QUIET HOLIDAY

Rosalind Brett
Josie, worn out with doing three peoples work during an epidemic,
looked forward to her holiday on Marganeta, a charming island off the
Spanish coast. She was going to enjoy a wonderfully lazy two months.
No feverish record-searching, no worrying herself silly because patients
wouldnt take care. Just quiet, careless bliss! But she hadn't allowed for
various disturbing elements. There was her brother Denis, in worse
trouble than usual; her stepmother, with just a hint of claws beneath the
velvet; Rick Hedley, feckless, a no-good, yet with an element of
attraction; and above all, and the real menace to her peace of mind, there
was that dominating, dynamic character, Stuart Mendoza-Cortez
Morland.
CHAPTER ONE

THE ferry nosed gently into the harbour at Marganeta at a little after
three. Steaming between sleepy little fishing boats, fruit barges and a
sprinkling of private launches, she came right up to the stone wall.
The ropes were thrown, to be gathered by a lethargic, brown-faced
young man with rough black curls pushing off his squashy peaked
cap.

"This is where you leave us, isn't it?" asked the matronly woman
standing next to Josie on deck. "It's certainly a pretty island, but
quiettoo quiet. Still, if your family's here it's probably home to
you."

Not quite home, thought Josie, but the next best thing. "I've never
been here before," she said. "I stayed on in England when my father
was transferred here. It's three years since I've seen him."

"Your mother too? Hasn't she been home to see you?"

"Well ... no, but she's my stepmother. A nice one, I assure you!"

"That's fine. I hope you'll be very happy with them."

"Thanks very much. Oh," excitedly, "there's my brother!"

"Well, it's been fun meeting you. Goodbye."

Josie threw her companion a gay reply and moved towards the
gangplank. She laughed down into Denis's face, could hardly believe
he was now a man. She ran the last few steps, they caught each
other's wrists, and she found he was actually the taller by four or five
inches. And he was good-looking, too, and quite outstanding in this
island of dark men. For Denis was, as he put it himself,
excruciatingly fair, and his natural tan had the matt look of something
smoothed on from a bottle.
"You don't know how glad I am to see you," he said fervently. "I'm in
the hell of a mess."

"You are?" Her eyes, a darker blue than his, searched his usually
carefree face. "Something to do with the business?"

"No, thank the stars." He took her arm, led her towards the modest
four-seater which stood at the kerb at the back of the waterfront.
"Let's get your bags stowed. I shouldn't have started on you the
moment you arrived. It'll keep a few hours. Tell me how you've been
getting on."

"But, Denis . . ."

"No, I mean it. We'll have a chat later. What do you think of
Marganeta?"

"So far, it's what one expects of the Mediterranean. I wish I could
have come by air and seen the green island with its white villages
sitting on the blue sea."

"Why didn't you?"

"Couldn't afford it. Two months' holiday takes quite a lump of cash,
you know."

"Are you that hard up?" he asked quickly.

"I'm only a very junior physiotherapist, Denis." She looked over his
shoulder at the suitcase and holdall in the luggage- boot. "They'll be
all right. I bought them second-hand."

The lid slammed, Denis tipped the ferry steward and waved an arm to
indicate the bay. "See the yacht out therethe white one with
awnings? That belongs to Lola Panado. She runs a sort of casino
here."
"Casino? But I thought Marganeta was full of tranquillity and
Spanish peasants!"

"So it is. But Lola has a big place a mile or so up the coast and it's
open house every nighta sort of meeting place for the monied
classes, if you know what I mean. Dad always calls it a roadhouse; he
won't let you become known there."

"That won't bother me. I want peace and quiet and warm sea."

Normally bursting with health, Josie had for once been defeated by a
'flu epidemic at the hospital. Not that she had caught the 'flu. She had
stayed on her feet, doing the work of three, and when things were
normal again she was given a routine check-up, the result of which
was, "You're fine but tired. Take a long holiday. That's an order."

Her father's letter had demanded that she come at once, and Isabel
had actually written a postscript to it. And Josie began to feel that she
really did have a family: a father who was agent for a well-known
firm of shippers on the island of Marganeta, a stepmother who was
airy and sometimes sweet, and a brotheror rather half-brother, who
had been only seventeen and very much a schoolboy when she had
seen him off two years ago at Heathrow.

At seventeen Denis had left school and joined his parents. There had
been talk of further education, a career, but Denis had slipped into a
niche in his father's office and, seeing that life on Marganeta was
leisurely and undemanding, he asked nothing better. The nineteen-
year-old Denis Vayle had no ambitions. At twenty-three, Josie could
see her own career hopes being fulfilled.

She stood there in the hot sunshine, twisting the turquoise ring which
had been her mother's on her finger. A smile touched the red lips, the
golden-brown" curls lifted gently about the white straw hat, and her
slim shoulders were very square in the blue dress. She breathed in the
scents of the island; roses and orange blossom, spicy emanations
from the tiny shops, the ropey, salty tang of the sea, and let out a
deep breath. She was going to enjoy a wonderfully lazy two months
on the island. No rushing along white corridors, no buzzing
telephones, no feverish record-searching and writing up, no worrying
herself silly because patients wouldn't take care. Just quiet, careless
bliss!

A long white car had pulled up behind the Vayle vehicle A tall man
extricated himself from behind the wheel, straightened to show
himself faultlessly attired in white. He was olive-complexioned,
black-haired, his features saved from regularity by a hump on the
bridge of a long aristocratic nose. Quite something, thought Josie to
herself. Then she saw her brother return the stranger's charming
smile.

The man took the pace or two towards them. "Meeting the little
sister, Denis?"

"Josie, this is Stuart Morland," Denis said. "Mr. Morland has a house
not far from ours."

A bow. "How do you do, Miss Vayle. Welcome to Marganeta."

"Why thank you." Josie found the dark eyes rather startling. "I'm
looking forward to my stay immensely."

"Good. We shall meet again." And to Denis: "I have to pick up a

rather precious parcel from the ferry. Will you both excuse me?"

Another bow and he strode across to the gangplank and up on to the

deck. Josie watched him curiously, felt Denis tug at her arm.

"Shall we go?"
"That man Morland," she said. "Before he spoke I thought he was a
Spaniard."

"He's half Spanishor a quarter. I forget which. His full name is

Stuart Mendoza-Cortez Morland. He's head of the Mendoza-Cortez
business in Alicante, and has a residence here. He's a yachtsman,
entertains fairly lavishly, knows everyone. Quite often he goes over
to Alicante for a few days."

"Is he married?"

"Why should he marry? As a bachelor he can have any woman he

likes, and for as long as he likes. Women go gooey-eyed over him.
Don't you do it, Jo."

She laughed. "When I go sugary over a man you may have me locked
up. You know, Denis, I really don't believe I'm the marrying sort."

"All girls are the marrying sort," he scoffed. "You just haven't given
yourself time off to get romantic. Wait till you see the moon hanging
over the Mediterranean!"

"The moon can be fairly magic, even in England, but it never did a
thing for me."

"You weren't with the right fellow," he grinned." Mother'll be

disgusted if you talk like that. She's all for marrying young. She's
only forty-two, you know, and she looks thirty-five." He swung
through a gateway between high walls. "Here we are!"

So this was Las Rosas, and there in an oval bed were the cream and
red roses after which the villa was named. Josie stared up almost
hungrily at the white walls and windows with grilles, at the wrought-
iron lamp over the white painted door. There was no front garden to
speak of, only a narrow rectangle of lawn with the rose-bed along its
centre, a gravel path next to the house and a high wall on the road
with oranges and lemons climbing over it.

The door was unlocked and Denis flung it open. "Lucia," he called,
"you might come for Miss Josie's luggage!"

"I'll take it in myself," said Josie, scandalized.

"Don't be a goop," he said affectionately. "You now do as the

Spaniards do. Come on in."

Lucia was a trim maid of about thirty. She smiled at Josie, gave the
ghost of a curtsey and walked away with the cases as if they were
featherweight. Josie looked about her.

The hall was small and tiled and highly polished. There was an
archway into a sitting-room that was similarly tiled and polished, the
furniture fairly old but appropriate to the climate, the cushions and
curtains very gay but slightly faded. At the other end of the sitting-
room was a door to the dining- room, and this now opened to admit
Mrs. Vayle.

Isabel's hair was trained upwards to form a silky-white chignon high

on the back of her head. She wore a tan chiffon gown that made her
eyes a bright gold, and her fingernails were tan-pink to match her
lips. A woman perfectly enamelled and of pleasant, if somewhat
enigmatic expression.

"Why, Josie! How lovely that you're here at last. Too bad your father
couldn't get down to meet you, but something urgent turned up and
kept him at the office. He's just changing nowhe won't be long. Do
you want a wash or something?"

Josie kissed the perfumed cheek. "I washed just before we landed. It's
marvellous to see you, and so good of you to have me."
"You're not much trouble dearor you never used to be." Isabel sat
down and waved to Josie to do the same. "I don't know quite what
you're expecting, Josie. We don't do a great deal of entertainingtoo
costly, as a matter of fact and I haven't arranged a party for you.
Denis can take you around a bit, but I'm afraid I can't offer much
excitement."

"I don't want any. Just to relax for a while will be heaven. I'll be glad
to help in the house, of course."

"Oh, no, we shan't have to use you that way. Lucia is cook-
housemaid, and her husband does all the rough work. Everyone has
servants and they're very cheap. I hope you're not going to be bored,
my dear."

"I'm no problem," said Josie brightly. "I've been tearing into it all
winter, and all this is so new that I shall learn something every
minute." She sat back. "The other girls were green when I told them I
was coming out here to my family. I was off my head with
excitement."

"Denis, dear," said Isabel, "you might go up and see if your father is
nearly ready. Lucia's waiting till he appears, before she brings tea."

Her glance followed him as he went through the archway to the

staircase. Then she smiled, a studiously gentle smile, at Josie.

"I hope you won't mind this, but I've made it very public that you're
my stepdaughter. After all, I'm not old enough to be your mother, and
Julius does look quite a good deal older than I."

Faintly chilled, Josie said, "I quite understand. No one would ever
believe you were my mother."

"That's right, dear. So from now on you must call me Isabel."

She took a cigarette from a cedarwood box and tapped it. Josie
picked up the table lighter and flicked it into flame, bent over and
held it to the tip of the cigarette. Then she leaned back, feeling a little
hollow because she couldn't think of a thing to say to this woman
whom she had always regarded as her mother.

Before her thoughts went further she heard steps descending the
stairs, and with relief she jumped up and went to greet her father. He
put an arm about her shoulders and squeezed them, and the moment
was worth everything that had gone before. He did look older, she
thought with sudden uneasiness. The grey in his hair was much more
pronounced and his eyes were tired; she wondered if he slept well,
but didn't dare to ask.

"You're not so tall as I thought you were," he said, smiling.

"That's because Denis has grown so tremendously this last couple of

years. I believe he's going to be handsome."

"He should be," put in Isabel complacently. "We may be able to

make you good-looking, too, Josie. Where a woman's looks are
concerned so much depends on doing everything deliberately
everything."

"She's pretty enough," said Julius. He drew up a chair, so that they sat
in a circle about the low table. "This is worth havingall of us
together again."

Tea was served, and Isabel dispensed it from the tall silver teapot. By
the time they had all had two cups the atmosphere in the sitting-room
had changed. Josie felt warmed, was sure that when she had had a
good night's sleep all remnants of uneasiness would fall away. It was
so good to be home!
She found her bedroom without help. It was the second room on the
right along the upper corridor, and was plainly furnished in golden
fruitwood and rose-pink linen, with a peasant rug on the polished
boards. There was no balcony, but the window opened upwards from
floor level and the stone sill was enclosed by a curved iron grille.
Below lay the flower-bordered patio at the back of the house, and
shutting in the patio were more high walls overgrown with clematis
and wisteria and golden shower.

Josie unpacked and put away her clothes. She lodged the books and
magazines bought during the journey on one of the shelves, spread
her modest array of cosmetics over the dressing-table and arranged
her shoes neatly along the rail inside the wardrobe. And she had
scarcely finished when a pine cone scratched the window and
bounced into the room. She went over and looked down.

"Come and walk on the beach," called Denis.

"Right away. I'll see you round the front."

She stepped out of her shoes and into sandals, ran quickly down the
staircase. Her father waved at her from the lounge and again she felt
warm and happy. Denis shoved his hands into the pockets of his
slacks, nodded across the road when they reached the open gateway.
They descended shallow steps carved in the rock, met yielding sand
strewn with clumps of sea grass and trod forward till they came to the
harder sand washed by the tides. They turned left, along the rocky
shore, and some way ahead she saw a large rambling villa straight
above the sea.

"The opulent live along that part of the coast," said Denis, in answer
to her query. "They don't have to cross the road to get a bathe. What
do you think of Las Rosas?"
"I love it. I think Isabel has compromised perfectly between comfort
and style."

"Dad rents the place furnished," he said abruptly. "We own the china
and linen and cutlerythe stuff you use every daybut all the rest
belongs to an old lady who lived there for donkeys' years. Mother
and Dad are an odd couple of parents, aren't they?"

"I suppose in this kind of job you don't have much chance of
collecting a home," she said, "but I thought he planned to retire in
Marganeta. Heard anything about it, Denis?"

His shoulders lifted. "They seldom tell me anything. I do know that

money's tight, though."

Josie forgot the warm breeze in her hair, forgot the wonder of the
blue dusk. She looked at his young face, saw that it was
incongruously drawn.

"What's this mess you're in?" she asked quickly. "Has it to do with
money?"

He kicked a pebble across the glistening sand, and nodded. "You'll

have to help me, Jo. Have you got much with you?"

"It seemed quite a lot when I started. I'm not so sure now. What is it,
Denis?"

He stopped and twisted to face the calm evening sea, let out a breath
of exasperation. "I hate this! Other fellows aren't restricted as I am.
Do you know how much they pay me at the office? A hundred
pounds a month! That's .the rate for a junior learning the business,
and the fact of my being Dad's son makes no difference. If you want
to have a good time Marganeta is expensive. The young set gets
together, and there's no other place for it than the Villa Panado. It
costs a fiver to walk in there and sit down."

"You're exaggerating!"

"A little, but that's the cover charge for each table, and if you want a
steak it costs a gold nugget. Lola Panado is an ancient actress from
Madrid. For most of the year she can fill the place with enough
tourists to make local trade look like pin money. The trouble is, she
puts on a darned attractive show every weekend and charges the earth
for it. I go there with the Ramirez family, and with the Daltons
you'll meet them all some time. Occasionally I'm someone's guest,
but mostly I pay my own way. At least ..."

"So you're in debt," she said practically. "How much?"

"A goodish bit. It's been going on for some time."

"Do they let you run up an account?" she asked searchingly. "Isn't
that unusual for such places?"

His teeth went together, his brows drew in. "You're being as darned
awkward as if I were a criminal."

"You're asking me to foot the bill and I've a right to know what it's
for! You mentioned something about this place being a casino."

"There's a private gambling room," Be said offhandedly, "but I don't

owe much in there. I wouldn't have gambled at all if I hadn't been
getting into a jam with the other account. The other fellows
Ramirez and Daltonhave fathers who are in a big way, and Lola
never questions their ability to pay. When I began owing a little she
called me into her office and told me my account could never go
beyond two hundred pounds."
"Two hundred pounds!" Josie gripped his arm. "Denis . . . is that the
amount you owe?"

"Be yourself, Jo! What's two hundred pounds, these days? I've been
careful, watching every peseta, but gradually it caught up on me. I
was on the point of writing to ask you if you could help me when
Dad said you were coming, so I waited and hoped. Last weekend I
was the Daltons' guest at the Villa Panado, but on Monday I had a
letter from Lola's secretary. I owe two hundred and ten pounds and
have seven days to pay."

"My stars," she said appalled. "Hardly a schoolboy scrape this time,
is it?"

"I thought I could depend on you not to preach," he said sourly.

"You've got such narrow ideas about these things. To Ramirez or
Dalton a debt of a hundred is nothing at all."

"Bother Ramirez and Dalton!" she returned crossly. "You've no

business spending more than you earn. I've been working four years,
but I have less than you do for pocket money. The best thing you can
do is go to Father for a loan, to be repaid out of your salary. He ought
to know about this anyway."

"Believe it or not," said her brother a little deliberately, "but he hasn't

much ready cash himself. After I'd had that letter I sounded him for
fifty pounds and he just said flatly that I'd have to make do on my
salary because he hadn't a bean to spare."

Josie was sobered. She recalled her father's tired look as he had come
into the sitting-room. He must be about fifty- seven, three years off
retirement on a pension which could be only half his present salary.
Isabel was still so young and expensive.
"No, you mustn't worry him about this," she said. "What about
Mother?"

"She never handles cash, except when she goes over to Alicante to
see her sister. You remember Noel, who paints? Mother stays with
her sometimes, and comes home loaded with new clothes bought
with money loaned by Noel. Dad won't have Mother in debt to her
sister, so he always sends a cheque right away."

"So they're both out." She sighed. "I allowed myself just two hundred
pounds, besides fares, for this holiday, but I was expecting to pay
Isabel for my keep. I've spent a little, of course, but I still have a
good bit left. How I hate the idea of my cash going to your Lola
Panado!"

"I'll pay you back, Jo. I swear it!" He flung an arm about her. "I
always knew I could rely on Sister Josie."

"Does it occur to you that I'll be left almost penniless?"

"You must have more money in England. It's easy to get it

transferred, but generally takes some time, because of the change in
currency."

"They may restrict me, all the same. Some of the cash I brought is
English."

"That won't bother Lola; she takes any currency. You've made me
feel like a million; perhaps half a million," he qualified. "The next
step is to get the money to Lola as soon as possibletonight. If I go
there it'll cost me plenty. Will you take it for me, and get the chits I
signed?"

"Oh, please!" She ducked from the arm about her shoulder and faced
him. "Look here, Denis, I'm impoverishing myself for you and
starting my holiday in entirely the wrong mood, but I don't see that
I'm bound to do more. Can't you be strong-minded about itgo to
the woman's office, pay up and come home?"

"You can't imagine how difficult it is when you're well known. I try
not to go there during the week, but now that we have the money I
want it paid and off my mind. You don't know a soul in Marganeta,
and anyone who notices you will take it you're a tourist or someone
staying with friends for a few days. You simply ask the first steward
you meet for Lola's office and the whole thing will be over in five
minutes."

"It sounds too simple. Supposing it" gets back to the family?"

"Of course it won't," he said impatiently, cajoling. "I'll tell you

whatgo into the grounds the back way. I'll take you there and wait
for you. There are bound to be stewards about the gardens, and that
way you needn't go through the main rooms at all. They'll take you to
the back door of the main office. Lola won't be curious; I don't mean
a thing to her except the money I owe."

She sighed. "I suppose there's nothing to it, really. What's the best
time to go?"

"Around nine-thirty, when most people are dining. As soon as we've

eaten tonight I'll suggest taking you for a drive. You bring your
money and I'll bring mine."

"What would you have done," she asked, "if you'd had to find this
cash with no help from me?"

"I'd have had to go over to Alicante and borrow from Noel. But if
that had happened, and Dad had ever found out . . . Phew!"
"Quite," said Josie. "Does this Noel person make money out of her
paintings?"

"A packet, I believe. Didn't you ever meet her?"

Josie shook her head. "I remember Isabel had a brilliant young sister
who drifted about more or less where she and Dad drifted, but that's
all. I think it's as well to keep this in the family."

His light-hearted kiss upon her brow was her answer.

"You've no right to stay so little, Josie. Next thing you know I'll go
all protective and chase away any Spaniard who so much as looks at
you."

"I can take care of myself against any man. Promise me you'll stay
away from that beastly Panado place."

"Oh, come now, Jo. If you expect anything so drastic you must
provide alternative amusement."

"All right, I will."

"Nothing grim!"

"Certainly nothing grim, but nothing expensive, either. I'll have to

think it out. And now let's go back to the house, playboy. It's getting
dark."

Josie refused to become depressed. Tomorrow she would write to the

bank in England and get them to send out more money.

At dinner, she ate Lucia's Continental cooking and enjoyed it, tried a
local tangerine and a banana, and drank excellent coffee. When Denis
said he might take Josie out in the car, Julius Vayle nodded.
"I was going to suggest it myself. Round off the day and then to bed,
Josie. Tomorrow you must really begin your holiday."

"If you're very late back, darling," said Isabel, "you might lock up.
We shan't wait up for you."

"All right," murmured Denis, as if he had heard it all before. "Get

your coat, Jo, and come out to the car."

Josie went to her room, slipped on the tweed and took the money
from her handbag. Should she carry it loose in her pocket or use the
plain evening purse? The purse didn't go with tweeds, but it wouldn't
matter. She patted the fat little wallet yearningly and pushed it into
her purse, wound the strap about her wrist.

Out on the drive she found Denis already sitting in the car, and the
moment she was settled he let in the clutch. Now, he was less
talkative. Perhaps he was even a little ashamed; Josie hoped so. She
looked detachedly at the scattering of lights around the waterfront,
noticed the car was climbing again to the coast road on the other side
of the little harbour. Then lights again, in a cluster.

"This is it," said Denis, "but I'll take you along the side lane. Quite a
number of people use the back entrance, but there won't be many at
this time of the evening." He drove more slowly, as they passed an
archway in a tall stucco wall. "That's where you go in, and you keep
straight along the path. The waiters are dressed formally in white
jackets, and any one of them will help you. They're all Spanish and
extremely polite. You won't mind if I park down the end of the lane
in the dark? I'll be watching for you."

Josie got out of the car, heard it move on as she walked back along
the lane to the archway. Pale heavy blossoms hung from branches
over the walls, and at the opening she smelled patchouli and
frangipani, those exotics first discovered in the Middle Ages. She
plunged through into the darkness of the thickly-grown garden.

A swift rustling, then suddenly an arm was thrown round her throat
from the back, while a hand clawed the black purse from her grasp.
The next moment she was free and was able to let out some sort of
noise. She had the impression that her assailant had spun her round,
and she began to run with gathering speed in the direction she
thought he had taken. She dived under the low branches of a date
palm, sped round a bend and into the arms of someone tall and
strong, who seemed to have nothing better to do than to enjoy the
night and imprison anything that came close enough.

With a smile in his voice he said something quick and teasing in

Spanish. Then, after peering down into her face, he released her and
spoke in English.

"It's Miss Vayle, isn't it? Are you already at the game of hide-and-
seek?"

"For Pete's sake!" she panted. "Someone's stolen my bag, and I

thought I was chasing him."

"My good child!" exclaimed Stuart Morland. "There's been no one on

this path. Tell me exactly what happened!"

She did, her voice unsteady with despair. "It happened so quickly that
I couldn't do a thing. It was pitch dark, and the man must have been
hiding close to the wall, just waiting for someone to come into the
garden. He had it worked out. He must have done it before!"

"Are you hurt at all?" Those brilliant dark eyes came down close to
hers.

"Not physically."
"Good. We have no thieves on Marganeta. It must have been a sailor
off one of the boats, and he'll be difficult to trace. Have you lost
anything of value?"

"Only two hundred pounds," she said hollowly, and pushed a hand up
over her face.

"Two hundred pounds," as if the amount conveyed nothing. "Is that

serious?"

She drew away from him. "I'm just a hospital employee, Mr.
Morland, so I'd say it's a fair sum."

"I'm sorry." He sounded alien and concerned. "I'll do what I can to

get the money back for you." A pause in which his manner changed a
little and became searching. "Why did you come here tonight, Miss
Vayleand alone?"

"It was a matter of business," she said bitterly.

"Does your father know?"

"He doesn't have to know everything I do. If I'm being horribly

abrupt, I apologize, but at the moment I can't think of anything but
losing that money."

"The experience must have been upsetting. Come with me into the
lounge. I'll get you a drink to settle your nerves."

"No, I can't. It's made me angry, not nervy. It wouldn't be so bad if I

could go to the police and kick up a row about it. If you do have a
policeman on Marganeta!"

"I doubt if there's much the police can do. In any case, they'd want a
statement from you and would possibly contact your father. I've a
feeling that wouldn't suit you." She became aware of a directness in
his glance that was akin to ruthlessness as he went on. "There's
something wrong about this. This is your first night on the island, yet
you come the back way into the grounds of the Villa Panado, alone
and on business. You're used to running your own life, aren't you,
Miss Vayle?"

She nodded unhappily. "So far I haven't made too big a hash of it."

"You're not sufficiently shaken to take me into your confidence?" he

asked drily.

She glanced at him quickly, became conscious, with something of a

shock, of his extreme darkness and those Spanish features, a
perceptible glitter in his eyes. A hint of nonchalance, as well as the
polite solicitude in his manner, had made her forget this man was a
stranger.

She said coolly, "It's been a bad start to my holiday, but I daresay I'll
get through. I'll go home now, Mr. Morland."

"Just a moment." He spoke quietly, with an air of command. "If

you'll swallow some of that pride and be frank with me, it's quite
possible I can help you."

"You can't, thanks. The only favour you can do me is to forget you've
seen me tonight."

"I won't promise anything so unflattering, but I know what you mean.
You puzzle me, Miss Vayle."

"To be puzzled by a woman must be an unusual experience for you,

Mr. Morland."

A mocking note entered his voice. "Yes, it is. I've grown accustomed
to Spanish women, who are very beautiful but not mysterious.
Women everywhere are concerned with marriage, money and love, in
that orderand the Spanish woman is candid about it. But you, Miss
Vayle, don't care a centimo whether you impress or not, and though
you're worried about this money you've lost, I don't think it's because
you valued it so much as money as for some purpose it could have
accomplished for you tonight."

"How true," she commented briefly.

"Therefore with you," he said, as if continuing an analysis, "money

would come third, leaving marriage and love in the first two places.
Now which of these, I wonder, would be most important to you?
You'll say love, of course, because you're young enough to believe in
the magic of a touch, the meeting of a glance. On the other hand I'll
say you have a nature that's very detached. Blue eyes are too cool."

"Too bad," she said caustically. "I must go now."

"I'll take you home." His hand came up to her elbow and she avoided
it hastily. He added sardonically, "No need to be scared, Miss Vayle,
Your father and I are friends and we occasionally do business
together."

"Really?" For just a moment she forgot Denis and his debt, thought
only that this man, who seemed so strong, so self-assured and . . .
yes, powerful, could possibly help her father. "I wish I knew more
about the shipping agency."

"I'd say you've learned plenty, for one day. Leave the shipping
agency till tomorrow! I still think you could do with a drink."

"Oh, no. I'm not so defeated that I need Dutch courage. I'll get a good
night's sleep and face it all tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it will be too late to decide on action against the thief."

"I'm not in a position to take action, Mr. Morland."

"Very well," with a shrug, "I'll take it up from another angle, but you
can be pretty sure the thief is already leaving Marganeta. He'd
obviously commit his crime at the last moment. You're an
exasperatingly independent young woman."

Josie did not have to reply to this, for at that moment there came
swift footsteps, and Denis stopped precipitately on the path, not a
yard away.

"Josie?" he said softly, cautiously.

Stuart Morland spoke with what Josie considered unnecessary

crispness. "Good evening, Denis. As an escort, you're a little late!"

"Mr. Morland was annoyed at finding me alone," said Josie quickly,

"and I forgot to tell him you were waiting for me. Let's go at once.
Good-night, Mr. Morland."

He answered politely but on a faint note of sarcasm, and turned back

the way he had come. Josie took Denis's arm and walked rapidly with
him along the dark path and out of the grounds through the archway.
In the lane she slackened slightly, and dropped her arms to her sides.
Her knees were weak and her pukes fast.

"Why did he have to be knocking about?" said Denis in injured tones.

"He hardly ever goes to the Villa Panado. I suppose his cook was
sick." They had reached the car and he opened Josie's door. "I got a
bit jittery, waiting there at the end of the lane. Just after you'd gone
into the garden someone ducked out of the archway and shot down
over the slope towards the beach, and I got to wondering. Were you
all right?"

Josie didn't have to reply till he had gone round to his own side and
seated himself behind the wheel. By then his final enquiry could be
ignored. "I don't think Mr. Morland will say anything to Father about
seeing us there," she said. "What sort of person was it who came into
the lane?"

"A seaman, I thinkprobably taking a short cut. How did you get
on?"

The car was moving now, and Josie said, with creditable calm, "As
well as could be expected, in the circumstances."

"Did you see Lola herself?"

"No."

"It was just as well. The secretary's discreet and not such a bad chap."
He accelerated. "Is that a load off my mind!"

The palms of Josie's hands were damp. Her fingers should have been
clutching the empty purse, but they were locked together instead. She
had not consciously decided to say nothing to Denis about the lost
cash; it seemed to be decided for her.

He was saying airily, "Smells good at night, doesn't it? I always say
they should bottle it. and call it Noche Marganeta."

Josie hardly heard. She was thinking that it was less than twelve
hours since she had embarked on the trip from Alicante to
Marganeta; that twelve hours ago she had known almost nothing
about her family's life at Las Rosas, and had never even heard of the
disturbing Stuart Mendoza-Cortez Morland.
CHAPTER TWO

SURPRISINGLY, Josie slept well that night, and awakening to such a

brilliant dawn, even with an apparently insoluble problem on the
horizon, was a heartening experience. She got up and looked down at
the patio, at the wisteria flowers hanging like full-blown faded
bunches of grapes, at a sky so blue and bright that it hurt the eyes.
She caught herself humming, thought, "Well, why not? You can't lie
down and die just because you've lost a fortune!"

The word fortune, of course, was used comparatively. Perhaps in a

few years, when she had snaffled one of those highly paid jobs in the
welfare department of a rich company, she would look back upon this
catastrophe with a superior smile. No charge for hoping, anyway.

She was glad, now, that she had let Denis believe his transaction
completed. Much better to worry through this on her own. She would
send a telegram this morning to her bank explaining the
circumstances and asking for two hundred pounds. It would leave her
with practically nothing in England, but she had a job, and one or two
things she could sell if it came to a squeeze. Isabel would not expect
her to pay anything into the household just yet, and there was no
knowing what might turn up in the way of opportunities for earning a
little.

Her best plan would be to call at the Villa Panado this morning to see
the ex-actress from Madrid. She would like to tell her about having
the money wrenched from her in that garden, but possibly it would be
wiser to keep entirely silent on the subject. Quite certainly, she would
never see the black purse or its contents again, so there was nothing
at all to be gained from making a fuss. No, she must tell the Panado
woman that she hadn't come to Marganeta prepared to pay her
brother's debts, and the money had to be sent over from England; that
neither she nor Denis wished their father to be worried with his
extravagance. She might also point out that it was unfair to trust a
boy of his age to such an extent. It was going to be tricky, but Josie
thought she could manage it. The important thing was not to brood
too heavily over the lost cash.

Lucia came in bearing a tray that smelled richly of coffee and hot
rolls. It also held yellow butter and a dish of syrup, a fringed napkin
ornately embroidered with a "V".

"I don't have to be waited on like this!" exclaimed Josie. "I'm sure
you have more than enough to do, Lucia."

"It is no trouble," said the servant, her long thin face smiling. "Much
more easy to bring the tray than to make the desayuno downstairs.
The senora has told you about the bath?"

"That hot water is difficult to come byyes. I had a shower last

night before bed."

"Bueno. In the morning the senora likes always the bath. For you,
senorita, I am afraid it will be cold, but my husband will see that it is
hot for you at night."

'Thank you, Lucia. You're wonderful."

"Wonderful, senorita?"

"Maravillosa! Is that the word?"

Lucia permitted the smile to show most of her large white teeth.
"You are droll, like your brother, but he pronounces Spanish even
worse. Leave your washing on the chair, senorita. I will take it when
I do the room."

"Oh, no," said Josie firmly, "I do my own room and my own
washing."
Josie ate breakfast while she dressed, and then carried her tray down
to the kitchen. She made the acquaintance of Lucia's husband,
Manoel, discovered that his English consisted of as many words as
she herself had of Spanish, and went into the patio to enjoy the fresh
morning sunshine. Exploring, she found a bougainvillea-smothered
garage and Denis backing out the car.

"Dad and I are away to the office," he said, grimacing. "What about
coming along to do your stint?"

"It'll keep," she said. "Do you go near a post office?"

"There's only one and it's on the way down." Lowering his tone he
asked, "Sending a telegram to the bank? I'll give you a little at the
end of the month, Jo."

She nodded. "I'll need it." Then, to her father, who had just appeared:
"Good morning, darling. Isn't this sunshine something!"

Julius Vayle smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Soak it up,
Josie, as much of it as you possibly can. I wish we could find work
for you here in Marganeta, so that you wouldn't have to go back at
all."

"There seem to be people around with money. You might get them to
endow a cottage hospital expressly for me! What happens if you need
surgery?"

"One of the doctors has a theatre fitted up adjoining his consulting

room, where he can deal with tonsils and appendices. More serious
cases are sent to Alicante. No one bothers with physiotherapy. Are
you coming down to the town with us?"

"I want the post office. Will you wait while I get my money?"

"Here's some." He fished out a handful of coins. "Enough?"

"I think so, thanks."

"I'd like to see you delve for a handful of shinies for me," grumbled
Denis.

"I know you would," said his father, getting into the driver's seat.
"Josie wants the money for stamps, of which you hook your
requirements from the post-book at the office. By the way I'm telling
the garage that you're not to have more than one fill-up a week. At
the moment you're accounting for three-quarters of my petrol bill."

"What a life! How do I take Josie around?"

"You'll manage. Can you drive, Josie?"

"Yes, but I haven't a licencenot even an English one."

"I'll manage one for you. There's very little danger on these roads
because no one's in a hurry, and you'll enjoy exploring."

