The Whispering Grove Read online

  Juliet prompted, ‘Down there, after Daddy,’ somewhat unnecessarily, and Toni did not respond. She was concentrating on negotiating the narrow, uneven track. The Mercedes entered the villa drive and she followed carefully. It would be the last straw if she did something stupid. But she made it without a graze to the car or Valmont’s beautifully maintained property and stopped, her face taut as she watched him swing out of the Mercedes and come towards her with a purposeful stride.

  Juliet hesitated, then shot Toni an appealing glance before she clambered out and eyed her father uncertainly.

  He said brusquely: ‘Thank Toni for taking you out,’ and when the child obeyed dismissed her towards the figure of Ellie who had appeared on the veranda. When the child was out of earshot he turned to the silent girl in the sedan.

  ‘Miss Sylvaine, I appreciate your interest in Juliet and that you’re kind enough to devote your spare time to amusing her, but I’d appreciate it a lot more if you’d have the courtesy to inform me when you decide to carry her off for the best part of a day.’

  For a moment she stared at him, taken aback by the unfairness of the attack, and her own anger flared with the desire to retaliate. Then she remembered Juliet’s silent appeal and the frightened little voice over the telephone. She had no wish to condone disobedience, but Juliet was very young. It had been thoughtlessness and boredom which had provoked the escapade and the child’s fright at being stranded had been punishment enough, she considered. And besides, there was no knowing what fabrications were now being composed in that small head in readiness to face parental ire. The less said, the better. And after all, what did it matter ... ?

  She met Valmont’s critical stare and said lightly: ‘You make it sound as though I’d kidnapped Juliet.’

  ‘I think my housekeeper had come to that conclusion by the time I got home,’ he said sharply.

  ‘I couldn’t help having a puncture.’

  ‘No, but you could have left word where you were taking Juliet.’

  ‘I never intended to be so late.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Where did you go, anyway?’

  ‘Oh, just driving around,’ she said vaguely. ‘I don’t know the island terribly well yet.’

  ‘And neither does Juliet. Which is all the more reason for using a little more sense next time.’

  ‘After this I don’t think there’ll be a next time,’ she retorted, indignation coming uppermost. ‘However, I’m sorry you’ve been worried, and now I must get back.’ She looked rather wildly past him. ‘How do I turn round?’

  His mouth compressed sardonically. ‘You don’t; you reverse out.’

  ‘Reverse!’ She took a dismayed glance over her shoulder at an entrance which looked narrower than ever in the fast failing light. She fumbled in search of the light switch and found instead the wiper control, and suddenly wished with all her heart she had never set eyes on either Juliet or her impossible father.

  Abruptly Valmont opened the door and said brusquely, ‘Move over.’

  It was the final humiliation as she slid along the seat and he got in beside her, to reverse the big car smoothly and effortlessly out on to the track and drive it the short distance up to the main road. He got out and said dispassionately:

  ‘I think you could do with a few driving lessons, Miss Sylvaine.

  Good night.’

  There was an air of desertion over the villa when Toni returned. The lounge was in darkness and only a thin line of light under Marise’s door betrayed that there was anyone at home.

  Depression heavy within her, Toni wandered into the lounge without bothering to switch on the lights and dropped moodily into a chair. Another day over, and to what purpose? The small satisfaction of trying the car and thinking that after a couple more practice runs she could drive again confidently and explore the island had been banished by Justin Valmont. Now she could evoke no pleasure at the prospect of discovering the hidden away places which were inaccessible without a car. A wave of nostalgia for England washed over her, and for the first time since her arrival she realized the truth: her coming to the island had not made one iota of difference. Unhappiness was the same no matter where one might be.

  I should have stayed there, she thought desperately. I should have stayed among the people who understand me, instead of running away. But the clarity of reason came coldly: there’s no room for lame ducks in the only world where you feel you belong, where you feel alive.

