IT was just after five o'clock when Rose, returning to the villa found Alan
waiting for her on the drive. She had changed into a full skirted grey silk dress, the same color as her eyes, yet as she had looked at herself in the mirror she had been critical of it. It was a dress she had bought shortly before leaving London, but now that her eye had grown used to the beautifully designed clothes of the women she had seen in the hotel, she realized that this one did nothing to enhance her personality. Rather wryly, into a country mouse.
Alan however did not appear to think so for he beamed with pleasure as she stepped out of the car and led her into the house.
Tea was being served in the drawing room and Didi Hammond was ensconced behind a silver tea tray, with Tino Barri sitting next to her. She was wearing a creamy beige dress which suited her to perfection, and as she sat on the lemon brocade sofa, the light from the window at her back dimmed by sunblinds, she did not look a day over thirty-five. The Italian was sitting so close to her that her skirt fanned out over his knees and was murmuring in her ear, oblivious of Lance and Enid on the other side of the room. Only as Rose's sandalled feet made a clicking sound on the parquet did he glance up.
"Come along, you two," Mrs. Hammond called gaily, as she filled two more cups from the silver teapot.
Alan passed one over to Rose and she sat down in an armchair and balanced her cup on her knee. Lance and Enid had obviously made up their quarrel, for he was sitting close to her, one arm resting lightly along the back of the sofa, so that occasionally his fingers touched the girl's shoulder and the nape of her neck. From time to time Enid glanced at him, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes langorous, and Rose, had she not know better, would have thought her to be completely in love.
Unexpectedly she was engulfed in such a wave of jealousy that the cup shook in her hand. The reason for it could no longer be held back and she was aghast at herself. It was impossible. Impossible. Yet it was true: she herself was in love with Lance Hammond.
"I must be mad!" she thought desperately. "It's because Alan has talked about him so often and I've read all the gossip and publicity."
But even as she tried to find reasons she knew it was hopeless. Magnetism, physical attraction, affinity, no matter what name one gave it, it was merely another way of saying the word love. And she loved Lance. The thought was so
new, so devastating, that she had to force herself to join in the conversation around her, saying anything that came into her head.
As the tea things were cleared a waiter brought round trays of drinks and more guests began to arrive. Conversation grew louder and voices and laughter
echoed in her head, causing it to throb. Lance turned on the radio and as music throbbed through the room he pulled Enid into his arms and started to dance.
Rose looked at the two blond heads close together and jumped up quickly.
"Come on, Alan, it's ages since I've danced with you."
"Lance's engagement party," he replied and looked into her flushed face.
"What's the matter? I've never seen you like this before."
"Like what?"
"So flippant and exuberant."
"We're in exuberant company," she retorted, "and when I'm in Rome I always do as the Romans do."
He did not answer but she felt his gaze on her and knew he was puzzled.
By seven o'clock the driveway was filled with cars; dark limousines, vivid
roadsters and gleaming coupes, their chromium glinting in the floodlights that had been switched on to light up the terrace. Rose forced herself to join in the talk and the dancing, to eat the exquisite canapes and drink the vintage
champagne. Unaccustomed to alcohol, she felt her head begin to throb and in an effort to find a cool place she stepped down from the terrace and walked across the lawn. She did not know quite where she was going, but a longing to be alone, to ponder over this amazing discovery that threatened to alter her complete life-nay, even to ruin it—urged her footsteps over the grass.
Soon she reached the lowest lawn and knew that a few rough-hewn steps
would lead her down to the beach. Cautiously for there were no lights here and night had descended with unexpected suddenness, she made her way down to the sands, and leaving her shoes at the bottom of the steps, strolled along the beach. Finally she stopped and gazed out to the horizon, giving herself up to the thoughts that all the afternoon she had fought so hard to keep from rising to the surface of her mind. Her main feeling was one of chargrin that she
should have fallen in love with someone like Lance Hammond. If he were not completely out of her reach, he was still completely unsuitable; a philanderer.
a Casanova, a dilettante content to wander idly through the days without any desire to work.