They were out on the delightful coast road, bowling down gently
towards the town. It spread back behind the waterfront; cobbled
streets, painted houses overhanging the pavements, a wider main
thoroughfare which was actually tarred, and more cobbled streets
sloping up over the hillside. There were dusty date palms, budding
oleanders, blue-flowering duranta, a few prodigal fruit trees, all of
them seemingly growing between close walls.

The main road of the town was not so wide, after all. It was lined
with small shops and offices, the bank, the town hall. Julius Vayle
stopped the car outside the small post office.

"Will you manage?" he asked. "The Spanish for stamp is sello de

correos, but they'll pick it up if you ask in English, slowly. Just
remember at the end to say muchas gracias."
"Thanks. See you at lunch!"

She waved them off and went into the tiny post office. The clerk
attended to her needs, told her in a mixture of Spanish and what he
believed to be English that it would be quite in order for her to send a
telegram in English so long as she printed the words. He supplied her
with stamps and the sort of smile he reserved for tourists, and
beamed a goodbye.

Josie came out again into the sunshine. It was too early for the visit to
the Villa Panado; such people no doubt rose at about noon. In any
case, she had a few chores to do at home. Thrilling, to think of Las
Rosas as home! It would be heavenly to live and work here, though
possibly Isabel might not agree, and for that Josie couldn't blame her.
Perhaps a second wife inevitably resented her husband's children; if
so, Isabel had been generous and restrained.

Except in moments when she recalled, with a plunge of the heart, the
state of her pocket, Josie felt as expansive as the spring morning. She
took the hill slowly, walking along the coastal edge of the road and
smiling at the calm blue sea.

She found the villa quiet and cool. Manoel, in his black velvet
trousers and green baize apron, was polishing the hall table, and to
her enquiry he answered that the senora had not yet descended from
her bedroom. So Josie went up to her own room, to tidy it and make
the bed. She had just decided to go downstairs for a duster when
Lucia knocked and came rather quickly into the room.

She held out a bulky white envelope. "This has just been delivered
for the senorita."

"For me?" Josie raised an eyebrow, read her own name typed on the
envelope and took it gingerly. "Who brought it?"
"A young man I have sometimes seen but do not know. I think he is
an office workernot much more than a boy. He said I must give it
to you yourself, to no one else."

"Thank you, Lucia." Josie casually pushed the envelope into her
pocket. "I was just coming down for a duster."

"There is no need to dust today. Manoel polishes, and I follow him

with the duster." And Lucia, without apparent curiosity, went out.

Josie dragged the package from her pocket, ripped the flap with her
thumb and scattered a number of small printed sheets that bore
pencilling and a signature. She gathered them swiftly, set them out on
the dressing table and pushed harassed fingers through her hair.
"Villa Panado" in discreet print, with additional wording in Spanish
underneath. Why . . . good heavens, these were Denis's receipts! Yes,
and even an I.O.U. for a small gambling debt. The "chits" he had
mentioned, those incriminating scraps of paper that she had hoped to
buy back last night.

But what were they doing here? The clerk who had brought them
must be an employee at the Villa Panado, but he would certainly not
have come of his own accord. Someone had sent himsomeone who
knew that she, Josie, was interested in clearing the debt. And there
was only one person in the whole of Marganeta who could possibly
have an inkling of it!

Yet the notion that Stuart Morland had not only guessed the reason
for her visit to the Villa last night but had gone to the length of
settling Denis's debt was fantastic. Such things didn't happen!

Automatically she counted the amounts, they totalled exactly the sum
which Denis owed. She slid the receipts back into the thick envelope
and pressed the packet deep into the pocket of her dress. Her impulse
was to destroy them and investigate afterwards, but her conscience
was fastidious. Yet for a long moment she wallowed in the sensation
of utter relief. Even if she did still owe the amount, she also held the
evidence. She was safe till her money arrived!

Isabel called from the corridor: "Josie, you might do the flowers. And
if you go down for a bathe do come in the back way and be sure not
to paddle sand up the stairs. I'm going up the road to have morning
coffee with a friend."

Josie opened the bedroom door, saw Isabel in smart blue linen and
white sandals, and smiled. "I'll do anything you say. Any shopping?"

"No dear, they call for the orders. We lunch at two that's late for
England but early for Marganeta. Your father and Denis mostly go
back to the office from three till five." A pause. "I've been hoping
that Julius will let Denis off most afternoons while you're here. The
poor boy works so hard." Isabel leant her slim figure against the
corridor rail, and the yellowish eyes drifted with some calculation
over Josie. "Is there any office work attached to your job at the
hospital?"

"We keep a card index of our own patients, write up their file every
time they have treatment. There's not much clerical work, but it has
to be clear and accurate."

"Apart from that you just use the various types of apparatus on the
patients?"

"We carry out treatment prescribed by the doctor. Sometimes it's a

course of mud or wax baths, more often it's diathermy. Some of the
bigger firms run their own clinics, and Fm hoping in time to get into
one of them. They pay awfully well, and the work is often
specialized."
"It sounds horribly dull, but I expect you have a good time with
doctors and students around." Isabel's regard became critical. "Why
did you tell Julius it's hard work?"

Slightly on the defensive, Josie said, "I wasn't exaggerating. For two
months we had the waiting room full and two or three of us doing the
work of six, five days a week. If into the bargain you get cases
needing hand massage, you're likely to finish each day rather weary."

"Oh, I see. You may be able to help Mr. Dalton. He has a creaky
ankle."

"His trouble would have to be diagnosed."

Isabel shrugged, as if it were all beyond her. 'I was only thinking that
if you want Denis to run around with in the afternoons, you might
give him some assistance in the mornings. Julius would probably let
him out if you did the pleading; you seem to be in favour with him
just now." There was nothing bitter or even acid in Isabel's tone. She
was merely stating what she deemed to be an unpalatable truth.
"However, as you're here for two months there's no hurry. There's
just one thing, Josie." She smoothed the white-edged belt of her dress
and moved slightly towards the stair-head. "I shan't be too happy if
Julius favours you at the expense of Denis. You and I are good
friends, but there's no bond between us. You do understand, don't
you?"

Isabel didn't wait for a reply; she went down the stairs, slowly and
gracefully, the silky white chignon a miracle of neat precision.

Josie changed into a swim-suit and robe and went down to the beach.
A few were swimming, but scarcely a soul lounged on the golden
sand, and Josie thought of the cold gusty spring in England, and how
she would love to bring some of the limping children from the
hospital to this warm, luxuriant island. It would probably do them
heaps more good than artificial heat treatment and massage. She had
her swim, sat with drawn-up knees and decided, suddenly, that she
would make no move towards the Villa Panado today. Why had there
been no explanatory note with those receipts? Had they purposely
been sent to her while Julius Vayle and Denis were out? Wasn't it all
a little uncanny?

Josie gathered herself and plodded up the beach, remembered to enter

the house through the kitchen and to clean out the bath very
thoroughly after she had taken a cold shower. She put on a dress in
off-white linen and brushed lights into the golden-brown hair.
Because she couldn't quite decide what to do with it, the bulky
envelope was again pushed low into her pocket.

There were buttered eggs, salad and fruit for lunch, and after a rest
her father and Denis drove off again. Isobel went upstairs and came
down about half an hour later in pale green tailored silk. She wore
jade earrings and a gold chain at her throat and she carried a book out
to the patio, where Josie was sitting.

"I like this time of the day to be restful," she said. "I often go out
morning and evening, but I always hope people will leave me alone
during the afternoon. One has to dress up, just in case. Did you bring
many dresses, Josie?"

"About eightall I have."

"Why did you choose that whitish thing? Don't you wear an overall
every day?"

"White is ravishing with a tan, and I'm hoping to grow one!"

"Have you someone you're anxious to attract when you get back?"
"Not particularly." Josie laughed. 'I suppose here in Marganeta the
men are accustomed to tanned women."

"They're accustomed to really good-looking women," Isabel

answered, with a nice degree of emphasis. "I don't think you'd fall for
a Spaniard, and there are very few unmarried Englishmen. From
remarks your father has let fall at various times I think he'd much
rather you married than went in wholeheartedly for a career, but
you've plenty of time, Josie, and at the hospital you're meeting the
type of man it would be best for you to marry."

"Possibly, but most students are awfully shy, you know, and they're
always borrowing from each other till the end of the month.
Occasionally we get together and have roaring times, but most of us
are straining to get on." She paused. "Denis says you're keen on
people marrying young; he quite thinks you're going to shake up my
ideas and throw me to a Spaniard!"

"Denis is a sweet idiot," said his mother casually. "It would be much
wiser for you to marry in Englandthe sort of man you might
understand." A bell jangled faintly, and her brow drew delicately into
a frown. "Damn, a caller. She's sure to hang on for tea."

Lucia came out from the lounge. "It is Senor Morland, senora."

Magically, Isabel's expression was transformed by a smile both

welcoming and coquettish. Hardly moving in her basket chair, she
reached a hand towards the tall, flawlessly turned out Stuart. He bent
over her hand, murmured something in Spanish and showed a row of
strong white teeth.

"Forgive me calling at such an hour. I'm on my way home from a

business appointment and it occurred to me that I hadn't seen you or
Julius since I last went to Alicante."
"You may come in at any timeyou know that. Stuart, this is my
stepdaughter, Josie."

His smile was aloof, wholly charming. "We've met. How are you,
Miss Vayle?"

"You've met?" echoed Isobel. "But Josie only arrived yesterday!"

Josie's thumbs were drawn tight within her palms. She had never for
a moment suspected that Stuart Morland might be so intimate with
her family. Trembling a little, she waited.

"I was at the ferry when Denis was meeting his sister," he said
lightly. He hitched his trousers and sat in the chair Isabel had
indicated between herself and Josie. "I go over to Alicante again on
Monday morning, and before I leave I want a talk with Julius. Is
there anything you're needing from the stores?"

Isabel said playfully, "Nothing I'd trust a man to choose not even
you, Stuart, though your taste is impeccable. How long will you be
away?"

"A few daystill next weekend. A cigarette?"

"Thanks. Josie doesn't smoke."

In a voice that was strangely thin, Josie said, "Oh, but I do."

"Do you, dear?" Isabel was displeased but not tart. "I hadn't noticed
that you have cigarettes of your own, and I naturally thought . . .
well, never mind." She leaned to the lighter. "Thank you, Stuart. Will
you stay at your own house in Alicante?"

He nodded, lighting Josie's cigarette. "My old aunt has a birthday in a

few days. I shall give a party for her."
"Will Noel be there?" she asked, with merest trace of archness.

"Naturally. Nowadays Noel is everywhere in Alicante. Yet her studio

is full of paintings; I think she must work through the night." He
looked at Josie. "Do you paint at all, Miss Vayle?"

Isabel gave a small laugh. "The touch of genius is in my family, not

my husband's."

"Miss Vayle has good fingers," he said, glancing at them, "and she
also has a deep brow. Maybe she hasn't yet found the direction in
which she could be creative."

"She's found the sort of work she likes," stated Isabel, smiling as if it
were of no consequence. "One of these days she'll be a certified
physiotherapist. Stuart, I hate to ask you this . . ." she hesitated, to
receive the inevitable assurance.

"Ask me anything, Isabel! You know I'll always do what I can."

"Well ... are you going over to Alicante in the Santa Fedora?"

"Yes, she's running well." To Josie he explained, "The Santa Fedora

is a clipper belonging to the Mendoza-Cortez company. She's lying in
the bay at San Rozello." The faintest touch of mockery moved the
well-cut line of his mouth. "You must come aboard and inspect our
medical equipment."

"Doesn't a clipper have sails?" she asked at once.

"Not this one. She's as modern as you areeven more so. She has a
fine diesel engine and does a steady twelve knots." He turned again
to Isabel. "Is there something, after all, that you'd like me to bring for
you?"
"Someone," she said softly. "I've been trying so hard to get Noel to
come again for a visit. After all, we have as much of interest here as
she can possibly find in Alicante these days. Over there, she's painted
every street and every type, and we do have a different atmosphere
here in Marganeta. I know she won't take the trouble to come on the
ferry, but she'd come in the clipper with you, Stuart. Do try to
persuade her for me!"

He smiled charmingly. "Leave it to me. She'll come with me next

Friday."

"You won't let her refuse?"

"I'll bring her," he promised.

And Josie knew that he would. Once a decision took shape in the
Morland brain it was as good as an accomplished fact.

She smoked her cigarette and watched the man exchange pleasantries
with Isabel. His presence was like a shot of some powerful stimulant
and it kept Isabel very much on her sophisticated toes, though she
strove for the careless attitude.

Josie's own reactions were inextricably mixed. She was affected by

the dark good looks, the leashed vitality, the studied charmwhat
girl wouldn't be!but he also vexed and worried her. He had
obligingly said nothing whatever about meeting her in the grounds of
the Villa Panado last night, had looked at her as if it had never
happened! Yet right here in her pocket was the envelope stuffed with
receipts signed by Denis. She simply must find out the truth about
them.

He rose to leave, assured Isabel that he was unused to taking tea

before five o'clock and once more bent over her hand. Josie stood up,
said goodbye a little hurriedly and moved away to take an interest in
the flowers bordering the patio. She heard Isabel accompany Stuart
into the sitting- room across the hall, and herself moved round the
house to the side path in front of the garage, where the white car
stood. She remained close to the narrow trunk of a jacaranda and was
glad the windows were shuttered against the sun on this side of the
house.

His step was firm on the gravel, he opened the car door, and then
closed it again as he saw her.

"Mr. Morland," she said desperately, "I must speak to you for a
moment. Could you take me a short way up the road in your car?"

"Of course." He walked round the car and opened the other door.
"More trouble?"

She willed herself not to look at the front of the house till the car had
backed on to the road, and by then only the roof was visible. She let
out a sigh.

"I suppose I ought to thank you for saying nothing about last night,"
she said. "It was very good of you."

He drove slowly. "Didn't you trust me?" he asked carelessly.

"I trusted the English side of you, but I was afraid the Spanish might
be too conventional."

"I'm only a quarter Spanish. My maternal grandfather was a

Mendoza-Cortez. Are you still upset about losing that money?"

He was so utterly impersonal that Josie was nonplussed. She drew

the package from her pocket, held it towards him. He spared it an
enquiring glance.

"Should I know what that is?"

"You do know," she said firmly, inserting the open end of the
envelope between the wheel and his vision. "They represent meals
and drinks and spots of gambling, all signed for by my brother. I
went to the Villa Panado last night to pay what he owed. You
guessed it, didn't you, and for some reason you decided to be
magnanimous. Yet you must have known that we couldn't possibly
accept such generosity."

His shoulders rose, negligently. "I've never seen those receipts

before."

"But you won't deny that you paid two hundred and ten pounds for
them!"

"My dear Miss Josie," he said calmly, "I seldom admit or deny
anything. If Senora Panado has been good enough to send you the
receipts you should accept them gracefully. Surely it was a great
relief to receive them?"

"It was like waking up from a nightmare," she said vexedly, "but we
do still owe the money. If you bought the receipts then we owe it to
you!"

He stopped the car, turned upon her a smile of distaste. "Someone, it

seems, has been misguided enough to do Denis this small favour.
Now it's my turn." He took the envelope from her, shook the checks
into his hand and tore them across, three times. He dropped the
scraps back into the envelope and tossed it into her lap. "Burn them
and forget them."

By now, Josie was angry. "We don't allow strangers to pay our debts,
Mr. Morland. As soon as my money arrives from England I'll send
you a cheque!"
"You and I don't seem to understand each other very well," he said
coolly. "I want no connection with your brother's foolishness. He's
still a boy and must scatter a wild oat or two, but they're not my
business, and I doubt if they're yours! When Denis is in trouble he
should go to his father. Did you tell him the money was stolen from
you last night?"

She shook her head. "It wouldn't have done any good."

"I guessed you'd keep it to yourself. It was stupid, but woman-like."

"So you thought it all out and went back into the Villa Panado to
arrange for the receipts to be sent to me after my father had left for
the office this morning." She lifted both hands, helplessly. "It was big
of you, but you must see the position I'm in."

"These things are triflesthey don't bear discussion."

"But I wouldn't mind so much if I'd given you some sort of security,"
she protested.

"That's a good idea," he said crisply. "Give me the dress pin you're
wearing."

"It's worth about two pounds!"

"Your shoes, then. You can prove yourself a martyr and walk home
barefoot."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I," he said abruptly. "Give me this security and let's have
done with it."
The change in him was unpleasant. Patently, he was entirely opposed
to discussing money with a woman, and his thumb was already on
the starter, as if the last word had been spoken.

Very slowly, heart pounding, Josie drew the antique turquoise ring
from the middle finger of her right hand. Flat in her palm she
proffered it. "That's the best security I could possibly give for
anything. It hasn't much market value but I wouldn't sell it for all the
money in the Bank of England. It was my mother's. You'll take great
care of it?"

The dark eyes had narrowed and were cold. "You put a high price on
your independence, Miss Vayle. I'm going to surprise you and accept
the ringfor two reasons: there should be no debts between friends .
. . and with your eyes, that turquoise should certainly be a sapphire!"

He dropped the ring into his pocket, reversed the car and drove
swiftly back as far as Las Rosas. Before she could get out he was
opening her door and giving her a courteous but distant half-bow.

"Goodbye . . . and thanks," she said.

"Adios," he answered, and sped away.

Gripping the bulging envelope inside her pocket, Josie went round to
the patio. She felt shaky and not particularly victorious, and the sight
of Isabel lying back in her basket chair added uneasiness to her
emotions, particularly as the older woman stared pointedly at her
heightened colour.

"Where did you disappear to?" Isabel asked.

"I . . . went out on to the road."

"To watch the hero depart?" Isabel rearranged the folds of her skirt,
sank back more comfortably into her cushions. "I suppose Stuart
Morland is something of a heart-throb to a girl of your age. Young
women are always trying to impress him, of course, and he has the
most charming way in the world with them. You probably noticed it."

"I can assure you I wasn't trying to impress him."

"Perhaps not, but you couldn't look anywhere else while he was
here." She paused. "You've never met my sister, Noel, have you,
Josie?"

"No, but I'm looking forward to it, now that she's coming."

"Noel's quite a character," said Isabel, with a smile on her lips. "She's
twenty-sevenjust six years younger than Stuart and she's really a
success in her own line. The people who come to the Mediterranean
to paint are legion, but the successful ones can be counted on your
fingers. Noel's pictures sell to tourists like hot cakesand she
charges plenty, too. She's in love with Stuart Morland."

Josie considered this in silence, then said inadequately, "Oh, is she?"

"It started right here in Marganeta," Isabel went on in those easy

flowing tones. "Noel came over for Christmas and Stuart came in to a
party I gave for her. They were instantly attracted to each other, and
Stuart reciprocated by giving a party at his own place. For a week or
so they were together every day, and then Stuart took her back to
Alicante in the Santa Fedora. Before that, Noel only spent very short
periods in Alicante, but now she has a studio there and Stuart has
introduced her into the best families. They buy her paintings and
invite her to dinner. Last time I was over there with her we picnicked
with a count and his family!"

"Were they nicer than ordinary people?"

Isabel's smile was wide and patronizing. "Jealousy is childish, Josie.
Noel is a very talented person and she handles her life cleverly. She's
been seeing Stuart for two or three days every fortnight, when he
goes over there, and between times she works hard both on her
pictures and her clients and friends. Last time I invited her over she
said she wouldn't come till Stuart asked her. But he, of course, has
just enough Spanish in him to make him careful about such things."

"Does he love her?" enquired Josie bluntly.

"Who knows? In Alicante she's the only woman he takes out. In

Marganeta he's impartial towards women in general. He seemed very
eager to bring her with him next Friday!"

Josie had to concede the truth of this. She was about to pass on into
the sitting-room when Isabel said,

"Oh, by the way, Julius and I are invited to Stuart's house for dinner
tomorrow. He mentioned it just as he was leavingit appears he has
a shipping problem to talk over with your father. So that you and
Denis won't feel left out he's arranging a party for young people in
his boating house on the beach. He says you're both to invite whoever
you like, and his servants will bring down the food and drinks. You
won't be restricted in any way. I thought it awfully good of him."

"Yes, it is," said Josie.

But she had to puzzle out why the man had suggested it. Tomorrow
would be Saturday; was he aware that Denis had run into debt
through trying to find excitement each Saturday night? Surely he
wasn't that considerate; it didn't make sense! But, anyway, she
wouldn't have to beat her brains for a plan to keep Denis away from
the Villa Panado tomorrow evening.
"Oh, and Josie," mentioned Isabel, ostensibly as an afterthought, "I'm
rather afraid you'll have to give up your bedroom. You see, yours is
the only properly furnished spare room we have, and Noel used it last
time she came, and will expect it again. This is your home, dear, so
you won't mind making shift for a visitor, will youparticularly for
a famous one!"

"Not at all," but her throat felt rather tight. "What would you like me
to do?"

"Well, there's a tiny room at the other end of the corridor. The
previous owner used it as a linen room, but so far we've only stored
rubbish in it. You can have the day divan from my room, and there
are still a few shelves left in there that you can use. Lucia will get it
fixed up for you by about next Wednesday, so that she has Thursday
for arranging the other room. I knew you wouldn't mind. Girls in
your profession often have to rough it, don't they? From what I hear
most of them glory in it."

"I don't mind a scrap," said Josie valiantly.

But she had to get away from Isabel then. She went to her room,
lifted out the heavy brass firescreen and found a box of matches.
Carefully, she burnt every wisp of the receipts and the envelope as
well, and replaced the screen.

She went over and looked at herself in the mirror. "You're on

holiday, Josie, my girl," she said softly, "on a peaceful island in the
blue, blue sea, remember? Well, enjoy it, darn you!"
CHAPTER THREE

THE next few days were idyllic. Over the weekend Josie bathed with
Denis and his friends, and on Saturday evening there was the lively
party at the Morland beach-house. She met the almost legendary
Ramirez and Dalton, found them young and likeable but entirely
different from each other. Armando Ramirez was about her own age,
the elder son of a wine-grower inland and possessed of two brothers
and two sisters who were lively but very correct. Tony Dalton had a
married sister and indulgent parents. His father owned the half a
dozen garages scattered among the villages of Marganeta, and Tony
merely had to tour them periodically and report their turnover. Both
young men were easy to know, and both invited Denis to bring his
sister over for dinner one day next week.

The week passed like a breeze. She moved into the tiny bedroom,
rigged a curtain over the shelves and extended it to the corner to form
some sort of wardrobe, and found that, lying in the bed that was close
against the wall, she could easily look out of the window opposite,
because like all the other windows in the house it stretched from floor
to ceiling. Her view was of the drive from the garage to the gate, and
of the wall and trees between this house and the next. A mature male
voice sometimes sang Spanish songs in the next villa, but she had no
wish to meet the owner of it; he was probably short and fat with a
wavy moustache.

Gradually, she realized that the Villa Panado was not nearly so
important as it had seemed. Only a very small proportion of the
islanders ever visited the place, and most people regarded it as a mere
tourist attraction. "The old Lola", as she was called, was reputed to
put on very good meals, but Spaniards on the whole, preferred to
entertain in their own homes. It was the cabaret show that attracted
the young people, and who could blame them? There was so little for
a virile young man on Marganeta.
Early on Friday Las Rosas acquired an air of slight activity. Isabel
got up earlier than usual and took much time fussing with the flowers
and changing the pictures on the walls. A pair of watercolours from
her bedroom were brought into the sitting-room, and Josie admired
them immensely.

"Did your sister paint those? They're really lovely, aren't they? I don't
blame you for keeping them in your bedroom."

"Noel always says that pictures are wasted in bedrooms because you
never look at them. It's true, of course, but I think these pictures of
fisherfolk are restful in their colouring, even if you don't often look
into them. The trouble is that the pictures in this house belong to the
owner, and we've promised to leave them hanging because she's
afraid that if they're stored they'll spoil. It's very tiresome."

Unthinkingly, Josie was a little unwise. "Haven't you ever wanted to

rent an empty house and furnish it yourself?"

"No, I haven't," replied Isabel sharply, " and it's just as well that I
don't have that sort of yearning. Good furniture costs a great deal and
your father has never been a wealthy man. There was a time when he
thought of buying a cottage here for his retirement, but I reminded
him that I'm a long way from retiring age. If only this shipping
agency in Marganeta were more profitable we could be happy.
Unfortunately, there's nothing besides shippingno railway or
airport. The last thing I want is to burden you with our troubles,
Josie, but it's as well for you to know from the start that it's only with
difficulty that we afford to run a car and keep up with the other
families."

This, as Josie knew, was her cue for offering her share towards the
housekeeping money, but she deemed it wiser to wait till she had
cash to back her up. She said cheerfully, "Oh, well, the sunshine and
sea aren't rationed, and Marganeta does have a good deal other places
haven't got. Can I get you anything in the town?"

Isabel never did entrust her shopping to Josie. Household supplies

were always delivered by a boy with a carrier cycle or by women
carrying baskets on their hips, and new orders were given at the same
time. But if Isabel needed some silk thread or cocktail sticks or a
birthday card she always made the trip down to the shops herself, and
for some reason she never invited Josie along.

She wanted the car that afternoon for the visit to San Rozello to pick
up Noel, and Josie willingly agreed to drive her father and Denis to
the office so that she could bring it back. Thus it was that, for the first
time since her arrival, Josie saw inside the shipping agency premises
and had a private talk with Julius Vayle.

She liked the parquet floor and the curved counter, the gay posters on
the walls, the stand full of leaflets, and smiled at the young Spaniard
who dealt with tourists and others seeking information. Denis's desk
was behind the counter, but her father's office was shut away, to the
right. Josie went in there with him, and sat in the chair to face him
across the desk.

She indicated the many letters and printed forms, the pile of papers in
a basket. "You seem to have plenty to do. Need any help?"

"No thanks, my dear. A lot of this stuff is just waiting for action. We
have to get out the perishable goods first. And don't let Denis
wheedle you into doing his job. I can't let him put in fewer hours than
young Gonzalez, and I can assure you he's not overworked."

"Isabel thought I ought to help him so that he can be free in the

afternoons."
"It wouldn't do, I'm afraid, much as I'd like him to be with you. Do
you get lonely, Josie?"

"I haven't, so far. It's quite amazing the number of people I already
know! I've been so grateful for the car."

"Can't do without one here. There's a bus goes round the island twice
a week and a few taxis for the tourists, but that's about the sum of our
public transport." He smiled at her. "How do you like these people?"

"They're grand. The shopkeepers are helpful and the rest are
hospitable. Yesterday I was at a place called Las Hermanas, and as I
was looking at the church from the road a woman came from a
cottage and asked me if I would like a drink. It was a wonderful lime
concoction. I tried to pay her and she looked mortally offended."

"I used to put my foot in it, too, when I first came here. Next time
you're that way walk right into the cottage and tell the woman you've
had many drinks on the island but hers was tops and could she spare
a small glass of it." He paused. "So you went to Las Hermanas. Did
you see the banana plantations?"

She nodded. "Yes, from the road. Sub-tropical fruits are fascinating."

"A man named Rick Hedley owns these plantations. He came to

Marganeta about six years ago because he was tired of the hurly-
burly of Europe. A bit of an escapist but thoroughly nice. We'll go
over to see him on Sunday morning, if you like."

"I'd like very much." She hesitated, then said casually, "I thought you
appeared tired when I arrived last week. But you don't look nearly so
worn out now, and that's why I dare mention it. Hadn't you been
well?"
"I've been fit enough; the climate agrees with me. We did have a
couple of worrying months here, but things are looking up. I
wonder," his grey eyes twinkled just faintly, "how much you had to
do with my little touch of good luck? Morland is going to pass some
of the Mendoza-Cortez business my way."

"I don't think it could possibly have anything to do with me," she said
quickly, annoyed at the heat that came into her cheeks. "I thought he
often did business with you."

"I handle the local wine harvest for the company and have carried out
a few commissions for him, but now he suggests that I load for him
at Alicante and deliver throughout the islands. I'll hear more about it
when he gets back. I was only joking about your having had
something to do with it. In business, Morland would never be swayed
by sentiment."

"And in any case," she said firmly, "I hardly know him."

"Now that Noel's coming you'll probably see Morland fairly often,"
her father observed. "Sometimes I think Isabel is too fond of her
sister. She's now built herself up for wedding bells, but myself I'm
not so sure. I can't somehow see him with a wife who's a well-known
artist. However," a smiling shrug, "it's their kettle of fish, not mine.
How do you feel about marriage, Josie?"

"I don't know." Josie spoke the words, then realized with a shock that
it was true. Only a week ago she had loftily remarked to Denis that
she might never marry, but now, quite suddenly, such a prospect was
too bleak to be contemplated. A little chastened, she added, "I don't
suppose you think much about it till you meet someone who . . . who
matters."

He took his pipe from his pocket. "Well, don't walk about with
blinkers on, will you? You've proved that you're thoroughly capable
of taking care of yourself in England, but there's a chap around
somewhere who won't be able to get along without you, and the
sooner you meet him the happier you'll both be." He nodded at her
slim fingers on the desk. "You don't often wear the ring I sent you for
your twenty- first birthday."

Her lips dry, she said, "I wear it in the evenings, in England. It only
goes with certain clothes, of course. I treasure it more than anything I
have."

"I thought you wouldthat's why I kept it for you." He had filled the
pipe and was shaking a box of matches. With the match unstruck
between his fingers, he leaned across the desk and said quietly, "Over
the years I haven't done much for you, Josie, and that's why I want
this holiday to be the best you've ever had. Before long we'll go over
to Alicante for a few days and I might be able to manage a trip for
you as far as Rome, if you wouldn't mind going by freighter."

"Don't worry about me," said Josie. "I'm joyful as a lark on

Marganeta. The hospital is a world away!"

"Good. And you really feel at home at Las Rosas?"

Unhesitatingly, she voiced a white lie. "Of course! You're my

family." She stood up. "Perhaps I'd better take the car back now."

"Yes, do. You remember San Rozellowhere you had the picnic
dinner on the beach below Morland's house? That's where they bring
in the clipper. You must have seen it near the jetty that night."

"We saw the lights. It was standing out in the bay."

"Well, you'll see it come in today. She always arrives almost on the
stroke of four. Run along, then. I'll see you later."
As it happened, Josie was not to see the Santa Fedora come into the
bay at San Rozello that afternoon, for the simple reason that Isabel
very decisively went alone. There was not even any question of
Josie's accompanying her. She came downstairs at three-thirty, well-
groomed and neat in a pale blue skirt and a white sleeveless blouse.
She picked up the car keys from the hall table, unnecessarily stroked
the pale hair up from the smooth brow, and went straight out to the
car. Josie heard it start up and reverse out on to the road. She
shrugged to herself, battled through a paragraph in the Diario, then
folded the newspaper and left it on the table. She changed into denim
sand shoes and went down to the beach, walked among the rocks,
paddled and eventually came within sight of San Rozello. The clipper
was there, tied up to the jetty, and it looked as though packing cases
were being unloaded very carefully from its deck. Very much in the
distance she could see the Morland house, a white, sprawling
structure with green tiles in a garden full of flowers and trees.

Slowly, enjoying the cool wet sand and the hot sun, she made her
way back to the beach below Las Rosas. She let her feet dry in the
sunshine, dusted them off and put on her shoes to mount the steps.
The car was on the drive, and her heart began, oddly, to beat rather
fast. She went into the hall, found Lucia in the sitting-room setting
out cups and saucers on the low table.

"Can I help you, Lucia?" she asked.

"There is nothing to do, senorita. When the senora and her sister
come downstairs I will bring the teapot and dishes."

"Won't you mind having to do more work?"

Lucia gave a smiling shrug. "It is better to have too much work than
to be without money. We are happy here, Manoel and I, and always
we have our cottage to go home to at night."
"Have you any children?"

"Two small sons; they are cared for by my mother. We live together."

Lucia was true dignified peasantry. She loved gleaming wood, a

shining kitchen and to serve well-cooked meals with the Continental
touch. Josie knew that she had never become really familiar with the
Vayle family, that she respected them and earned respect in return.
Isabel, of course, handled Lucia and Manoel circumspectly. They did
all she could possibly want from them with the minimum of fuss.

Josie went off to wash her hands, and when she came back to the
sitting-room Isabel and her sister were seated on the old-fashioned
chesterfield. Isabel was happy and animated.

"Here's Josie," she said. "Meet Noel, dear."

Noel nodded and said, "Hi." Her glance, more golden than Isabel's,
moved in friendly fashion over Josie, and then she took a cigarette
from the box on the table.

Josie gave the appropriate greeting and sat in a chair, facing them.
She had not conjectured much about Noel, had imagined someone
rather bohemian and sophisticated, but gone no further. Now, she
found herself agreeably surprised.

In colouring, Noel was much deeper toned than Isabel. Her hair was a
blatant yellow, almost straight and shoulder- length, and it was
pushed back rather untidily behind her ears. She used one of those
liquid make-ups that make a skin glow, and her lips had the painted
look of a film star's. To set off the black linen slacks she wore a tight
yellow sleeveless jersey that managed not to clash with the hair and
golden eyes. Her bare feet were pushed into cork-soled sandals that
were strapped with yellow and red cords. Josie couldn't decide
whether the carelessness was natural or studied. It was, at any rate,
effective.

"What's it like in England these days?" Noel asked lazily. "I haven't
been back for four years."

"England never changes," said Josie, "and on the whole the people
don't either. I suppose you do meet tourists from Britain?"

"Not if I can help it, though I take their money if they care to buy a
picture. A woman on her own becomes mercenary."