  She got up and drifted to the record player. There was a lamp nearby and she switched it on before she set the player going, not bothering to look at the record Norene had last played and left carelessly on the turntable when it came to a close.

  It was a modern piece, a love song with guitar accompaniment and a slow, insistent rhythm. Gradually, irresistibly it caught at her, making her begin to sway, turn, improvise the simple sinuous movements she did not consciously think of as dance. They came too easily, flowing throughout a body born to dance. She felt the stiff protest of the injured foot and ignored it; what matter the perfection of technique? No one could see her; no one would ever see her dance again.

  The record came to a close and she sank to her knees, letting her arms drift slowly down until her hands rested on the floor, palms upturned before her downbent head. ‘Very nice!’

  The voice and a languid handclap brought a startled gasp to her lips and she sprang to her feet.

  Kit Manton stood on the veranda, one hand on the latch of the window he had just opened. His dark face wore an expression of surprise as he came into the room and drew the window shut. ‘What about an encore?’

  ‘I - I didn’t know anyone was watching.’ She went to the record player and closed the lid.

  ‘You should close the shutters if you don’t want an audience. I saw you as I came up the drive.’ He paused to light a cheroot, then

  said abruptly: ‘I thought you couldn’t dance any more.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said flatly. ‘Not the kind of work I did before my accident.’

  ‘Oh, that airy-fairy classical stuff on your toes.’ He smiled faintly. ‘That’s old hat. I’m more interested in your little performance just now.’

  ‘Mooching around, that’s all.’ She turned away. ‘I don’t think of that as dancing.’

  ‘No?’ A glint had hardened into speculation in his eyes. ‘I think I could use you. How would you like to work for me?’

  ‘For you?’ She stared. ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Dancing! What else?’ He waved the cheroot impatiently. ‘Don’t look so dumb, kid. A couple of spots each night at the club. A number like you just did and something a bit more snappy. Can you sing?’

  ‘No,’ she said faintly, still wondering if she had heard aright. Dance! In a night club! After a career in classical ballet. The dedicated artist in Toni rose in sheer horror at the very idea. Sexy slinking in a few feathers round a dance floor little bigger than a table-cloth. Oh, no!

  Kit Manton laughed hoarsely at her shocked face. ‘It’s dead on the level. I run a respectable house, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I - I didn’t mean—’ She shook her head. ‘‘I couldn’t possibly. Besides, my foot would let me down.’

  He shrugged and his expression was plainly disbelieving. ‘Think it over. I’ve a Creole kid down there just now, but the customers are getting a bit bored. Try it for a couple of weeks and see how it goes.’

  ‘See how what goes?’ Marise entered gaily, and eyed them curiously.

  Kit told her briefly and she looked surprised, then doubtful, then almost pleased. ‘Why not? It would be something for you to do, darling. Give it a trial.’

  ‘I couldn’t.’

  Kit shrugged again and departed with Marise, and Toni dismissed the idea without a second thought. But it was the first thing Marise mentioned over breakfast next morning.

  ‘I can’t think why not,’ she persisted. ‘You ought to be thrilled at the chance.’

  ‘Well she’s not,’ Norene drawl
ed, ‘and I can’t say I blame her. Would you like to get up and make an exhibition of yourself in front of the crowd every night?’

  Toni looked at her gratefully, still able to be surprised at the unpredictable way in which Norene would side with her against her mother.

  Yes, but Kit would pay her well and—’

  ‘Money,’ said Norene disgustedly. ‘It’s always money. God, if

  only we could exist without it!’

  ‘Well, I think Toni’ll be very silly if she passes up this opportunity. She—’

  Quietly Toni got up and slipped from the room. The trend of the conversation and Kit Manton’s proposition, unacceptable as it was, suddenly underlined with urgency the question she had been evading.

  Did she want to make her permanent home with her stepmother? Did she want to make the island her home?

  Her face troubled, she descended the path to the beach and wandered along until she came to a smooth shaded patch under a clump of feathery young palms. She sat down and stared at the white foam rushing and draining on the shingle, as though in its soft music she might hear her answer.

