The Whispering Grove Page 4

  Speechless, Toni stared. Was this all they thought about? Pursuing the eligible men? And weighing each other’s chances? She said coldly, ‘I’m not interested in Justin Valmont, or any other man, if it comes to that. And the little I’ve seen of him doesn’t encourage me to alter my opinion.’

  ‘That’s the trouble. He’s impervious to women, but he’s the most devastating man on this island. We all thought Lucy Sandanna was going to make it last year, but something went wrong, and though she wouldn’t admit it we all know why she took herself off to South Africa in a pet.’ Norene’s smile was both reminiscent and malicious. ‘She was so sure of him. You could almost see the ring on her finger. And then ... Justin was back in his ivory tower, cool as ever, and Lucy flounced off to stay with her sister in Cape Town.’ Distaste filled Toni and she busied herself collecting a clean hankie, her bag, and taking a final glance in the mirror.

  ‘I’ve got some eughy perfume - like a spray?’ Norene offered.

  ‘No, thanks, I’ve used my own.’

  Norene shrugged again and got up to cross to the window. ‘There’s no need to look so disapproving. Man-baiting is the only spice of life here, as you’ll discover if you decided to stay. But of course, if you prefer a dull existence ... Here’s the car. I rather care for a white Mercedes; it’s classy.’ She swung round and cynical mischief gleamed in her eyes: ‘This is going to be a case of love me, love my child. The devastating Valmont awaits you - in person!’ Awareness of Norene watching from the window, doubtless joined by Marise, coupled with the effect of the recent conversation made Toni’s walk out to the car and her greeting to its occupant something of an ordeal, and she was painfully afraid in case the embarrassment Norene had engendered in her was obvious to Valmont as he courteously saw her into the car.

  He took the straw beach bag and, about to put it on the back seat, inquired: ‘Anything spillable in it?’ before he reached over and deposited it there.

  She felt sure he had noted the parcel inside although he gave no sign, and as the car pulled away the thought of what Norene had said became more and more worrying. Should she give the little musical box to Juliet? Was it a mistake? Would he think it odd that she should give a present on such short acquaintance? Wouldn’t it be more politic to say nothing, just leave the bag in the car? But why should she be carrying a bag when she wasn’t going anywhere else? The inane little mental argument raced round in her brain and her face grew more troubled as her irritation increased over Norene’s remarks. What had been an impulse of genuine affection for a child was now twisted into something entirely different. If what Norene said was true ...

  Supposing he was aware of the fascination he apparently exerted over the more wanton section of the feminine population; supposing he thought she ...

  The car took a bend effortlessly and slowed for a sharp turn on to a narrow, rougher track leading downhill off the main highway. It was steeply cambered and centrifugal force sent the unexpectant Toni sliding sideways against Valmont’s shoulder. Quickly she caught at the edge of the glove compartment to steady herself.

  ‘Sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I tend to forget that the passenger hasn’t the advantage of a steering wheel to counteract the pull.’

  Balance regained, and well over to her own side of the seat now, Toni said stiffly, ‘How is Juliet today?’

  ‘Better, I think. Beginning to get bored with inactivity and my company, I’m afraid.’

  She was silent, unable to think of a single thing to further polite conversation and still worried about the matter of the giving Juliet a gift, and turned to concentrate on watching the shimmering stretch of blue down beyond the verdant hillside. Another bend, and the car slowed by a white gate, and she had her first glimpse of Villa Mimosa, Juliet’s home.

  Her initial impression was that of cool green spaciousness amid borders of brilliant colour as the car winged up the wide curving drive, and she was surprised by the apparent smallness of the white villa ahead. Later she was to discover the erroneousness of this first impression, but for the moment she saw only the neat compact shape, its roof ruffled with curly pantiles, and the traces of the old colonial style in the small pillared portico and the slim columns along the veranda. Immediately she liked it; it was mellow, peaceful and gracious.

  Justin Valmont stopped the car and turned to her. ‘This is one of those back-to-front houses now. In the old days it didn’t matter, but the coming of the automobile has dictated the small matter of where the front entrance should be.’

  ‘Is it so old?’ she asked politely, stepping out and shading her eyes against the brilliant sun.