"It's your own fault that you live so alone," put in Isabel.

"I do think it's time you really settled somewhere and painted only
for your own pleasure."

"One loses the power to paint for pleasure, darlingor maybe one
comes to find more pleasure in money," said Noel, inhaling gently. "I
remember starting out from art school with the stars as the limit to
my ambition. I painted feverishly all along the Brittany coast and
found that I could only sell the typed stuffBretons in soft caps,
fishing boats in the harbour, women boiling the lobsters on the
waterfront. So I just went at it, and now I've simply lost the urge and
originality to do anything else. It's sad, but it pays."

"I think you're fairly happy about it, though, and you do have lots of
good friends now, in Alicante. How did the party go offthe one for
Stuart's aunt?"

"Oh, the birthday party." Noel looked reflective. "It was the usual
Spanish dotons of good food and wine, polite talk till midnight.
That was where this Lopez mother and daughter turned up. She's
quite stunningly beautiful, isn't she?"
Isabel was not willing to concede this. "She has looks, of a sort. It
seems very odd that they should have come here to stay with Stuart,
though. What's at the back of it?"

"They had an estate inland. The father died and they couldn't afford
to keep it, so it's been sold, and with the proceeds the mother
proposes to buy a property in Marganeta. They came to Alicante to
stay with relatives, and Stuart, in his usual manner, took them on. He
brought a quantity of their household furniture over in the Santa
Fedora, and the two women are to live with him till they've chosen a
place and furnished it."

"You mean," said Isabel deliberately, "that Camilla Lopez will be

right there, under his feet. Those two women will see to it that there
isn't a house on Marganeta to suit them!"

"I don't think so. The mother seemed very keen on getting settled,
and the daughter appears to be one of the serene type. She's about
Josie's age."

"Do we have to invite them here, when we ask Stuart?"

Noel looked down at the tip of her cigarette. "I don't want you to be
pointed with Stuart. Let him come if he wants to.

In any case, we're all there to dinner tomorrow."

Isabel looked displeased. "Even Denis and Josie?"

Noel looked quickly at Josie, then answered her sister in flat tones.
"You mean well, darling, and I love you for it, but it's time you
realized I'm no longer the baby sister. I've found that the best way to
get what I want is to go along with events as they happen, and jump
my opportunities. It's a philosophy that's got me where I am, and so
far I haven't done badly."
Isabel's expression changed. "I know I've always cared far too much
about you," she scolded, smilingly, "and you've got through
magnificently without my help. But you kick around so much, Noel.
So far you've never settled anywhere longer than six months."

"Well, that's what I've always enjoyed. A man will have to offer the
deuce of a lot to attract me into bondage. Let's skip the rest of the
discussion, shall we?"

The sisters talked about clothes and shopping, about the mainland
theatres and cinemas, and quite soon returned to the subject of Noel's
painting. It was Noel herself who directed the conversation, Josie
noticed. As Isabel had stated, Noel had character. She also had a
determined chin and a voice that was both harsh and husky,
according to the volume with which she spoke. Her career, on the
whole, was stereotyped, but she was immensely proud of the fact that
her pictures were "popular" while more highbrow artists starved.

So this was the woman who loved Stuart Morland. Josie imagined
her with him, and admitted it was possible that with all her
superficial faults she attracted him. She sat badly, lounged with long
slim legs all over the place and her hair pushed awry on the cushion,
and her mannerisms were slightly masculine: the way she had, for
instance, of flicking ash anywhere but into the correct receptacle, and
the unconscious raking of long spatulate fingers through the yellow
hair. Noel was a self-made woman and consequently strong- minded.
Her pleasant manner disguised fairly successfully the slight contempt
in which she held other women who ran in grooves.

Josie drove the car down to meet her father and Denis.

She watched Julius Vayle greet Noel with a delighted smile and a
grip of the hand, heard Denis remark facetiously, "Decent of you to
look in on the poor relations, old girl. I'll be touching you for a penny
or two."
Noel Mervyn smiled at them both, gave Denis the parcel of cigarettes
she brought for him and told him that when he had matured a little
she would take him on as her sales agent.

It was obvious that they all knew each other very well. A phrase
would make them laugh at some remembered joke, Noel's tastes were
mentioned, and the food was just as she liked it. And after dinner
Denis shoved a cushion into the corner of the chesterfield and kicked
a stool in position for Noel's feet as if it were something he had been
doing for an elder sister every night of his life. Noel was the family
celebrity; Isabel was happier than Josie had ever known her.

It seldom rained on Marganeta, but late in the spring, on still days, a

heavy mist would occasionally shroud the island till about noon. The
islanders always considered themselves most unfortunate when this
happened on a Saturday, for that was the day on which they did their
marketing, travelling the roads on donkeys or in mule carts, plodding
round the low mountains on foot with baskets of produce on the hip
or the head.

That particular Saturday morning the mist was heavier than usual and
it even spread out over the calm blue sea. Josie bathed and found the
water cold and invigorating. She wrapped in her towel robe and sat
on a rock with the waves at her feet and the enveloping mist about
her.

She felt the sun struggling whitely through the mist, and decided to
get into a dress and walk along one of the lovely back roads into the
town. The house was quiet when she entered it, and still quiet when
she went out on to the road and took a side lane which led through to
a parallel road that was shut in by tall trees. About the foot of the
trees grew wild geraniums, very leafy, with a sparse scattering of
scarlet blossoms. The scent released by the moisture was
intoxicating, and because she couldn't resist them she picked two or
three flowers and threaded them through the buckle of her belt. She
heard a car behind her and stepped closer to the trees. But it drew
alongside and stopped. She saw white duck and chromium plate, the
door wide for her to step into the seat beside the driver.

"Hallo!" said Stuart. "Let me take you there."

She sat in and pulled the door closed. "Take me where?"

"You must have a destination, surely!"

"No, I was just walking." She looked at him, felt an idiot because she
couldn't help smiling. "Did you have a good week in Alicante?"

"Fairly good, and very busy. You're looking brighter." Negligently,

he reached over and slipped one of the scarlet blooms from her belt,
attached it to his lapel, then trod on the accelerator. 'I've a call to
make about eight miles away. Like to go with me?"

"Yes, please."

He laughed. "Your manners are refreshingly English. Noel, if she

ever had them, lost them long ago, and Spanish girls use an entirely
different technique. I have a senora and her daughter staying with
me. It'll be interesting to see you three young women together this
evening."

"Are you sure Denis and I won't be in the way?"

"Denis may be a bit difficulthe's so absurdly young but I've

invited those boon companions of his."

"Armando and Tony?" She smiled happily. 'Tm not so ancient

myself."
"At twenty-three," he said mockingly, "a woman can look seventeen
and still be older than a man of her age. How do you get along with
Armando?"

"He's a dear, but too filthy rich. Denis told me he already has
someone picked out to marry when he's twenty-six."

"That's so. She's now in her last year at school in Seville."

"I suppose it's the Spanish in you that lets you take such things
calmly," she said interestedly. "I'm afraid I find it a little shocking."

"What's shocking about it? Armando is heir to a wealthy wine estate,

and he has sufficient sense to realize that a good marriage is essential
to the future of the estate. An English landowner can marry a gold-
digger or someone who has looks without breeding; if the marriage
isn't a success he tries again, and again. You don't get good solid
family life that way, and the family tree becomes a trifle crooked
here and there. Arranged marriages prevent that kind of thing."

"Is that your law for the rich?"

His smile at her still held a trace of mockery. 'It's common sense in
countries where the blood runs warm. While Armando is waiting he
may have a dozen light affairs, but he'll never dream of marrying
anyone but the girl already chosen for him."

"It's barbaric," said Josie militantly. "She won't have the chance of
meeting other men!"

"That way she'll be entirely content, because she'll never know what
she's missed." He took a turn inland, between orchards of figs and
olives. "The low divorce rate proves the custom is a success."

"Just wait till all your women are thoroughly educated, Senor
Mendoza-Cortez!"
Stuart's head went back and he laughed. His teeth gleamed, his skin
looked dark, and Josie felt a faint but unmistakable fluttering
somewhere near her heart.

"Spanish women would be most surprised if they knew they had your
sympathy," he said. "Believe it or not, they really enjoy growing up
with the knowledge that their husband has already been chosen; they
find themselves loving the man for that very reason."

"And I thought Spaniards were explosive and passionate!" she said

ruefully.

"They're a mixture of caution and effervescence, in the proportion of

one to three."

The farmhouse lay only a short distance from the road. Square and
flat-roofed, it looked utilitarian rather than elegant, but its small
garden was bright with colour, and the drive up to the front door was
well kept.

"I'll wait in the car," Josie said as he braked.

"No, come with me. My guest, Senora Lopez, is interested in this

property, but she's shy of looking it over till she's pretty sure she
wants to buy it. I think she'd like a feminine opinion on the house
itself."

Josie asked casually, "But why didn't you bring the daughter? Doesn't
she have any say in the matter?"

"There's a son at school who will eventually inherit. Camilla will

marry; a dowry has already been set aside for her. She'll live with her
mother till her marriage, but the senora intends to run the place at a
profit for the son, and when, in due course, he takes a wife, she'll
have her own rooms in the same house. So naturally she wants to be
very sure about the place before becoming the owner."

Josie probed a little deeper. "Wouldn't it have been better if they'd

stuck to the family estate, wherever it was?"

"It was too big, too expensive for a woman to handle. Senora Lopez
has always been interested in making perfume essence, so this place
will provide an interest as well as an income. And Camilla will live
either on Marganeta or in Alicante when she's married."

By this time the door of the house had opened and a plump man, with
his plumper wife hovering, stood in the doorway. Neither spoke
English, but they welcomed Josie as if it were no barrier, and both
she and Stuart were made to drink a pale pink concoction before
going on a tour of the rooms.

The smell of jasmine was strong now but not overpowering. From
the lower windows only that on the hillsides was visible, but the
upper floor windows gave a splendid view of snowy blossom and
those honey-tinted mountains. It was the sort of house in which
almost anyone could live happily, thought Josie; a great deal would
depend on the furnishing, and a few structural improvements were
necessary, but she herself would have revelled in an opportunity of
making the place into a home. It was homely enough now, of course,
but full of evidence that this elderly husband and wife had struggled
for years to attain their desires. Tables and chairs were home-made,
so were the rugs and bed-covers, and the curtains were a cheap local
weave. Indeed, the woman owned a very fine oak spinning-wheel and
a fluff of lint lay beneath it even now. They had no children and had
decided to sell up and live with the woman's sister on the mainland.

All four came back to the car on the drive. The two old people bade a
polite goodbye to Josie, but before using similar words to Stuart, the
woman nodded smilingly at the scarlet flower in his buttonhole, and
from it to the two at Josie's waist. Stuart made a reply which was
apparently popular, because both man and woman laughed in a "Go
on with you!" manner.

He drove out on to the road, moved slowly while he took a

comprehensive look back at the house and garden, and then speeded
up a little. He was still smiling from the encounter with the old
couple when he said,

"You'll have to learn Spanish, Josie. They have a wonderful sense of

humour."

Almost accusingly she answered, "They seemed to be laughing at

something you said."

"Oh, that." He glanced at her obliquely. "The old lady noticed that
you have two flowers and I one. For a girl to wear two flowers in
Marganeta is a sign of uncertainty; her heart is torn between two
men."

"Can't a girl wear flowers for the pure joy of it?"

"Yes, but to be joyful a Marganetan girl is inevitably in love. I just

told the old senora back there that one day you would marry an
Englishman but would never dream of wearing a lover's badge. She
wanted to know how you would demonstrate that you loved him."

"What did you answer?"

"That English people don't fall in love. They merely grow habits."

Josie tilted her chin. "I don't think that's funny."

"That's because you haven't a Spanish sense of humour," he said

lightly. "Tell me your opinion of the house."
Dissatisfied, Josie switched her mind to the new topic. "It would be
very pleasant if it had a modern bathroom," she said. "There's a small
room upstairs that might be converted. The kitchen could be tiled,
too."

"I doubt if Senora Lopez would care for a tiled kitchen, but the
bathroom is certainly necessary. I think she's bound to put the family
crest over the doorway and add a bit of sculpture, and I daresay
ornamental grilles would enhance the appearance of the place. The
sitting-room is very small."

"Bigger windows would help, and they might construct a patio at the
side, with a french door. Is their furniture massive?"

"No, but it's good." He smiled suddenly. "If the senora takes the
place you'll have to lend her a hand. She knows some English; so
does Camilla."

"Have you known them long?" she asked casually.

"Ever since I've had full charge of the business in Alicante about
seven years. They lived at Cordova, so I haven't seen them more than
two or three times a year, but I have a special sort of relationship
with them." Without elaborating on that particular point, he asked,
"How is Noel making out?"

She was tempted to ask him if he also had a special sort of

relationship with Noel Mervyn, but though he was companionable he
never lost a certain aloofness.

"I think she's glad to be here," she said with reserve, "and Isabel's
delighted to have her."

"Do you like her?"

"Yes, I think I do."

"She has a certain boyish charm, but sometimes I think she could be
a very beautiful woman. One of these days a man will make her take
trouble with that hair, and probably he'll also forbid her to wear those
hideous slacks. When that happens, it'll mean that she's at last
subjugated the artist to tie woman."

"That sounds as if you don't believe in a woman having a career!"

"Almost every woman has it in her," he said, "to be a superb wife and
mother. If she can be an even better artist, or pianist ... or
physiotherapist, then she will almost certainly choose a career and do
superlatively well at it. Each woman must choose for herself."

Once more they ran through the back of the town, but this time he
turned down to the coast road and as they came to Las Rosas he
slowed and turned into the short drive. Josie was out of the car as
soon as he was, and became as quickly aware as he of the white-clad
figure rising from a basket chair which had been placed in the sun
near the open front door.

Noel moved a pace or two towards them, walked more gracefully

than usual, perhaps because she was wearing a slim-fitting dress in
broderie anglaise. Stuart's glance was elaborately admiring.

"Noel all white and feminine," he exclaimed. "Why is this?"

"You came upon me while I was trying it out," she said, glancing
critically over the full skirt. "Like it?"

"It's you, yet it's not you. But, yes, I like it very much! Can there
possibly be a man on Marganeta whom you wish to please?"

Noel's smile was crooked. "There possibly can. I met quite a number
when I was over here last Christmas."
Josie moved away from them. "Thanks for the ride, Mr Morland,"
she said, and went into the house.

Up in her bedroom she dropped the flowers from her belt into the
waste-paper basket and then got out a cotton frock because the day
had become too warm for navy. She went along to the bathroom
washed her hands and bathed her face again and again in cold water.
She felt a little sick and firmly put the sensation down to the
concoction she had drunk at the farm.

Pushing back the hair she had dampened, she walked into her tiny
bedroom; and just inside the door she stopped. Isabel was there,
looking with a faint smile at the dress that lay over the foot of the
bed.

"Turning out some lovely cottons in England now, aren't they?" she
said conversationally. "Do these glazed fabrics need special
washing?"

"No, you just don't let them get too soiled, and wash them quickly,"
Josie answered automatically. Guardedly, she added, "The mist has
quite gone, hasn't it?"

"Yes, dear." Isabel was plainly not too interested in the weather.
"Josie, where did you meet Stuart this morning?"

So that was it. "On the back road," she replied evenly. "I was walking
and he caught me up."

"So he gave you a lift home?"

"Not straight home. He was on his way to look over a house for those
guests of his, and took me with him."

A pause. Then, with a faint sharpness, Isabel said, "I'm going to be

very frank with you, Josie, because I know I can trust you. I've
already told you how Noel feels towards Stuart, and you've probably
gathered her attitude. The trouble with Stuart has always been that he
likes women, but doesn't rate any one above another. Now, though,
he has this Camilla person in his house and Noel is at a disadvantage.
I don't blame you for any friendliness he may offer, but you do
complicate matters, dear."

Josie's throat was hot. "I don't see how," she said.

"Well, as things are, Stuart can have no difficulty in picking out the
differences between the Spanish girl and Noel. While there's just the
two of them, each is a foil for the other, but you're just pretty enough
to detract somewhat from Noel's looks . . . and you're younger, too.
Noel doesn't know I'm speaking to you like this; it's simply that I
want this for her very much. You do see what I'm getting at, don't
you, Josie?"

Josie looked at the smooth, unemotional face. "Yes, I can take a hint.
You won't have to speak about it again."

"But I don't think you do quite understand. Just do me the favour of

staying away from Stuart as much as you can. For a start, you might
remain at home tonight with a headache."

"You mean ... not go to his villa for dinner?"

Isabel tried a faint note of pleading. "Would you mind awfully?"

"I'd like to go. I really don't see how I could affect Noel's chances
with Stuart Morland."

Isabel's voice hardened. "You couldn't, in the long run, but Noel's
headstrong. She's capable of walking out on the whole thing. If you're
around, Stuart will feel bound to divide his attentions between three.
This business isn't important to you, Josie, but to me it means a great
deal. I'd give anything to see Noel married to Stuart Morland."

"Very well." Josie couldn't have said more had her life depended on
it.

Isabel's smile was too sudden to be sweet. "I knew you'd see it my
way," she said. "After all, we're giving you a good holiday, aren't we,
dear? You'll have plenty of good times." With which she went from
the bedroom.

Josie sat down to change her shoes. Resolutely, she put Isabel from
her mind, but Stuart was not so easily dismissed. She thought how
sweet that hour with him had been, realized with a shock that while
with him she had not once remembered her indebtedness to him.
Good heavens! What could that mean?
CHAPTER FOUR

PERHAPS because he had never been accounted a success in life,

Julius Vayle felt a kinship with Rick Hedley, of Las Hermanas. Rick
was considerably younger, of course, but he too had lost his wife
only a year or so after the birth of his child, and he was now
established on Marganeta, a banana grower whose seven-year-old
son was growing up with a healthy touch of Spanish in his
composition.

Rick was thirty-five. He had cynical, green-grey eyes which were

faintly blurred because he never counted his drinks, a thickish mouth
and an indeterminate chin. His hair was dark brown with a pencilling
of grey at the temples and he invariably wore velvet slacks and a
coloured shirt.

His shirt was pink that Sunday morning as he came out to greet Mr.
Vayle and Josie. He gave a slow grin and shook Josie's hand.

"Does she make you feel old, Julius?" he said. "I've never thought of
you as having a daughter of marrying age. Glad to know you, Josie."

"Do you mean that my father's never spoken about me?" she asked.

"Oh, you've cropped up at times, but only as a youngster to be fretted

over because you were alone in England. Are you here for good?"

"Only for a holiday, I'm afraid." She pointed to a clump of flowers

overgrown with weeds. "Are those snapdragons?"

"I think so. Don't tell me my garden disgusts youit sometimes even
disgusts me. The house is worsewhich is why I'm taking you round
to the patio. At least there you can enjoy roughshod nature." He
paused, then shouted through an open window: "Cristobal! Bring
drinkstwo men and a woman!"
Josie laughed. "That's rather primitive, isn't it? What will he bring?"

"Two whiskeys and a pink gin." He turned to Julius.' "Cristobal

remembers pink gin from when your wife's sister came here at
Christmas. She insisted on it, so he poured some gin and coloured it
with cochineal. After that she mixed her own refreshment, but
Cristobal learned."

"I remember hearing about it. Noel's with us again, you know."

"Now?" Rick Hedley placed chairs about an iron table that was much
in need of a coat of paint. "How could she tear herself from the
grandees of Alicante?"

"No one ever knows Noel's reasons for doing anything," said Julius.
"I should imagine she occasionally gets tired of painting the Spanish
scene."

"Not she," Rick scoffed. "She has pesetas in her fingertips and she
knows it." He smiled at Josie. "Noel hates the sight of me."

"Does she? Why?"

"I've got no use for money, and she loves it. She idolizes success, and
I'm one of those happy nondescripts who've never got no place and
never wanted to. Smoke?"

She took a cigarette, looked up at the rambling roses that dropped in

clusters from the beams roofing the patio. "This is a lovely spot.
You're high, aren't you?"

"The house is fairly well up, but the plantation drops almost to sea
level."

"Yes, I saw it from the road the other day. It was the first time I'd
ever seen bananas growing. It was windy and the plants looked like
masses of green silk streamers. You people who live on Marganeta
don't know how lucky you are."

"We do at times, particularly after a week or two on the mainland.

Will you both stay to lunch? It'll be plain but wholesome!"

"They'll expect us back," said Julius. "I came over to introduce

Josie."

"Then let Josie stay. I'll take her home."

The drinks arrived, and with a wink Rick handed to Josie her pink
gin. They raised glasses and sipped, and Josie was glad to discover
that the servant had barely shown the gin bottle to her glass. The
drink was ice-cold and refreshingly unlike anything she had ever
tasted before.

From the patio she looked along a crazy path between weed-grown
flower-beds. Beyond these were almond and orange trees, all of them
badly in need of pruning. After that the ground seemed gradually to
drop away, for the hills showed up, green and gold and humped
against the hot blue sky.

She had been half prepared for the neglected appearance of the house
and garden. On the way, her father had told her Rick's story and
mentioned the quirk in his nature that wouldn't allow him to work
much more than was necessary to feed and clothe himself and his
son. Little Tod, whose real name was Robert, was a true child of
nature and thoroughly experienced in the ways of his father; he was
exactly as his father wanted him to be.

While they smoked and got through their drinks, Josie half listened to
the talk between Julius and Rick Hedley. They discussed banana
barges and shipping rates, a pelota match both had witnessed two or
three weeks ago, and the important question of water.
"I lost half my last crop through lack of water," Rick said negligently.
'I've replanted in places, but the ground is too dry. The one thing
lacking on Marganeta is rain."

"You should have left half your land in olives. They thrive without
water and the market price isn't too bad."

"I get along. Morland's offered to buy all I can produce for export to
Britain. It seems that in spite of the lengths of potato selling
nowadays as bananas, there's still a market for the small Canaries,
like mine. He got me a good price last time."

"You should be able to plough back some profits, then."

"There's still a chunk due on the bond, but we're coming out. I'm in
no hurry."

Presently Julius said he must go. Josie stood up with him, but Rick,
taller than either, waved a protesting hand.

"Leave Josie here with me. I haven't had a visitor in months, and it'll
do me the world of good to talk to a city girl."

"Want to stay, Josie?"

"Mr. Hedley's fairly safe, isn't he?"

Rick grinned and shoved back his hair. "I'm safe enough, as men go.
In fact, my reputation with women is almost too good. Isn't it,
Julius?"

Her father smiled. "That's one side of you I've never understood. All
right, I'll get going and leave Josie. Give my love to Tod. Where is
he, by the way?"
"Fishing down on the rocks, with Cristobal's boy. He'll be up when
he's hungry."

"If he were my boy I'd be terrified he'd drown."

"Sure, and look what Denis has grown into! If he were tougher he
wouldn't have much time for Lola Panado's."

"Denis is coming round," said Julius tolerantly. "It takes all sorts,
Rick. You'll be the first to admit that."

Rick nodded, smiling. "Certainly wouldn't "do if they were all like
me. So long then, Julius. I'll look after this girl of yours."

Josie waved to her father as he backed on to a badly rutted road, then

looked about her with more interest. The front of the house was
really terrible. It had once been white stucco, but now it was grey and
much of the stucco had peeled, exposing great masses of bricks
which had been made by hand many years ago. The steps into the
porch were cracked and chipped, the door itself was a mass of broken
paint blisters, and the doorstop appeared to be a brick wrapped in a
piece of old curtaining.

"Go right in and see how the poor live," said Rick nonchalantly.
"Thanks to Cristobal, the place is clean."

They were big rooms, sparsely furnished with pieces which had been
Carved locally many years ago. There was a divan with a faded but
spotless cover and a decided sag in the middle, rugs which once had
been bright but were now uniformly drab and threadbare. The worn
curtains were a cheap kind of cottage weave and in the living-room a
rectangle of cardboard took the place of two windowpanes. Yet the
floors and wooden surfaces of the furniture gleamed, the two brass
candlesticks with half-burnt candles in them winked with the beauty
of gold.
"The way I look at it," said Rick, his shoulders lifted carelessly,
"once I begin spending there'll be no end to it.

It never occurred to you that an educated Englishman could live like

this, did it?"

"No, but you wouldn't do it without a reason." She smiled up at him.

"One thing you can be sure of: if you ever do get an urge to start
renovating you have a wonderful framework to start on. I think we
should all live in the way that makes us happiest."

"Good for you, Josie. You're the first woman to see this place and
mind her own business. Let's stick to the patio; it's lighter."

He more or less lived out here, he explained to her when he had her
seated again and was himself comfortable in a groaning wicker chair
under the roses. Josie was sure that after his own fashion he was
really happy, and she was the last person to judge another for taking
the weak way out. Perhaps he wasn't weak; his uncaring attitude
could have been forced upon him by circumstances.

He told her odd items of interest about this part of the island and she
questioned him eagerly. She noticed the lines from nostril to mouth,
the well-defined crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and thought he
looked even older than he was.

"Are you always going to stay here on Marganeta?" she asked finally.

He shrugged. "In places like this time slides over you and nothing
matters very much. As soon as you get among people you start
wanting things. I expect there's quite a lot you want, Josie."

"No, I'm fairly content." Yes, I am, she told herself firmly under her
breath. "I do wish my family were in England so that I could visit
them sometimes, but I'll feel better now that I know exactly how they
live. Have you always been in farming?"

He shook his head casually. "I used to run a small copper mine in
Spain. I married there and that's where Tod was born." A pause.
"Your father thinks my wife died, but she didn't. I divorced her."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He gestured. "It's the sort of thing that happens to some people, I was
never much of a judge of women."

"But it must have hurt you or you wouldn't have come to Marganeta."

"It didn't hurt very muchjust made me sick and tired of marriage. It
was lucky I had Tod."

"You've brought him up yourself?" she asked curiously.

"With Cristobal. We've never bothered with him much- fed him,
bathed him, given him clean clothes and a warm bed. He's a great
kid."

"Does he read?"

"Good lord, no. What does he want with books?"

"But he'll grow up a little savage! It's only fair to give him the
ordinary advantages enjoyed by other children. Think what he'll miss
if he can't read!"

"All in good time. When he starts taking an interest in books I'll teach
him to read."

Josie wondered why she felt so strongly about this. It seemed to her
that Rick Hedley had a problem that he continually shoved into the
background. She liked him, but his attitude vexed her. In one way it
was almost admirable; in another it was entirely selfish.

"By the time he can read nursery rhymes and fairy tales he won't
have much use for them," she said. "You may wish then that you
hadn't deprived him while he was of an age to love them."

He leaned back in his chair, smiling. "How do you know so much

about children?"

"Some of our patients are very young. I've had to get polio victims
walking and take my turn with orthopaedic outpatients. Some of
those have been tough, like your Tod; they're the ones who revel in
adventure stories. Seven is rather early to go rock fishing, you
know."

"There's a reasonableness about you, Josie," he said easily, "that

makes me feel a heel. Your stepmother disapproves of me entirely,
and if this were England she'd put the child welfare authorities on to
me. Noel is plain disgusted with my whole mode of living, and the
other English women on the island ignore me completely, much to
my satisfaction. But you, if you put your mind to it, could make me
see the error of my one track ways. You'll have to come here often."

"Don't you ever go to Las Rosas?"

"Only when Isabel is away at Alicante. She's afraid I may

contaminate your brother. She doesn't realize that Denis, through his
parents, is essentially respectable. For what it's worth, his character is
already formed."

"Do you think," she asked gently, "that you're entitled to judge other
people? They say that as a man's house is, so is the man, but I don't
believe it of you. It isn't my concern..."
"Go ahead," he encouraged her. "I've heard it all before, but your
slant is more human. And your voice is as pretty as your face, Josie."

"If you're going to scoff -" she began.

"Not at all! This is the best Sunday morning I've had in years. If you
don't believe I'm as scarred as the house, what do you believe?"

"The house is humble, but you aren't. You're a man with a grudge. By
living the way you do you're avenging yourself on societyand on
the wife who let you down. On the whole I believe you're enjoying it,
and it wouldn't really matter except for Tod. You're having your
revenge on him, too."

"You won't think so, when you know him. He's totally happy and
uninhibited."

"Children can grow up beautifully in almost any surroundings." Josie

wished she didn't sound so earnest but she had to go on. "Seven is a
knowledgeable age, and it won't be long before he begins wondering
why you don't live as other English people do. He should have been
at school two years ago, among others like himself, and the longer
you keep him apart the more difficult it's going to be for him to
adjust himself. He's just a child. He doesn't have to nurse your silly
grievances."

"Hey!" Rick sat up suddenly. "That's a bit of a stinger, isn't it?"

"Well," rather weakly, "you did ask for it."

He sat forward with his bare forearms along his knees. Smiling at her
he looked rugged and attractive, the slackness gone from his mouth.
"I ought to have met a girl just like you about ten years ago, Josie. By
now I'd be one of the millions who care a lot for their wives and
families. Some time I'll start worrying about Todbut not today."
Cristobal came out to set the table for lunch. Josie took the thin check
cloth from him and spread it, placed knives and forks and plates and
smiled at the swarthy little Spaniard when he thanked her. He
brought a long crusty golden loaf, a dish of butter, a jug of wine and
glasses, cold joints of chicken, tomatoes, radishes and pineapple cut
into straws. He placed a dish of fruit and another of soft white cheese
on a smaller table, and asked if everything was as the senorita
wished.

"You notice he asked you," said Rick, after the servant had gone. "I
get whatever he cares to serve. These Spaniards never feel right
without a woman about the? place."

"Very sensible, too," stated Josie, as she shook out her napkin. "You
should definitely have married again and fairly quickly. It's the only
way to cure embitterment."

"Now you're becoming as banal as the rest," he commented, serving

her with chicken. "A second marriage would have been as big a flop
as the first, because I don't fall in love wisely. Now if you were a few
years older, Josie . . ."

"I know; you'd marry me, because I'm too ordinary to fail you. But
you wouldn't fall in love with me because I'm too ordinary for that,
too. What lovely radishes! Do you grow them?"

"Cristobal does. Ever tried these plum tomatoes? However red,

they're always firm." He helped himself, and said quietly, "You're not
ordinary, Josie. You may not keel a guy over "the minute he looks at
you, but you've got something too many other women don't have.
Hang on to it."

That meal was one of the pleasantest Josie had had since coming to
Marganeta. Sunshine dappled the patio, scents struggled through the
weeds in that prolific garden and the breeze was like cool silk against
the skin. Rick ate and talked and smoked and drank, and Josie felt
she didn't really blame him for taking the easy way out after his
divorce. He had walked out on his job at the copper mine, had
actually been offered a situation with the Mendoza-Cortez company
in Alicante but preferred to take a chance away from the world at Las
Hermanas. He grew bananas because it was easy, ignored the
demands of his crumbling dwelling because that was easy too. One
shouldn't like such a man, Josie told herself; his whole approach to
his problems was feeble and Las Hermanas would have been better
served by almost any other owner. Still, Rick Hedley did have a little
charm left.

Their luncheon was well over when Tod burst upon the scene. They
heard him shouting in Spanish as he came up the back path, and his
older companion replying with less enthusiasm. Then Tod came
round to the patio, a small round-faced boy with red hair and oddly
dark eyes, his overalls like those of any other youngster, his shirt
printed with washed-out ukuleles and palm trees. He threw a spate of
Spanish at his father, gestured excitedly.

"Is that so?" said Rick equably. "Speak in English, Tod."

The boy sighed and said, "Vista bueno," which is the Spanish
equivalent of O.K., and climbed on to his chair. He gave Josie a
glance full of detached interest, and shovelled chicken on to his plate.

"I guess he does need a woman around, at that," commented Rick.

Then, to the child, "This is Josie Vayle, Tod. Say hallo."

"Hallo," said Tod.

"Not with your mouth full!"

Tod stared at his father in some surprise, and Rick laughed. The
moment passed, and Rick suggested he and Josie walk down the
garden while the animal fed. Tod was amused at this, and he
immediately tried to bite his food from the plate in imitation of a dog.

"You should be ashamed," Josie said severely, when she and Rick
were out of the boy's hearing. "I believe I'll start a child welfare
society on Marganeta myself!"

"Make it a school," he said, "and both Tod and I will become your
pupils. You know, Josie, I've an idea that you'd grow on a man. Will
you do me a favour?"

"What sort of favour?" she asked cautiously.

"Any time you're this way come in and speak to Tod. He's very
intelligent, but apart from me he has no one English .to talk to. Don't
try to teach him anything. Just talk to him as if he were . . . well, your
little brother. I'll be glad to see you, too."

"You can't salve your conscience that way, you know. Tod needs
someone who'll take more than a passing interest in him."

"How long are you here, Josie?"

"Two months in all."

"That could be a beginning, anyway. You're hereby invited to call at

Las Hermanas at least three times a week.''

"Thanks. I'm not sure whether that's hospitality or coercion!"

After that he showed her the acres of bananas and a sweeping view of
the rocky shore. There were cottages along the coast and a few boats
a little way out oft the blue sea, creating a scene that was almost
insidious in its peacefulness. One could see why a man like Rick
Hedley had chosen this spot in which to live. He was a born idler.
It was around four when they set out for Las Rosas in a vehicle which
must have been built during the year jeeps were first thought of. It
creaked and rattled but held together as they jogged along the coast
road. They came to the spacious villas, each set in its couple of acres,
and were about a hundred yards from the one which was Stuart's
when the white car came out on to the road and sped ahead.

"I suppose you've met Morland," Rick said. "It was actually through
him that I bought Las Hermanas, and now he's sorry he let me have
it. But he can't do a thing while I pay the interest on the bond." A
pause. "Does Noel see much of him?"