  To stay ... or return to England ...? No one could live on memories or build a new future on regrets. Return ... or stay ...?

  The sound of voices brought her gaze from the far blue line of the horizon. Two figures were approaching, one small, skipping and gambolling with zest for the new day, the other strolling slowly, almost remote.

  Toni sat very still. In a few moments they would pass, perhaps without seeing her in the lee of the shadowing palms.

  Juliet paused and bent to pick up something for her father’s inspection. He smiled, said something, and the child moved on, her laughter rippling above the sound of the sea. But Valmont stayed still, his features sharply clear in the sunlight as he looked directly towards where Toni sat. Abruptly he turned and strode up the beach.

  There was something intent in the way he approached and without preamble of formal greeting said evenly: ‘I was on my way to see you.’

  She met his gaze steadily, unable to keep resentment out of her eyes, and made no response.

  He said quietly: ‘I’ve just heard the truth about yesterday’s little episode. I owe you an apology for my hasty misjudgement.’

  Her face did not soften and he said more sharply: ‘Why on earth didn’t you explain?’

  ‘Why should I?’ Her set mouth betrayed the indignation his apology had merely served to harden.

  ‘Because I dislike being caught in false assumption.’

  ‘You mean you dislike being mistaken and having to apologize,’ she said coldly.

  ‘To the contrary.’ He took a deep breath and his eyes glinted exasperation. ‘I dislike causing anyone completely undeserved concern.’

  ‘Well, I’m not in the least concerned,’ she exclaimed angrily, scrambling to her feet. ‘I’ve more serious matters to be

  concerned over.’

  ‘Daddy, come here! I’ve found a—’ From the water’s edge Juliet spotted Toni and began to lope up the beach. She cried as she ran: ‘There’s a funny jellyfish down there, it’s enormous, but it can’t get back into the sea and I’m scared to touch it in case—’

  ‘Juliet,’ he swung round impatiently, ‘will you go and amuse yourself for five minutes? Without investigating possibly poisonous jellyfish which have been stupid enough to get stranded. I want to talk to Toni.’

  ‘Oh ...’ The child looked uncertainly at the two grown-ups. ‘Oh, all right.’ An imp danced in her eyes. ‘Are you making proper apologies for—?’

  ‘Juliet!’

  The imp became a giggle and she fled.

  He turned back to Toni and the quirk of his mouth was wry. ‘You see, it’s very difficult. Tell me, did you really believe I would play the stern parent with Juliet and wreak painful punishment on her tender person? Did she really convince you that she’s terrified of me?’

  ‘No, not exactly.’ Unsure how to parry this change of attitude and suddenly aware of yesterday’s incident in a new, rather ridiculous light, she looked away. ‘But Juliet was genuinely frightened when she rang me from Indano. So I ...’ She shrugged.

  He smiled. ‘So you just went along with the intrigue, instead of coming down on the side of discipline.’ His glance shifted to Juliet, who had now kicked off her sandals and was wading in the ripples. ‘Nevertheless, I’m very grateful to you for going to her rescue, even though it makes me feel rather humbled to realize that she would rather turn to someone almost a stranger instead of her own father.’

  ‘That’s a natural reaction in all children to be secretive towards their parents.’ She moved away, unwilling to admit a small stab of hurt that he should refer to her as a stranger. To him, yes; but there was no such reservation in the way Juliet was coming to meet her now, to demand eagerly: ‘Let’s go in - I’ve got my bather under my shorts.’

  ‘But I haven’t.’

  ‘Oh!’ Juliet thought for a moment. ‘Well, you could go and get it. I’ll come with you - I haven’t seen your house. Come on!’ she cried eagerly.

  A shadow curled over the sand. Toni hesitated, aware of an impression of watchfulness in the direct gaze meeting her own above the head of the child.

  He said, “You don’t have to. Juliet is quite old enough to take no for an answer.’