  ‘A lot older than you,’ he smiled. ‘It was built by a Frenchman in the days when Salamander was a French possession. And he must have been homesick. He imported mimosa and muguet by the shipload and planted it all over the place. The muguet died, but the other stuff spreads like weed unless we’re completely ruthless.’

  He reached into the car for her bag and retained it until they had mounted the four stairs on to the veranda and stepped into the shade of the awning. It took a few minutes for her eyes to become accustomed to the dimness after the glare, and the high airy room into which Valmont led her seemed almost too dark to distinguish the characteristics of its decor. Then the cool white walls and the light cane furnishings with their blue and green cushions swam into focus. She looked from the muted colours of a painting she did not recognize above a cabinet of dark carved wood to the clear vividness of a Dali print centred on the wall opposite the wide french windows.

  ‘My mixture of art?’ He had followed her glance and was smiling. ‘Would you like to cool down first with a drink?’ She hesitated, and he said quickly: ‘Or perhaps you’d prefer to have it with her in the garden.’ He touched a bell. ‘Long or short?’

  ‘Long, please - with lots of ice.’

  He opened the carved wood cabinet and a hidden interior light sparkled on glasses. He took out an insulated ice cube container and handed it to the tall coloured manservant in spotless white who had come to the door. ‘Some fresh ice, please, Tom, and two of Miss Juliet’s specials. Oh, and a lager.’ He turned. ‘I may as well join you for a little while.’

  He closed the cabinet and added, ‘Tom mixes a potent cocktail of lime and glucose and soda which my daughter imbibes liberally.’ He gestured towards the window. ‘Shall we go this way?’

  Walking with him to what was really the front of the villa she realized now how deceptive had been her first impression. A long low wing stretched out and enclosed within its angle a red-tiled patio looking over one of the loveliest views Toni had yet seen on the island. The long garden sloped in three flower-bordered terraces down a hillside framed within a dark woodland surround splashed with pink and coppery-hued bougainvillea. A vine clung to one wall of the villa, and where the formal landscaping gave way to the wild verdancy a lone jacaranda tree showed blooms that paled to lavender in contrast to the brilliance of ocean and sky against which it was outlined.

  Near the jacaranda was a small summerhouse and in it, reclining on a lounger, was Juliet. Beside her, placidly sewing, was a plump Negress whose skin gleamed like polished ebony.

  Juliet’s rapturous greeting over, Justin pulled forward a chair for Toni and perched on the footrest of Juliet’s lounger.

  ‘I thought you were never coming, and Ellie wouldn’t let me come and watch for you.’

  ‘No, Miss Juliet. I was told to see you stayed here out of the sun and quiet, not rampaging all over the place.’ Ellie stood up and folded her sewing. ‘An’ that’s just what I’ve done.’

  ‘Ellie takes everything literally to the letter,’ Juliet declared, with a sly glance at her gaoler. ‘Even though I promised to be good.’ ‘Piecrust promises,’ murmured Ellie darkly. ‘You know I told you not to eat all that paw-paw on top of the candy rubbish you was stuffin’ yourself with. Now you behave yourself with the company.’

  ‘Yes, Ellie,’ said Juliet meekly, but with an impish smile that reveale
d a strong bond of affection already forged between her and the plump, motherly Ellie.

  There was a moment or so of silence after Ellie’s departure, and Toni was suddenly aware of a slight constraint not previously present between herself and Juliet. But the little girl did look wan and shadowed and rather listless. Then she noticed the dark eyes intent on her own face as Juliet said indignantly:

  ‘You never told me you were a ballerina and you came here because you hurt your foot and couldn’t dance any more. Is it true? Were you really on the stage?’

  ‘Juliet,’ said Justin warningly.

  ‘Sorry, Daddy, I forgot, but I only wanted to—’ Under her father’s gesture she subsided into silence, albeit unwillingly.

  ‘No - please.’ Toni shook her head and said gently: ‘Yes, it’s true, Juliet. Except that I wasn’t quite a ballerina. I’d just begun to dance solo roles, and I was hoping that some day, if I worked hard enough I might have become a — a ballerina.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me?’