She turned away from the sea and began to retrace her steps. Was Lance really content with his life of idleness, or was it perhaps that he did not have an incentive to work? Many men in his position would find it difficult to work when they had no need to do so. It was something that must be encouraged, and she could not imagine Mrs. Hammond, with her butterfly mind, urging her son to give thought to anything more serious than his own enjoyment. Yet if she herself were behind Lance she would be able to imbue him with an interest in work. She did not know anything about the Hammond supermarket, yet listening to Alan describing the few years he had spent in the Head Office had told her that it was a business capable of fantastic expansion, capable of
absorbing new ideas, new methods.
Suddenly Rose was overwhelmed by the stupidity of what she was thinking and she sank down on the sand, her body racked with sobs.
Luckily there was no one to see her, no one except the pale cold moon and the stars that twinkled millions of miles away.
At last she stood up and climbed the steps again, making her way over the grass until she reached the arbour. Voices came from inside it and, conscious of her dishevelled hair and flushed face, she drew back behind the hedge, unwilling for anyone to see her. On silent feet she ran beside the bushes, searching for another way to reach the villa. But every path she wandered down led her to the rose arbour and eventually, feeling she had walked for hours, she came upon a marble seat and sat down, deciding to wait until the couple giggling and caressing some few feet away had returned indoors.
Suddenly she heard the woman's voice and with a feeling of horror she realized it was Enid.
What unkind fate had led her to the unhappy coincidence of being an eavesdropper for the second time? Desperately she wondered whether to
barge through the rose arbour and thus give warning of her presence, but even as the thought entered her mind Enid spoke again, the words so raw with
emotion that Rose remained transfixed.
"Of course I don't want to marry Lance! But what else can I do? I love you, Tino, but I'm not so besotted that I don't know we'd never make a go of it if
we had to scrape around for every penny." Her voice grew savage. "If only that idiot of an uncle of mine hadn't decided to marry again!"
Tino Barri spoke for the first time, his voice low and intense. "The marriage I can forgive—but to produce a son—that is the disaster!"
Enid gave a hard laugh. "It certainly is. And the old fool's so crazy over the brat, he's as good as told me I won't get a penny."
"Surely you'll get something?" Tino asked.
"A few hundreds when I was expecting thousands! Oh Tino, what are we going to do?"
"I don't know, mia cara. All I know is that I love you."
"Do you really?" There was a pleading in the girl's voice that Rose had never heard before. "If you had a lot of money would you marry me, Tino, even if I didn't have any money of my own?"
"What nonsense are you talking?" he replied. "If I had money nothing in the world would keep us apart! Do you think I wanted to fall in love with you? I know you are hard and selfish—"
"Then why did you?"
"Because love is inexplicable. If it were not so, you would hardly have fallen in love with me. But don't worry, my darling, if my plan goes well, we shall still be able to squeeze some happiness out of life. If Didi accepts me we will be able to see each other without anyone being suspicious. After all, you will be my step-daughter-in-law!"
"Tino, don't! I feel sick at the thought of you marrying another woman."
"How do you think I feel about you and Lance?"
Enid gave a muffled sob and there was a movement as Tino pulled her close.
Rose's heart was beating so fast that the blood seemed to pound in her ears.
Her one idea was to escape, to pretend she had never overheard this horrifying scene. Hardly daring to breathe, she stood up and tiptoed along the path, but she had not taken more than two steps when a figure loomed up in front of her.
It was Lance, but a Lance she had never seen before. In the moonlight his face was as white as the magnolia blossom behind him and from the expression in his eyes she knew he had heard every word of the conversation between Tino and the women he loved.
"Lance," she said softly. "Lance. Don't feel so badly."
He looked at her uncomprehendingly, then without a word turned and crashed through the rose bushes, crushing the blooms as he went.
