Dark Summer Dawn (10 page)

She awoke with the sensation that she was suffocating, that someone had laid a stifling hand across her mouth. It was dark, and for a moment she stared uncomprehendingiy into the blackness, trying to orientate herself. Then she realised what had happened.

She had been so weary by the time she actually came to bed that she had forgotten to turn off the large radiator or open a window, with the consequence that her room was now like an oven.

With a sigh, she pushed back the bedclothes and padded barefoot across the soft carpet to the window. She dealt with the radiator first, then drew back the heavy curtain so that she could reach the window catch. Airless rooms were a small phobia of hers, and it said a great deal for her highly-charged mental state when she had come to bed that she had failed to make her usual preparations.

The catch was a little stiff, and as she struggled with it, she was suddenly aware of movement in the garden below. She stared down and saw a tall figure walking slowly, the glow of a cigar butt.

There was no reason why he should look up. He could have no reason to suppose there would be any witnesses of his vigil, yet Lisa drew back behind the curtain, her heart thumping. Seeing him down there was a shock, and yet it shouldn't have been. Going for long walks in the middle of the night, while he worked out some problem either business or personal had long been an idiosyncrasy of Dane's. In fact it had been because of that…

Lisa froze inwardly, trying to operate the shutter in her mind, to blank out the crowding memories. But now they were proving too strong for her. There were too many associations to contend with—this house, the music she had played earlier, and now Dane himself pacing the garden as he had been doing that night two years ago.

Shivering, Lisa got back into bed, and lay staring at the shadows in the room. There were differences, of course. It had been summer then, for one thing, and Julie was in bed and asleep in the next room now instead of roaming heaven knew where.

Ever since they had come home from school, Julie had been causing problems, Lisa recalled. She had been behaving badly during the term and there had been confrontations with several members of staff. So she had come home loudly demanding to be sent elsewhere, swearing she wouldn't go back to school in September. But Chas was adamant. It was a good school with a fine reputation, and she was staying, he had told her, adding frostily that he expected a better report at the end of the next term than the one he had just received.

'I won't go back. I hate the place!' Julie had stormed to Lisa when they were alone. 'I'm sick of wearing that stupid uniform and being treated as if I was a kid—and a mentally deficient one at that. Bed at nine-thirty indeed!'

'It hasn't really done either of us any harm.' Lisa tried to speak pacifically, but Julie refused to be soothed.

'When we were children, perhaps. But I'm not a child, I'm a woman.'

It was a defiant claim which was to be repeated often over the next few weeks, so much so that Lisa grew to dread it. At first she didn't associate Julie's growing rebelwith the Hammonds. Julie had met Anthea Hammond at the local tennis club which she and Lisa both belonged to in the holidays. Although she was considerably younger than Anthea, Julie was a talented player and she was clearly flattered when the other girl asked her if she would like to enter the club tournament as her doubles partner.

The Hammonds hadn't lived in the area for very long. Mr Hammond was a wealthy industrialist, and his wife was a designer who spent a good deal of her time in London. Consequently their two children Laurie and Anthea had the run of the house to themselves more often than not. It was a big house, luxuriously furnished and standing in splendid grounds, with its own tennis court and a heated swimming pool. Lisa found it oppressive, but as she reminded herself, this could have been because she didn't care for the Hammonds as a family, and felt strongly for no very clearly defined reason that they were a bad influence on Julie.

Yet there was no way to stop Julie going there. She went over each day to practise her tennis with Anthea, and Lisa stifled her misgivings. Nor did she mention them to Chas. After all, she reasoned with herself, she had no real grounds for doing so, and anyway relations were as near strained between Julie and her father as they were ever likely to be, and no good could be accomplished by creating even a minor conflict over the Hammonds.

Even when she started hearing the rumours, Lisa still hesitated. So the Hammonds had wild parties—well, they were both well over the legal age of consent and old enough to drink or pursue any other stimulant which took their fancy. At least Julie would never be at any of them; Chas would never allow either of them to go to parties where the parents of the host or hostess were likely to be absent. Julie had often protested that this was stuffy, but Chas was determined, and the rule was adhered to.

