The Whispering Grove Read online

  ‘What does?’ asked a deep voice.

  ‘The grove, of course, Daddy.’ Juliet leaped up to greet him. ‘But everyone can’t hear what it says.’

  He tugged at her hair and seated himself at her side, smiling at Toni. ‘How’s the shell box production output today?’

  ‘Switched to perfume manufacture,’ she said solemnly, indicating the small box of assorted flower petals. ‘It’s a slower process.’

  ‘Toni says we need ambergris and it’s very hard to find. What’s it like, Daddy?’

  Justin heaved a sigh of mock despair and tried to explain.

  Listening idly, Toni reflected that his attitude had changed completely towards herself, and though she was still conscious of a slight sense of restraint at times in his presence it was becoming more difficult to recall her earlier resentment. The arrogant man of that first encounter in Juliet’s grove of whispers seemed to have gone completely now, but she was still uncertain of how to take the teasing he sometimes directed towards her as well as his daughter. Secretly she was not sure whether to be amused or annoyed by the fact that he now seemed to regard her with the same indulgence as he regarded Juliet.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll bother with the perfume,’ Juliet decided. ‘I’ve had a better idea.’

  ‘Not another one!’ Justin ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘Now what? Do you want the palms felled and a bower of roses instead?’ “No, a tent. Like a little house. We could have picnics down here and I could do my homework in it.’

  Justin closed his eyes. ‘It’s a stupendous idea, darling, but I’m too tired at the moment to take it in.’ He gave her a playful push which sent her rolling over and squealing. ‘Be a good girl, run up to the house and ask Tom to make us some drinks. Can you carry the tray back?’

  ‘Yes, Daddy.’ The child trotted away obediently.

  Justin relaxed back prone with his arms pillowed under his head and stared up at the leafy canopy overhead. ‘Don’t you find her exhausting?’

  ‘No.’ Toni sketched a matchstick figure in the sand. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘You still have the vitality of youth. There’s what? — only about seven or eight years’ difference.’

  She shot him a sharp look. ‘Nearly eleven.’

  ‘Not much when it’s at your and Juliet’s end of the scale. Add another fifteen and imagine how I feel,’ he commented dryly.

  She made no response, and he turned his head. ‘Are you sure Juliet isn’t becoming too possessive? Of you, I mean.’

  ‘Good heavens, no!’ she exclaimed after a surprised hesitation. ‘She seems to be taking up a great deal of your time,’ he said slowly. ‘I know you’re on a kind of - of recuperative holiday, but don’t let her become too demanding.’

  ‘I haven’t anything else to make demands on me. And I think it’s the other way round. Juliet is completely undemanding,’ she said thoughtfully.

  He sat up, his eyes reflective suddenly. ‘You mean, of course, that you find a child’s friendship undemanding emotionally.’

  She looked down and smoothed out the scribble in the sand. ‘I never thought of it that way. I suppose it could be true. I just know I enjoy being with her. She’s refreshing.’

  There was no reply and she looked up, to surprise a worried expression lingering in his eyes. There was something faintly perturbing about it and she said defensively: ‘Why does it concern you so much? It’s true, isn’t it, Mr. Valmont? You never wanted me

  to have any association with Juliet.’

  ‘No.’ He sighed and stared past her. ‘It isn’t like that at all, and I think you know me well enough now to drop the Mr. Valmont. I’ll admit I was hasty in my first assessment of you. You see, I know the crowd your stepmother and sister run around with. Oh,’ he gestured impatiently, ‘there’s nothing anyone could take exception to. They just happen to lead the kind of life I don’t incline to. Frankly, I couldn’t credit you with the ability or taste for enjoying the simple pursuits of a child. And I didn’t want Juliet to become a novelty amusement to you, because you’d whiled away a long and tedious plane journey with her, and then be dropped when you found your feet here and got into the swing of Kit Manton and the Sandanna clique.’ He paused a moment, then added dryly, ‘I suppose it’s expecting a lot to expect you to see it in my light.’

  ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘you’ve only confirmed what was very obvious to me. I had a week of high life when I first came,’ she went on bitterly, ‘and I didn’t enjoy it. Just because I happen to have come from the theatre it doesn’t mean I want parties every night until dawn and a mad run around of gaiety. My career was more hard work and sweat than anything else. But I loved it.’

  ‘Yes, I’m beginning to understand. I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘I realize now how mistaken I was.’

  ‘But you see Marise was trying to be kind in the only way she knew. It was her idea that I should come out here, and she thought that if enough amusement could be packed into every waking hour, I wouldn’t have time for remembering.’

  ‘It didn’t work out that way, did it?’

  She shook her head and her eyes were bleak. ‘There isn’t any purpose in my life now.’

  He stayed silent a moment, then asked quietly: ‘What are you going to do? Will you go back to England?’

  ‘No,’ she turned away, ‘I’ve no desire to go back to England. I couldn’t bear to.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll find purpose in life here?’ His voice held a note of challenge. ‘You’re young enough to begin anew, a new career and a new life in some other sphere. You’re more likely to find that back in England than in the lethargy you’ll drift into if you stay here.’

  ‘No,’ she repeated, ‘I’m not going back. I - I—’ She reached for her bag and sought blindly among the tangle of scarf, sunglasses and other oddments.

  ‘This is what you’re looking for?’ A cigarette case was opened towards her and with a muffled exclamation of thanks she seized on a cigarette. As he applied the flame of his lighter she saw over his shoulder the careful approach of Juliet bearing the tray of fruit drinks. With a sense of escape she scrambled up and hurried to take the tray from the child.

  The conversation had rekindled all she had sought to subdue.

  She did not want to think of a future without dancing; she did not want to remember the past. She didn’t want to do anything -except forget ...

  Justin Valmont made no further attempts to discuss a subject she so obviously found painful and the pattern of retrogression gradually closed in again. But the small incident proved the first jarring note in that week of her brief uneasy peace.

  On the surface it seemed a normal enough week. Obedeah came back; Marise went to the hairdresser for her mid-week appointment and complained as usual that the girl had almost drowned her in lacquer again; Norene had one of her minor tiffs with Ray Sandanna and mooned around in sulky, uncommunicative solitude until he phoned and suddenly the world was smiling once again; Kit Manton dropped in at expected and unexpected moments, and there was nothing to presage the announcement Marise made on the Saturday morning. ‘Guess what, darlings?’

  ‘You’ve come into a fortune overnight.’ Norene did not glance up from her letter.

  ‘I’m going to be married!’

  Toni and Norene simultaneously stopped eating and stared. Wreathed in a bright glow of satisfaction and well pleased with the effect she had created, Marise sat down at the breakfast table and beamed. ‘Surprised you? Kit and I decided last night we might as well.’ She surveyed the two startled young faces and her smile faded a little. ‘Well, can’t you say anything?’

  Norene was the first to recover. ‘It doesn’t sound a very enthusiastic proposal. “Might as well.” I thought even Kit might have done better than that.’

  ‘Oh, darling! Kit and I are beyond the dewy-eyed stage. We’re both lonely and in need of someone we don’t have to keep up appearances with all the time.’ She shrugged and there was a sudden betrayal of
bleakness, a truth faced, in her eyes. ‘Kit’s fifty, nearly ten years older than me. Each year takes an extra effort to stay the pace. And it’s harder for a woman.’

  ‘Oh, well, congrats and all that.’ Norene grinned at Toni. ‘I’m not sure I like being left at the post by my mother!’

  Toni had listened to this in silence, her initial shock superseded by a sense of dismay and disappointment. But suddenly, watching her stepmother’s face, she felt a warm rush of affection and she jumped up impulsively to put her arm round Marise’s shoulders.

  She said quickly, ‘I think you look dewy-eyed, and why shouldn’t you? I hope you and Kit will be very happy together, and I’m thrilled for you both.’

  Marise grasped her hand and her smile was tremulous with something like relief in it. ‘You mean it? I was wondering how you would take it. I mean after—’ she stopped uncertainly.