"Lance!" she called. "Where are you going?"
The only answer she received was the mocking cry of a bird and the sharp
crackle of broken twigs. Afraid that if he were left alone he would do something desperate, she ran after him but when she reached the end of the lawn he was nowhere in sight. She stopped, wondering in which direction he had gone.
Suddenly, below her, she heard the crunch of sand and knew he was on the beach. Quickly, careless that she might fall, she raced down the steps. A
hundred yards ahead of her she made out his figure and hurried after him. The sand seeped into her shoes and because she was afraid she would be unable to reach him she kicked them off, and was able to run more swiftly. She did not know what he was going to do; she only knew she had to be with him.
"Lance!" she called. "Wait for me."
He appeared to hesitate and then redoubled his pace, making for the jetty where his speedboat was moored. 'Oh, no,' Rose thought. 'I can't let him go out in the boat alone!' She tried to run faster but there was a pain in her side and her breath was laboured. Lance had now reached the jetty and was
bending to untie the rope that held the boat moored. He appeared to have
some difficulty with this and by the time he had freed the boat and jumped into it, she was running along the jetty.
The engine sparked into life and realizing she would not be able to reach it in time if she ran down the steps, Rose closed her eyes and jumped.
"You fool," he cried as the boat shuddered from side to side.
Shakily she lifted herself from the bottom where she had fallen and sat on the seat.
"You weren't going to wait for me," she gasped.
"You're darned right I wasn't!"
They were already speeding over the water and as he spoke he pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. Beneath them the boat shuddered and every now and then the bow raised itself in the sea to come down the next instant with an impact that jarred Rose to the bones. Farther and farther they went out, and still he showed no sign of turning back.
"Don't go so fast!" she cried.
He took no notice and Rose began to feel afraid. Clouds of spray had drenched her to the skin and she was shivering with cold and fear. She had no idea how much petrol they carried, but she was certain that if they did not turn back soon they would be stranded.
"Turn back!" she cried. "For heaven's sake, Lance, stop behaving like a child."
She tried to pull his hand from the wheel but he flung her back against the seat. Anger rose in her, anger so strong that it defeated her fear, defeated even the compassion she felt for him. She jumped up again and hurled herself across his body, trying to seize the wheel in both hands.
"What's the matter with you?" she cried. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"Mind your own business," he grated. "I didn't ask you to come, did I?"
"No, you didn't, but I wanted to help you. Lance, please, if you don't value your own life at least think of mine, turn back!"
"I've nothing to go back for."
"Maybe you haven't," she cried. "But I have. Turn back!"
"No! You should have thought of this before you came with me. Now for heaven's sake leave me alone."
He seemed like a man who had lost his senses, and looking into his eyes she knew he was not hearing her, but still hearing Enid's voice destroying his happiness and future.
Knowing there was nothing more she could do, she gripped the sides of the boat and edged back to her seat. The roar of the engine was loud in her ears and they were zooming over the water so fast that they hardly seemed to touch it. On and on they sped, and the beating of the engine, the constant sting of the spray on her face, induced in her a sensation of nightmare that took away the reality of the situation so that she felt she was on a journey that had had no beginning and would have no end.
Suddenly she saw Lance's yacht looming up in the distance and with a sigh of relief realized he must be making for it. Her hand trembled as she wiped away the sea spray and the sweat that was trickling in rivulets down her forehead, but the next moment she was rigid with fear as Lance's voice rose in a shout."
"The wheel—it's jammed! Rose, for God's sake jump!"
Before she had a chance to move the sea seemed to rise in front of her and she had the quick, terrifying impression that the boat was disintegrating beneath her. The next moment she was flung through the air. Automatically she braced herself against the shock of hitting the water, but it was not the water that received her falling body, it was the edge of the boat itself. There was a stab of agonizing pain. Then the black of the sea and the black of the sky seemed to merge in her mind and she knew no more.