Or at least Lisa had thought it was, until one night a slight noise had awakened her, and she had gone into Julie's room, to find her stepsister frantically trying to scramble out of her clothes and into her pyjamas at three in the morning. And Lisa could smell the alcohol on her breath from across the room.

'Julie, you fool!' was Lisa's immediate reaction. 'How long has this been going on?'

Julie's eyes were sullen. 'Oh, don't make a song and dance over it, Lisa,' she said angrily, slurring the words a little. 'If I'm going to be shut in that juvenile prison for three parts of the year, at least I'm going to enjoy myself for the rest of the time!'

'And this is your idea of enjoyment?' Lisa's voice was bitterly derisive. 'Slipping out of the house when everyone's asleep, betraying your father's trust, getting drunk…'

'I'm nowhere near bloody drunk,' Julie retorted violently. 'So stuff you, Miss Prim and Proper!'

'Thank you,' Lisa said quietly, and turned to leave.

'Lisa!' Julie flew across the room and caught her arm. 'I'm sorry—I didn't mean it. Yes, I have had a few drinks, but I'm not drunk, really I'm not. And Chas has never really objected to either of us having a drink, you know that.'

'At Christmas, and the occasional sherry or table wine on Sundays,' Lisa pointed out. 'Not spirits—ever. And nowhere other than home. You're under age, Julie. You're not even sixteen yet. What else have you been doing as well as drinking?'

'Well, not what you think.' Julie gave a little giggle and covered her mouth with her hand, while she stared at Lisa with an expression which combined insolence with an odd kind of pleading in her eyes. 'Lisa, you aren't going to tell Daddy about this, are you? You wouldn't be so mean! I just wanted a bit of amusement, and I like Anthea even if you don't. But I won't go again. I promise you I won't just as long as you don't tell Daddy.'

Lisa was torn as she looked at Julie's flushed face and over-bright eyes. She knew that Chas ought to be told, but she also knew how upset he would be. She was also reluctant to jeopardise her close relationship with Julie who had always confided in her in the past, and this was coupled with a natural distaste for tale-bearing anyway. And Julie had given her word…

'All right,' she said with a sigh. 'I won't say anything to Daddy. But this had better be the last time, Julie. I don't want to know how many times you've got away with this in the past, but what you must understand is that there's no future in it. The Hammonds are a rotten pair—there's all kinds of gossip about them already, and Daddy would hit the roof if he thought you were in any way involved.' She paused, then added, 'You'd better tell Anthea to find herself another tennis partner as well.'

'No problem.' Julie's smile had an unpleasantly knowing quality which was too old for her years. 'I don't think Anthea's particularly interested in tennis any more.'

As Lisa went back to her room, she decided rather grimly that it might be better not to enquire too closely into the implications of that comment.

The trouble was the Hammonds' house was only divided from Stoniscliffe by their respective gardens and a couple of paddocks, so it had been all too easy for Julie to slip out of the house and make her way there unseen.

Well, it will just have to be made more difficult in future, Lisa told herself, even though Julie had given her word that she would not go there again.

I think that decision requires a little reinforcement, Lisa thought.

The following day she walked over to the house. Julie had spent the day in bed, complaining that she had had too much sun the day before but suffering in reality. Lisa susfrom a hangover.

Guided by the sound of voices, she made her way round to the side of the house where the swimming pool was situated. Laurie and Anthea Hammond were there sprawled on loungers at the side of the pool, and neither of them, Lisa was embarrassed to see, with a stitch on, although Laurie did eventually have the grace to reach for a towel and drape it round himself with a faintly derisive grin.

'Well, hello,' Anthea drawled. 'To what do we owe this honour?'

'It isn't a social call,' Lisa said bluntly, ignoring Anthea's languidly gestured invitation to sit down. 'I've come to tell you that I know Julie's been attending your parties, and that you've been encouraging- her to drink and God knows what else, and I'm telling you now it has to stop, or I shall inform my stepfather, and then you'll both find yourself in more trouble than you've ever dreamed of.'

'Threats yet!' Anthea stretched like a cat and sat up, her bare limbs glinting with sun oil.