  Toni knew immediately the doubt left unspoken. She said quietly, ‘No, Marise, my father knew what it was like to be left alone. He found you and he was happy with you, and he certainly wasn’t the kind of person who would expect you to live the rest of your life with a memory.’

  ‘You’re very like him,’ Marise said slowly. ‘You have the same understanding, the same seriousness about life. He had an inner strength like you have. I could never have lost something so dear to me with the calmness you have. I often wish I—’ She sighed. ‘I suppose it’s the way we’re made.’

  Calmness, thought Toni. If only you knew. However, she forced a smile, knowing Marise’s mood of introspection would not last long, and soon plans for a celebration were under way. Obedeah was chivvied into an extra special sprucing of the villa and Kit sent his boy over to make an onslaught on the garden.

  ‘When is the wedding to be?’ asked Justin when Toni told him the news.

  ‘Quite soon, I think,’ she said vaguely. ‘Marise can’t think any further ahead than the party next week.’

  He nodded, and she said rather diffidently: ‘Will you be coming? Marise told me to invite you.’

  He looked a little surprised, then shook his head. ‘Thank her for me, but I doubt if I’ll be free. My assistant is on leave just now and it’s my inspection day for Rogan next week.’

  Rogan was another very small sugar island some thirty miles from Salamander which she had heard Justin mention as being part of his area. She repressed the immediate impulse to ask if he couldn’t go to Rogan another day; Justin would have his work organized to a regular pattern and it was not for her to suggest any diversion from it.

  Perhaps noticing the disappointment in her face, he said quite gently: ‘If I’m not too late getting back I’ll come over, if Marise won’t object to a latecomer.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how late you come to Marise’s parties as long as you aren’t early,’ she assured him wryly, but somehow knew at that moment that he had no intention of accepting the invitation. After a brief hesitation she decided to voice the doubt which had become more imperative since Marise’s announcement.

  ‘I don’t suppose you could suggest a job for me,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Here?’ He was startled. ‘What kind of a job?’

  ‘I don’t know, anything,’ she said hopelessly. ‘I’ll have to have something to fill my time, and now that Marise is going to be married ... ’

  ‘Women don’t work on Salamander,’ he said abruptly, ‘unless they fall into a limited category. Medicine, or teaching, or welfare work.’

  ‘I don’t care what it is,’ she said flatly, ‘as long as it occupies my time and brings me enough to rent a tiny place of my own.’

  ‘And supposing you succeed; do you think that will be enough to satisfy you?’

  ‘I don’t have much choice,’ she said in a colourless voice. ‘And don’t suggest I go back to England. I should have to start from scratch wherever I go, and at least the sun shines all the year round here. The main thing is that I have to make my own living arrangements now.’

  ‘I see.’

  For a moment she thought he was going to say something else, then his expression closed. In a practical tone he asked: ‘Have you talked all this over with your stepmother?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or anyone?’

  ‘No .’

  Again he was silent, his mouth compressing slightly, and she thought she detected a trace of worry in his eyes. Suddenly aghast and ashamed at her temerity she said quickly: ‘It was only a thought. For goodness’ sake don’t worry. I’m not destitute by any means, but I must conserve some of my savings. Something will turn up.’

  ‘You think so?’ A faint smile touched his mouth. ‘I’m afraid it won’t. Nothing will “turn up” as long as you run away. And you are running away . However,’ he touched her shoulder lightly, ‘don’t worry. If there’s no great urgency something may turn up. I’ll let you know if it does.’

  The taunt had been too near the truth to be lightly dismissed, and Toni alternated wildly between resentment of Valmont’s lack of understanding and a despairing resolution to come to a decision immediately about her future. It was all very well for Valmont to talk about running away. How could he ever understand what it was like to have your life’s work taken from you? Something to which every waking moment had been dedicated since you were seven years old. And yet was she running away? But how did one set about rebuilding a new life? One that would hold all the fire and joy and wonder she had lost?

  But she would not be spineless, or dependent on anyone. She would find a job - there must be something she could do in the commerce of Port Cerello. And if there wasn’t, her mouth curved mirthlessly, there was always Kit Manton’s offer ...