  Toni smiled faintly. ‘I was feeling dreadfully unhappy, darling. If I’d started to talk about it I might have made a fool of myself in front of all those people on the plane.’

  ‘Oh.’ Juliet’s eyes widened with sympathy. ‘But you’ll be able to go back when your foot’s better, won’t you?’

  ‘I -1 don’t think so.’ With an effort Toni kept her voice light. ‘Because—’

  ‘Juliet, move over a moment,’ Justin said abruptly. ‘I want that folding table behind your chair to set the tray on.’

  ‘But there’s the stool, Daddy. It would do.’

  A wry smile flickered over Justin’s mouth. He said dryly, ‘I suppose it would.’ He pulled it forward within Toni’s reach as Tom approached with the tray of cool, refreshing-looking drinks.

  Juliet forgot about her interest in dancing and prodded the icecubes in her glass with her straw. About to drink, she rolled her eyes heavenwards and breathed: ‘Well, I hope this stays down. I was sick four times on Friday and twice through the—’

  ‘Juliet! Spare us the details.’ Justin frowned. ‘Change the subject again.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I was grown-up. They always talk about their illnesses and nobody tells them to shut up. What can I talk about, Daddy?’

  ‘Nothing, until we’ve quenched our thirst.’ He regarded her with affectionate amusement. ‘It’s awfully unfair, isn’t it?’

  He drained his glass of lager and stood up to replace it on the tray. ‘I’ll leave you now, to talk to your heart’s content about all the horrible symptoms which women seem to find so fascinating - but don’t blame me if Toni runs away.’

  He stooped to ruffle Juliet’s hair, and impulsively she reached up to imprison his head with thin arms. He returned the embrace before he straightened and gave Toni a smile in which the moment of tenderness still lingered. ‘Ellie won’t be far if you should want anything.’ A nod, and he moved towards the villa.

  For a moment Toni watched the tall figure retreating, his smile still in her memory. She was seeing him in a new light, and somehow it was difficult to reconcile the Justin Valmont of this afternoon with the cool, curt individual of that first morning in the grove. What was the word Norene had used? Devastating. Yes, she reflected, if he chose to exert that charm and unexpected perception glimpsed for the first time today he might well prove devastating to susceptible feminine hearts ...

  He disappeared round the angle of the villa and abruptly she dismissed the idle thought and gave her attention to the young convalescent.

  The musical box enchanted Juliet, and the strains of La Vie En Rose haunted the garden intermittently until Ellie came to summon them to tea.

  It was invitingly set on the patio, under the cool shade of a yellow awning. Justin came out to join them, enthused suitably over the new acquisition, and Juliet announced that she was hungry.

  ‘You’re having your egg beaten in milk and glucose just like the doctor ordered, Miss Juliet,’ Ellie told her firmly, ‘and nothing else till he comes tomorrow morning.’

  ‘But I’m starving. I’ve had nothing to eat for three days,’ Juliet protested, eyeing the tea dainties longingly and her glass of pale milky stuff disparagingly. ‘Can’t I have just one of Ellie’s rice cookies?’

  Ellie heaved a sigh, and everyone automatically looked at Justin. He said in a resigned voice: ‘Very well, just one, and don’t you dare to be sick again.’

  Juliet swooped gleefully on a fat, golden-brown rice cookie and said mischievously: ‘Daddy, must you talk about horrible details at the tea table?’

  ‘Minx!’ He tugged her hair. ‘I asked for that crack, I suppose.’

  Munching happily, Juliet nodded, and her father hid a rueful smile.

  Obviously a strong rapport and affection existed between father and daughter, and, Toni suspected, it was equally obvious that Juliet could judge to a nicety just how far she could try him, for a little while later when she was becoming rather excited and just a shade precocious she subsided immediately at the sudden warning note in his tone and expression as he said quietly: ‘That’ll do, Juliet.’

  After tea, when the evening was beginning to cool, Juliet put on a cardigan and with Toni strolled down to the beach. They walked along the edge of the smooth backwash of the outgoing tide, the wet-gold ripples glistening under the waning sun like champagne. There was a calm rich beauty in that deserted tropic shore at sundown, and for the first time since she came to the island Toni felt a sense of that calm being imparted to her almost without her being aware of it happening.