The morning at his farm had been like a suspension of time and
activity to Josie. Now, she was wading back into the uneasiness and
personal, strife that seemed inseparable from Las Rosas.

"She only arrived on Friday. The family dined with Stuart Morland
last night."

He smiled. "I knew she was after him at Christmas. She's too damned
selfish to make anyone a good wife."

"She's only selfish because she has no one else to bother with. I think
there's a softness in Noel's nature if a man cared to probe. A woman
wouldn't find it."

"How very true."

He went silent, and they reached the villa without speaking again. He
turned on to the short drive, braked abruptly behind the white car.
Josie got out and looked in at him.

"It sounds as if they're all round the back, in the patio. Coming?"

"Why not?" He stood on the drive, and slammed the jeep door.
The pink shirt, Josie noticed now, was faded and worn at the collar;
the nap had gone from the knees of the velvet trousers. As she looked
at his uncaring expression she felt a qualm. Isabel wouldn't like this,
particularly as Stuart was there. Yes, Stuart had come; her heart gave
a bump at the thought.

She led the way round to the back of the house, smoothed the skirt of
her flowered print with fingers gone stiff and nervous. She saw
Denis, sprawling among cushions on the flags; Noel, cool and palely
tanned, in emerald slacks and a white blouse; her father seated
comfortably in one of the lounge chairs; Isabel upright and swiftly
hostile. And Stuart, rising from his chair to greet them politely; broad
shoulders in a white silk shirt, off-white slacks of excellent cut, hair
sleek and dark above the deep forehead.

"So you're better, Josie," he said. "We missed you last night."

"Yes." She hardly knew what she was saying. "I'm sorry I upset your
arrangements."

"It was such a bad head," murmured Isabel very coolly.

Stuart turned to Josie's companion. "We don't see much of you these
days, Rick."

"I'd have dropped Josie and gone, if curiosity hadn't brought me in to

take a look at Noel," said Rick smoothly. "Gets better-looking,
doesn't she?"

"Sit down, Rick," interposed Julius Vayle diplomatically. "Now

you're here you'll have some tea with us."

Rick looked at Isabel, who sat staring frozenly into space. His grin
was wry. "No, I won't embarrass you by staying to tea; my tipple is
normally stronger, as you know. I like your daughter, Julius; she's
natural. Thanks for bringing her over, and here she is, back again. So
long, Josie. Goodbye, everyone." And he pushed his hands into his
pockets and walked away.

The moments following might have been awkward had not Denis
commented, "Rick couldn't have meant to be sociable in that get-up.
Last time he came herewhen Mother was awayhe came dressed
up in his zootiest shirt and green velvet trousers with a sash at the
waist. Imagine an Englishman behaving the way he does."

"Rick's all right," said Stuart unexpectedly, "even if he does make

one want to knock him flat. But I wouldn't say he's an ideal
companion for your daughter, Julius."

"Josie can manage Rick," said her father. "To those he likes, he's
harmless."

"Is that child still with him at Las Hermanas?" asked Noel.

Josie said, "Yes, I saw him. He wanders home to eat and then
wanders away again. He doesn't seem to have a care in the world."

"Someone should do something about the boy," declared Isabel. "In

England, he could be taken away from a father like Rick."

"I doubt it," said Stuart. "He has everything a boy can need, except
schooling. To a point, Rick could educate him himself, but he's not
that type of man."

"He needs a wife," said Julius Vayle.

"What woman," cried Noel with contempt, "would share that horrible
house with him and put up with his slack ways, and his drinking?"

"He does soak it up, but I've never seen him the worse for it."
"Don't think about him, Noel," said Isabel "You did your best with
him at Christmas and got no result. He glories in annoying those who
want to help him."

As a topic, Rick, then became boring. Josie had sunk into the chair
Stuart had placed for her, and she found him sitting next to her, very
close but somehow withdrawn. She felt grubby, but didn't want to
attract attention by moving. When tea came she accepted her cup
from him and refused the pastries.

Stuart leaned towards her, and under cover of the others'

conversation, he said companionably, "As you weren't able to meet
my guests last night, I want you to meet them today. When we've had
tea, I'll take you home with me."

A delicious uncertainty stole over her, seemed to cause an acute ache

between her heart and her throat. She wanted to place her hand over
the one he had rested on the arm of her chair and to say she would do
anything he wished. Something, though, caused her to turn her head
quickly and look at Isabel; Isabel, who was smiling tightly, her
yellow eyes bright with warning.

Josie moistened lips gone suddenly dry. "I'm afraid I can't come
today. I've been out since about ten this morning."

"Were you all that time with Rick Hedley?"

She nodded. "He seemed very grateful to have a visitor."

"Was he expecting you?"

"No. My father seems to like him, and he took me over."

"Yet I invited you last night, and am inviting you again." He spoke
crisply. "What is it that makes you afraid to come to my house?"
"I'm not afraid. I'd love it, but . . ."

"Very well. You're coming." He turned at once to her father and said
clearly, "May I take Josie home with me, Julius? She hasn't yet met
Camilla and her mother, and I'd particularly like her to describe the
house we saw yesterday to Senora Lopez."

"But why not bring Camilla and her mother here for dinner?" purred
Isabel. "Then the senora. and Josie could have their talk."

"You're very kind, Isabel, but after a late night the senora needs rest.
You understand?"

"Of course, poor dear. But won't Josie be rather too much for her?
Couldn't they come here tomorrow night, or Tuesday?"

Josie said quickly, quietly, "Yes, perhaps that would be best."

Stuart's glance flashed her way once; it glittered. But he spoke

suavely. "Perhaps Josie wouldn't mind sparing a brief hour this
evening to the senora." He looked at his watch. "If we leave in half
an hour, we could be back by six-thirty. I take it she has some other
dinner engagement?"

"Not a bit of it," said Julius calmly. "Keep her for dinner, if you want
to. It's quite all right; isn't it, Isabel?"

"You seem to be in demand, Josie," said Isabel with a shrug. "You'd

better go and change."

The final remark was intended, Josie knew, to reduce her to the
category of someone negligible being sent on an errand. But as she
went through the lounge to the hall staircase she felt her heart lifting,
and a little tune began humming through her lips. She heard Lucia
shout brusquely, "Oye, tu, Manoel!' and knew that Manoel would
have to talk himself out of something; he loved to be henpecked.
She washed, then changed with the door of the tiny bedroom wide to
the breeze along the corridor. She wore the short-sleeved powder
blue suit with white collar and cuffs, and fastened about her neck a
heavy-linked silver chain. With a towel over her shoulders she
brushed the golden-brown hair till it shone and waved gently, and
then she made up carefully to preserve the light tan she had acquired.
Her lips needed but the merest touch of summer red. She
remembered that Rick had said her voice was pretty and wondered if
it was true. It was all wrong and utterly stupid, but she had to be at
her best for Stuart. Even if he didn't care, he noticed such things.

She went downstairs, went into the lounge and found Stuart there
with her father. In the doorway she hesitated, as if uncertain whether
she was wanted just now.

"We've finished, Josie," her father said. "Business can always wait
till Monday, anyway."

"We'll leave then," observed Stuart. "I've already said my goodbyes.

I'll call in at your office tomorrow morning, Julius."

"I'll have the papers ready. I'm very much obliged, Stuart."

"I'm sorry we didn't do this before," with a charming smile. "It

always seemed easier to work from Alicante, but on the whole it
makes very little difference. We'll celebrate the first load of ore you
shift for us."

"That's a date." Julius smiled at them both, spoke to Josie. "Have a

good evening, to make up for last night. And don't take Rick and that
shack of his too much to heart; he has a great time making people
sorry for him."

Josie felt light as air as she sat beside Stuart and he drove away from
Las Rosas. The first gold of sunset tinged the sky, but the sun itself
still rode high above the horizon and sent blinding rays across the
bonnet of the car.

"Why was your father so keen for you to meet Rick Hedley?" he
asked, after they had been moving for a few minutes.

"I'm not sure, except that Rick is one of his friends. Las Hermanas is
a marvellous place really, isn't it? He could do so much there, if he'd
only bother."

"Rick poses, I'm afraid. He's had a surfeit of advice and offers of help
but none of it appeals to him. In any case, he has six years of
backsliding to pull up. It would take something pretty powerful to
make him do that."

"It may have sounded trite when my father said it, but Rick does need
a wife. I daresay everyone who's tried to alter things up there has
emphasized the importance of Tod and the land, but the whole
trouble is inside Rick himself. I suppose it's not easy to restore a
man's faith in himself, but I think a woman who loved him a great
deal could do it."

He looked at her keenly. "Did you and he talk about such things?"

"We hinted at them, perhaps." She said impulsively, "My fingers

itched to put that place right. Rick says that if he started on
renovations it would eventually cost a fortune, but I don't believe it.
A bag of cement and a few gallons of colourwash would take care of
the outside walls, and the inside could be improved gradually without
costing the earth."

"Rick knows that as well as you do," he said abruptly. "It's not your
business, Josie."
Startled at his tone, she said slowly, "Surely it's anyone's business?
Rick doesn't seem to have any close friends, and I shouldn't be
surprised if that's the reason he glories in shocking everyone who
goes there."

"Were you shocked?"

"Mildly. I understood too well to be really shaken."

He was gazing ahead at the road, his eyes narrowed. "So you felt you
could put him right?"

"Oh, come. I didn't say that!"

"You implied it. The work you do in England is humane. You're able
to alleviate physical suffering, but that doesn't make you an expert in
mental therapy. Since Rick's lived at Las Hermanas no woman, as
such, has tried to influence him. If you innocently wade in you'll find
yourself caught up in something sticky and complex, and you may
even take a step you'll regret for the rest of your life."

Josie blinked, stole a glance at the hard profile. The hooked nose and
cleft chin jutted formidably. "I'm only here on holiday, you know,"
she reminded him.

He ignored this. "Will you go to Las Hermanas again, if he asks

you?"

"He did ask me. He wants me to start civilizing little Tod."

"And you agreed to do it?" he asked swiftly.

"Well, I have time on my hands and I like children."

Stuart left the conversation just there for the moment. They were
within sight now of the more spacious villas which lay on the coastal
road with gardens sloping down to the beach. Most of the owners
were wealthy Spaniards, but a few English lived there too. The
women were friends of Isabel's, and it was with them that she
competed in the matter of dress. Denis knew their sons and
daughters.

Josie said quickly, "That money you lent usI haven't yet heard
from the bank in England."

He glanced at her speculatively. "You give yourself too extravagantly

and without thinking. If Fm not mistaken your brother's debts took
almost all the cash you had, and now you're blithely contemplating
giving something infinitely more precious to a man you met only this
morning. Let me tell you something your father said to me privately,
while he was at my house last night. He told me you're very like your
mother, who was a nursethat she lost her life when you were tiny
because she deemed it her duty to alleviate the shortage of staff in the
local hospital during an epidemic. Wouldn't you call that a mistaken
nobility of character?"

"By spending a little time with Tod," she said stubbornly, looking out
through the window, "I wouldn't be depriving someone else. My
mother did what she thought was right; she may have saved lives,
and she didn't lose mine for me."

"But you couldn't do what she did?"

She hesitated. "No, I don't think I could."

"Yet you have the same streak in your character. Rick Hedley and his
Tod need to be saved, and you're willing to have a go at it. I suggest
you look around before you do anything drastic. There could be
people who'd get hurt."
Unsure what he was getting at, Josie remained silent. Her father
wouldn't mind if she saw Tod fairly often, she reflected, and neither
would Denis. Isabel might be against it, but she wouldn't object
openly so long as she didn't have to see the two Hedleys herself. Noel
was only a visitor, and it wasn't her business, anyway.

"I think you're just determined to disapprove of me," she said finally,
"simply because you don't like Rick."

'Tm thinking further than you are," he said evenly.

And then it came to her, and she felt her temples go cold and damp.
"Noel?" she queried huskily.

"Noel," he said, with impersonal crispness.

So that was it. Noel disliked Rick, and Stuart didn't want her stay on
Marganeta marred by frequent argument and discussion about the
man. It had probably cost him quite a good deal in self-control to
retain his agreeable demeanour this afternoon, when Rick had cast
his faintly unpleasant remarks at Noel Mervyn. For her sake, Stuart
had remained urbane, but there was that in him which would not
tolerate too much from the man who scratched a living from the
meagre plantation of bananas. Certainly he had better not come again
to Las Rosas while Stuart was there.

They arrived at the long ornate wall that fronted the green-roofed
house, turned between pillars and ran along a gravel drive between
frangipani and pink oleander. The car stopped beside semi-circular
steps which led up into a cloistered terrace, and Stuart got out. He
came round to Josie's door and opened it.

She stepped on to the drive, gently but firmly drew her elbow close to
her side to avoid his touch. He looked down at her, his smile glinting.
His fingers inserted themselves between her side and her arm, and he
gripped.

Softly, dangerously, he said, "I've never yet taken an enemy into my

house, and I don't intend to do so now. Rick Hedley means nothing at
all to me, and if you're wise he'll never mean a thing to you, either."

Her head went up. "I'll choose my own friends, Mr Morland."

"Nothing against that," he said tersely, "so long as you use your
natural common sense!"

Those fingers were hurting. "Look here," she said crossly, "I
managed quite a few friendships before I even knew of your
existence. I'm not a half-wit."

"I'd say you were typically a girl who needs saving from herself," he
returned. His tones became alien and commanding, the hand behind
her elbow relaxed slightly, but grew persuasive. "We're almost
certainly being watched from the lounge, so let's go in and pretend
that we like each other!"

With which he led her up the steps, across a very beautiful mosaic
terrace and into the house.
CHAPTER FIVE

JOSIE refused to be impressed by Stuart Morland's house. The sitting-

room was long and furnished in the elegant baroque style that
collectors go crazy about; there were two sumptuously decorated
couches, a very ornamental chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl,
armchairs that were comfortable as well as splendid, and small
dignified tables placed so discreetly that they blended without being
noticeable. The French carpet, inextricably patterned in cherry red
and soft blue, yielded underfoot, and the cherry-red curtains were
rich in the half-daylight and the glow of a single wrought- iron
standard lamp.

Senora Lopez, in a fairly modern stiff silk black dress, her greying
hair piled neatly and secured with a wide ornamental comb, remained
seated but extended a thin brownish hand. Her English was soft and
hesitating.

"I trust you are now fully recovered?" she said softly.

Josie was beginning to detest the fabricated headache. "Yes, thank

you, senora. I'm very happy to meet you."

Then Stuart presented Camilla, and Josie knew why she had shivered
as she had come into the room. Noel was bad enough, with her
careless good looks, her half-insolent manner, the attractively hoarse
voice. This Spanish girl was just too much!

For Camilla Lopez was beautiful as only the young Spanish woman
can be beautiful. Her features and skin were smooth and flawless, the
nose a miracle both in shape and proportion. Josie's own hair had a
faint natural wave, but compared with those black glossy crests
caught back charmingly with a gardenia behind the ear, her golden-
brown locks were towor so she thought. Camilla also wore the
conventional black, but her dress was of silk and slim-fitting, and
there were two bands of scarlet about the skirt. She had the serene
tranquillity of a woman who knows herself loved, her future secure
and full of promise.

Josie returned her greeting, caught a rather sharp, mocking smile

from Stuart as he excused himself on the grounds of needing a jacket,
and went from the room. In her chair near the senora Josie tried to
relax.

The older woman, her long face sallow and smiling, spoke again in
uncertain English. "So you have seen with Stuart these jasmine
gardens and the house," she began. "He is not ... content with the
house. No?"

"The rooms are small," Josie said slowly and carefully, "but there are
many and they could have walls knocked down, to make two into
one."

"Is possible? There is also no patio? "

"No, but there's plenty of room for expansion and the views are
breathtaking."

"The views?" puzzled the senora.

"Buenas vistas, madre mia," put in Camilla unobtrusively.

"Oh, so." The senora nodded. "I do not object to small rooms if they
are cool and there is a patio. The house looks like a box, Stuart says,
but that also can be altered. I think we must go to see these perfume
gardens, Camilla."

"Yes, Mama."

"Perhaps we can arrange it that Miss Vayle also comes with us. At a
second visit she will see more than we do. I wish to be very sure
before investing in the property. Tell me, Senorita Josiewhat did
you think of these people who now own the place? Would you say
they are campesinos?"

Camilla smiled. "My mother means are they poor country people
peasant class?"

"Yes, I suppose they are," said Josie, "but they've worked

tremendously hard to make the farm pay. It's a pity, really, that you
have to see the house as they have it. They've spent nothing at all on
beautifying the interior."

"But that is good," said the older woman firmly. "Their money has
gone into the land. As for the houseall I need is the space. I myself
can make it beautiful."

"I'm sure it's a place one could be happy in," Josie said politely.

"But that's your opinion about many places," said Stuart teasingly as
he came into the room. "You even have a heart-string to spare for Las
Hermanas!" He turned to the senora. "Josie likes primitive houses
and tumbling shacks. Her feelings about these things differ a great
deal from yours."

"It is well," returned Senora Lopez tranquilly. "I have your

description and the senorita's of that place. You would destroy the
house and build a new one, but the senorita dreams improvements
into the present building. She is a creature after my own heart. What
is the wordeconomical!"

Stuart laughed. "Have it your own way. Wine or a cocktail?"

"Madeira," said the senora promptly. "Senorita Josie, you must tell
me about your work. I am not prying, you understand? Merely
interested."
Stuart brought the senora her glass. "Of course you're interested," he
said. "We're all friends here."

But the dark glance that met Josie's as he gave her her drink was not
particularly friendly, and she wondered if her frankness were not to
his liking. There was no working the man out. If she thought about it
she could still feel an ache where his fingers had pressed into her
arm, and she had the conviction that even yet, under the slightly
mocking but conventional facade, he was angry about something.

The evening was not particularly enjoyable. She had the sensation of
having stumbled into a foreign family circle, of speaking a language
that no one else quite understood. There were moments, during the
serving of that rather elaborate meal, when Josie knew that much
more of this atmosphere- would be unbearable.

They drank coffee and cognac in a patio roofed with bougainvillea,

watched a sickle moon sailing down to the horizon. It was Stuart who
suggested the senora should go early to bed.

"Yes, you are right," she said. "Come, Camilla. We will say
goodnight to you, Senorita Josie, and hope to see you again soon.
Give my compliments to your good parents."

Josie had stood up, ready to go. She waited a moment, while Stuart
escorted the two women to the door of the house, and moved on to
the path as he joined her. The air was warm, the stars very bright in a
blue-black sky.

He nodded down the garden. "It's not very late. Shall we go down to
the beach?"

The sand gave underfoot, filled Josie's white shoes. They slowed, not
far from Stuart's bathing house, and Josie remembered the party
there, by lamplight, the music and singing, the dancing in bare feet to
the clicking of castanets.

She must have made some sound, for he said, "That sigh is a little
nostalgic. Regretting something?"

"No. I was thinking how clever Armando Ramirez is with the

castanets. I'd always imagined it was only Spanish women who could
use them."

"And how did you arrive at Ramirez and his castanets?"

"I was remembering the beach party you gave for us. The Santa
Fedora sat out there on the sea, just as she does now. How far away
is the ship?"

"About half a mile. There's an old caretaker aboard, but no one else.
I'll take you out to it one day." He indicated a couple of canvas chairs
outside the beach house. "Sit down for a moment."

She did, and leant back with her hands behind her head. A silence
stretched between them, a silence that seemed for him to be wholly
peaceful. The sea grumbled gently, the ship's lights trembled, there
was the ghost of a breeze, the whisper of leaves.

'Is Marganeta as you imagined it?" he asked presently.

She thought for a minute. "Physically, yes," she answered slowly,

"but not the people. I mean the people my family are friendly with
-and others. Except for the Villa Panado I've been pleasantly
surprised."

"In Rick Hedley, too?"

"Are we back at Rick?" she said ruefully. "How on earth do you

expect me to feel about an Englishman who's let everything slide?
My father accepts Rick as he is, and I suppose you do, too. I accept
part of him, but there are things which . . . well, I just can't take
them."

"You'll have to," he said abruptly. "He doesn't respond to kindness."

"He has his own particular type of pride, but he's not hard. He's not
even difficult to understand."

He sat forward, half turned his head her way. "We've had this out,
Josie, and there's no point in getting heated over it again. Rick gets a
peculiar satisfaction from living the way he does, and it only amuses
him when anyone takes him up and tries to change him."

"Yet it seems to me to be very simple. He has only to care for

someone more than he cares for himself."

"For you?" he asked coolly.

"There you go again. For a start, Tod would do. Supposing someone
could persuade Rick to let Tod go to school on the mainland. The
little boy would gradually widen his sense of values, and that way
he'd alter Rick. You know, Rick would die before he'd let Tod
down."

Stuart's glance at her was unreadable in the darkness and his voice
didn't give much away, either. "Do you think you could persuade
him?"

"I've a good mind to have a try."

A pause. Then Stuart said, "Don't do a thing for a few days. After all,
you've only just met the man. The rakish air may have appeal for a
woman and the way he lives is enough to rouse the reformer in
anyone. But let it simmer. And let me remind you once again that
Rick is barnacled with six years' sloth. He'll need a hell of a lot of
reconditioning!"

She smiled "I'm glad you're not dead against him anyway."

"I'm dead against your having much to do with him!"

Her heart lurched. "Because I'm . . . new to things here?" she queried
quietly.

"There are other reasons, too." Offhandedly, he said, "Rick Hedley's

not worth all this discussion and heart- searching, and nights like this
shouldn't be spoiled that way. Do you ever go bathing after dark?"

"I did that night you gave us a party down here. In fact, I believe my
best swim-suit is still in there," nodding sideways towards the beach-
house. "I've been going to call for it." An uneasy excitement caught
in her throat. "Be lovely to bathe now, wouldn't it? But I expect the
Spanish in you wouldn't agree to that."

"Where you're concerned," he said drily, "the Spanish in me doesn't

get a look in. Go and change into your swim- suit. There are always
plenty of towels."

Her eyes widened at him in the darkness. "Would you come in, too?"

"I can't let you swim alone in the dark."

"You don't really want me to go in, do you?"

"Why do you have to set up an argument every time I agree with one
of your suggestions? Would it please something feminine in you if I
always turned you down?"

"This isn't a very . . . usual kind of suggestion."

"On the whole," he said deliberately, "we're not very usual people,
Josie. Not when we get together, anyway. Do you want to swim, or
don't you?"

"Yes, I do!" She jumped up. "I won't be long."

"I keep the lamps at the house, in case of fire. Can you manage
without a light?"

"Easily. This is fun!"

She changed quickly, hanging her blue silk suit over the back of one
of the log seats in the dimness. Her swim-suit hung on one of the
hooks, and there were spare bathrobes, too, though she didn't want
one. The suit had the slightly damp feel of dried sea water, and she
shivered inside it, deliciously. She opened the door.

"My cap must be somewhere about, but I can't find it."

"Try the bathrobe pockets," he said. "There's sure to be one to fit

you."

Her suit was saffron and white, the cap she found scarlet, but it didn't
matter. She came right out on to the beach, revelled in the cool air
over her skin.

"I'll give you just two minutes," she said.

"You'll darned well wait for me," he told her severely, "or I'll punish
you as you've never been punished before."

Alone, she danced about lightly on the sand. Heart and throat were
feverish and she was trembling. Her brain felt light and uncertain,
and it shied away from thoughts of Noel and Camilla Lopez. Barely
two minutes had passed before she could bear the inactivity no
longer.
"Stuart!" she called, "I'm going in. I'm going to swim straight out to
the Santa Fedora!"

She didn't hear his sharp reply. She flitted straight down the beach
and into the water, fell flat and struck out towards those swaying
lights. The water was marvellously buoyant and cold and there were
no waves to speak of; and she swam as she had never swum before,
strongly, swiftly and almost without effort. The feverishness fell
away, leaving only the excitement and a sense of well-being.

She looked back, saw Stuart splashing into the water and laughed
with the sheer joy of knowing that he would have to walk farther than
she did before he would have sufficient depth of water for swimming.
She would easily reach the ship before him. Half a mile, he had said.
She had never swum so far before, but in this water she felt capable
of ten miles.

Again she looked back, to see that Stuart was much nearer than he
should have been. She must put all she had into it. Fishes flashed
phosphorescently, a warm current of water, then a cold one,
stingingly cold.

And there was the Santa Fedora with actually a rope ladder hanging
from its side. Too bad the lowest rung was so high; meant, she
supposed, to be reached only from a rowing boat.

Stuart came beside her. "Turn back, Josie!" he shouted. "We can't
board the ship."

"It's heavenly," she gasped at him, "but much too cold. What's
happened?"

"You've come too far," he said grimly. "There's always a cold belt
out here. Are you all right?"
"Of course." But her leg was crampy. "I'll swim back to the beach."

"Come on, then. About thirty yards and you'll be in warm water
again."

But it seemed to Josie that she would never cover those thirty yards.
Her left leg was behaving most peculiarly from the knee downwards,
and her fingers were going numb. Absurd, she told herself firmly;
shipwreck victims bobbed about for hours in much colder water and
they didn't become distorted with cramp. Not so soon, anyway. But
perhaps this wasn't cramp. Come to think of it, had seemed to happen
when she was kicking out most strongly. But the numb fingers . . .

Stuart was speaking loudly into her ear. "Get on your back, Josie, and
I'll take you in. Leave everything to me."

And how glad she was to do so! She felt the warmer water wash over
her, the numbness left her fingers and there was more sensation in the
leg. Then the sand, and she was on her knees and being lifted.

A minute later she was sitting higher on the beach, breathing heavily
with her head bowed over her knees. Stuart was beside her, one arm
across her back while the other hand pulled off her cap.

"I'm awfully sorry," she said at last, huskily. "I'm not so strong as I
thought I was."

"You scared me half to death," he said. "Stay there. I'll get a towel."

She threw back her hair, took some deep breaths. Stuart dropped a
towel about her shoulders, sat down again at her side.

"Was it cramp?" he asked urgently.

"I don't know. My calf muscle seemed to seize up."

"You were trying to beat me to the ship."

She nodded, and swallowed on the harshness in her throat. Thinly,

she said, "I suppose they wouldn't have given me two months' leave
from the hospital if I'd been a hundred per cent fit. It's too sickening."

He took a cigarette from his case and slipped it between her lips,
searched for the box of matches he had dropped on to the sand. "Ever
swum as far before?"

"Not since I left school, but I thought I'd do it easily." She leant to the
match, held her cigarette with fingers that still shook. "You'd think
that plenty of activity around the hospital would keep anyone up to
the mark, wouldn't you?"

"Too much could wear you out. I told you not to start without me, but
something got into you, and you couldn't wait. I said I'd punish you,
but you've been punished enough."

"I'm sorry, Stuart, truly." The blur of her face turned towards him, her
hair was cloudy about it. The towel slipped, and her shoulders
gleamed. "I feel as if I could weep."

"For God's sake, no!" His tones were low and odd. "We've had a
surfeit of salt water for one evening. Sit there and finish your
cigarette. I'll get into my things and then bring the car down to the
road. It won't be so far for you to walk. Not cold now, are you?"

"No. Only discouraged."

He was close to her, leaning on one hand and speaking softly. "You
mustn't be, Josie. You're not superhumannone of us are. If this had
to happen I'm glad it was while you were with me. You won't take
such a risk again, will you?"

"It didn't seem such a risk."

"Promise, Josie."

His face was dark and near to her own. She saw the water glistening
on his hair, his teeth very white. She put the cigarette between lips
that were dry, then took it out again without inhaling. "All right," she
said huskily. "I . . . I'm glad you're not annoyed with me."

"My dear girl, I was too worried for you to be . annoyed."

A pause widened between them; he was intolerably near. Then he

leaned back slightly to retrieve the fallen towel, his lips brushed her
bare shoulder and a moment later the towel was dropped round her
again, and he had gone up the beach to the log house.

The cigarette, crushed between Josie's fingers, burned them, and she
hastily poked it into the sand. She pushed back her hair, rubbed a jaw
which had gone stiff and controlled. Her skin was so sensitive that
the soft towel felt like sandpaper; pulses seemed to be hammering all
over her body. She stared at the sea, thought of a thousand things
without coherence.

He called her name and she knew he had dressed and wanted her to
dress, too. Somehow, she got to her feet and trod up the beach. She
went inside the beach-house, got into her clothes and came out again.

He was there, big, almost immaculate, smoking a cigarette and

looking along the coast. Without speaking, he took her upper arm
between firm fingers and led her away from the log house and up to
the left, where the car stood on the road.

He put her into the front seat, took his own place and set the car
moving.

He seemed as unwilling to talk as she, but when he stopped the car

outside Las Rosas he put out a detaining hand.
"Would you like me to go in now and explain to your father?"

"It seems as if they're all in bed," she almost whispered, "and there's
no need for him to know. I hope I didn't completely spoil your
evening, Stuart."

He smiled. "Spoil isn't the word; let's say you made it interesting.
You look tousled. Just in case there's anyone up you'd better tidy a
little before you go in." He switched on the interior lights, opened the
glove box. "There you area miniature boudoir set."

The glove box was spacious, lined with wine-coloured velvet. There
was a rectangular mirror, a fancy comb, a white lace handkerchief.
Josie picked up the comb, inadvertently caught its teeth in the
handkerchief and jerked the dainty thing into her lap. Something
rolled on to the seat between theman ivory-white gardenia.

"You'd think," she said very steadily, "that Senorita Lopez would
occasionally wear a scarlet flower in that lovely hair of hers."

Stuart flicked the flower back into the glove box, placed the
handkerchief with it. "Camilla is delightfully old-fashioned," he said
non-committally. "In her part of Cordova a girl wears white flowers
till she's married."

"Is the comb Camilla's, too?"

"No. No one has ever used it. Spanish auto dealers are romantic.
When this car was delivered it was already fitted out like that, and
I've never bothered to alter it."

Josie slid the comb back into its slots. "We'll keep it new, shall we?
Save it for someone special." She was cold and wretched, the scent of
gardenia lingered in her nostrils. "Thanks for bringing me home.
Good-night."
He got out of the car when she did, but only stood waiting till she had
gone up the drive and opened the door. As it closed, his car moved
off.

Josie stood still for a moment in the entrance hall She would have
liked to feel that she had escaped from something exquisitely
dangerous; instead, her sensation was one of chill and let-down. All
she could think of was the gardenia which had not been withered,
as one might have expected, but was fresh as the one Camilla had
worn this evening. He had put it there for her to find; that had been
the purpose in his suggestion that she should tidy her hair. And it
wasn't difficult to understand why.

For just an instant, down there on the beach, he had forgotten his
"special relationship" with Camilla; he had bent and touched his
mouth to a feminine shoulder. But it had taken him no time at all to
re-exert his code, to assume a touch of the aloof and alien. The stray
gardenia assured her of one thing, for what it was worth. The brush
of his lips as he picked up the towel hadn't been accidental. An error,
perhaps, but not entirely without volition.

It meant very little, though. Any man in the same circumstances

might have been similarly tempted, but she could have borne it better
from someone else, someone who meant nothing at all, who could be
laughed at.' Seeing that the man had been Stuart, Josie couldn't even
laugh at herself.

She turned out the small lamp on the hall table, stood for a further
moment to accustom herself to the blackness, and then went forward
up the stairs to bed.

She might have awakened with something new on her mind but no.
Her first memory was of a sentence Stuart had used that first night in
the grounds of the Villa Panado. "Blue eyes are too cool," he'd said,
meaning, probably, that blue-eyed women had a thread of ice along
with the blood in their veins. His eyes were dark, and she had no
doubt at all that his arteries were coursing with strong red wine.

It was early, and she sat up and punched her pillow, but didn't lie
down again. Damn the man. She wouldn't think about him. Let him
have his serene and beautiful Camilla. If Noel Mervyn could take it,
so could Josie Vayle!

She got up, took a cool bath and went down to the kitchen, where
Lucia was busy.

"You are already needing your breakfast, senorita?" she asked.

"Just some tea, please. May I get it myself?"

"The tray is ready and the water boils."

"I'll take it, then."

She waited while the maid spooned tea, filled the pot, and lodged a
small biscuit jar on the tray. On her way upstairs she met her father.

"Hallo, chicken," he said cheerfully, and stopped to receive her kiss.

"You're about early. Seen Denis?"

"No, is he out?"

"More likely he's snoozing!" He looked at her more closely. "Had a

bad night?"

"Heavens, no. I'm beginning to show my age in the mornings!" Then,

hurriedly, "Are you having breakfast downstairs?"
A nod. "If you hadn't been carrying the tray I'd have asked you to
join me. Shall we make it a date for tomorrow at eight?"

"Yes, I'd love it."

"Right. Have a good day."

Josie set down the tray in her small room and opened the window
wider. She drank some tea and nibbled a plain biscuit. Feeling
calmer, she tried to decide what to do with the morning. No bathing,
certainly; she had had enough of the sea for a while! The town of
Marganeta was too small to occupy her for long, but quite definitely
she could not face Isabel before lunch-time. By then her natural
sanity would be restored.

She "must have stood there conjecturing for some time, for her father
came out to the garage, followed slackly by Denis, his fair hair
gleaming in the sunshine. She called down:

"May I go with you and bring back the car? I promise to meet you
with it at lunch-time."

"Lounge-lizard!" said Denis moodily. "What's Monday to a holiday-

maker? If you haven't any of the finer feelings, you might show a
spot of sympathy!"

"You're important to the island," she answered. "You help to keep

communications open."

Josie joined them and got into the car beside her father. Denis threw
himself all over the back seat and sighed. Julius Vayle backed the car
and set off down the road to the town, and she thought that he really
did look a great deal better than when she first saw him.