  She felt a little better after this and returned her full attention to the preparations for the party ...

  ‘Olives, cherries, cocktail sausages, biscuits .’ Marise ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Norene, did you get the bulb things for the syphon?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’ Norene came in from the car with a loaded shopping bag. ‘I got another couple of bottles of Martini - we’re a bit down on it. But I couldn’t get any of those little coloured cigarettes.’

  ‘Pity,’ Marise frowned vaguely, ‘they look prettier than the ordinary ones for parties. Toni, have you finished the savouries?’ ‘Yes.’ Toni looked up, her face flushed. ‘I’ve made a big stack of cheese straws. Do you think they’ll stay crisper till tonight if I seal them in a polythene bag?’

  ‘They might, but it’s difficult to keep things crisp here for very long,’ Norene said, and tossed a couple of letters on the table. ‘Post for you.’

  ‘Oh!’ Eyes suddenly alight, Toni seized them and scanned the English postmarks eagerly. One was from Lisa and the other from Sara, and a little of the brightness faded; she had long since given up hoping that Kevin would write to her, in spite of his careless promise.

  A little while later she escaped to her room and tore one open, leaving Lisa’s till last. Sara’s letter was short and stilted, and she smiled; Sara had always been able to express herself more clearly in dance than in words. The main gist of her letter was that Sara was in doubt over the offer of a small film part, and it was expressed much more dramatically in Lisa’s long letter. She wrote:

  ‘Poor old Sara is suffering sleepless nights wondering whether to scorn this temptation to prostitute her art playing a space-age automaton in gorgeous audiovision or whatever it is, all for the lure of filthy gold. Me, I’d have the gold any time, but so far no film magnate has ever come my way waving gold-leaf film contracts ...’

  Toni smiled and skipped over the slangy account of the latest gossip of the company, then her fingers tightened on the closely written sheets.

  . whether I should tell you all this or try to preserve your illusions. We all know that Kevin was real way out, but even we were a bit shaken when we heard. To shack up with that ghastly Belgravia girl! Remember her? She used to do those potty little collages with baked bean labels before she got on her kinetic sculpture jag. She’s anti ev
erything except herself and, for the moment, Kevin. Goodness knows how long it’ll last, but it all seems terribly camp. Anyway, the new ballet goes on on the tenth. The rehearsals have been absolutely bloody, Kevin rowing like hades with the choreographer, the designer and everybody else, including the theatre cat! Does it sound terribly cruel to tell you I got your part? It’ll be the first role I’ve created, but honestly, I’d throw it up like a shot if you could come back ...’

  The letter fluttered unheeded to the floor while Toni stared unseeingly at the bright oblong of the sunlit window. If you were back ... Dear loyal Lisa! How would she have got through those last bleak weeks in London without Lisa’s steadfast strength and affection? While the hope slowly withered that what had happened to her might bring Kevin back, that he might ... Until the clarity of pain had unveiled her vision and she knew she had been living a dream ...

  ‘Toni ...? Oh, you’re still there.’ Marise’s head appeared at the half-open door. ‘Would you be an angel and do some flowers for me? Put the big blue bowl in the hall—it looks nice as people come in. Then you’d better start getting ready ...’ Her voice faded bathroom-wards.

  Mechanically Toni did as she was asked, thankful that her stepmother was too preoccupied to note or pass comment on the strained pretence of gaiety with which she faced the engagement party.

  It had all the appearances of a highly successful party; the essential ingredients of ample food, drink, and the determination of the guests to enjoy themselves were all there. The room grew hotter and noisier, and the guests merrier, and Toni was aware of a worsening headache as the evening wore on. She felt as though she were enclosed within a brittle echoing circle of heat and voices from which there was no escape. She swayed slightly and felt an arm close round her shoulder with a roughly protective movement. For a wild moment she thought Justin Valmont had arrived without her noticing him and she looked up sharply into Kit Manton’s face.

  He said, ‘You look a bit bushed, sweetie. Okay?’

  ‘Yes.’ She forced a smile and brushed one hand across her brow, realizing that his concern was genuine and grateful for it.