Laurie was grinning again, and his eyes ran over Lisa in insolent appraisal.

'Don't panic, tigress, you can have your cub back. She's a little too immature as yet for most tastes.' His eyes lingered hotly on the swell of Lisa's breasts beneath the thin cotton dress. 'Now, if you were to offer to take her place…'

'No, thank you,' Lisa said icily.

'No? Pity.' Brother and sister looked at each other and laughed. They made Lisa's flesh crawl.

'One more thing,' she made her voice brisk and authoritative. 'Please don't communicate with Julie in any way, or encourage her to come over here on any pretext.'

'You're fooling yourself, darling,' Anthea said with a sneer. 'Your innocent lamb didn't need any encouragement. It was all her own idea. We don't throw children's parties, actually. Now, you can find your own way out, I hope.'

'I can,' said Lisa, and turned away. She was halfway across the second paddock when something made her look back, and she saw that Laurie Hammond had followed her and was standing at the gate in the dry stone wall watching her. As she hesitated, he waved to her, and lifted his hand to his lips to send her a mocking kiss. She turned back abruptly and continued on her way, resisting the impulse to run.

As she opened the gate which led into the garden and stepped through into the shrubbery, a hand fell on her arm and she stifled a scream.

'Oh, Dane!' Relief made her feel weak. 'You—you startled me.'

'So I see.' His voice sounded grim. 'Where have you been?'

She shrugged evasively. 'Just for a walk.'

'Alone?'

'Of course.'

'Don't lie to me, Lisa,' he said wearily. 'I saw your— companion's farewell from my window. It overlooks the paddock, in case you'd forgotten.'

She was about to deny vehemently any association with Laurie Hammond when the thought struck her that Dane might then reasonably ask why she had been calling at the house, and that would involve Julie, which was the last thing she wanted.

Dane's eyes were like winter as they looked at her. 'I didn't know Laurie Hammond was your type.'

She shrugged. 'In a place like Stoniscliffe there isn't a great deal of choice.' She tried to keep her voice light.

His mouth twisted with unmistakable contempt. 'I suppose not. But I'd begun to give you credit for more sense. Lisa. I'm sorry to find out that I was wrong.'

He turned and walked away, and Lisa looked after him wretchedly. She wanted so desperately to tell him the truth, but under the circumstances it was impossible.

The next three weeks passed quietly enough. The good weather broke and was followed by a period of squally rain and high winds/which made Julie fret, claiming that she was bored and that life at Stoniscliffe was as bad as being at school.

Lisa was worried by this and kept more than a careful eye on her stepsister, even opening her bedroom door hours after Julie had retired to check that she was actually in bed and asleep.

But it seemed that Julie was being as good as her word, and when Lisa learned through local gossip that the Hamhad gone down to London to visit their mother, she was able to relax.

The return of a golden summer seemed like a good omen, she thought, and not even Chas's departure for the States on a business trip could disturb her optimistic mood.

What a fool I was, Lisa thought, tossing restlessly in her bed. What a blind, complacent fool!

The nightmare had begun quietly enough. It had been a hot, sultry day with the promise of thunder in the air. Julie had been languid, complaining of a headache, so Lisa was unsurprised when after dinner she said she would have an early night.

Lisa had remained alone in the drawing room. She had switched on the television, but none of the programmes seemed to hold any appeal for her, so she turned eventually to her favourite music.

She was so absorbed that she didn't hear the car, wasn't even aware as she sat curled up on the sofa that she was no longer alone until she glanced up and saw Dane looking down at her. He hadn't been expected until the following day, and she scrambled off the sofa with a little cry.

'Oh—you're back. Why didn't you warn us? We've had dinner, but…'

'It's all right.' He lifted his hand wearily. 'I'm not that hungry. Mrs Arkwright is taking some coffee and sandwiches to the study.'

She said, 'Oh,' again. She gathered a little smile. 'Well— if that's what you want.'

'It will do,' he said. 'I'll leave you in peace with your music. Where's Julie?'

'She wanted an early night.' Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. 'You—you don't have to eat in the study, Dane. You could have your meal in here.'