spoke again: 'Let me speak to John.'

  Teresa shrugged and beckoned her grandson to the telephone. Reluctantly he spoke to his father:

  'Yes, Dad. Are you okay?'

  'Let's leave me out of it for the time being,' Adam muttered. 'What's been going on there?'

  John hesitated and then said: 'Oh, you may as well know now. She broke our engagement. We had quite an argument, one way and another.'

  Adam swore furiously. 'Is that why you were checking to see if her clothes had gone? Were you afraid she'd left abruptly?'

  'Yes.. .hell, Dad, she may be out walking.'

  'In this downpour?' exclaimed Adam sceptically. 'If anything's happened to her. ..' His voice was cut off as the telephone went dead.

  John replaced his receiver and looked at his grandmother. She had gathered the gist of the conversation and was leaning against the door of the lounge.

  'Well,' she said, 'so there was nothing to keep her here, then?'

  John flushed. 'There was my father,' he muttered in a low voice.

  'If you think she and Adam are together again, you're mistaken,' replied Teresa heavily.

  'Then why.. .?' began John, in bewilderment.

  'Why did she break your engagement? Oh, I think she realised after today that she couldn't marry you, and love your father. It was always a tortuous situation.'

  John smiled moodily. 'I guess I feel responsible in a way, that is if she has left here for any other than valid reasons.'

  'Don't even suggest such a thing,' exclaimed Teresa, shivering. 'Good heavens, she might be sheltering from the storm somewhere. But where?'

  'That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question,' he replied. 'Well, I guess I'd better go and see if I can find her. Perhaps she's gone down towards the hospital.'

  'What? When Adam has just rung from there?'

  'Well, I'm baffled,' exclaimed John.

  Liza shrugged her shoulders and made her way back to the kitchen. Teresa lit a cigarette with unsteady fingers and shrugged too. She couldn't help but remember Caroline's depressed condition when they left the hospital. The way she had placed so much emphasis on this interview with Adam. So much had depended upon it. Her rather strange words about life not being worth living without him assumed sinister proportions. Could it be possible that Caroline had disappeared purposely; maybe taken her own life? It just couldn't be true. She sank down on to a chair, feeling every one of her sixty-three years.

  Meanwhile, John was pulling on his mackintosh. He buttoned it closely round his throat, trying not to consider what would happen if they found Caroline, injured or worse. He, of all of them.should have shown consideration for her highly emotional state, but instead he had quarrelled with her.

  Liza came back just then. 'I've looked in the grounds, ma'am,' she said carefully, 'and she's nowhere around.'

  'Thank you, Liza,' said Teresa with a slight smile. 'You've done everything you can. Go and get your supper.'

  'I ought to have told you when I saw the little lady going out,' said Liza mournfully, shaking her head.

  'Not at all,' returned Teresa kindly. 'You weren't to know the circumstances. It's all right, really, Liza. We're sure to find her before long.'

  Shaking her head, Liza returned to her kitchen, and Teresa rose to her feet again. 'Well, John,' she said, 'where are you going first?'

  John shook his head. 'I honestly have no idea.'

  'What about the cove?' exclaimed Teresa suddenly. 'It's natural that she should be drawn to the beach. It always looks so inviting.'

  John frowned. 'Surely not? Hell, Grandmother, she would see the notice warning people. She couldn't go down there. Besides, how would she get down?'

  'The notice doesn't stretch the whole length of the cliff top,' retorted Teresa irritably. 'I've always said what a dangerous place that was. As for getting down, maybe she fell, like a few others have done.'

  John looked unconvinced. 'It's a bit far-fetched, isn't it?' he said, frowning.

  'Oh, for goodness' sake,' snapped Teresa angrily, 'stop arguing. Go and find out.'

  John thrust his hands into his trousers pockets and walked towards the door. 'You don't think we ought to call the police?' he said thoughtfully.

  Teresa lost patience. 'No, I do not!' she cried furi- ously. 'What could we tell them? That a friend staying here is out for a walk and should be back by now? Sounds rather feeble, doesn't it? Or would you rather 1 told them that we were afraid she might commit suicide?'

  John flushed. 'All right, all right, I only asked,' he muttered, and opened the door. As he did so there was a squeal of tyres on the gravel drive outside and Teresa put her hand to her lips.

  'The police!' she breathed, hardly aware of moving to the door.

  The sound of footsteps rang on the steps and the door was flung open. Adam came in, dressed in
a dark overcoat, shaking the drops of water from his curly hair. Fully dressed now, he looked powerfully dependable standing there and with a cry Teresa ran to him and hugged him. 'Oh, Adam,' she whispered, 'I'm so glad you've come. We're so worried. How on earth did they let you out?'

  'I discharged myself,' replied Adam briefly, looking over her head at his son. 'I gather you haven't found her yet?'

  John moved uncomfortably. 'I was just going to look,' he said.

  'And where do you intend looking?' asked Adam curtly, turning up his coat collar as his mother straightened up away from him, composing herself. 'I've a cab outside. We may as well use that. It's pouring down.'

  'Grandmother suggested the cove,' said John. 'Do you think it's worth a try?'

  Adam frowned. 'Why there?' he. asked, turning to his mother.

  Teresa clasped her hands nervously.

  'Caroline was in a very depressed state,' she explained. 'When we left the hospital this afternoon she didn't seem at all herself. . .and.. .'

  'Do go on,' muttered Adam angrily. 'What else?'

  Teresa shrugged. 'Surely you can guess what I'm afraid of?'

  Adam frowned. 'You mean suicide? I don't believe it. Not Caroline.'

  Teresa shrugged.

  'Maybe I'm over-sensitive,' she offered.

  'I think perhaps you are,' said Adam, but his face had taken on a taut, worried look. Then with sudden decision he continued: 'Right, we'll try the beach. What time is it? High tide covers that strand. If she was to get caught there at high tide it wouldn't make much difference what her intentions were. Have you got a rope, John?'

  John shook his head. 'Grandmother,' he exclaimed, 'a rope. Have you got one?'

  Teresa paled. 'Oh Adam! Why should I need a rope?'