She said, "You don't seem to object to Mondays."

"I like the weekend," he answered, "but I'm not so keen on doing
nothing as Denis is. Besides, business is trending upwards, and that's
always invigorating."

"Not to me, it isn't," said Denis plaintively. "I have to slave extra for
the same money."

"You may get a rise," his father replied cautiously. "The clerks'
salaries are based on the agency's turnover, and if that goes up you
and Gonzalez may net an extra ten per cent a month, or even more. In
any case, when you've put in your three years' training, you'll be able
to transfer at the full scale. It's a year away, but I've already spoken
for a job for you on the mainland."

"Couldn't loan me a peseta or two till I get it, could you?"

"You've kept out of debt so far," said his father, "and that's something
you can be proud of, taking into consideration those monied fellows
you mix with. Just be patient a while longer."

Denis went quiet. They arrived at the office and Josie said goodbye
to them both and turned the car. She had decided not to return to the
villa. Isabel wouldn't miss her; in fact, she always seemed relieved
when Josie went off on her own, and she couldn't have wanted the
car herself or she would have made some arrangements with Julius.

Josie decided to drive out to Las Hermanas. As she had made Rick's
acquaintance only yesterday it was rather soon to be going there
again, but this time she would give all her attention to little Tod,
perhaps take him away for an hour or two from the ramshackle house
he knew too well. Yes, little Tod Hedley was just what she needed.
CHAPTER SIX

NOTHING ever astonished Tod Hedley. There were agreeable

incidents and those less to his liking, but day followed day with
delightful certainty so that the vague spots of unpleasantness were
soon lost. In any case, by far the greater part of his life was extremely
pleasant. That, thought Josie, as she drove, with him along the coast
road, was going to be the snag to his civilized development. In a way,
it seemed a pity to jerk him out of the way of life to which he had
become accustomed. Growing up among Spanish boys who would
never attend school Tod was perfectly happy. But he wasn't Spanish;
therefore it was safe to assume that if he went on in this way, some
day he would realize what his father had denied him, and it would be
a dreadful blow. The problem wasn't Josie's, thank heaven, but it
existed.

Rick had raised an eyebrow when she had arrived at Las Hermanas
this morning. "Already on the crusade?" he had said. "Suits me, but
don't let him kill you!"

Without much curiosity Tod had climbed into the front seat.
Something about his round face and red hair had caught at Josie's
heart, and as they set off she had indulged in wild pictures of him
schooled but unspoiled. Too silly, really. Contact with others like
himself would be bound to change him.

"What would you like to do this morning?" she asked him now.

"Could we go fishing?"

"But you go fishing every day. Today is different."

Tod looked out of the window to discover how the day was different.
"Girls don't fish, do they?" he said. "But we could go on the rocks.
You can find sponges in the pools. Juan says he's going to be a
sponge fisherman when he grows up. He's going to find big sponges
like you use in the bath."

"Real sponges don't fetch much money these days. Most people buy
rubber ones. What would you like to be when you grow up, Tod?"

"I'm going to fly a plane," he said confidently.

"You have to learn a great deal before you can fly a plane." she said.
"All the little boys who are going to be pilots when they grow up are
now at school. Have you any books, Tod?"

"Some picture books," he nodded, "but I never look at them. The

stuff in them isn't real."

"Books are a bit like dreams," she said. "Don't you sometimes
daydream when you're fishing?"

"Yes," he conceded. "Sometimes I pretend I'm a seagull. Do the

people who write books dream it up?"

She smiled. "More or less. If you read books you have other people's
thoughts as well as your own, so in a way you're richer."

This was a little difficult for Tod. He thought it over and shrugged.
"I've got plenty of thoughts," he said loftily. "Daddy only reads the
newspaper."

"Even to do that, you have to learn how."

Tod had lost interest. He pointed to the beach they were slowly
passing. "Can't we go down there?"

Still cruising along, she looked across the bare stretch of sand where
a single boat was drawn up. At the far end a few pine trees waved
lazily, and staring that way Josie saw a figure she knew to be Noel's.
As the car neared the trees she could plainly see the easel set up near
one of the trunks and Noel working. Would she be annoyed if they
went down to talk to her? Josie looked at Tod and somehow,
inexplicably, she was answered. She brought the car to a stop on the
grass verge.

Tod was outside in a jiffy, and when she came round to join him he
was already dancing down among the succulents towards the beach.
He ran through the sand, threw himself into it and clambered up
again. He gazed round him, saw Noel and pointed.

"She's here again," he said to Josie. "She paints people with blobs on
their faces."

For a moment Josie wondered if she ought to haul him back to the
car. But Noel was waving her paintbrush.

"Hi," she said, in that husky voice which seemed incapable of

expression or emotion. "You've saved me from wasting a morning on
the most godforsaken beach I ever met. Well, Tod, and how are
you?"

Tod was inspecting the painting. He looked closely at the boat,

touched it gingerly with his finger. "Blobs again," he said. "Have you
ever painted a dog?"

"You're a puppy. Shall I paint you?"

"Would I have to sit still?"

"Not for long."

He thought it over. "No, thanks," he said, and wandered away to

inspect some wriggling shellfish left by the tide.
Noel dropped her brush into the paintbox which lay open on the
stool, dragged a rag from the pocket of her smock and wiped her
fingers.

"Have a good time last night?" she asked as she pushed the
discoloured rag back into her pocket.

"Not particularly, but the dinner was good."

"What did you think of the Lopez women?"

Josie leaned back against the trunk of the tree, so that she was a little
behind Noel. "They seemed quite charming. Camilla hardly spoke."

"Did you get the impression I gotthat there's already an

understanding between Camilla and Stuart?"

"Yes, but I was prepared for it. Stuart told me there was some
connection between them. But ... but he likes you, Noel. I could tell
that from one or two things he said."

Noel didn't turn round; her thin shoulders lifted sharply. "Don't let
my sister's obsession get you. I'm quite capable of finding out for
myself what he thinks of me. Whether I marry or not, my painting
will always come first."

"Yes, I suppose it will." Josie knew now that she should not have
stopped the car above this beach. No two people could have less in
common than she and Noel Mervyn. "Did you walk down here?"

Noel ignored this; in fact she was silent for quite some minutes. Then
she bent and drew a large sketching book from under the paint-box.
"You don't much care for Isabel, do you?" she said.

'I've known her most of my life," Josie said carefully. "I can like her
very much merely for making my father happy."
"You don't make a man happy," was the succinct reply, "by spending
more than he earns. Her extravagance has often worried Julius, but
she can't help it. The reason she's so keen for me to marry Stuart
Morland is that as one of the family he'd put plenty of business
forward for Julius. She's not solely concerned for me."

To Josie, this reeked of disloyalty. "Isn't it mean to accuse her of that

kind of selfishness? She's terribly fond of you."

Noel turned her head briefly, so that Josie met those unrevealing
golden eyes. "Don't let your own sentimentality kid you," she said
evenly, bending back the loose-leaf sketching book and resting it
comfortably along the inside of her left forearm. "We Mervyns never
waste a heartbeat on anyone who doesn't pay dividends. That doesn't
mean we don't fall in love and perhaps even marry unwisely, but it
does mean that we soon recover from false steps, and make what we
can by the roadside. Isabel married your father on the rebound from a
disastrous love affair; he doesn't know that, and it's as well that he
shouldn't. In a way he didn't get a bad bargain, but Isabel didn't come
off so well. I think it's quite fair to say she'd be happy with anyone
who could provide her with unlimited cash."

"She's not an unhappy woman."

"Your father's good to her and she has Denis. I'm afraid he's another
Mervyn, but maybe he'll be as lucky as I am and rootle something out
of his nature that will bring in a good crust." She was sketching
swiftly, outlining the figure of the little boy as he bent over a
collection of scarlet seaweeds and pastel-tinted molluscs. With
apparent irrelevance she asked, "What made you take Tod out this
morning?"

"He worries me a little; he needs a woman around him. Someone

ought to shame Rick into sending him to school"
"There isn't a school in Marganeta."

"Then he should go to school in Alicante, perhaps as a weekly

boarder. Even if he learned in Spanish it would be better than
nothing."

"I know a woman who runs a private English school just outside
Alicante. Rick wouldn't hear of his going there, though. He's decided
to bring Tod up as a soak and an idler, like himself."

"Aren't you rather hard on Rick?"

Noel worked for a minute on the rough red. hair. Then: "Can one be
too hard on a man who runs away from life? That half-hearted
plantation of his, the disgusting house. I wouldn't say that either
inspired pity."

"Rick gets some sort of kick out of them. To me, it's Tod that
matters."

Noel shrugged. "Children find their feet somehow. Look at the brains
that have come from slums." She dropped the sketch suddenly,
delved into her pocket for a packet of cigarettes and offered them. "I
think I'll paint a church tomorrow. There's one with a bare pink
courtyard and aloes all round it. I did it at Christmas and sold it for
eighty pounds."

They smoked and talked desultorily. Presently Noel looked at her

watch. 'It took me nearly an hour to get this far. I'd better start back."

"Why not come with us?" suggested Josie. "After I've dropped Tod
I'll take you home and then go on to the office for Father and Denis."

Noel looked as if she were going to refuse. Then she said, "Well, all
right. I'm not a whale for exercise."
Josie called Tod and helped Noel with the stool and easel. The gear
was put into the back of the car with him, and Noel got in beside
Josie.

Half an hour later Josie had turned the car on to the rough drive to the
Hedley house. She braked and got out, and Tod slid out at the same
time. Rick came from the house with his hands sunk into his pockets
of his velvet trousers. Today his shirt was a washed-out dark green
with splodges of lighter pattern and it had a button missing.

He came to the car, gave Josie a jaded grin. "How did you get on
with him?"

"No headway, I'm afraid. He wanted the beach again, so I let him
have it. That was where we met Noel."

"Yes, I noticed you had the artist with you." Without bending down,
he looked through the car window opening. "Still chasing up pennies,
Noel? How about coming in to eat a round of lunch off the floor?"

"I'm here to save myself a walk," she replied dispassionately. "You

don't have to make small talk for me."

"Can't I even entice you to a brawl?"

"The last one didn't get us anywhere."

"That was Christmasthe time of peace and goodwill. I restrained

myself."

"If you ever use restraint, you'll break something."

"So long as it isn't that little cube of rock where your heart should
be," he said with a smile. "How goes the romance with Stuart
Morland?"
"Is that your best effort?" she said in a bored tone. "Let's go, Josie."

But Rick leant casually against the car. "Show me this morning's
creation,' Noel."

"I didn't finish anything. I wasn't in the mood."

"But surely you sketched Tod. You used to, every time you saw
him."

"He hasn't the same appeal," said Noel. "Growing too much like his
father."

"Wham," he returned equably. "You may be good-looking but you

don't grow any sweeter. You're distressing Josie, you know."

Noel yawned. "You're as cheap as they come, Rick. Drive on, Josie,
and let him fall flat on his face."

He laughed and straightened back from the car. Josie switched on and
drove away without looking at either of them. Somehow, today Rick
appeared seedy and dissipated, incapable of inspiring sympathy. Noel
was hard as nails, of course, but Josie couldn't help feeling that she
did her best to bring out the worst in the man; she despised him so
thoroughly.

It was not till after she had left Noel at Las Rosas that Josie permitted
herself to remember that Stuart was visiting her father on business
this morning, and by the time the car came to a halt outside the
shipping agency her heart was thumping unevenly. But her father and
brother came out together, and Julius Vayle's demeanour was
completely unruffled. He seated himself beside her, gave her a smile
and asked where she had been.

At lunch everything was so normal that Josie felt partially soothed.

Isabel announced, with some delight, that they were all invited to a
party at the Villa Panado that night; the Daltons were going over to
the mainland for a spell and had brought forward by about ten days
the celebration of their silver wedding. All very sudden, but perhaps
the better for that, said Isabel.

After lunch the house went quiet and Josie felt a little flat. She
realized now that she had been keyed up for some happening; she
didn't know what. Surely she wasn't becoming highly strung!

In her bedroom she found a letter from her bank in the north of
England. The money she had asked for was being transferred to
Alicante, and could be collected there in pesetas at any time after the
twentieth of the month. Which meant that it would be available next
Friday. She might go over on the early ferry and come back on the
late one at six o' clock. Odd, to look forward to a day away from
Marganeta!

The room was not big enough to hold an easy chair, so Josie drew
back the cover and lounged sideways with an elbow on the pillow;
that way she could look out of the window. And as she gazed, she
tried to work out the financial muddle into which Denis's debts had
plunged her. Luckily, she could get along with very little pocket-
money, and though she would have liked to pay her way in the house,
it was very unlikely that Isabel would ask for a contribution towards
household expenses; she would confine herself to hints, which
wouldn't be pleasant, but they'd be bearable.

The pity of it was that there wasn't a hospital or even a clinic on

Marganeta. But possibly hospital authorities in this part of the world
would be reluctant to employ even temporarily an assistant who
could speak no Spanish. Wherever she looked she saw a dead end; it
was most disheartening.
She dozed, and when eventually she awoke it was dark and she was
stiff. She tidied her bed, took a bath which was nearly cold and got
into a pink crepe evening dress.

Downstairs, Lucia was serving coffee and tiny sandwiches as a stay

till the late evening meal at the Villa Panado. Noel was wearing
scarlet and the yellow hair was drawn back into a small ribboned
knot in the nape of her neck. Denis was frantically cleaning a faint
stain from the lapel of his white jacket, but he was cheerful. To him,
the Villa Panado was the nearest approach on Marganeta to paradise,
and he hadn't entered those portals since Josie's arrival.

Isabel came down in an ice-blue dress that must have cost a hundred
pounds; and, as Julius said as he looked at the silky near-white
chignon and pale yellow eyes, "You look Scandinavian, my dear
snowy and perfect."

This time, Josie entered the Villa Panado from the front drive. There
was a mosaic-floored entrance hall, and in a mirrored lounge
profusely decorated with flowers they met Mr. and Mrs. Dalton and
Tony and all those guests who had arrived before them. Wines were
served, prune and olive savouries offered, and after a great deal of
talk and laughter they wandered into a large dining-room so
scintillating with silver and glassware that one realized instantly why
"the old Lola" charged outlandishly.

The meal was splendid and a huge success, and after it there were
toasts and congratulations followed by a half-hour pause, during
which the guests roved the terrace and grounds or gathered in groups
to talk. Music announced the beginning of an extraordinarily good
floor show, and the Daltons' guests watched it from their own set of
tables, down one side of a lounge which had the air of an informal
theatre.
Josie had danced several dances when a waiter brought her a note.
She excused herself and read quickly, saw the waiter was expecting
some sort of reply, and read the few words once more. The music
began and she shook her head dazedly at Tony Dalton.

"The senorita will come this way?" asked the waiter in a low discreet
tone.

She moved with him, edged past couples who were dancing, saw the
scarlet figure of Noel going round in the arms of . . . of Stuart
Morland. She caught his glance and looked away again, passed on
with a hollow sensation in her chest. She supposed Stuart had been
invited but been unable to come earlier with his house guests, or to
come alone till now. She wished he hadn't come at all.

The waiter led the way down a corridor, tapped on a door and then
opened it and stood aside for Josie to enter. The door closed, and
Josie found herself in a boudoir of sorts. She saw the Senora Panado
stretched on a chaise-longue and decided this was the old lady's
private rest room.

Apparently the senora s hearing was as good as ever, for she turned
her head towards Josie and raised her skinny fingers to beckon. Josie
thought of those receipts, wondered if Denis had somehow managed
to creep along here and gamble, or whether this woman was going to
try blackmail. Carefully, she went nearer to the couch, and when the
senora spoke she knew, with utter relief, that the Spanish woman did
not connect her in any way with Denis Vayle.

For she asked, "What is your name, pequena?"

Josie hesitated, and then gave it.

"So. You are the right onethe masseuse?"

"Not exactly a masseuse, senora, though I had to take a course in
massage . . ."

"So! You are the one. You are rich?"

Josie blinked. "No. Your note said you wished to see me about a
private matter."

"I am the private matter, senorita. Very old and very private. I wish
to see your face. Sit close to me."

Josie obeyed, looked closely at the skin that was like old brown
paper, at the silver sheen of the black hair near the roots. Why, she
wondered, didn't such a shrewd woman realize how much nobler she
would have looked with white hair?

Senora Panado shot a question at her. "How old would you say I am,
senorita?"

"Seventy something?" Josie hazarded.

"Eighty-four!" said the senora triumphantly. Then she shrugged the

tiny shoulders, and her voice lowered. "And I feel two hundred! Do
you know why? No." A pause. "For years now my bones have no oil
and the flesh is too little to cover them. I am like an old auto which
has seen a lifetime of rough roads but still hangs together. But let us
get to business." She pulled herself up into a sitting position, and
automatically Josie altered the quilted cushion to give her back
support. The woman leant back and nodded. "You have the touch,
but I must find out much you know. In that cupboard over there are
some . . . instruments, I think is the word. Go and look at them."

Josie went to the white door and opened it. She saw an old-fashioned
rubber-cupped massage unit and one or two other gadgets. She
looked back. "Do they still work, senora?"
"Why should they not work? I paid much money for them and used
them only two or three months, when I first came to Marganeta. You
must know, senorita, that I brought with me a nurse who used the
machineat first every day, and then more rarely till she was needed
no longer. Could you use it?"

"Yes. We had something similar at the hospital." Josie did not add
that it was kept in the "museum". "What was your trouble, senora?"

"Old age, even then. But after the treatments I felt much better. I
want them againnot to make me young, but so that I shall not feel
so old. I still have the treatment charts left by the nurse. Can you
follow them?"

"Not if they're in Spanish."

"I can translateit is not too technical. As to paymentI will pay

what I also paid the nurse."

"But she was a resident nurse!"

"No, she stayed with a relative in the town and I gave her a salary.
For the daily attention of perhaps two hours she receivedlet me
seein English pounds it would be about seven. Your charges are
higher in Englandno?"

"I'd be awfully glad to do it for fifteen pounds a week," said Josie

fervently.

Patently, the old senora would have liked to clinch this, but at length
she shook her head regretfully. "No, let us be fair. Twenty pounds.
You will start tomorrow. Come at noon each day, even Sundays."

"Very well, senora."

The spuriously birdlike glance slewed round and fixed upon Josie.
"You are not afraid?"

"Good heavens, no. But I would like to know how you found out
about me."

The thin little claws spread outwards in a gesture wholly Continental.

"Lola Panado discovers everything that happens on the island. You
are a small detail, senorita."

"Yes, I suppose so." Josie hesitated. "Well, thank you very much. Oh,
by the way, I shan't be able to come on Friday. I have to go to
Alicante."

"Then we shall miss out Friday. Bueno. You may go now. Return
tomorrow at noon. Adios." And she immediately lay back and closed
her eyes.

Uplifted but slightly rattled, Josie went quietly from the room and
paused in the corridor. Two hours' work every day for twenty pounds
a week! No need now to contact Rick Hedley or anyone else. Once
she had gathered her money from Alicante and settled her debt, she
would have just enough money coming in to satisfy all her wants.
She could even give some to Isabel! Her father might object to her
working during her holiday, but if she explained it casually, as
though it were merely a matter of using an electrical appliance for an
hour or so, his dislike of the project would subside. She would still
have many hours each day for enjoyment, and what a sensation of
freedom!

She went back down the corridor, stopped in the great archway to the
lounge. There seemed to be more dancers than ever on the floor and
the band was tinkling and strumming with the greatest gusto. She
was taken without a word into someone's arms, was dancing
mechanically, with Stuart.
"How are you?" he enquired, after a moment. "No ill effects from the
cramp?"

Feeling a little irresponsible she said, "I don't think it was cramp,
entirely. I think I put too much into my swimming and twisted a
muscle."

"I told your father this morning that we had a swim late last night."

"I rather thought you might."

"You don't have to use that tone," he said evenly. "I told him because
he might get to know anyway, and I hate to be misunderstood."

Her fingers stiffened in his hold. "Yes, I know you hate to be

misunderstood," she said. "You need have no misgivings, Mr.
Morland. My father hasn't even mentioned it to me, so he thought
nothing of it Why should he? Nothing happened that could cause him
a moment's uneasiness."

"Quite." He sounded as genial as a mountain peak. "Why were you

smiling as you came into the lounge?"

"Smiling? Oh, yes. I've had some luck at last. The old Lola needs my
professional services and she's going to pay me twenty pounds a
week. Seeing that I'm on holiday it'll be tax-free. Quite soon, I shall
be independent again. Happy days!"

The band seemed to be playing for an unconscionable time without

pause. Stuart danced well, as she had guessed he would, but his
nearness was suffocating, and when she closed her eyes she could
almost feel her own desires materializing the painful yearning for
his cheek lowered against her own, his arm tightening. But with her
eyes staring over his shoulder she knew the reality of his
conventional hold, his chin scarcely touching her hair.
"Didn't you bring Camilla?" she asked, in a voice she scarcely
recognized as her own.

"No," he answered, and offered no explanation. "Are you tired of

dancing?"

"Whyam I dragging?"

"A little. Come outside for a minute."

He had stopped near an opening to the terrace, but she hesitated. "It's
very late."

His mouth narrowed slightly. "I saw your friend Hedley this
afternoon. You may as well know what passed between us."

A further moment's uncertainty, and then she went with him out into
the well-lit terrace. They crossed to the wall, she pressed the tips of
her fingers on to the cold stone, and waited.

He turned his back on the garden, rested on the parapet. "You didn't
lose much time in going up to Las Hermanas again."

"I took Tod out for a couple of hours," she said. "Why did you go to
see Rick?"

"Chiefly, it was about something that you know nothing of, and on
that score we arrived at a brick wall. But of all the women who've
tried it, you're the one who's made him uneasy about his treatment of
Tod. Others, it seems, have been dictatorial or plain nasty, but you've
made it very clear that you like Rick more or less as he is but can't
condone his unfairness to the boy." He shifted slightly. "Tell me
something. Could you possibly fall in love with a man like Rick?"

Her skin prickled; she wanted to shout at him angrily, demand to be

left alone. But her demeanour was calm as she replied evasively, "I
don't know. I don't pity him, and I certainly don't pity Tod. I do want
to do things for both of them, but you don't have to be in love for
that. In any case, falling in love is supposed to take a long time."

"And Rick has already given the best he had to someone else. Don't
forget that!"

"I don't believe it. The best lasts for ever, and he only gave it for a
year or two. I think that if he loved again he'd do it differently but
more deeply. What he really needs is to be shaken to his very core."

The words like small pebbles dropped into a pool, he queried, "Do
you think you're the woman to do it?"

She drew in her lip. "I know my limitations. Have you told me all
you wish me to know?"

"Not by a long way," he said with exasperation, "but for the present
it'll have to do. For Pete's sake stop being rash, Josie. Rick doesn't
want you; he wants what you can give him."

Josie's heart was tight and cold. She wasn't thinking of Rick, or Tod,
when she answered. "Isn't that how most men regard women? At
least Rick is honest about it. He hasn't had women falling over
themselves to please him all his adult life, and when he does find one
who cares enough to make his life her own, he'll be so darned
grateful that he'll love her for the rest of his life! It won't matter then
whether he loves the woman or what she gives; they'll be too close
for that."

Stuart straightened. His nostrils had thinned slightly, his expression

become set. "You couldn't possibly put it more clearly," he said.
"You have my sympathy, Josie."
She swung about and faced him. "Keep it," she said tensely. "I'd only
need sympathy if I happened to fall in love with someone like you!
I'd say that you have an infinite capacity for making a woman so
wretched that . . ."

She broke off abruptly, turned back quickly to hide her working
mouth and the treacherous tears from Noel Mervyn and Denis.

Noel's attractively hoarse voice said, "You did ask me to save you the
last dance, Stuart. They've just announced it another tango."

Stuart said coolly, "Stay with your sister, Denis."

Josie knew she had been left alone with Denis, but she remained as
she was, gazing out at the night Her brother stirred and let out an
exaggerated sigh.

"When Stuart goes Spanish you just can't argue with him. Be pretty
foul if he married Noel and came into the family." He thought for a
minute, and added less gloomily, "But there wouldn't be any more
money troubles. In this life you don't get everything your own way."

By now, Josie had control of herself. "You're a budding philosopher,

Denis. Shall we go and say good-night to the Daltons, and wait in the
car?"

Denis was willing. He had been moderately bored ever since the floor
show had ended, hadn't realized how hampering the presence of one's
parents could be in such an establishment. But he still had a degree of
spirit left, and he decided to sing and stagger as if he had imbibed
unwisely. His antics made Josie feel as old as the sea itself.
CHAPTER SEVEN

THE following few days were fairly peaceful. Josie bathed each
morning at about nine-thirty and often lounged on the beach till
eleven. Then she went indoors, got into the most businesslike of her
dresses and walked the two miles down into town and along the far
coast road to the Villa Panado.

Empty of guests, the Villa was vast and hushed. Josie always found
old Lola lying in her boudoir looking painted and ravaged and
sticklike in a dressing-gown, and without speaking she would go to
the cupboard, take down the white overall from the hook inside the
door and lift out the various pieces of antiquated apparatus. Plugged
in and switched on, the box of tricks vibrated, and when she had
borne the sound for as long as she could, the old senora shot back
those baggy eyelids and said she was ready.

Lola Panado really loved electric massage. Her face took on a truly
beatific expression and she sighed often with sensuous satisfaction.
Josie was irresistibly reminded of a dog's sheep-like bliss when his
tummy is tickled. Dealing with the gnarled joints and exposed
shoulder-blades, Josie knew both pity and affection. And she listened
while Lola talked of the fabulous days of the theatre, before and after
the turn of the century. The old actress had married twice, and at the
death of each husband had acquired a fortune. Sometimes, now, she
felt she had not spent wisely.

"The Villa Panado is a poor monument to leave behind," she said,

"but I'm too old and tired to change. It is unfortunate that I was born
in poverty; it has made worldly things too important to me. Since I
have been rich I have been full of good intentions and bad deeds."

"Not very bad deeds, I'm sure, senora."

"Bad enough. I am still a miser; I have never lost the habit." Then
suddenly, "You are a giver, senorita. Does it make you happy?"

"My work? Yes, very happy."

"What would you do if you were rich, like me?"

"Something grandiloquent, probablylike opening an orthopaedic

home in a tenement district."

One short-sighted, birdlike eye flickered open. "Are you trying to

persuade me to leave my money for such a purpose?"

"You asked me a hypothetical question, senora," said Josie mildly.

"Shall we do the right shoulder now?"

"I shall do no such thing with my money!" stated the old lady
triumphantly as she turned stiffly on to her left side. "My will already
leaves everything between the five branches of my family."

Josie massaged gently, using her left hand and the vibrator. For
something to say, she murmured, "I suppose your relatives come to
see you occasionally?"

It was quite some time before the senora replied: "No, they are
ashamed of me and envious. When I made a success in the theatre I
also helped my brothers and sisters to success in the things they had
chosen to do. They climbed on me to where they are today. You
understand? And now their children wait to divide my possessions
between them." She gave a fierce little laugh. "But there is something
they will not learn till I am gone! They cannot sell the Villa Panado
for themselves. They must run it between them as a company and
divide the profits. Imagine their disgust! Also, I have directed that
they engage a good literary man to write my biography. It may not
sell, but they must pay for it and put it on the market!"
Josie listened to much more in the same vein. One could only be
compassionate for Lola. She had so much, and at the same time so
little. She had been a childless widow for thirty years, had given
herself to creating a gilded palace of amusement and was
experiencing now the hollowest of satisfactions. She admitted that
the only time she knew true contentment was when she watched a
really good stage act in the big lounge. "And, of course, when you
wriggle this instrument over my old bones, senorita!"

Fresh from a session with her, Josie would sometimes talk about the
old senora with the family over lunch. In Isabel's opinion, Lola
Panado was a voracious old witch, but Julius Vayle's reaction was
less positive. Like Josie, he could feel pity for an old woman who
was tired of life but possessed of a strongly beating heart.

Neither her father nor Isabel had been against Josie's venture. Julius
had agreed that it might not be a bad thing to have an interest and
keep her hand in, and Isabel had been genuinely impressed by the
fact that such a woman was willing to pay Josie so handsomely for
professional services. Physiotherapy, Isabel conceded, couldn't be
such a poor career, after all Noel gave her own opinion one afternoon
when she and Josie were alone in the patio, waiting for Isabel to
come down to tea.

"I envy you, Josie," she said unexpectedly. "I don't believe I've ever
in my life done one good thing for another person."

"That's silly," remarked Josie. "You're a creator and I'm just a drone;
anyone could learn my job."

"Comparatively few have the grit to go in for it. Too much hard work
for too little kudos! I get horribly sick of painting."
Josie smiled. "Your trouble is that you were successful too young.
Some time you'll reach a point where you'll have to branch out or
give up."

"Or maybe I'll potter along and grow sour."

"You'll probably marry," said Josie lightly.

Noel crossed her hands behind the loose yellow hair and looked up
into the greenness shading the patio. "I don't think so," she said.
Then, after a long pause: "If I really set myself to it I could cut out
Camilla Lopez with Stuart Morland, but where would it get me? I'm
erratic and selfish I'd make him a rotten wife and I'd chafe against
being tied down. No, let him have his Camilla. She's just right for
him in every way."

"Doesn't it . . . hurt, to think about him like that?" To Josie it was

shattering.

"It rasps a bit," came the careless reply, "because before I came over
this time I'd more or less decided the man was mine. Love's like a
too-acid fruit; if you're not in good condition it hurts you. I'm right
out of the mood."

Josie was silent. She was trying to become fatalistic about Stuart. She
knew he had taken the two Lopez women to the jasmine farm, that
the deal was practically clinched. Julius had come in with the news,
only yesterday. Now, the matter was ready for a lawyer, and soon a
contractor would come over from the mainland to estimate the cost of
alterations to the house. It might be a month, or even two, before
Senora Lopez and her daughter left the villa at San Rozello. They
would still be Stuart's guests when she, Josie, went back to England.

Perhaps it was as well, she thought stonily. They maintained the

balance in relationships. Not that her own with Stuart was likely to be
even friendly from now on. She hadn't seen him since Monday night,
hadn't wanted to see him really, because this slightly drugged
sensation where her emotions were concerned was infinitely
preferable to the agonizing effect of his presence.

Isabel appeared, in her pale blue with a touch of navy, and

immediately behind her came Lucia with a tea tray and a dish of the
fancy pastries at which she excelled. Occasionally, Josie had eaten
several of the little confections and marvelled at the variety of
delicious flavours and trimmings.

Today, she ate one small cake that was the size of a penny and drank
two cups of tea.

Presently Isabel said, "Got a cigarette, Noel?"

"Sorry, I didn't bring mine down."

"Nor I," said Josie. 'I'll go and get them."

Noel slid" farther into her chair and crossed her trousered legs. "You
might bring the box from my bedside table, too, Josie. I have a stupid
preference for my own particular brand."

Josie ran up the stairs and into her room. She gathered the packet of
cigarettes from her bedside chair, and went along to the larger room
which for the short time had been her own. It was now very
obviously Noel's. Josie stood still, almost bewildered by the
confusion of clothes, magazines and beach paraphernalia. On the
floor lay the artist's gear, and the sketchbook was in such a position
that it could easily be trodden on or kicked.

Josie picked it up and a couple of loose drawings fell out.

Both were fresh studies of Tod Hedley, done from memory, and after
looking at them briefly she slipped them back into place and set the
book in one of the shelves near the bed-head.

The cigarettes were nowhere to be seen, and she tried the table
drawer and turned over some of the things on the bed. She found
them, eventually, in the pocket of the brown smock, and was about to
depart when the easel caught her attention. The room faced east
instead of having the usual northern aspect that artists favour, but
apparently it was possible to paint here late in the day, for a garment
had been thrown carelessly over whatever it was that Noel had been
working on.

Had Josie not seen those sketches of Tod she would never have
looked at the painting on the easel. She was prepared for Tod in
colour, red head, round face, soaked denim trousers, and the pale
beach littered with shells and sponges and posing a question with the
solitary untended rowingboat.

But this picture wasn't of Tod. It was vivid and cruel, a thing of
horror if one knew the original. There was the grey dwelling with
blood-coloured gashes in the stucco, a drunken spar or two of the
patio, the broken steps, the gaping window with a cardboard
covering. An empty jam tin lay half-buried in the weed-grown path,
and on a weathered orange box stood a wine-bottle and a tin drinking
vessel. Against the wall leaned a man who was Rick, yet not Rick.
He was frighteningly real.

He wore old corduroys belted about a thin waist and the green shirt
with a washed-out pattern on it, and he was barefoot. The eyes were
sunken, the cheeks hallowed and the mouth was pulled into a crooked
grin of capitulation. Perhaps the hands were the worst feature; the
right one hung slack and characterless, but the left was an irregular
circle of brown bonework, a mere bottle-holder. As a final flourish to
the picture's air of depravity was the title scrawled across the foot of
it in charcoal: "Damp-rot".

Josie shivered. Malice, cynicismheaven knew what had prompted

Noel to begin such a painting. That she could work on it for hours,
urged on by the same dark emotion, was almost unbelievable. Was
this a really great picture, one that might be acclaimed by the
highbrows Noel scorned? Josie wasn't sure. Possibly no one who
didn't know Rick would understand it.

But what an eye for detail Noel must have! She had sat in the car
outside the house for only a few minutes but she had caught sight of
transient things that Josie had lumped with the whole. Or had the
artist in her supplied those details? She knew the house, of course,
and her imagination, added to her knowledge of the man, had
conjured the dissipated Rick. As a portrait it was horribly unfair and
untrue. To Josie, who felt she understood Rick rather well, it was not
even prophetic.