  Did he want her to refuse? Was she imagining that he wanted to discourage the tender little friendship which had grown so quickly between herself and his young daughter?

  She looked down into the small upturned face. Juliet’s eyes were puzzled, almost as though she sensed the undercurrent between the two adults, an undercurrent beyond her child’s understanding.

  ‘Don’t you want to come swimming with me?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes, of course I—’ Toni’s mouth tightened and she sighed helplessly, knowing a desire to challenge Valmont. But how could she give pride its spur without hurting the unwitting cause of it all?

  ‘Then why not?’ he said coolly. ‘I wish I could join you instead of working this morning.’

  ‘Stay off, Daddy, and—’

  ‘Another day, perhaps, when Roger comes back from leave.’ The response was for Juliet, but his attention was on Toni, and her thoughts did another startling about-turn. She was imagining things. There was nothing to read in his expression but casual urbanity.

  ‘There’s only one thing I would ask you to remember, both of you,’ he went on. ‘Tropical seas tend to hold dangers neither of you have ever met in England’s cold waters. Don’t go out of your depth and don’t scramble over the coral spurs along there in your bare feet.’

  ‘No, Daddy, and if we find any of those pretty little blue octopuses you warned me about we won’t touch them. Toni, will you watch for those little pink curly shells? I need two more to finish the box I’m making.’

  ‘Juliet,’ his voice checked her and he glanced at his watch, ‘I’ll have to leave you now. I’ll tell Ellie to set an extra place for lunch, shall I?’ He shot an inquiring glance at Toni and said in an aside, ‘My daughter’s ideas of hospitality haven’t yet progressed beyond shared lollipops and cokes. And after this, Juliet, you can make your own arrangements with Toni and let Ellie know when you are bringing guests to meals. Is that clear?’

  Once again the somewhat rhetorical query was not directed only at Juliet and under that quizzical regard Toni was suddenly speechless. Valmont had accepted her! In fact it seemed he was laying on open house! Surprise and indignation struggled in her and she did not know whether to laugh bitterly or ask sarcastically why she should be so honoured.

  Juliet tugged at her hand, and she shrugged as she allowed the child to draw her along the beach. But she could not resist looking back over her shoulder.

  Valmont still stood there, and as she turned he raised one hand with a brief gesture that was almost mocking before he turned abruptly and disappeared into the shadows of the grove.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  For the first time since her arriva
l on the island a curious if somewhat exhausted tranquillity gradually overtook Toni during the following days, and the uncertainties which had nagged at her became blunted, not forgotten but somehow less urgent, to be deferred ...

  Juliet was now absorbing a great deal of her time, and had it occurred to her to try to analyse the pleasure she found in the child’s companionship she might have realized that in part it sprang from her own need of a new creativity outlet to replace that which she had lost. Juliet was an extremely intelligent child with a marked gift for artistic expression which struck an answering spark immediately. The simple raw materials of beach and woodland held endless possibilities and her small nimble fingers were happiest when contriving some new idea. With her, Toni recaptured again the echoes of childhood ingenuity with brush, paints, paper and glue, and re-entered with a sense of wonder the unbounded realm of an imaginative child’s world.

  Attractive little shell boxes - were they thinking of going in for mass production? asked Justin - were lovingly made and presented to Ellie, Marise, Norene, the D.G.’s wife and anyone who chanced to express admiration of the handiwork, and a series of vivid, hand-painted postcards were dispatched regularly to Juliet’s grandparents in England.

  They spent most afternoons in the grove. It was cool during the hottest part of the day and something about it captured Juliet’s imagination. There were wild orchids in a thicket bounding part of it and a myriad tiny spiders’ webs that sparkled like diamonds when a sunray caught the frosting of early morning moisture. Lying on the soft cool sand floor, listening to the murmur of bird and insect and watching the flickering lace pattern of light shade through the leaves, it was easy to surrender to the interwoven fantasies of a child.

  ‘It whispers back if you listen carefully,’ said Juliet.