Island of Mermaids (23 page)

‘
And people sing
“
Funiculi
”
to remind them
,’
said Althea.

‘
It didn
’
t occur to me,
’
mused Brian,
‘
that there had been such a recent eruption.
’

Althea shivered with apprehension. Suppose the volcano erupted now without warning, as it had nearly two thousand years ago when it covered Pompeii and Herculaneum with thirty-five feet of grey ash? Between them and the most recent occasion, Vesuvius must have flung its flame and debris into the air many times during the centuries, destroying what lay in its path. Who could tell when the mountain became restive?

It was a commonplace to say that you felt you were sitting on top of a volcano that might go up any minute. Now in truth Althea knew what it was like in reality. She was relieved when she was swinging down in the chair-lift.

Since some of Emilia
’
s family were staying at the Villa Stefano, the party was numerous enough to hire a small motor-boat to take them all back to Capri after the last steamer had left. Kent was not aboard, Althea noticed. Possibly he had gone earlier or he might stay later in Naples.

For an hour or so there was a winding-up party at the villa, with Carla acting as a most efficient hostess. When she was asked to sing, she complied in a natural way, although asking for indulgence because she had eaten so much during the day.

‘
And the champagne too, don
’
t forget!
’
someone teased her.

Her young voice floated out of the open windows of the salon, and Althea felt a lump of rising tears in her throat. Eventually Brian and the others left to go home and those who were staying in the house shuffled off to their rooms. Carla still had enough energy to see that the guests were properly looked after, that Aunt Catalina had her bedtime drink of hot chocolate, Enrico his mineral water and someone else half a dozen illustrated magazines.

Althea sighed when everyone had gone.
‘
Me, I
’
m dead to the world. But it was a lovely day to remember, wasn
’
t it, Carla?
’

Carla wound both arms round her own shoulders and hugged herself ecstatically.
‘
Oh, marvellous day! No day could be so happy for me.
’
She kissed Althea goodnight.

Although there had been so much to enjoy, Althea was aware of the clouds on her own horizon, but she was too tired to analyse whether it was entirely her own fault that some parts of the day had gone wrong.

Instead of going outside into the garden and along to the
‘
gingerbread house
’
as usual, she walked along the narrow corridor which led from the main part of the villa to the annexe. She switched on the light in the sitting-room and then gasped with terrified surprise.

‘
Cristo!
’
she exclaimed sharply.
‘
What are you doing here?
’

He shrugged his elegant shoulders.
‘
Ca
ra
m
i
a, I have spent all my day trying to see you, to have a few words alone with you. Every time, there was some Englishman at your side, pushing me out of the way. First, it was that musician, as he believes he is. Then your new friend, the artist in the village. So I had to come here and wait for you.
’

‘
But, Cristo, it
’
s late. It
’
s nearly two in the morning. You know you can
’
t stay here.
’

He smiled, but his eyes glittered unpleasantly.
‘
Why not? You would not be so cruel as to turn me out?
’

‘
Certainly I shall turn you out,
’
she told him angrily.
‘
That means now.
’

‘
If it were the Englishman, Kent, you would not be so quick. You would ask him to stay with you a little while. Then you would sit down and lean your head on his shoulder.
’

He had grabbed her around the waist, thrust her down on to the settee and pulled her towards him in a close embrace. His kisses were distasteful and she quickly freed herself.

‘
Cristo
!’
she said coldly.
‘
I
’
m willing to overlook this because it
’
s after a wedding and lots of champagne and excitement and so on, but you really must go this minute. You wouldn
’
t have dared to come here like this if my father were here.
’

‘
D
’
you take me for a fool?
’
he asked indignantly.
‘
What would be the use of that?
’

She was becoming desperate. Tor the last time, will you please go?
’

‘
Last time?
’
he repeated.
‘
You mean then you will let me stay if I don
’
t go now?
’

‘
Of course not.
’
Impatience sharpened her voice.
‘
If you don
’
t go, I shall go back into the villa and ask someone to throw you out.
’

He laughed nastily.
‘
You will not do that. I shall say that you invited me to come here.
’

Knowing Cristo by now, she had no doubt that he would say anything that suited his purpose. She saw, too, that it might not look well if he were seen by anyone else in the house coming from the corridor that connected the annexe.

‘
You
’
d better go out of the front door,
’
she suggested.
‘
Then it will look as though you
’
ve merely been walking in the garden.
’

‘
I don
’
t want to walk in the garden. I want to stay here with you,
’
he muttered, maudlin now, and slouched on the settee.

She yanked him up by the arm and marched
him
towards the hall, opening the outer door and thrust
him
through it.

‘
Goodnight, Cristo
!’
she said decisively.

‘
Kiss me goodnight, Althea.
’

‘
Oh, for heaven
’
s sake, go! You
’
ve been here long enough.
’
She gave him a further push that sent him stumbling along the paved path. She watched him for a moment or two in case he fell; there was enough moonlight for
him
to see his way. Then she turned to enter her front door and caught sight of the glowing red tip of a cigar. Before she could cry out or ask who was there, the dark shadow moved towards her into the glare of the moonlight and when she saw the figure was Kent her blood froze.

She wanted to dash inside and slam the door, but the expression on his face held her there, bereft of will-power to move.