She dropped the covering back over the picture, went from the room
and downstairs. Isabel looked at her with a faint frown.

"You were a long time, Josie."

"I had to hunt for Noel's cigarettes. They were in the pocket of the
smock."

"So they were," said Noel lazily, as she took them. "My room is
always a shambles. Give me a light, Josie."

Josie smoked, and watched her. The growing liking she had had for
Noel was gone. She saw the thinnish, artificially beautiful red mouth,
the long lines of nose and jaw, the self-satisfaction and boredom in
her negligent posture. She saw those half-closed golden eyes and
wondered what was going on behind them. No one was safe from
Nol.

Josie steadied her thoughts. She had been wrong to look at the
picture. Isabel, coming upon it, would have laughed and agreed with
the caption. Even her father would have taken it with a healthy pinch
of salt. It was the artist's business, nothing to do with anyone but
Noel. Nevertheless, it made Josie feel, obscurely, that by staying
away from Las Hermanas since Monday morning she had let Rick
down. Tomorrow was Friday, when she was due for a day in
Alicante, but she would certainly go over on Saturday, either before
or after her session with Senora Panado.

As it happened, Noel went with her to Alicante next day.

"I want to see a friend, and I need a couple of things from my

rooms," she had mentioned. "You can drift around during the
morning and I'll meet you for lunch. All right?"

"I thought you hated the ferry," Isabel had said a little pettishly. "You
promise to come back?"

"I'm leaving my kit, darling. Don't fuss. Since you have no plane
service I have to use the ferry, like everyone else."

Josie would have preferred to have had the day alone. On the trip out
she had been too busy changing from one means of transport to
another to take much notice of Alicante, and she had hoped to stroll
around and discover things for herself. Noel, however, was not
intrusive during the three-hour ferry trip. She had had to get up much
earlier than usual and was sleepy; she spent most of the journey
sleeping in a deck-chair.

It was nearly eleven when the harbour of Alicante came into view,
and Josie thought it enchanting. She had never seen such luxuriant
palm trees, and the buildings, with their Moorish architecture against
a strong blue sky, seemed to have some affinity with the African
continent across the sea. There were ships of every description, flying
flags of a dozen countries.

Ten minutes later Josie was dawdling along the palm-lined Alameda
and loving it. There were numerous cafes and little shops opposite
the sea, and outdoor tables at which the famous wine was served. She
had the sensation of being a long, long way from Marganeta and
from all the problems and heartache of the holiday which she had
intended to be so peaceful.

After a while she found the bank and collected a vast number of
pesetas. Altogether, she now had just over a hundred and eighty
pounds, but after Monday, when Lola Panado would pay her for the
week's treatment, there would be twenty more pounds in her
possession, and she would at last be able to clear Denis's debt. When
that was over she would resolutely settle down to making the utmost
of the remaining weeks of her holiday.

She had been foolish, allowed others to dictate her feelings and
actions, but from now on she would harden up and be gay. Of one
thing she could be certain: her father loved having her at Las Rosas.
Not that he was demonstrative, but he revealed it often, in small
ways. And it was worth a great deal.

She made her way back to the sea front, found that Vicenzo's where
she and Noel had arranged to meet for lunch, was a massive
restaurant in discreetly expensive style and decided, although she was
early, to go in and wait. She was led to one of the many empty tables
and seated, handed a menu. Carefully, she explained that she was
waiting for a friend but would like a fruit drink, with ice. The drink
was brought and she sipped it gratefully.
Looking down the restaurant she could see the entrance, wide to the
street. Behind the palms lay the harbour, funnels and masts, the main
pier, the warm blue sky.

A man came into the restaurant, a tall man in a light linen jacket and
fawn trousers, his white shirt open at the neck with a blue silk
handkerchief carelessly knotted there. Swiftly, Josie lowered her
head. Someone important, Vicenzo himself no doubt, came bustling
forward and a conversation was conducted in Spanish. Vicenzo gave
profuse assurances and thanks.

There was a pause. Josie's hands clenched more damply in her lap,
but her lips were smiling coolly as she looked up into Stuart's
enigmatic dark eyes.

"May I sit down?" he asked, and proceeded to do so without awaiting

her reply. "The golden head and pink dress gave you away. Too bad."

"Perhaps it is," she agreed. "I really thought I'd given Marganeta a
slip for the day."

"If I'd known you were coming over you could have travelled with
me in the Santa Fedora."

"Have you only just arrived?" she queried politely.

"About half an hour ago. I've made some telephone calls." He

paused, lifted his hands to the snow-white cloth and rested them
there. "Have you ordered?"

"I'm waiting for Noel. We came together."

To the hovering waiter, Stuart said, "We await another senorita.

Gracias." Then, without much expression, he again addressed Josie.
"How are you getting along with Senora Panado?"
"Very well, I think. She says the massage eases her."

"Do you find it tiring?"

"No. She couldn't stand anything but the gentlest handling. I keep
telling her the treatment won't cure anything, but she wants me to go
on with it."

"Poor old Lola." He spoke abstractedly, as if he were thinking of

something quite different. "Have you a special reason for coming to
the mainland today?"

"Yes," she replied briefly.

His eyes searched her face but she wasn't looking at him. "Are you
sorry I walked in on your date with Noel?"

"I'm afraid I am."

His glance took a merciless glint. "Because I make you wretched?"

Colour swept up from her neck. "You flatter yourself, Mr. Morland. I
took a flick at your ego the other night and now you're attempting to
pay me back. Is that it?"

"Could be. On the other hand, I might be trying to get at the root of it
all. I've never before known a woman who wanted desperately to be
enemies with me."

"I don't want to be your enemy," she said evenly, "but somehow I
don't feel we can be friends, either. There are a good many people
one knows without developing either relationship."

"That's so, but we've already gone beyond that, and you know it. In
any case, I'm bound to be friendly with Julius Vayle's daughter.
Besides, there are times when I like you very much."
"Thank you," she said formally, and finished her drink.

"Did you come by the early boat?" he asked abruptly.

She nodded. "It was marvellous on the sea."

"What have you been doing since you arrived?"

"Just walking and discovering. Your home-town is remarkable,

senor."

His voice low and almost savage, he said, "My home-town is

London, and stop calling me senor! I'm proud of my drop of Spanish
blood and I won't have it used as a butt for sarcasm!"

Josie had paled, and her fingers were tight round the empty glass. "I
was merely being conversational, not sarcastic. For a he-man you're
surprisingly thin-skinned."

"It's about time you realized I'm no less sensitive than you may be
yourself," he replied offhandedly.

Her tones were chilly. "It's your pride that's sensitive. Perhaps if . .

"Josie, for Pete's sake!" He bit out the words, sat back and looked at
her, his eyes hard and brilliant, his mouth thin. "I know just how you
feel about me. You don't have to flog it to death! You want me to say
I'm sorry I butted in, to get up and go. But I've no intention of doing
that. Like you, I'm waiting for Noel."

Knowing she was behaving badly yet unable to help herself, she put a
hand to her bag. "Perhaps you'd like me to go then," she said stiffly.

His fingers closed painfully over hers on the bag. "If you dare to
move," he said with dangerous quietness, "I'll make you . . ."
The next moment his hand slid away to grasp the edge of the table as
he stood up to greet Noel. He was smiling, and rather faintly Josie
wondered how he managed it. Noel was grinning at them both, with
one eyebrow slightly elevated.

"Well met, Stuart! I saw a Santa Fedora seaman along the front," she
said, "and guessed you were about. I wish now that I'd dared to tell
you we were coming to Alicante. Anyway, I'm glad you came to
Vicenzo's for lunch."

"I didn't really," he said, when they were all seated. "My house is
more or less closed and I came here to order a table for dinner
tonight. Now that Senora Lopez has agreed to purchase the flower
farm, I have to deal as soon as possible with the legalities, so I've
invited the lawyer and his wife to dine here with me. I happened to
see Josie at this table, so I stayed."

"The air seems slightly overcharged," Noel commented.

"That sometimes happens," said Stuart, with amazing nonchalance,

"when a man invites himself where he isn't particularly welcome.
What's happened to you, Noel? You're positively soigne in that
dress."

"I had to dress up to impress a friend," she smiled. "Now that I've
impressed you as well it's almost worth it. Here's the waiter. Bacalao
for you as well, Stuart?"

"Is that what you two have already agreed upon?" He gave the order,
adding veal cutlets and salad for himself. When the waiter had gone
he asked, "When are you due to return to Marganeta?"

"On the six o' clock ferry," Noel told him. "I wish there were a
helicopter service."
"The ferry is always crowded on Friday evenings." He nodded. "I
suggest you stay overnight and go back with me tomorrow. I shall be
leaving at the usual time and lunching on board, while we're moving.
It makes the journey shorter and pleasanter."

"It's an idea!" exclaimed Noel.

"A good one," he said, his glance moving mockingly over Josie's
features. "I'll make it more of dinner party tonight and we'll go on to
show. You have a spare bed for Josie, haven't you, Noel?"

"There's the studio divan. We'll manage."

With finality, Josie said, "I can't possibly stay. The family are
expecting us back, so one of us has to turn up."

"That's simple," he observed. "You can send them a note on the ferry.
It'll get there as soon as you would."

She shook her head. "I also have an appointment with Senora Panado
for noon tomorrow."

"A letter will take care of that, too," said Stuart, rather more tersely.
"Lola won't mind. She has great sympathy with the quest of the
young for enjoyment."

"To-be candid," Josie answered without a quiver, "Fm not sure I'd
enjoy staying here overnight. I'm afraid you must count me out."

"No need to decide at this moment," said Stuart, an edge to his smile.
He turned to Noel. "Have you any plans for this afternoon?"

"Josie hasn't seen El Cabo. I thought of getting a taxi to take us out

there."

"We'll all go."

Noel smiled. "You know, Stuart, when I'm with you I always think
you're the sort of man a woman should look for when she's husband-
hunting. You're not too easy to weigh up but you're so dependable as
a male. You're masterful, you thrive on responsibility, you make a
woman feel deliciously helpless. When people fall in love,
unfortunately, they don't consider such things, but I feel we should be
trained up from childhood to cultivate and value them. Look at me,
for instance. Mentally, I'm as sloppy as they come. Turning out a
painting with some sort of point to it is easy, but try to get that same
objectiveness into your own life and where are you? I'll let you into a
secret. I've given up liking people, because the people I'm attracted to
aren't attracted to me. Pitiable, isn't it?"

Stuart laughed. "You must be in a odd mood, Noel. I've never heard
you ridicule yourself before! In any case, what you're saying isn't
true. If you'd given up liking people you wouldn't still be likeable
yourself. I've half an idea you've recently come to some sort of
decision. Who was this friend you saw this morning?"

"A woman, I assure you! Ah, here comes the chow. The fish smells
good."

The meal was leisurely and accompanied by a vino dulce chosen by

Stuart. Noel was in excellent spirits and confessed that a message left
at her rooms by her agent was the chief cause.

"He's sold some of my pictures since I've been in Marganeta. Two

hundred and fifty pounds less his ten per cent. It's money for old
rope!"

"But it's splendid," said Josie. "How long does a picture take you?"

A shrug. "Depends. Sometimes I get the bulk of it in during one

morning and finish off next day. Other pictures are more difficult; I
get the general idea in one swoop, but I have to keep digging into my
brain for details that make the thing more authentic. Some pictures
stand on my easel for days simply because I feel there's something
missing."

Like the one of the house and its owner at Las Hermanas? wondered
Josie. The thing missing there hadn't been a detail, but merely
humanity. She watched Noel smoke between the courses and leave
the cigarette smouldering while she ate.

Josie was content to let Noel monopolize the conversation; Stuart

was a complication with which she felt out of tune.

Yet he was a charming companion that afternoon, and by the sheer

force of his personality he made Josie forget Camilla Lopez. He
taunted her a little, but pleasantly. As when he said, with a half-wink
at Noel,

"Josie's had it in for me since the first time we met. I told her that
blue eyes were too cool, and she's never forgiven me."

"I should think not!" Noel returned, widening her own golden eyes.
"I hope you've revised that estimate?"

"Partly. When she's cross her eyes aren't blue at all they're violet."

Noel asked lightly, "What colour are they when she's kissed?"

The smile he cast at Josie's pink cheeks was teasing. "It was too dark
to tell," he said.

To Noel, it was sophisticated fun. She was probably willing to

believe that Stuart had had his emotional moments, but it wouldn't
for a moment have occurred to her that Josie might have shared one
with him. In the wide horse-drawn cab, Stuart sat between the two of
them, and Josie felt that moment of knowledge shared with him as if
it were something tangible, a silken rope they both grasped fleetingly
while they remembered lips touching a bare shoulder.

It was a quarter to six when they reached the sea front, and Stuart
suggested tea or drinks.

"Afterwards, I shall have to go to my house and get into more formal

clothes," he said. "You're staying aren't you, Josie?"

She wanted to, wanted it desperately. She looked at Noel, received no

encouragement. "I don't think so," she said. "I couldn't possibly go
out to dinner in a dress of this kind."

"Couldn't you wear something of Noel's?"

"I'm taller and longer-waisted, but you can try," said Nol.

"Thanks all the same, but no."

"In that case," said Noel, before Stuart could speak, "you might wait
at my place, Stuart, while I dress. Then I'll go on with you. All
right?"

Stuart looked at Josie with an exasperation that was dose to anger.

His shoulders lifted, and he answered Noel. "Fine. Perhaps we'll
make it only a foursome for dinner, after all."

They were at the head of the pier and crowds were already streaming
towards the ferry. The Santa Fedora stood in the harbour among
other ships, and small, produce-laden boats were busy supplying the
various craft with food. The yachts were making ready for an early
departure tomorrow morning.

At the ferry gangway the three paused. Josie said goodbye, thanked
Stuart for the pleasant afternoon. Then, quite suddenly, Rick was
there. Rick Hedley, in a dreadful old sports suit and a bright blue
shirt that was threadbare at the collar.

"Hallo," he said easily. "Half Marganeta seems to have come over for
the day. Who's for the ferry?"

"I am," said Josie hurriedly. "Noel's staying till tomorrow."

He gave his crooked, worldly grin, looked at Noel's trim shoulders in

the green dress. "Happy hunting, Noel," he said, and carelessly
slipped a hand round Josie's elbow. "Thanks for the lift this morning,
Stuart."

Stuart's glance was cold and sharp with distaste. "Did you get the
books for Tod?" he asked.

"I had to order them."

"And the other matter?"

"I didn't do a thing about it." Naturally shorter than Stuart, he seemed
visibly to shrink a little. "Don't bother with me, Stuart. Just let me go
to the devil in the way I like best. You would, wouldn't you, Noel?"

"Nothing will stop you," said Noel indifferently. "For Tod's sake, the
sooner you go the devil, the better."

"Don't!" said Josie sharply. Without meaning to, she drew closer to
Rick. "It's time we went aboard."

"And we'd better be on our way, Stuart," drawled Noel. "So long,
Josie. Tell Isabel I'm not letting her down. I'll definitely come back
with Stuart."

"In fact," said Rick softly, as he mounted the gangplank behind Josie,
"you couldn't prise her away from Stuart. What a woman!"
"She doesn't want him," Josie said quickly over her shoulder. "Noel
feels high because her agent has sold a number of her pictures just
lately."

"She makes me tired," he said, and left it at that.

They walked forward on the deck, and neither looked back at the
quay as the ferry moved out. Josie felt raw and dispirited, and the
whole region of her heart was weighted. She sat with Rick, on a
folding stool near the rail, and she thought about Noel and Stuart
having dinner with the lawyer and his wife at Vicenzo's. Would all
four go on to a show, or only the two of them? Had the news about
the sale of her pictures given a fillip to Noel's dying aspirations?
Obviously, she found it good to be alone again with Stuart in
Alicante.

Rick was looking down at the speeding sea. "Had you arranged to see
Stuart Morland in town?" he asked.

Josie explained. "So we lunched and spent the afternoon with him,"
she ended. "He didn't tell us he'd brought you with him from
Marganeta."

"I'm nobody," he said negligently. "But it was his idea that I should
come. He seems to have developed a social conscience where I'm
concerned. Twice this week he's come to my house and tried to give
me a shot of gunpowder. There's that matter he spoke about there on
the quay . . ."

"Don't tell me unless you really want me to know," she said swiftly.

He smiled. "Telling you seems to be all I have, Josie. D'you mind

listening?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, Morland says he can get me chucked off the island for
neglecting the property. He got tough, but he meant well. Yesterday
he came to tell me that those guests of his are having alterations
made to the flower farm property. He suggested that if I use the
builders at the same time the cartage expenses of materials from the
mainland will be much less, and the whole job of repairing my house
would come out at a fairly low price. He nearly convinced me."

"Surely you didn't turn it down, Rick?"

"Yes, I did, because I don't like his reasons for helping a lame guy."

"But you actually wait to Alicante today to do something about it?"

"I suppose so. On the way over this morning he said I should get
some books for Tod, and I did do something about that. When we'd
tied up he telephoned the contractor who does the Mendoza-Cortez
building repairs, and explained the position. I was to go and see the
man, but . . . well, once I was alone I got to thinking, and changed my
mind."

"Oh, Rick! It wouldn't have committed you in any way."

His smile was drawn and without mirth. "You don't understand,
Josie, and I'm afraid I can't tell you any more. Let them kick me off
the island. I'll take Tod somewhere else."

"To England?"

"God, no. There's no place for me in England."

"Then where?"

"It doesn't matter where. Far from Spain, anyway."

"Wouldn't that be running away?"

His chin set obstinately. "Running away is what I do best."

"But you don't have to, if you patch up the farm."

"I'm not all that keen to stay on Marganeta." He looked at her,

shrugged. "Your friend Stuart knows something about me
something I'd rather no one knew. He's using it to put me in a spot."

"Do you mean . . . blackmail?"

He laughed. "You might call it that, but it's not the usual sort. He's
doing it for my own good. Decent of him, but futile."

She sighed. "I hate to harp on one theme, but you do have to consider
Tod, you know."

"I am considering Todhe's all I have. It might be best for him if we

both left Marganeta."

"But not for something worse," she said urgently.

He looked at her, smiled and patted her hand. "Come up and see us
tomorrow. Could you come about tea-time and stay the evening?"

"May I bring Denis?"

"Good lord, why?"

"I keep him away from the Villa Panado on Saturdays. It's a sort of
duty I've taken on."

"Well, bring him if you like. Bring the whole family!"

She looked eager. "Do you mean that, Rick? Isabel and Noel?"

"It's safe to ask them," he replied nonchalantly. "They won't come."

"I'll come early, and invite the rest for supper. My father and Denis
are bound to turn up."

His smile at her was affectionate but tinged with cynicism. "You're a
sweet little optimist and I like you for it. I hope you'll never find out
just how much of a mess life can be."

Josie didn't tell him that she already had some experience in that
direction.
CHAPTER EIGHT

THE news that Stuart Morland had persuaded Noel to stay overnight
in Alicante pleased Isabel.

"Since she's been here with us I haven't been too happy about her,"
she said openly that night at dinner. "She seems to have accepted that
Camilla Lopez and Stuart have one of those Spanish arrangements,
and she hasn't bothered to please him at all. I must say it's unlike
Noel to give up so easily."

Julius Vayle couldn't take matchmaking very seriously. "Perhaps

she's never really cared to consider Stuart as a possible husband till
now. Noel wouldn't want anyone she had to live up to. She'll
probably marry some raffish count."

Isabel's sense of humour was never strong. "Oh, I hope hot," she said
in genuine concern. "The trouble is, she gets her money too easily
and it makes her independent. Just think. She's nearly twenty-eight!"

"Good luck to her," put in Denis. "Wish I had the knack of throwing
off watercolours. You don't even have to think!"

"Don't you believe it," said Josie warmly. "Noel paints more than you
and I can see, and I don't suppose it's always come easy. It must have
taken a good deal of effort to train her eye so cleverly."

"She was born that way," said Isabel a trifle smugly. "I've never
understood it myself, but people who ought to know have told me
that she definitely has genius."

"She certainly has something," conceded Julius, with a pointed smile

at his son. "She doesn't only have to think, Denis, but she has to feel,
too. I daresay there are times when she gets thoroughly fed up with
painting."
"Yes, she does," Josie nodded.

Isabel looked displeased. "I've never heard her say so. How long have
you been so intimate with Noel that she tells you such things?"

"It was just a comment," said Josie guardedly, "but you didn't happen
to be there when she made it."

"She was probably half joking. Denis, dear, ring for coffee."

It was always difficult to tell what Isabel was thinking. Sometimes,

Josie felt that she never did think deeply at all, but where Noel was
concerned it was obvious that Isabel did entertain hopes and dreams.
Noel had criticized Isabel, said that her sister's reason for wanting
Stuart Morland in the family was purely selfish. But Noel always had
an air of not quite believing in Isabel's fondness for herself; it was as
though she knew Isabel too well ever to credit her with genuine
family feeling. Noel was the first to admit that she had very little
family feeling herself. In many ways they were very much alike.

Next morning, when Josie visited Senora Panado, the old Spanish
woman insisted on paying her for a full week's work.

"To me, the easing of these old bones is worth much more than
money, senorita, but money is all I have to give. Take it and do not
question it, ever."

When Josie opened the envelope in her bedroom she found it

contained pesetas to the value of twenty pounds and, foolishly, she
felt a fraud. But she also knew a deep sense of relief. She was free.

While Las Rosas was steeped in siesta that afternoon she strolled
along the beach towards San Rozello. She had decided to sit on the
grass above the beach and watch the Santa Fedora come in; as soon
as it was alongside the jetty she would walk back the way she had
come with no one the wiser. But when she reached the wide stretch
of beach, she was hailed by someone sitting outside the log bathing
house. Camilla.

Josie answered with a wave of the hand, hesitated, and then walked
up to the beach-house. Camilla wore an enveloping robe and was
drying her hair, and she stood up as Josie approached.

"I have seen you only once, senorita, but I recognised you. Do you
find it too hot to sit here?"

"I don't think so." Josie sank into a canvas chair and glanced at the
olive-skinned girl who now sat beside her. "Do you usually bathe at
this hour of the day?"

The other nodded her black glistening head, threw back the long hair.
"My mother is of the old school; when I cannot bathe with other girls
she likes me to bathe alone. At this time everyone is resting."

"Don't you swim with Stuart?"

"We have swum in a party together a few times, but not here in
Marganeta. In Alicante, of course, we both have friends and
relatives."

"Do you prefer living there?"

"On the whole, yes. I miss the social life." She smiled, in apology to
her absent parent. "My mother is a widow and cautious about making
new friends. She wishes to become established at the jasmine farm
before making social contacts. You understand?" '

"But what about you? It must be dull for you when Stuart's away."
"Yes, but this time he is not away for long." She laughed a little.
"Life in Stuart's house is anything but dull! He teases, invites his
friends. He is even leading me astray!"

Josie's heart was tight, but she smiled brightly. "Yes?"

"Twice he has given me lessons in car driving, and often he teaches

me to play tennis. He has firmly told my mother that the young wife
of today is permitted such pleasures."

Still smiling, though her tones were brittle, Josie said, "The young
wife? Then you're engaged?"

Camilla combed back her hair in swift strokes, tapped her lips with a
forefinger. "I am too talkative. The engagement is not official and I
must not speak of it till it is. Forgive me, senorita. My mother forbids
me to mention it till it can be made public, but my happiness
sometimes wishes to bubble over. Look, is that the Santa Fedora?"

It wasn't, but the exclamation created a diversion. Josie leant her head
back against the canvas. The whole of her being felt hollow; there
was even a hollow where the tightened heart had been. But she told
herself that she was now at peace. Till now, the engagement between
Stuart and Camilla had seemed a little unreal. For one thing, it was
difficult to believe that he would procrastinate once he had chosen a
wife; Josie would have said it was far more likely that he would
proclaim it with pride, particularly as the woman of his choice was
the beautiful Camilla. But with these Spanish people there were other
considerations. Senora Lopez was obviously a die-hard where old
customs were in question, and Stuart, of course, would never offend
Camilla's mother.

Still, one could imagine him managing her very easily, getting his
own way gently but ruthlessly. But the engagement to Camilla had
no air of suddenness about it. He had known her for years, had no
doubt known gradually that she was growing into the kind of woman
he wanted. Possibly they had agreed on this period under one roof as
a preliminary to an open engagement. It was a tricky situation, but
one that Stuart was patently handling with assurance and charm.

No doubt at all that the pure-featured Camilla was in love; no doubt,

either, that Stuart had made it plain to Noel that whatever game it
was they played together could have no sequel. He knew what he
needed, had gone after it in his own way and a light affair in passing
could mean nothing at all.

As for Josie Vayle . . .

She managed a surface smile for Camilla. "You'll have great fun
converting the house at the jasmine farm. Have you decided on any
particular alterations?"

"Yes, a few. My mother thinks as you did, that the sitting- room
could be enlarged by demolishing a wall. Also there is to be a
covered terrace leading to a patio. A real bathroom, naturally and an
extension to the kitchen."

"Grilles at the windows," said Josie, "and a covered porch. In a richer

garden, the house will look lovely."

Camilla pushed the last huge celluloid pin into the knot of hair at the
back of her head. "We will have what Stuart calls a 'house-warming',
and you will be there, Josie." She lowered her voice to a whisper.
"My mother has hinted that we may announce our engagement at
such a party. I am so impatient for the workmen to start 1"

"Yes, I expect you are." In spite of the chill weakness at her knees,
Josie got up. "I believe it really is the Santa Fedora rounding the
headland this time. I'll leave you to meet Stuart alone. Adios!"
"But won't you wait? I believe he is bringing guests, who are to stay
till Monday morning. He would like you to meet them."

"I doubt that. I really must go."

"Very well. As you would say... cheerio!"

Josie moved quickly over the dunes on to the next beach. She wished
Camilla were a harpy or just plain dishonest, so that she could dislike
her. Instead she was sweet and almost confiding; she had never
wielded anything heavier than an embroidery needle, had never had
to drink cocoa made with powdered milk or walk a couple of miles to
save the bus fare, but for all that she was human. And in any case,
she had probably given unlimited attention to developing her
feminine qualities. Her whole upbringing had been planned towards
the time when she would make some man an excellent wife.

As for the house-warming at the jasmine farm, alterations such as the

senora planned would take some time. It was very unlikely they
would be completed before Josie returned to England. That, at least,
was something to be grateful for!

Noel arrived back at Las Rosas shortly after four. Stuart had brought
her to the gate but had to return to his own house at once, because he
had brought a family over from Alicante for the weekend. He sent his
regards to Julius and Isabel and hoped to call upon them soon.

Isabel was inquisitive. She sat forward in her patio chair and asked,
"Who are these guestspeople we know?"

"I've met them in Alicante," said Noel, as she put on the inevitable
cigarette and lolled back in her chair. "They're distant connections of
Stuart'sa family of four. A husband and wife and two half-baked
sons in their twenties. I'm always amazed at the number of young
Spanish men who are for ever knocking around!"

"Which reminds me," said Josie. "You're all invited out to Rick
Hedley's for the evening. In fact," she said carelessly, "I promised I'd
go early to help get ready for you."

Isabel stared. "Did Rick have the effrontery to invite us or did you
suggest it?"

"Oh come," said Julius smoothly. "Rick was just trying it on. Josie
wasn't aware that you and Noel and I are already booked to go to a
bridge evening down the road." He turned to Josie. "Denis will have
to take you and bring the car back. Then, later, after he's dropped us
along the coast road, he can go on to Las Hermanas. You needn't
bother about us. We'll get a lift home."

"And how do you propose to spend an evening in that god-forsaken

place?" queried Noel. "As far as I know Rick doesn't even own a
radio."

"There's Tod," said Josie.

"If you think I'm going to waste an evening on Rick Hedley" began
Denis ominously.

But his father cut in, "You don't have to. By the time you get there
Josie will have had enough of it, and you can both go on to the
Ramirez place, or pick up some of your friends and bring them here."

Josie said quickly, "If I hadn't promised Rick..."

"It's all right," said Denis. "I'll take you there, anyway, and probably
bring you back as well. When do you want to go?"

"Right away, if it's convenient."

"I'll get out the car."

As Josie got up she met her father's glance. Because it was slightly
worried she smiled at him, and made her "So long, everyone" as airy
as she could.

As the car bowled along the road Denis was apologetic. "Dalton's
people are away and we'd arranged a bit of a card game at his place
for the evening, but I expect I can fix things. The folks will be at
bridge right next door, so the car will be there. I don't want you to
think I wouldn't do it for you, Josie."

"If only your silly island had buses!" she said.

"You won't be stuck," he assured her. "Rick could bring you home in
his own old heap."

"Yes, but do try to come, Denis. You could have supper with us, at
least."

"I'll try. Rick has plenty wrong with him, but he always serves good
food." He looked sideways at her, gave her a big wink. "It's the end
of the month. I'll give you that money I promised you."

It was odd, the way the cash situation was taking a turn. Josie didn't
know why, but she almost wished it were not so. While she had
money troubles the others had less room to move around in her mind.
But she gave him the cheerful answer he expected.

"I'll take it before that card game, if you don't mind!"

He handed the notes over as he drove, laughed as she blew them a

kiss and put them into her bag. At the gateway to the Hedley house
he stopped the car. No object, that he could see, in greeting Rick
twice in one evening. He told Josie to have a good time, grinned and
waved, and was away.
The door stood open, held back by the wrapped brick. Josie went into
the bare little hall, called "Rick!" and received no reply. She stood
there uncertainly, wondering if she had come too early. He was
probably out with Tod. She moved into the sitting-room, saw the
brightly polished surface of the homemade table, the scarred chairs
and sagging cushions. And standing there she heard a movement.

She swung round to see Rick leaning in the doorway. He was dressed
as usual, in corduroys and shirt but his face was grey and sweating,
his eyes dull and dark-circled. He managed a ghastly smile.

"Hi, Josie. Didn't have any way of letting you know the party's off,"
he said.

"You're ill," she said quickly. "Did you just get out of bed?"

"I was lying on the bed when I heard you come in." He remained
leaning there, as though he couldn't trust his weight to his legs.
"You'd better go, Josie."

"Of course I'm not going! Sit down, Rick, pleaseand tell me what's
happened."

He didn't move. "I had lobster in a cheap restaurant in Alicante

yesterday. It couldn't have been too good."

"Food poisoning? Then go back to bed and I'll find a doctor!"

"The worst of it's over, but I still feel like hell. I just need rest, that's
all. Go home, Josie, there's a sport"

She placed her bag on the table, dropped her small white hat beside
it. "I'm not leaving you like this," she said flatly. "Who's your
doctor?"
"I haven't one, and if you go out to find one, I'll lock the door." His
breath rasped. "Run along, Josie. I'll get over this."

"I've got no car. Denis brought me."

"Then use mine, and let me have it back on Monday."

"And leave you half dead?" she said. "Not on your life! Come on,
Rick, you're going back to bed."

Weakly, he barred the doorway; his voice was almost a snarl.

"Haven't you the sense to see you're not wanted!"

"Yes," she said gently. "I'm not wanted but I'm needed. You're sick,
but you still have your pride. All right." She touched his arm, felt him
shrink from her fingers. "I've accepted you as you are, Rick. You
can't, shock me, and you know it. Now, please go back to bed."

He closed his eyes, swayed slightly. "How stubborn can a woman

be?" he whispered to himself.

"The bedroom is through here, isn't it?" she said, as she firmly
grasped his arm.

"I won't have you in there."

She said quietly, "It's a bare room and the bed isn't made. So what?
Come on, Rick. Lean on me."

He gave in suddenly, as if a mental wall had collapsed. Josie didn't

look round the bedroom as they entered it; she was too occupied in
throwing back the bedclothes so that he could lie down and be
covered.

"Have you a medicine chest?" she asked, as she pulled the peasant
blanket up over his shoulders.
"I keep a few things in the drawer of that table under the window.
The bottles are labelled, but ... I don't think there's anything that will
help me. The . . . nausea's finished."

"Have you a pain just below the ribs?"

"And how," he said faintly.

"Just weakness otherwise?"

"Yes."

"I'll find you something sedative, and a hot-water bottle."

His lips scarcely moved. "No hot-water bottle in the house."

"There'll be something." She was examining the bottles and boxes in

the medicine drawer. "Where's Tod?"

"I couldn't bear anyone around . . . sent him off with Cristobal this
morning. He'll come back to bed."

She went out for water, got him to swallow a couple of codeine
tablets and told him to sleep. He was docile and already half
unconscious. His hand, lying outside the blanket, was hot and sticky,
and she thought it wiser for him to do without the added heat of a
hot-water bottle. While he was resting the pain would ease.

She closed the door of the bedroom and went into the garden.
Cristobal, she knew, lived about a quarter of a mile away, down the
back path which led to the shore. It would be easier to walk it than to
fuss with the old jeep, so she set out quickly, and ten minutes later
arrived at the little stone house which Cristobal shared with an old
mother and his son, Juan.
The Spaniard was pulling spring onions in his garden, and he came at
once to where Josie stood on the rocky path.

"Senorita?" he said.

"Senor Hedley is ill."

"I know that. He said I must take care of the senorita and cook
nothing more at the house till tomorrow."

"Is there a doctor in Las Hermanas?"

"No, there is no doctor. Here, we call the nurse or the priest."

"Where does the nurse live?"

"She is away now, senorita." He spread brown, knotty hands. "When

we are sick we use our own remedies. Herbs. The senor is worse?"