  Juliet was quiet as they walked back. The brief outing had been enough to tire her and round off her day, and the meekness with which she allowed Ellie to marshal her bedwards showed that she had not completely recovered from her upset.

  With her departure the brief sense of peace fled. Once again the familiar guarded tautness took possession of Toni as she was left momentarily alone in the lounge of the villa, and she immediately experienced the awkward sensation of one who is a visitor yet not a guest.

  She wandered uncertainly to the window. Would Justin Valmont drive her home? But she could easily walk; it was only ten minutes or so away. She touched her hair, seeking stray wisps, and reflected that the business of leave-taking was made a great deal easier in a cold climate by the donning of coats and scarves and gloves. Here she had nothing to help her over this lost, wondering feeling in a strange house. Then she remembered the beach bag; it still lay in the summerhouse. Unlatching the french window, she stepped out and hurried down the garden, only to discover that all traces of the afternoon sojourn had been tidied away and there was no sign of her bag beside the neatly stacked garden furniture. On returning to the house she found that during her brief absence the window had been firmly secured from the inside.

  Giving a soft rueful murmur, she set off along the terrace and almost collided with Valmont at the corner.

  ‘I was wondering where you’d got to - this way.’ He turned back and indicated a side door. ‘For a moment I thought you must have gone home.’

  She started to explain, rather breathlessly, and he said quickly: ‘I’m sorry, I was called to the phone. Ellie will have brought your bag into the house along with the other odds and ends.’

  Back in the lounge he smiled. ‘The closed window must have appeared most inhospitable. Tom usually goes round closing them at sundown to keep out the big moths and night insects.’

  ‘It’s quite all right,’ she said politely.

  ‘Not after giving up your afternoon to amuse my daughter. It’s kind of you and I appreciate it. And it has certainly cheered her. Cigarette?’ He proffered his case, then moved to the carved wood cabinet and raised an inquiring brow. ‘Sherry? Or Martini?’

  ‘Sherry, please.’

  She sat very straight, watching him pour the two drinks and seeing in the clean-cut serious profile the same line of determination about the mouth as Juliet possessed. He brought the glass
of wine to her and dropped into the chair opposite, crossing one knee and leaning back, his features now grave and thoughtful.

  ‘You know,’ he said slowly, ‘I can’t help wondering if I’ve made a mistake in bringing Juliet out here. Already I’m meeting the problems.’

  Unsure of what response he expected, she said, ‘You mean, looking after her?’

  ‘Heavens, no, not that.’ He gestured. ‘It’s simply that I didn’t have a ghost of a clue how much time I would have to devote to her. Time I don’t have. And I’d made no allowance for the event of illness. Ellie is very good, but if Juliet should be seriously ill at any time ... ’

  ‘Someone would always help,’ Toni said, the thought occurring that Justin Valmont looked perfectly capable of coping with anything, even a small sick child. He did not immediately respond and she remained silent, sensing that he was clarifying halfformed doubts and anxieties into the back and white of words for a more clear assessment of the problems posed.

  ‘And it hasn’t been a good move to interrupt her schooling,’ he went on. ‘Most of the Europeans here start thinking of packing their children home to England when they reach Juliet’s age.’

  ‘But Juliet was fretting for you,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘That outweighed all the other considerations, that is the practical ones.’

  ‘Surely there’s a school on the island.’

  He smiled briefly. ‘There are three, but in my opinion none of them are ideally suited to Juliet.’ He glanced down at his glass and swirled the liquid, his eyes contemplative. ‘I suppose she’ll have to go to the Miss Ems.’ At her inquiring glance he smiled again. ‘You’ll probably meet them sooner or later. Miss Mabel and Miss Mildred - always known as the Miss Ems. They’re a couple of elderly dears, retired schoolteachers from India who came here after ’48. Neither of them have ever been able to come to terms with a vanishing Empire and neither of them wanted to return to England. They eke out shrinking pensions by private teaching, a kind of select little academy for the few European children who live here. The slant is somewhat old-fashioned, strong on deportment, the history of the Empire and the three R’s, plus little sidelines in handwork and how to behave at a Government House reception ball.’