He stood there looking at her and she began,
‘
Cristo came
—’
in a voice that was no more than a croak.

‘
Oh yes, I saw Cristo. There was no mistaking him
,’
he mocked.
‘
Perhaps I
’
m glad I saw him.
’

‘
He was here when I came back from the house
,’
she said defensively.

He tipped the ash off his cigar, and the tiny action seemed to put her on the same contemptuous level.
‘
You don
’
t have to justify to me whom you choose to entertain in your apartment.
’

His tone cut like a whiplash and she was goaded to fight back.
‘
No, I suppose it
’
s no concern of yours. Then why were you spying? I
’
m just as much aware as you are that it
’
s past two o
’
clock.
’

^S
I think you
’
re entitled to know that. I guessed that the tail
-
end of the party would go on for quite a while when Carla and the others arrived. Italians are reluctant to cut such things short. So when I arrived back at Anacapri I came to the villa.
’
He paused for a moment and looked away at the shadowed garden.
‘
I came to see you, Althea
,’
he continued in a softer tone.
‘
You
’
d been giving me the cold shoulder all day, you deliberately tucked yourself into Brian
’
s pocket, and I wanted to see just where I stood. Thanks to a—lucky accident, I know now.
’

‘
You call it a
“
lucky accident
”
to be standing outside my annexe?
’

‘
Actually your house-party had broken up rather earlier than I thought it would. The villa was in darkness.
’

Her attention clung to those words of his
‘
I wanted to see just where I stood.
’
So her coolness at the wedding and afterwards on Vesuvius had needled him. How much had he really been concerned? Was it mere wounded vanity because one girl was not ever ready to dance to his time? Or could it be that something deeper was at stake?

When she was silent he went on,
‘
You must admit that having called at the villa, this was my usual route home. The last thing I intended was to spy on you—you must believe that. I
’
d no reason to imagine that anyone was with you in your father
’
s absence.
’

He made the fact that this was the first night her father had been away sound extremely discreditable.

‘
A few minutes earlier or later and I would have been unaware of your visitor, but your voice when you opened the door made me stop. Perhaps for that moment or two when you said goodnight to Cristo, I could be said to be a deliberate witness. I stood under the trees.
’

‘
You could have slunk away without my seeing you,
’
she accused him in a low, angry voice.
‘
That might have been better for both of us.
’

‘
I agree. The impulse to talk to you was stronger than my common sense. My chief regret is that you chose Cristo.
Possibly I could have put up with Brian, but Cristo
—’

‘
I
’
ve told you why he was here. He means nothing to me.
’

He laughed softly.
‘
Don
’
t deceive yourself, Althea. You
’
ve a right to select the man you want, but why be so dishonest about it? Pretending always that you couldn
’
t stand the sight of him. You even foxed your father there. He believes that you think Cristo a pest.
’

Now she faced him decisively.
‘
If you
’
re determined not to believe a word I say, there
’
s nothing more. Goodnight, Kent.
’

‘
Goodbye, Althea,
’
he returned. He swung round and was lost in the shadows that led to the path towards his home.

Althea stood for a few moments, holding the door frame. What had she lost today, yesterday to be precise, by behaving in such an adolescent fashion? Even then, her own foolishness would not have damaged her but for Cristo
’
s intrusion and her ill-timed ejection of him.

She shut the door quietly, hoping that no one in the rest of the house had heard any of this conversation in the garden, but the annexe was some distance from the other rooms. She moved automatically, straightening the cushions in the sitting-room, then walked into her bedroom like a dazed creature uncertain of direction.

She was still wearing the dress of the outfit that had delighted her so much. She unzipped the back and stepped out of the lovely silken folds. She felt that she would never want
to wear the dress again.

Lying on her bed, wide awake, yet weary with so many mixed emotions
,
she tried to piece together those various clues to Kent
’
s intentions, if that was the right word. Call it the general drift then. If only she knew the question he had been going to ask her that night in the piazza when Brian and his friend had interrupted. All right then, she told her tortured self, supposing he was going to ask me to marry him, what then?

She knew that despite any consideration of pride, she
’
d have said
‘
yes
’
straightaway.

But assuming that the question was something entirely mundane, she was left with only the phrase—
’
I wanted to see just where I stood.
’
Was that enough on which to base hopes of a love that would remain steadfast through much greater tribulation than anything that happened tonight?

Now on his way to his own villa, Kent was no doubt congratulating himself on some kind of lucky escape from an entanglement that threatened his peace of mind. Why could not she also view these same incidents in the light of an escape?

How could she ever be sure that out of all the girls he had known she, Althea Buckland, would be the one to share his life to the full? She now came to the conclusion that she had been extremely arrogant and vain in ever believing in such a dream. Kent was piqued by those he assumed to be rivals; the experience was one that did not often come his way, so perhaps he was unable to gauge when his rivals were merely sawdust.

It was opportune that their ways would part, Kent to his business concerns in England, she to the preparation of her father
’
s shop. By the time he returned to Capri next summer, she would be involved in other matters; she might not even be here, but permanently in England conducting her father
’
s interests at that end. She knew now that her future did not lie with Kent and for that she ought to be grateful to the incidents of the last hour or so. Perversely she could summon no gratitude, only an intolerable ache because her vague but cherished dream had been shattered to dust.