"No, I think he's better, but I feel he should have a doctor. Can you
drive, Cristobal?"

His face expressed consternation. "But no! What would you have me
do?"

"Well, there must be a doctor somewhere in Marganeta!"

He shook his head, shrugged as if she were making much of little. "I
have seen this sickness before. The stomach revolts and puts itself
right. The senor is strong. He will recover without little white pills
and the long needle."

It was probably true. She sighed. "Where is the little boy?"

"He plays somewhere with my son."

"You'll bring him to the house at bed-time?"

"Yes, senorita." His leathery face cracked into a smile. "It is good to
see a woman worry about the senor. For many days now he has not
been a happy man and I have known that what is wrong could be put
right by a woman."

"I'm afraid I'm not the woman, Cristobal," she said, and turned to go.

She found the house silent, listened at the bedroom door and knew
Rick was sleeping. There was nothing to do till he awoke, and then
she must give him some diluted milk to test his digestion. Perhaps by
then Denis would be back.

Denis would be furious to be landed with this on a Saturday evening,

but there could be no alternative. Till Rick could keep down
nourishment he mustn't be left, and Denis would have to play his
part. There was no one else.

Eight-o'clock came; eight-thirty, nine. Rick went on sleeping, and she

hurried down to Cristobal's cottage prepared to scold the man for
keeping Tod up so late. But the cottage was in darkness; Cristobal
was probably hitting the high spots with neighbours further down the
road. Josie hastened back to the house, looked about that sitting-room
and began to hate it. What was Denis up to? He hadn't definitely
promised to come, but she had been sure he would. She needed him
here!

Supposing he didn't come, though. After all, he had mentioned Rick's

taking her home in the jeep, and he hadn't waited long enough to find
out that Rick was pretty well flat on his back. She might hang on till
Cristobal did turn up and tell him to stay here the night, and then find
her way home in the jeep. Not that she fancied handling it in the
dark; it was too old and crotchety to be reliable. Still, it looked as
though she might have no choice.
At five minutes to ten a car sounded on the drive. Denis at last, thank
heaven. She couldn't hurry to the door, had only reached the tiny hall
when the car door slammed and Stuart came in. She gazed up at him
unbelievingly in the faint glow from the sitting-room, moistened her
lips. And before she realized what she was doing she had put her
hands to his arms and let out a caught breath of relief.

"Oh, Stuart! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life."

His arm slipped round her. "What is it?" he said swiftly. "Why are
you trembling?" Then, steel in his tones: "What's Rick been up to?"

She tried to collect her wits, willed herself to ignore his arm and the
strong fingers closed over her shoulder. Unsteadily, she said, "You're
so ready to blame Rick. He hasn't done a thing. I was getting nearly
desperate, that's all."

"Desperate about what?" he demanded, looking about him swiftly as

they entered the sitting-room. "Are you alone here?"

Drawing away from him, she gave a halting explanation. "When it

got late I couldn't decide what to do," she finished. "Rick's jeep is
eccentric, and anyway I couldn't leave him till Cristobal showed up."

"So you've been here all these hoursalone?" he said vexedly. "Why
in the world didn't you send the servant for help right away, the
minute you saw how things were?"

"I did go down to him, but he was difficult. Rick was better, you see,
and I was sure Denis would be here by eight." She paused, looked at
him and away again. "Why have you come? I thought you had
guests."

"So I have." He bent and shook the door of a locked cupboard. "I
believe this where Rick keeps his drinks. You need a whisky."
"Oh, no. I don't need anything now you're here."

His glance at her was enigmatic. "Is that a confession wrung from the
heart or just a conventionality?" Without waiting for her reply, he
added, "Denis put off coming for you till nearly nine. Then he went
out to your father's car and found it had a flat. He told your father,
and Noel didn't happen to be playing bridge, so she strolled down the
road to my house and told me the position."

"It was . . . very good of you to come."

"In a way, I wish I'd lent my car to your brother instead," he said
coolly. "You may not quite realize it, but you're making a fine idiot
of yourself over Rick."

She backed from him slightly, her head went up. "That isn't true. If
you'd seen him as I did this afternoon you'd have pitied him just as
much. It isn't idiotic to show a little humanity."

"But if it had been some other person you'd found ill, you'd have
acted more sensibly."

Her shoulders lifted. "I'm not a fool about Rick, but there is
something about his situation that appeals to me. If I could help him
to regain his self-respect, I would."

"But you can't, Josie," he said, with even a note of pleading in his
tones. "You may persuade yourself that you're in love with Rick . . ."

"I'm not!" She threw out her hands. "Stuart, you have the contempt of
the strong-minded for the weak, but even you must admit there's
something very likeable about him. I like Rick, and he does seem to
get some good out of my coming here."
"He'd be glad of any woman who'd take a genuine interest in him.
That doesn't mean any woman could alter him. I know what I'm
talking about, my child. He's not in love with you."

He had spoken with an intensity that was meant to shake her. Josie
quivered, pushed back the hair from her brow. In the lamplight her
face was thin, her red mouth hypersensitive. She bit on the inside of
her lip, lowered her head.

Very quietly, he said, "That hurt, didn't it?"

She shrugged and didn't reply.

"Only a woman he really loved could do anything with Rick," he

said, a thread of iron in his voice. "Why don't you accept that, instead
of making yourself and others wretched through your damned sense
of duty and idealism!"

"You don't see anything the way I see it," she said, low- toned. "I
may be stupid, but I find it good to be needed."

"What if you fell in love?" he said abruptly. "Would you still have
room to spare for other men?"

"I think being in love gives . . . must give one an even wider sense of
compassion. Talking never seems to get us anywhere, does it?"

He pushed a hand into the pocket of his dinner-jacket, shifted slightly

away from her. His voice was unrevealing. "We've never had a really
good talk, you and I, and I'm afraid this isn't the time for it either. But
I want you to know that I'll always help you in any way I possibly
can. The very last thing I want is to hurt you, Josie."

"Yet only a moment ago you said something you hoped would jolt
me to the roots."
"No. I hoped it wouldn't, but it did." He gave her a tight smile.
"You've jolted me fairly near the roots a few times."

She tried to emulate his change of mood. "That's because you're

impatient of people like me. What are we going to do about Rick?
Tonight, I mean."

"We'll do our best for him, tonight and always," he said. "For now,
you'll go home with Noel in my car."

"Good lord, is Noel here?"

"She naturally thought Rick would be with you, and wouldn't come
in. She's sitting in the car."

But a slight commotion on the step proved that Noel was no longer
where he had left her. She was speaking quickly, stepping angrily
into the hall.

"Stuart! Tod's herejust wandered home casually to bed."

Josie went into the hall ahead of Stuart. She saw the little boy,
grubby and tired, and Noel, tall and grandly indignant, standing over
him. Quickly, she again explained, and then she bent over Tod.

"Your daddy's better, but he's asleep. Would you like some milk?"

"No thanks," replied the self-possessed Tod. "We had supper with
Alonzo. What are you all here for?"

"By accident, really," Josie told him. "Can I help you to go to bed?"

"I'm not going to wash," he said sleepily, as he moved away. Then he

looked back. "Daddy was sick all last night. He drank salty water and
I told him it would make him sick, but he kept on."
Noel drew a vehement breath, and Josie said hastily, "It did him
good, Tod. He'll be all right tomorrow."

"I know about salt water," remarked Tod, "because I drank some sea
once." He wandered away, unbuttoning his shirt.

Noel's anger had cooled into cynicism. "A seven-year-old trotting

home at tenand you're sorry for the man!" she said to Josie.

"Tod's been with Cristobal, and he was probably brought home by

him, too. What else could Rick do?"

Noel's teeth snapped. "Rick wouldn't put himself out for anyonenot
even for Tod. He just folded up and let the child take care of
himself."

"That's unfair. How can you be so inhuman, Noel! Tod's always been
safe with Cristobal, and it was better that the child should be out of
the house. Why won't you understand that Rick . . ."

Stuart touched her arm. "You're keyed up, Josie. I want you to go
home with Noel. You can leave my car on the drive at Las Rosas and
I'll pick it up tomorrow."

"You're surely not staying here!" exclaimed Noel.

"If Rick's slept through the racket we've been making, he may remain
unconscious for a further hour or two. I'll stay until he does awaken
and decide then what to do. I think that's Cristobal we can hear in the
kitchen. Between us we'll make Rick comfortable for the night. I'll
use the jeep."

"But what about your guests?"

"Perhaps you'll call and tell Camilla that I may not be home for a
couple of hours? They'll understand."
He went out with them to the car, saw Noel seated behind the wheel.
Before Josie took her place he said gently, "I meant it, little one.
Promise you'll come to me if you need help of any kind."

"If I can," she answered below her breath, as she nodded.

But he heard. "Of course you can. I'm the logical person to come to,
outside your own family."

"The logical action isn't always the easiest."

"No, but it often saves trouble. Now go home, have a stiff nightcap
and go to bed. And there'll be no need for you to come out to see
Rick tomorrow. I'll take care of it myself."

"Thanks. Good-night, Stuart."

He closed the car door and Noel let in the clutch. Noel waved back
towards the house but Josie remained stiffly in her corner till they ran
out into the darkness. Even then it wasn't easy to relax. She felt as if
she had lived through a long- drawn-out nightmare, and Noel seemed
to be a hangover from it.

They drove for nearly fifteen minutes before either spoke. Then Noel
said, "You think I'm pretty horrible, don't you?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I do," Josie answered briefly.

"You're right, of course. I oughtn't to go anywhere near people like

Rick Hedley. I don't see the man at all. I only see the soak, the
waster."

"Perhaps one day someone you're fond of will need pity."

Noel trod harder on the accelerator; she seemed to love the feeling of
power under her hands. "Pity goes with charity," she said carelessly,
"and I don't think Rick deserves either. I've known other men who
lost their wives but they haven't let it crush them. And I'll bet some of
them were capable of far more feeling than Rick ever was! He's
abnormal."

"I don't agree. I daresay Rick was never strong on self- esteem, and
the blow floored him." -(

"My dear girl," said Noel, with an edge to her bored tones, "no
normal man behaves as he did when his wife died."

Josie was silent a moment. Trees flashed past, black outlines against
a starry sky. Car beams approached and passed, leaving the road as
deserted as before.

She said, "Rick's wife didn't die. He divorced her."

Noel flashed her a glance. "Are you sure? Did he tell you himself?"

Josie nodded. "To use his own expression, she was a tramp. Little
Tod was only a few months old when she went off with someone
else. Rick was boss of a small copper mine, and though no one dared
say anything, he knew they were all laughing at him. He came to
Marganeta, decided to cut women from his life in the most effective
way he knew. He just let himself slide."

Noel returned to her usual cold indifference. "He must have been
gone on the woman."

"Possiblyin the beginning. When she left him he felt as any man
might feel who can't keep a wifedreadfully let down and a
complete fool. He got as far away from it all as he could, and the
only friend he found here was my father. Isabel prevented a close
friendship . . ."

"Who'd blame her!"

"She's not to blame a scrap," said Josie. "I was merely pointing out
that Rick hasn't had much chance to pull up, even if he wanted to.
More than anything he's needed balanced friendships, but most
people he meets are violently against himas you are."

Noel swung the car round a bead. "You seem to have learned an
awful lot about the man," she said in hard tones. "Maybe I'm too
much like my sister to condone his way of living. I'm not one of your
maternal sort, but in my opinion it's Tod who counts now."

"Not so long ago," said Josie, "you were less concerned about Tod's
environment. Nothing has changed."

Noel cast her a narrowed, sarcastic glance. "Why don't you marry the
man and look after his child? You'd do it admirably."

Josie was spared the necessity of answering this. Noel braked and
drove a short way up the drive towards the Morland villa, then
switched off. Without speaking again, she got out, went up into the
lighted front porch and pulled the wrought-iron handle that rang a
bell somewhere inside the house. She disappeared into the hall, and
Josie sat watching figures behind the half-drawn curtains and making
nothing of them. Her brain was spent, and the headache hovered no
longer. It had settled painfully just above her eyes.

Noel came out and set the car moving again. Out once more on the
coast road she said, "Camilla looked a knock-out. Imagine that cool
beauty of hers with fire smouldering behind it. She said her mother
would go to bed but all the rest of them would wait up for Stuart To a
Spaniard, the night is young!"

Surprised at her own lack of emotion, Josie said, "Camilla told me

today that her engagement to Stuart would probably be announced
when they give a house-warming party at the jasmine farm."
"Good for her," returned Noel lightly. "She's just about as much in
love with him as I was, but bonds will make her heart grow fonder,
whereas with me they'd chafe like hell. Gosh, how weary I am of
men, and talk of marriage!"

For once, Josie's feelings coincided with those of Noel Mervyn. She
wanted aspirin and a cool dark bed.
CHAPTER NINE

ON Sunday morning Armando Ramirez's small motor-boat put into

the bay below Las Rosas and he came up to the house for
refreshment. Young, fleshily handsome and flamboyant, Armando
was voluble this morning about the riding competitions which were
to be held late in the afternoon in a field behind the town. He was
riding in the doubles event himself, and his younger sister was to be
his pillion passenger.

"Unless you are a horsewoman, Josie?" he said roguishly. "Instead of

a dark senorita in a black shawl with arms akimbo, it would create
excitement if I took a fair one in white!"

"I'm afraid I'm a flop on a horse, Armando."

"No matter," he said. "You must come to see us ride. And now a trip
out in the boat for you and Denisyes?"

"I have to be at the Villa Panado at twelve."

"Bueno! I will land you there."

At five minutes to twelve Armando brought the motor-boat to the

beach below the Villa Panado, and because he was a Spaniard who
would never become accustomed to the English idea of freedom for
women, he accompanied Josie to the gates of the Villa.

The old Lola was not in a mood for conversation. She bade Josie take
her time and sighed often with satisfaction, but she had business on
her mind. It was her own professional band of Sevillanos who were
arranging and performing in the modest feria to be held this
afternoon, and Lola never sponsored anything without having a hand
in its presentation. She always said that Sunday in Marganeta should
be like Sunday in Spainas lively as the people themselves wanted
it.

When Josie came out into the hot two o'clock sunshine Denis was
waiting for her in her father's car.

"Tony Dalton fixed the tyre for us," he said. "When I got back from
the trip with Armando, Stuart was at the house to collect his car. He
insisted that I must pick you up from Lola's, said I was to tell you
that Rick is much better this morning. What went on last night,
anyway?"

"You've heard it all," she answered as they moved off. "I'm glad
Rick's got over it."

"I think," said Denis casually, as he put on speed, "that Stuart's fed up
with Dad for letting you go as often as you like to Las Hermanas. I
heard him say myself that you have the wrong mentality for hospital
work, that helping the unfortunate has come to mean more to you
than living your own life."

"Stuart doesn't know everything," she answered offhandedly. "If it

weren't Sunday I'd be looking forward to this contest this afternoon,
wouldn't you?"

"What's wrong with having it on Sunday? They don't charge

anything, and it's the usual Continental practice. You know, Josie,
Stuart was right about one thing he said this morning. You're too
English."

Josie offered no defence; she was arriving at the state of mind in

which nothing could hurt very much.
The others had already started lunch when Josie and Denis arrived.
As Isabel put it, "We can't allow Lola Panado to dictate our meal-
times. She might at least offer to send you home in her car."

"It's only half an hour's walk. I don't mind it."

A shrug. "It's up to you, but I must say it's a bit off when Denis has to
wait for his lunch, as well."

"Well, they're both here," said Julius pacifically. "Help yourselves,

you two, and don't hurry. I suppose you'll be off to the feria later
on?"

"Preserve us," drawled Noel. "Fiestas, ferias and bull fights! I never
want to see another."

"I can't stand bullfights myself," said Julius, "but the fiestas make
excitement for young people. Unfortunately, we don't have anything
full-scale while Josie's here." He smiled at his daughter. "In
Marganeta, fiesta-time coincides with the end of the main harvest.
You'd love it, Josie."

The meal ended and Josie went up to her tiny room. The cruise in the
sunshine and a couple of hours over the aged body of Lola Panado
had been tiring, and she threw back the bed-cover, kicked off her
sandals and half lay on the bed, her elbow dug into her pillow and her
cheek resting on her hand.

Her glance rested on her handbag, and she thought of the money
inside it, sealed in an envelope ready to be handed over at some
convenient moment. With Stuart Morland, one didn't make an
appointment for such a purpose. It had to be accomplished
unobtrusively, almost without words. She would be glad when it was
all over.
At about four-thirty she had a shower and put on a dress she had
worn only once before. It was in stiff glazed cotton, white with a blue
Delft pattern, the neck low and square, the skirt very full. She
brushed her hair and made up carefully, stepped into high-heeled
white sandals.

When she went down to the patio the others were at tea. Isabel was
not a big eater, but she seemed to live from one meal to the next, and
it always irritated her if people wandered in after the tray was
prepared or the table set. This afternoon, she looked Josie over a little
impatiently but said nothing.

"I'm going with you, Josie," said Julius Vayle. "It's usual to attend in
family groups and I enjoy the horsemanship. If we get there about six
the events will be under way. After dark, it's quite a show."

It was cool when they set out. The sun slanted across the coast road,
tinted the trees, laid gold-dust over the sea. The sports ground was
transformed by banners and bunting, and around it were set chairs
and casetas, those small portable rooms made of wood and each one
decorated to outdo the rest. The casetas, of course, belonged to
various families and were used like a box at the theatre. Within the
tinselled framework sat mamas in jewels and mantillas, papas in
black suits and offspring in their brightest and best.

Julius found chairs for the three of them, and for a while they
watched the young men prancing on their horses, the jumping, and
the doubles event, in which Armando Ramirez was the popular
victor. It was quite dark by the time this last event took place, and the
horses, with their riders and girl pillion passengers, were a splendid
sight. The girls sat well back, side-saddle and with lustrous shawls
drawn tightly about them. Not one of them moved a hand to touch a
rider, or altered the proud tilt of her head. Their control was superb,
through much practice; almost every one of them rode with a brother.
At about seven-thirty there came an interval, during which many
people ate from picnic baskets or bought the crisp patatas fritas from
old women with laden baskets. Denis slid away to find Armando and
his friends, and Julius suggested that he and Josie should take a walk
and examine some of the casetas at closer range.

"They're much smaller than those you see in Seville," he said, as they
passed one which was crowded with the relatives of one of the riders,
"but there the feria lasts for days. This, I'm afraid, is put on more as
tourist attraction. They say that Lola herself supplies the more gaudy
casetas and hires them out. Still, the riding is genuine enough."

"Have we seen the best of it?"

"Probably." He smiled at her affectionately. "Do you feel uneasy

because it's Sunday?"

"I think I do, a bit. It's the way one grows up, I suppose."

"I'll leave a message for Denis and we'll go." He indicated a gap. "We
can get through here."

He went first, moving a chair or two, and they came out to where the
cars and donkeys and mule carts were parked. The long white car
was at the end of the line, with windows wide and several people
looking out. Josie saw Camilla, her beauty startling in the lamplight;
petal skin, black hair and eyes, the aloof carriage of the head on a
slender throat. Julius bowed, Josie smiled, and they walked on.
Behind them, a car door clicked shut, and a second later Stuart was
greeting them.

"We were taking a drive and looked in," he said. "How are you,
Josie?"
She gazed no higher than the gardenia in his lapel. "Very well," she
said. "Thank you for leaving the message about Rick."

They were standing under one of the improvised lamps and she
wished they weren't. His regard was too appraising.

"You look very sweet," he said.

"Thank you."

Julius smiled. "Josie never makes the best of herself. Isabel offered to
lend her some pearls that she could wear during her stay with us, but
Josie wriggled out of it. She even has a ring of her mother's . . ." he
paused, and went on, "but perhaps she has reasons for not wearing it.
I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Calmly, Stuart said, "The turquoise ring? Hasn't Josie told you why
she doesn't wear it?"

Julius looked surprised. Josie cast Stuart a swift glance of alarm and
pleading.

"I . . . I've mislaid it," she said in panic. "I didn't tell you before
because I was afraid it would hurt you to know I'd been careless with
it."

"But it isn't lost," Stuart stated suavely. He dipped into the inside
pocket of his jacket. "Is this the ring?"

Josie's brain reeled. Was Stuart's action deliberate? Had he decided

that Julius should know about Denis's debt and the problem it had
created for herself, and incidentally for him? Did he think she was
still struggling to get the money togetherthat it was time he put an
end to her worries? It would be like him. But he'd promised!
She said hurriedly, shakily, "So ... so I did lose it that night you gave
us a beach party. What a blessing you found it!"

His eyes, as he faced her, were coolly mocking. "I didn't find it," he
said, "but you may have it back." He reached for her hand. "Let me
put it on you."

The antique ring was down to the first knuckle before she withdrew
her hand swiftly. "Not that finger! I don't wear it on my left hand."

The mockery in him now was sword-sharp. "Oh, that's the finger for
the engagement ring, isn't it? Forgive me. Habit."

The ring slid over the third finger of her right hand. Stuart gave a
brief laugh, and Julius, slightly puzzled' at the by-play but unwilling,
as usual, to intrude upon something which didn't seem to concern
him, lifted his shoulders to denote that all was well that ended well.

"Josie and I have had enough of the feria," he said. "We were just
looking for Denis, to tell him we're going."

Stuart fell into step with them. He was in the middle, with Josie on
his left. Her heart in her throat, she hung back slightly. Deftly, she
drew the bulky envelope from her bag, and as quickly as she could
she lifted the flap of his jacket pocket and dropped the packet inside.
He gave no sign of having felt anything unusual; he walked on,
talking charmingly.

They reached a crowd of young men, and Tony Dalton was among
them. He promised to convey a message to Denis.

"And what about a subscription for a worthy charity, Mr. Vayle?" he

asked confidingly. "Some idea of building cottages for old people.
Mr. Morland's heading the list."

"I'll send a cheque," said Julius. "Are you making a collection here?"
Tony nodded and held up a deep goatskin shepherd's bag. "We're
taking these round and inviting people to aim for them. Come on,
Josie, first go in mine!"

She flipped a couple of coins and he caught them in the bag. Julius
did the same as he passed on. Somehow knowing what would
happen, she watched Stuart. His hand went to his pocket and easily,
quickly, the envelope disappeared into the goatskin maw. He'd
possessed it for about a minutethe money she had gone to such
lengths to collect! Rage gripped her so that she stumbled as she
walked on blindly, a yard or two ahead of the two men.

They reached the Vayle car and Stuart opened the door.

"A lovely evening," he said, as she passed him to take her seat.

"Damn you," she said quietly but distinctly, and stared ahead till the
car reached the road.

During the next few days the atmosphere at Las Rosas was a blend of
unrest and quiet jubilation, this last caused by a report from Alicante
that one of the agency's ships had completed a successful freight tour
of the islands ahead of schedule. From now on, Julius could count on
increased business with the Mendoza-Cortez company, and at the end
of next month both Denis and Gonzalez would find a few extra
pounds in their pay packets.

The unrest in the house was less easy to pin down, but it seemed to
emanate from Noel. Not that her behaviour was so different. She got
up late each morning, took her gear up to the church or along the
beach, and came back in time to wash before lunch. The early
afternoon she spent in her room, then she came down to tea and
occasionally took the car or went for a walk. She spent more time
alone, but that was possibly because a rift seemed to be widening
between herself and Isabel. It wasn't difficult to guess that Isabel was
both dismayed and unhappy about her sister's indifference to the
rumoured engagement of Stuart Morland and Camilla Lopez. Also,
Isabel found it hard to believe that any man would prefer the too-
perfect beauty of the Spanish girl to the charactered attractions of
Noel. And unfortunately, she hadn't quite the tact to remain silent.

Noel, on the other hand, appeared to have no wish to talk to anyone,

nor did she seem to be turning out much work, and it was this lack of
inspiration that she gave as an excuse for leaving Marganeta at the
weekend. She announced it after dinner on Wednesday evening, and
lay back in her corner of the chesterfield with an air of inviting no
comment. But Isabel wasn't so easily put off.

"If you haven't worked here," she said, "it's because you won't see the
things worth painting. You told me yourself that all the pictures you
did over Christmas sold very quickly. You came here in the wrong
mood, darling, but there's no reason why it shouldn't change. If you
go back so soon, it'll mean you haven't enjoyed being with us."

"In a way I daresay it's true," said Noel callously. "You do your best,
Isabel, but you and I don't click any more. I think Julius understands
me better than you do."

"There's a thing to say!"

"It's true, so help me. You're feminine, and whatever I look like, I'm
not! I like my own life, with my own sort of people and they're not
your sort, Isabel! You'd hate them."

"Greasy poets!" exclaimed Isabel witheringly.

"And the grandees of Alicante," put in Julius mildly. "Noel has to go
her own way, Isabel. Maybe she'll bring a husband with her next time
she comes."

"God forbid," said Noel.

Denis asked hopefully, "May I go over with you, Noel? You could
put me up over the weekend, couldn't you?"

"Sorry, Denis," she replied briefly, "but I feel a need to be alone."

"I still think," persisted Isabel, "that you're acting hastily. If you'd
only give yourself time . . ."

Noel stood up. "Skip it, there's a pet. I think I'll go on the usual
Friday morning ferrythe early one. And let's keep it in the family,
shall we? If there's one thing I can't stand, it's farewell binges."

There the discussion ended. Noel shook down her slacks, took up the
short yellow coat she had left on the back of a chair and went out into
the night, leaving behind a trail of cigarette ash.

The following afternoon Josie went to Las Hermanas for an hour.

Rick gave her a cup of tea and a cigarette, and thanked her with a
crooked grin for her ministrations the previous Saturday.

"The experience rattled me, I can tell you," he said, seriously for him.
"I kept thinking I was going to pass out and leave Tod with no one to
care for him. I'm not much myself, but while he has me he has a
parent."

"Where is he now?"

"Out with the kids. How am I going to send him to school, Josie?"

"You really mean you will?" she said eagerly.

"Maybe, at the end of the summer. I think I'll sell up here and get a
job somewhere near English people. Some of the schools have
weekly boarders; I'd like to see him often. He's going to find it hard."

"I don't think so. He's self-assured for his age, and he likes other
boys. If they're ahead with their lessons, he'll show them a thing or
two outdoors! In any case, you can teach him to read during the
summer."

"I thought of that. You might help me start him off, Josie."

"Of course I will." They were in the patio and she looked down the
unkempt garden. "I'd still like to see you put this place right."

His smile was self-deprecating. "Morland was pretty good to me over

the weekend. I more or less promised him I'd have the house patched
up; in any case, it'll sell better if it looks normal."

When she left him he was lighting another cigarette and looking over
the front of the house. His colour wasn't too healthy and his
movements lacked energy, but he seemed to have completely
recovered. She remembered that Noel and Isabel always called him a
soak, but she couldn't recollect ever seeing him drink very much;
perhaps he was giving it up.

Early on Friday morning Noel said goodbye to Isabel in her bedroom

and came downstairs in the long yellow tweed coat and blue slacks.
Josie and Julius were both up, but Noel said it was only necessary for
Julius to take her to the ferry.

"Do me a favour, Josie," she said. "However much I plan, I always

leave a wreckage behind me. You might burn the rubbish I've left in
my room. Do it soon, will you?"
Josie nodded. "If you've left any of your personal belongings I'll post
them to you. Have a good trip."

Noel seemed about to say something flippant; but she must have
changed her mind. From the bottom of the stairs she called up: "'Bye,
Denis; keep your brain dusted! 'Bye, Isabel!"

Josie went out with them to the car, helped to stow the bags. As they
moved away she called goodbye and waved, and when the car had
gone she went slowly back into the house. For some reason she felt
sad and frustrated.

In the entrance hall she hesitated, and because it was too early to start
the day she went up to Noel's room, stepped over a heap of papers
and other oddments and pegged the windows wider. She gathered up
the rubbish, stuffed as much of it as possible into the waste-basket
and carried the rest in her other arm downstairs and round to the heap
where Manoel burned the garden refuse. She took a book of matches
from her pocket, set a flame to some oddments of notepaper and
emptied the waste-basket over them. The cleansing tissues burned out
quickly but the empty cosmetic cartons took longer. Crumpled
drawing paper had to be opened, and Josie saw that the sketches were
scrappy, perhaps merely experiments. A thick, crumpled painting
opened slightly in the heat and she saw the corner of it, recognized a
jam tin half- buried in weeds. So Noel had tossed it away, after all. It
was possible that in spite of the cruel streak in her character she
hadn't been too proud of that painting.

When the fire had burnt out Josie wiped the basket and carried it
back upstairs. She took the linen from the bed, arched the mattress
and left the wardrobe wide. She picked up the tray, again wedged the
door open and went down to the kitchen.

Though it was not much after eight, Lucia was mixing a cake, and
bowls were ready to receive portions of the mixture for colouring.
"The senora gives me permission to make such a cake what you
call a rainbow cakefor the birthday of my son. He is nine years old
today."

"And you're giving him a party?" asked Josie.

"Just a cake and some sweet wine for his friends, and for his birthday
gift a ride to the other side of the island, to see his other
grandmother." She looked with displeasure at Noel's breakfast tray.
"They serve only coffee and sandwiches that smell of onion on the
ferry. Senorita Mervyn will be hungry."

"She'll smoke," said Josie. "My father will be back soon for his
breakfast. Can I help?"

"It will be ready," replied Lucia with dignity. "You wish to wait for
him?"

"Yes, and I'll try to get Denis down. Too bad that we scatter breakfast
for you like this."

"It is no matter. No trouble at all."

Julius Vayle returned even sooner than Josie had expected.

"You know Noel," he said. "A steward took her bags, we shook
hands and she asked me to clear off. There's the ferry siren, now.
Can't say I'm sorry she's gone."

Josie poured the coffee. "Nor I, really. She seems to be a curious

mixture of good and evil."

"Selfish, intolerant and headstrong," her father said. "She's been

spoiled by Isabel and others from the cradle up." He smiled as his
breakfast was served. "Good morning, Lucia. This omelette looks
just right. I don't know how you do it."
Noel receded, was forgotten.

The day passed quietly. Josie had tea in the patio with Isabel. They
both read magazines, and once or twice Isabel sighed. Eventually,
she rested that head, which was the colour of sauterne in the
afternoon light, back against her chair.

"It seems to have been an awfully long day," she said. "I woke up
with a woolly head and took too many tablets this morning. What do
you girls use at the hospital for a headache?"

"Whatever happens to suit us. We get it from the dispensary. A

room-mate I once had always relaxed on the bed and I massaged her
temples. It acted on her like magic. I don't get bad heads when I'm
working."

"You're lucky. Massage might be soothing, if the fingers were cool.

How do you do it?"

Josie got up to show her, stood behind her chair and stroked from
mid-brow to the temples. Isabel remained very still, her eyes closed.

"It's nice," she said. "Do you always stand up at your work?"

"Mostly. One has to move about."

"Then you probably find it more tiring than I thought. Still, you're
young." A pause. Then: "Thank you, dear. I may get you to do it
again when I go to bed tonight."

It was the quietest evening for some time. Denis had gone out to yet
another Ramirez party, and tonight there were no sounds from the
kitchen because Lucia and Manoel had the evening off so that they
could pick up their son from his grandmother's. In the pantry Lucia
had left everything ready; prepared vegetables in the fridge, a cooked
chicken which could be gently heated, and a chilled sweet in custard
glasses. Josie quite enjoyed the cooking and serving, the clearing and
washing-up.

As she came from the kitchen she met Isabel in the hall.

"I'll have that massage, if you don't mind," Isabel said. "It may send
me off quickly to sleep."

So about ten minutes later Josie went up to find Isabel in bed and
ready for the healing fingers. And twenty minutes later she came
downstairs to her father, who was reading the morning newspaper in
the sitting-room. He got up to switch on another lamp, but she shook
her head.

"No, I won't read. I have a dress that needs a few stitches, but I think
I'll leave it till tomorrow."

"Do you want the radio?"

"It might disturb Isabel. She said she didn't sleep too well last night."

"She doesn't generally take things to heart, but she's been a little
distressed lately. However, she's really bucked about the new
business with Mendoza-Cortez. I'm hoping very much that she'll
agree to my buying this house from the owner."

Josie brightened swiftly. "Oh, I do hope so! What about the

furniture?"

He smiled. "That would depend on what the woman wants for it.
Some of it we'd definitely throw out."

"Do you think Isabel will want this house?"

"She likes it, but we were never before in a position to offer to buy. I
won't rush her with the idea, but I thought you'd like to know."
"It's quite exciting." She looked at him. "Is the Mendoza- Cortez
business worth so very much?"

"They have nine subsidiaries, my dear, and they're the oldest and
best-known business house along the coast and throughout the
islands. Previously they've split up their shipping, but I have their
promise that, gradually, I can take on the lot. It seems as if I've
waited all my life for a stroke of luck like this. And as you know,
success breeds success. My head office will be after me to stay on
beyond the retiring age."

"Then Denis had better train as a first-class assistant manager!"

"Well, it's all in the future. I feel I can work for ever, so long as I get
results." He stopped suddenly. "What's that racket?"

"A car on the drive. I'll go and see who it is before they ring the bell.
At night it makes such a piercing noise."

Josie got quickly to her feet, but her father went with her and was just
behind her when she switched on the porch light and opened the
door. Both of them stared at the man who stood there, pushing a hand
over his face.

"Josie," Rick said. "Josie, I've got to speak to you."

"Come in," she said with quiet urgency. "There's only the two of us."

"No, I ... I just want to see you, Josie. Sorry, Julius, but . . ."

"That's all right, Rick," said Julius in even tones. "You can see Josie
alone."

Rick seemed to find difficulty in breathing. "Come out with me,

Josie."
She looked at her father and he nodded. She moved out into the
porch, felt Rick's grip, hot and hard on her wrist.

"Where are we going?"

"You have to help me with something. Don't worry, Julius I ... I'll
bring her back."

Somehow she seated herself in the antiquated jeep. She felt it lurch as
it started, the wild swing as he turned it out on to the coast road,
towards Las Hermanas. They jolted along for about two hundred
yards, and then he ran on to the grass above the beach, switched off
the engine and slumped over the wheel.
CHAPTER TEN

JOSIE saw the long strips of hair falling forward over one hand, the
fingers of the other hand clenched on the wheel. The chill spread
through her whole being.

"Is it Tod?" she whispered.

Rick lifted his head, moistened his lips. He nodded. "We've lost him,
Josie. He was out with the boys all day, then they missed him and
started to search. I . . . well, you know how I am with Tod. He ... he
comes in when he likes..."

"Yes. Yes, I know. Tell me exactly how it happened."

Rick put a hand up round his throat. "Today was just like any other
day. Tod went out this morning with the boys and took some lunch
with him. They've been playing in a gang lately and I was glad
thought it better for him. He didn't turn up all day, but I didn't bother.
It's been that way before." The hand that wouldn't keep still went
round the back of his neck. "Cristobal got supper. He hadn't seen
anything of Tod, but Juan wasn't back, either, nor any of the other
boys. We thought they'd gone too far from Las Hermanas, and I
began to get uneasy. Tod's one of the smallest."

"So you went looking for him?"

"I drove about the roads, and eventually found the boys, but Tod
wasn't with them. They were searching for him themselves. I could
hardly keep my hands off Juan . . . .but it wasn't his fault. I'm to
blame."

"Rick, please." Josie felt she would scream if he didn't put that hand
in his pocket. "When did they miss Tod?"
"They lied and made excuses, then Juan stuck to it that he'd
wandered off after dark. But if Tod wandered anywhere as late as
that, it would be home, Josie!" His voice cracked. "He's said a
hundred times when he's been tired that home is the best place in the
world! I can't get away from feeling that he's lying somewhere, hurt."

Josie fought down distress that was hardly less than his.

"Had they been on the beach?"

"Not since this morning, but I did get Cristobal and other men
scouring the rocks. But he wouldn't drown. Tod swims like a fish."

And the sea had been glass-smooth, she thought thankfully. "Then
you just have to search wherever the boys have played today."

"It's been done. I've been over the ground myself, and the others are
still on the job. I think I'm going crazy!"

"You feel that way because it's dark." A thought struck her, and she
felt her heart contract and grow colder. "Why did you come to me,
Rick?"

His weary face turned her way. "I couldn't stand it. I drove this way
because I had a blind conviction that it was the right thing to do. At
first I thought of going to Morland's place, but something made me
drive straight on. I believe I knew that only you, of the English
people here, wouldn't tell me I'd asked for it, that it served me right."

"We'll find him, Rick," she said. "Take me up to Stuart's house now.
He'll know just what to do."

"Yes," he said bitterly. "I suppose it's the only way."

He started up the jeep, pulled out on to the road, and within five
minutes had turned between the pillars on to the Morland drive. Josie
laid a hand on his arm.

"Go straight home, Rick. They may have found him. I'll see Stuart,
and possibly we'll both come on to Las Hermanas. In any case I'll let
you know what's been decided. And try not to worry too much. Tod's
not scared of the dark, and you'll probably find him tucked up asleep
somewhere."

"I hope to God you're right," he muttered, from the depths of his
heart. "Thanks, Josie. I'll leave it with you."

By the time she had reached the lighted veranda of the house the jeep
had backed on to the road. She hesitated, decided against ringing the
bell and tapped on the white door. It was opened by a manservant she
vaguely remembered, and he stood aside so that she could pass him.

"One moment, please, senorita," he said.

He crossed the hall, tapped on a door, entered the room and

announced her. Josie found herself in the spacious sitting- room,
alone with Camilla Lopez.

Camilla had risen from where she had been sitting under a lamp. She
was carefully arranging over the long table a stiff dress in ivory silk,
and on the small table under the lamp were little trays of seed pearls
of varying sizes.

"Ah, good evening, Josie. You find me engaged in a wonderful

occupation. I am sewing pearl motifs on to a new and very special
evening gown." She displayed the low-cut bodice, half trimmed in an
exquisite flower-pattern of pearls. "It comes wellno?"

"It's very beautiful. You'll look lovely in it."

"Thank you. Stuart got the pearls for me. These Mendoza- Cortez can
procure anything."

"I came to see him. Is he in?"

"He has just escorted my mother upstairs to her room. No doubt she
is keeping him with talk. I am happy to say she is nearly as excited as
I am."

"I have to see him about something very urgent."

"Oh." The black brows drew together sympathetically. "I am so full

of myself that I did not notice at once that you are worried. I will go
and tell him you are here."

Alone, Josie stood above the ivory silk dress for a moment. Then she
moved away, and when Stuart came in she was backing the table and
facing the door. He came forward quickly, full of concern.

"Have you trouble at Las Rosas? I've told your father many times that
he should install a telephone."

Perhaps it was because he mostly spoke in Spanish with the Lopez

women that at times he sounded so alien. Somehow, tonight, he
looked foreign, too, but in a way it helped her to be impersonal.

"Rick Hedley just came down to see me. Tod's missing and they're
scouring the roads and the beach around Las Hermanas. Rick's
frantiche just isn't in a condition to organize anything, and you did
say that if ... if I needed your help, I might come to you."

He took it in quickly, as she had known he would, and wasted no

time demanding details. But he did ask, "How long has he been lost?"

"Rick doesn't know. The boysJuan, particularlyknow they

should have kept an eye on him, and they insisted he was with them
till after dark. But . . ." she swallowed, "I've got a hunch about ita
beastly hunch. Rick said he thought he was going crazy, and then the
crazy idea came to me. Noel left Marganeta today!"

"But, my dear girl, what can Noel have to do with this?" He came
closer, and his glance sharpened as she leaned back just slightly as if
to avoid the nearness; but he didn't remark upon it. "What's in your
mind, Josie? Tell me."

"Just that," she baldly. "Noel's goneand Tod can't be found."

He stood looking down at her. "What has Rick told you about himself
and Noel?"

"Nothing, but I'm sure he doesn't hate her as she hates him."

He let a long moment elapse before he said, "No one but Rick and
myself knows this. He's in love with her."

Her lips and throat went dry. "I ... I believe I guessed it. How did you
find out?"

He shrugged, with just a hint of distaste. "When Noel was over last
Christmas they met for the first time. He taunted her with her
success, and she was as acidly sarcastic as she could be about his
failure. One night he came down to a party on the waterfront and I
saw him kiss Noel under a piece of artificial mistletoe. I gave him a
lift home, and on the way I rallied him about it. In that casual way of
his he admitted he'd fallen, and he laughed at himself for an outsize
fool."

"Poor Rick," she murmured. "Why did he go out of his way to make
her hate him?"

"He didn't. The ingredients were there already. That filthy house . . ."
"It's not filthy!"

"It's not a home a man could be proud of!" he returned. "And it

certainly isn't one a man could ask a woman to share. If Noel had
known he was in love with her she'd have laughed herself silly."

"But . . . but do you think she could love him just for himself
quite apart from everything else?" she asked with tenseness in her
voice. Both hands came up and held her cheeks, and she thought,
almost hysterically, that she must be catching habits from Rick. "Is
Noel normal enough to love anyone?"

"You 're the one who coupled Tod's disappearance with Noel," he
said offhandedly, "so you must feel that she loves Tod, at any rate.
Personally, I don't think she'd carry the boy away for sentimental
reasons. What time did she leave?"

"On the early ferry. It could have been managed. She's been about a
lot on her own, and she could easily have paid someone to take Tod
round from the beach by boat. We all know that Tod goes out the
minute the sun is up. She wouldn't let my father stay till the ferry left
. . . and she must have smoked nearly all night; there was something
on her mind." Josie's mouth quivered. "I can't bear to think she'd do
that to a man who loves her, but I do know that she's horribly cruel."

"Noel's strange," he said, "she's selfish and disillusioned, but she's

not cruel."

"Disillusioned?" she echoed. "About what?"

"About life in general; it stands out a mile. Haven't you ever noticed
the look of derision she always gives women in her paintings? She's a
cynic, but she's not cruel."
Josie moved her shoulders inside her dress, to ease them. Her skin
felt clammy, her eyes hot. "I didn't intend ever to tell anyone about
this, but now I'm wondering if it's some sort of clue," she said
huskily. "I took Noel up to Rick's house one morning. She didn't get
out of the car and the few words she and Rick had together weren't
very pleasant. I remember feeling she couldn't behave that way if she
were as entirely indifferent to him as she wanted everyone to believe.
Well, a few days later I went to her room and there was a painting on
the easelan appalling picture of the house at Las Hermanas with
Rick outside. The whole thing was . . . was depraved." She drew in
her lip, let it go. "Can all this possibly have anything to do with
Tod?"

"Yes, it can. I don't believe Tod could get lost in his own part of the
islandhe knows it too well. And if he'd hurt himself he'd have
yelled to the other boys; some of them would have been bound to
hear him. It's far more likely that if there were several of them they
wouldn't notice his absence; or simply think he'd wandered home if
they did notice it. It's possible they missed him much earlier than
they admitted, but did nothing about it till they grew frightened.
Children don't think individually about each other when they're
having a high time." He paused, consideringly, then asked almost
carelessly, "How do you tie up the picture you saw in Noel's room
with this disappearance?"

"I told you it was just a... a feeling."

"But you think it's possible she painted Rick like that to release
pressure within herself?"

Josie shifted, so that she was only half facing him. "I . . . I don't
really know what to think. Anything is possible. I can't imagine any
woman putting in hours of hate on a painting of someone she loved,
but," her voice caught, "Noel has her own set of values. I wouldn't
say she loves Tod, but she likes him, and I did gather that almost
against her will she sketches the child every time she sees him." She
flung up at him an appealing glance. "We must do something for
Rick!"

Just slightly, he hardened. "Let him sweatit'll jerk him alive!" His
tone probed. "So you feel that, desperately against her will, Noel is in
love with Rick?"

Josie's head was bent, her fingers were curled tightly into her palms.
"She doesn't behave as most women do when they're in love, but then
she despises him. Perhaps you know her better than I do. Would she
have taken Tod?"

"We'll find out." He went to the door and opened it. "Pepe!"

The servant couldn't have been far away, for almost at once Stuart
spoke to him rapidly and at some length in Spanish. Then he came
back into the room.

"The house where Noel lives has no telephone," he said. "I have
friends who could get in touch with her, but they'd have to know all
about it, and as long as we can we'll avoid publicity. Far better to sail
over to Alicante and find out for ourselves. I can run the Santa
Fedora with two men, and I've told my servant to go the houses of
two of the crew and send them out to the ship right away. I don't
think you should go with us, Josie."

"No, I don't want to," she answered dully, "but you'll take Rick?"

"Oh, yes," heavily. "The investigation is Rick's job. I'll take you
home, and then go on to Las Hermanas. If they've found the child the
trip can easily be cancelled. In any case, I'll let you know if we get
any news."

"Thank you." She was pale and spent, willing to leave him now.
But for him the conversation hadn't quite ended. "A moment ago you
said Noel's behaviour wasn't like that of a woman in love. How, in
your opinion, should a woman in the throes behave?"

She didn't want to discuss the subject, but he was awaiting her reply.
"One acts according to one's nature, I suppose, and so much depends
on whether one's . . . emotions rouse a response." Almost without
volition she looked sideways, at the pearl-trimmed ivory dress. "It
shows in a woman, if she's loved."

"Not always," he said.

Resolutely, she moved towards the doorway. "No, one can't

generalize. Thank you very much for promising to help Rick."

"I'm doing it for you," he said coolly, "but let it lie."

They went out then, and he drove her home. At the gateway to Las
Rosas he helped her from the car.

"Try not to worry about Tod," he said. "If he's on the island they'll
find him. If he's in Alicante he's with Noel, or in her care somehow
though what she'd do with a child I can't imagine!"

"I may be sending you on a wild goose chase."

"We'll know fairly soon."

She put up a hand as if to touch him, but withdrew it before it met his
sleeve. "I'd rather you didn't tell Rick about the picture, or even hint
that in a backhanded way Noel may be in love with him. I'd hate him
to be disappointed."

"You're awfully tender with Rick's feelings, aren't you?" he said

laconically.
"He's been hurt enough. Perhaps you could explain about Noel being
with you when you came to Las Hermanas and found Rick ill. Tell
him she was angry to find Tod strolling home at ten o'clock, that she
might have abducted him to teach him a lesson . . . Rick, I mean."

"Seeing that I've taken this on," he said stiffly, "I'll do it in my own
way."

"You told me to come to you. Don't get cross with me about it."

A look of exasperation, and something else, came into his expression.

"I'm not cross with you, little one. I couldn't be cross with you. Fed
up and furious, maybe, but never just cross. That's far too mild! Now
go along indoors. You've done all you can."

She said good-night and left him, but in the porch she paused a
moment before turning the handle of the door. And Stuart was there
again, whispering an injunction.

"By the way, don't tell anyone but your father about Tod's
disappearance. If Noel really has taken him she may have done so
with the intention of creating an uproar. We'll decide how to handle
that aspect when we know more."

She nodded and said nothing. He looked at her for a moment; then
abruptly he turned and left her. As she opened the door she heard the
car start up.

Her father met her in the hall, and unemotionally she told him what
had happened. While she was speaking he made no attempt to
comment, and even after she had finished he was silent for a while.

At last he said, "If Noel has taken him she ought to be whipped. It's
all wrong, but I feel sorry for her."

"So do I. Is there anything we can doyou and I?"

"I don't think so. The islanders who are searching would only be
hampered if we joined them, but I'll go over at dawn to check up. By
then, Stuart should be back from Alicante, as well."

"That's what I thought."

"Thank heaven Stuart's on the job," said her father. "He'll think of
everything."

He switched off the lights, said good-night to Josie at her bedroom

door. Slackly, trying to believe that at this moment Tod was
blissfully sleeping, she undressed and got into bed. She lay staring at
the open window and listening to the night sounds beyond it and
presently, because she was exhausted, she slept.

She must have slept for many hours because when she awoke the sun
was up and slanting in fresh gilt beams across one corner of the
room. She sat up suddenly, was about to drop her face into her hands
when she saw what looked like a crumpled ball of paper about a foot
from the open window. She got out of bed, picked it up and found it
heavy; a small sobbing laugh sounded in her throat because this was
the sort of correspondence one conducted at school. A note wrapped
round a stone.

She read Stuart's writing: "You were right, Josie. Tod's safe in
Alicante. Go back to sleep."

Her lips trembled into a smile, and tears stung her eyelids. She
slipped back into bed clasping the small piece of paper. Tod was safe.
Her hunch had led them to him, and for a moment the relief was
overwhelming. Stuart must have made quick time over to Alicante
and back, and he had come out to flip this note through her window
before getting some rest himself. He was an autocrat, but a dear and
almost intolerably considerate. She didn't understand him, would
never have the chance to, but nothing could stop her heart from
knowing that no one else could fill it, ever.

Was it madness to stay on here in Marganeta, simply to be near him

for as long as possible? Wouldn't it be wiser to spend the rest of her
holiday elsewhere? Her father would be disappointed but he wouldn't
raise obstacles; he would know she had good reasons for going. But
could she bear to go yet?

It wasn't until, a little light-headed, she had taken a shower and put
on a green linen dress, that Josie wondered about Rick's reaction to
Noel's stealing of his son, and even then she did not ponder it for
long. Oddly, now that she knew the child had come to no harm, she
didn't much care what happened to Rick. She had decisions of her
own to make which had nothing to do with Rick Hedley.

She went downstairs and out to the garage. It was empty but she was
still standing there uncertainly when the car turned up into the drive
and her father got out.

"Nothing doing at Las Hermanas," he said. "Rick hasn't returned."

"I've a note from Stuart," she told him. "Tod was found in Alicante. I
wish I'd known before you started out."

"That's all right." He smiled warmly. "Good news. So it was Noel?"

"He didn't say anything else, but it must have been. Do you think we
should tell Isabel?"

"I'll see Morland first." He sighed. "Emotion is wearing, isn't it? You
look quite washed out."

"Come and have some coffee."

It was a release from tension to find Denis staggering downstairs
with an exaggerated hangover from last night's party. Thank heaven
for Denis, to whom tension was a merely technical expression!

"Armando's sailing his father's yacht down to Cartagena next week,"

he announced over breakfast. "He'll be away four days. I was just
wondering . . ." he paused pointedly.

"I take it you've been invited along," said his father.

"It could come off my annual leave," remarked Denis, as though he

didn't believe anyone could be cad enough to accept this sacrifice.
"Tony's going."

"We'll see if it can't be arranged with Gonzalez on Monday," said

Julius. "What about taking your sister along?"

"Armando's parents won't have it. Positively no girlsnot even his

sisters. I knew Josie would like to go, so I pressed it. I did, honestly,"
he turned to Josie. 'The Ramirez parents are stuffed shirts."

"I couldn't go, anyway," she said. "There's Lola."

"You're loco,' stated Denis. "Nothing could bring that bony old crow
back from the edge of the grave, and what's the good of earning
money if you can't spend it?" He had the grace to colour faintly.
"You know something? If I were you, Josie, I'd spend my last holiday
weeks dawdling back across the continent to England."

"That's quite an idea," she answered evenly. "I may do that."

Her father looked concerned. "Do you mean it, Josie?"

Studiously, she watched her fingers breaking a roll. "Would you

mind very much?"
"Well, I know it hasn't been very exciting for you here..."

Her laugh broke in, light and brittle. "It's been exciting enoughtoo
much so, sometimes. I thought it might not cost very much more to
see a bit of Europe, that's all."

"Yes, of course. I had hoped you'd spend the whole time with us, but
you must please yourself."

Josie smiled it off, but in her heart she thanked Denis for his
unwitting assistance in breaking the ice.

The shipping agency opened for a few hours on Saturday mornings,

and soon her father and Denis set out. Josie went back to her room
and tidied it. When she came downstairs again Isabel was arranging
the flowers. It was a task she did well because she had time to study
magazine advice and a sufficient variety of flowers for experiment.
This morning she had ignored the roses completely, and concentrated
on smilax, pink lilies and a few sprays of lavender-coloured
heliotrope. Josie paused to admire the effect of the bowl in the
entrance hall.

"Definitely eye-catching," she said.

With more brightness in her expression than she had displayed

yesterday Isabel answered, "I do take trouble. After all, the flowers
are us, even if the rest of the house isn't." She dropped her scissors
into an almost empty flower basket, stood back a little to look
through the archway for a view of the effect of the flower
arrangement in the sitting-room. "Your father wants to buy this
house, but I'm not sure. I must admit that only a few weeks ago it was
something I secretly hoped for, but circumstances have changed
drastically."
"Have they?" Josie carefully sounded surprised. She was so unused
to being a confidant to Isabel that part of the surprise was genuine.
"Do you mean from the business point of view?"

Isabel shook her head. "Not entirely, though I did foresee an

improvement there, but I thought it would come through Noel. Josie,"
she paused, dusting off her fingers, "you mustn't think I blame you
for the fact that nothing happened between Noel and Stuart Morland.
I did have the rather foolish notion that Noel would have stood a
better chance if you hadn't been here, but as it turns out neither she
nor Stuart want each other. I'm beginning to believe that Noel isn't
capable of staying in love longer than a month. As for Stuart," she
shrugged, "I just don't understand the man. The trouble is, he's lived
so long among the Spanish that he accepts their customs."

Josie ignored this latter part of the conversation; it stabbed. "What do

you really think about buying this house? Do you fancy settling in
Marganeta?"

"I can't decide. It would be pleasant to have a house here, even if we

moved around more than we do at present. But Denis may be
transferred in about a year, and goodness knows where Noel will go.
A house ties one."

"I wouldn't mind being tied to Las Rosas," said Josie simply.

"I suppose I wouldn't, either, so long as Denis and Noel were near
and you, of course," she added perfunctorily. "Your father was
saying what a pity it is we haven't the sort of young men here who
might appeal to you. There's nothing Julius likes better than to have
his family around him." As if the thought astonished even herself,
Isabel added, "I wouldn't mind it myself, only it makes one feel so
old!"
"But you look remarkably young," said Josie, "and on Marganeta that
hair of yours is quite out of this world, I think you'd get a wonderful
kick out of doing this house over."

"Well, there's no hurry for the decision. Let's have a cup of chocolate
this morning. You might tell Lucia to bring it to the patio."

Yes, Isabel had definitely changed her frame of mind, and Josie got
the impression that she was relieved, in a way, that Noel had gone
back to her home in Alicante. They had tall glasses of chocolate with
sponge fingers, and rested tranquilly in the patio. There seemed to be
a sort of reaction of peacefulness after a recent storm, and when Josie
noticed that Isabel kept her magazine open at a page of illustrations
depicting drawing- and dining-rooms, she felt that at last Julius was
near getting what he wanted in the way of a home.

At eleven-thirty she picked up the tray. "I'll have to wash and set out
for Lola's," she said. "I want to post some letters on the way."

"I meant to write a letter, but I wasn't in the mood," said Isabel.
"Bring a few extra stamps, will you?"

Josie took the tray to the kitchen, tidied herself in the bathroom and
collected her hat. She was just leaving her bedroom when the white
car drove round to the front of the house. Her heart played its familiar
tricks, and for a moment or two she couldn't move. But it was getting
late and she had no option. She went down the stairs, and saw Isabel
talking with Stuart in the porch.

Isabel turned to look at her. "Stuart says he was passing and thought
that if you hadn't already left he'd give you a lift to the Villa Panado.
You're lucky, Josie."

"Yes. It's good of him." Josie met his eyes, found them enigmatic and
went out on to the drive. "So long, Isabel."
Stuart had actually backed the car out on to the road before he said,
"Good morning, child. I don't see any reason to omit the
conventions."

"I'm sorry. I felt I'd already seen you this morning, but I suppose
you've had a sleep since you flipped the note through my window. I
was very grateful that you let me know about Tod."

He drove for a moment in silence. Then: "Do you often have hunches
about people?"

"Why?"

"I was just curious. The one you had about Noel seems to have come
off, and I wondered if you might have an occasional hunch about the
rest of us." His smile was faintly sardonic. "It might help if you did."

'I've never had a hunch in which you figured," she said, "but then one
doesn't, where mysteries are concerned. May I hear about the trip to
Alicante?"

"You may, but tell me something first. Did you handle this thing last
night in a spirit of self-sacrifice?"

She kept very much to her own corner of the seat. "I don't know what
you're getting at."

"You're not dense, Josie. Were you willing to throw Rick Hedley at
Noelor did it solve something for you?"

She looked down at the letters in her lap. "For me, it didn't solve a
thing, sol must have been willing, mustn't I? Not that I regarded it
that way at all. Rick was floored and I had to help him as much as I
could. Also, I was distressed myself about Tod's disappearance. Even
you can't make much of that."
"No." But he sounded anything but convinced. "On the way over in
the Santa Fedora I asked Rick why, in his trouble, he had come to
you, of all people. After all, compared with most of us you're a
newcomer. He said he felt for you as though you were something
special in the way of young sisters."

"That's . . . rather a nice thing to say."

"I told him," said Stuart coolly, "that you probably regarded him as
something less than an elder brother."

"You would," she nodded, not looking up. 'As if he hadn't stood
enough. I'm fond of Rick, and you can make what you like of it.
What happened in Alicante?"

He turned down towards the town before replying, "We arrived over
there at about one-thirty. There were still a few people about, and we
went straight to Noel's place. She was in bed, but she got up and put
on a dressing-gown, and came into her lounge to see us. She was
ready for us and seemed to be in a fairly good humour. Rick,
naturally, straightway put it to her that she knew where Tod was. She
sidestepped for a while but was tacitly admitting it. He began to
shout at her, so I intervened. Noel's self-assurance slipped slightly.
She admitted that when she went over to Alicante with you it was for
the purpose of seeing a woman friend of hers who runs a small
English school. Apparently she was promised that Tod could be a
weekly boarder, and had decided to take him over and plant him
there." Stuart's shoulders lifted. "I gathered that she would have done
it with Rick's consent, had it not been for last Saturday night, when
Tod came home so late. After that she didn't consider Rick at all. He
was to be presented with an accomplished fact."

"I don't believe that. She wanted to shake him terribly."

"Well, she succeeded. I left them at it."

Fleetingly, she looked at him. "Did you bring Rick home with you?"

"To hell with Rick," he said crisply. "Here's the post office. Give me
your letters."

"I have to get some stamps, as well."

"I'll get them."

When he came back and took his place beside her she said, "You
didn't answer me about Rick. Is he back at Las Hermanas?"

He slanted her a glance, briefly. His tones were brusque. "I took Rick
over and found out where Tod was. By that time I felt I'd done
enough. I told Rick he could catch the ferry back and came away."

"Was Tod there, in the house?"

"Noel took him to the school as soon as the ferry docked yesterday
morning. She said she'd been to see him early in the evening and he
hadn't seemed to mind being away from his father. That was when
Rick started to raise his voice."

"You can't blame him for that," she commented. "Noel's treated him
abominably."

His jaw tightened. "Is that all you want to know?"

"You did pick me up this morning for the purpose of telling me,
didn't you?" she queried.

"Not entirely, but it seems to be all I've accomplished."

"I'm sure Rick will be everlastingly grateful."

"I don't care if I never see him again. I don't even want to know the
end of the story. Rick may seem a life and death matter to you, but he
isn't to me."

"Now you're angry."

He dropped some stamps into her lap, let in the clutch and sighed
with exasperation. "No, it's something beyond that. If someone had
told me a few months ago that people like Rick Hedley and Noel
Mervyn would become important in my life I'd have laughed at
them."

'T thought you were fond of Noel."

"Of course I'm fond of her," he answered irascibly. "I'm fond of the
whole damned human race!"

And that seemed to be that. His hands clenched rather more tightly
than was necessary on the wheel and his toe jabbed hard on the
accelerator. He pulled up outside the Villa Panado, came swiftly
round the car to help her out and said goodbye without even glancing
at her. As he drove away she looked back from the Villa entrance.
His jaw was arrogantly lifted, his gaze steadily on the road ahead of
him. She had the feeling that last night's trip to Alicante for Josie
Vayle was a happening he was thankful to put behind him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

ON Tuesday morning Denis set off in the Ramirez yacht for

Cartagena. Las Rosas was quieter than ever, though Isabel seemed a
little happier. More than anything she liked Denis to have a good
time, and she might even have been secretly pleased that Josie could
not accompany him. Not that she showed the least hostility towards
her stepdaughter; on the contrary she appeared to be quite content to
have Josie sit with her over tea, and on Wednesday she even insisted
on taking her along for morning coffee with one of her friends.

Josie wondered whether Noel's letter, received at mid- morning on

Monday, had influenced Isabel in some way. Lucia had taken the
letter up to Isabel's room, and Isabel had later sent down a message to
the effect that she would not get up till lunch time. When Julius came
home at one-thirty he went straight up to the bedroom and stayed
there for some time. Then they both came down together and the rest
of the day passed as normally as was possible considering Denis's
holiday was being prepared for. During the following days Noel's
name was conspicuously not mentioned.

Josie did her work upon Lola, rested after lunch and spent the
remainder of her time intermittently reading and sewing. It was
tacitly agreed between herself and her father that there should be no
further allusion to her departure from Marganeta till Denis was back.
Without Denis to drape himself over the chairs or the chesterfield,
Josie found herself more often alone with Julius. They had long,
uninvolved talks, shared mild jokes and each learned more and more
about the way the other lived.

It was while they were out walking, late on Thursday evening, that
Julius at last mentioned Noel.

"That letter which Isabel received from her sister made me wish I'd
told her everything, the night it happened. Isabel was upset, because
in the letter Noel took it for granted that the whole business was
publicly known. However, I was able to soothe Isabel and point out
that we hadn't wanted her to be hurt. But you know, Josie," he added
with a sigh, "almost nothing seems to have come of it. Rick's backI
know that because he's sent down several loads of bananas this
week but nothing appears to be different, otherwise."

"Considering the trouble he put us all to, he's frightfully casual," she
commented. "He might at least have sent us a note."

"It's possible he's not quite sure how much to tell us. I don't want us
to stir ourselves too much for him, but it wouldn't look odd if you
went over to enquire about the little boy. I don't suppose the child's
any the worse for a night in Alicante, but don't you feel, as I do, that
we ought to know?"

"Yes," she agreed reluctantly. "Would you like me to go tomorrow?"

"Do you mind? It would set Isabel's mind at rest, as well. She's quite
certain that you could find out more from Rick than she could ever
get out of Noel. Once we all get the incident clear in our minds we
can forget it."

She looked at him. "Is Isabel anxious? She doesn't seem so."

"No, she doesn't seem it because I believe she's at last given up trying
to manage Noel. She says she doesn't care what her sister does, and
I'm glad to think it's almost true. This must be the third time she's
tried to marry Noel to someone influential."

Josie smiled thinly. "She doesn't really know her sister very well. If
Noel married an aristocrat she'd spend the rest of her life proving to
him that aristocrats were outmoded. All right, I'll go and see Rick
tomorrow morning."
"Good. You can take me to the office and keep the car. If you bring it
down to the office on your way to the Villa Panado it'll give you a lift
halfway."

It was with rather muddled feelings that Josie drove towards Las
Hermanas next morning, but her own emotions were quite forgotten
when she reached the drive to the Hedley house. She slowed, and
stared.

The gravel was free of weeds and two Spanish boys of about fifteen
were working among the overgrown borders- loading a primitive
wheelbarrow with garden rubbish and cutting definite divisions
between what had once been the lawn and its various flower-beds.
An old man was scything the grass and creating aromatic heaps of
weed and hay.

The windows of the house were bare, but to Josie it was instantly
noticeable that the gaping window had been repaired, the gashes in
the stucco filled in with cement. At the moment the front of the house
was piebald, but with a couple of coats of limewash it would look
new. She stopped the car and got out, saw Cristobal coming out into
the porch.

"Where is the senor?" she asked quickly.

He grinned blissfully. "He load more bananas. 'We need cash', he

say. So he load more and more bananas and the Mendoza-Cortez pay
at once. I will show you where to find him." He took her round to the
back of the house and pointed. "Follow this little road, senorita, and
you will arrive at the mule cart. The senor himself is cutting the
bananas."

She went along the track with its tangles of berries and stunted olives
at each side, saw the half-loaded mule cart in the distance and the
boy, Juan, pushing a huge arm of bananas into position. She had
nearly reached the car when Rick emerged from among the banana
trees. He looked as disreputable as ever, but one wouldn't, of course,
wear a Palm Beach suit for banana cutting. He shouldered the great
branch of bananas on to the cart, pushed the back of a grubby hand
over his brow and gave Josie his jaded grin.

"I've been hoping you'd come," he said. Then to Juan: "Keep busy,
and bring the cart up as soon as it's loaded. Bueno, muchacho."

He came beside Josie, shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded
up the lane towards the house. Josie was too astonished, even
perturbed, to speak before he did.

"It had to come," he said philosophically. "They crowded me.

"Who crowded you?" she asked cautiously.

"First Morlandtelling me if I didn't improve the place Td have to

get out. Then Cristobal decided to marry a widow with an old father
and two sons who need work. You probably saw them in the front
garden; the boys are twins, of all things! We've also decided that the
sooner Juan realizes that life isn't all fishing and exploring, the better
for the family exchequer. To satisfy the island council and feed this
bunch- of Spaniards I just have to develop the place!"

"Oh, so that's it," she said a little flatly.

His smile was crooked. "What else did you expect?"

"I don't know. It's better than nothing, anyway. I'm sure it's far wiser
to have Juan learn banana planting than to let him play on the beach
and nurse dreams of being a sponge fisherman. I see you've patched
up the front of the house, too."

"I did it myself. You were rightit took less than a bag of cement.
What colour shall I paint it?"
"White or pink. I favour pink. And you'd better give those patio
beams a coat of solignum while you're at it." They came round the
side of the house and on to the front porch. "New steps, too, in rough
stone so that no one will slip. Rick, I almost envy you!"

"You're nuts," he said, "but I like you for it. Wait here a minute and
I'll bring you a chair and a drink."

He brought the chair and two glasses, saw Josie seated and leaned his
back against the wall of the house. He raised his drink.

"Well, here's to charity. Thanks for yours, anyway, Josie."

"Charity?"

"You have the soul benevolent," he said. "That's probably why I

came to you last Friday night."

She was silent, hoping he would go on from there, but instead he half
emptied his glass and nodded towards the open door of the house.

"We haven't done much inside because I'm not too sure how to go
about it. In any case, it'll take the devil of a lot of money to fix it up
with decent furniture. But Cristobal's wife is making some flowered
curtains, for a start, and I'm ordering a couple of club easies. The
place will look painfully near even before you leave the island,
Josie."

She tried the mixture of orange and pineapple juices- wondered if the
strong taste were due to kept oranges or a dash of gin. She was
feeling the need of a stimulant.

"You certainly seem to have changed your outlook," she remarked.

He shrugged. "I had it changed for me. But don't go around thinking
I'm a new man. I'll never be handsome and thirty again."
"You do stand a chance of being nice-looking and forty, though." She
made herself put the question. "Where's Tod?"

There was a pause, during which Rick finished his drink and placed
the glass on a window-sill. "In Alicante," he said.

She looked up at him, startled. "You left him there?"

"The way I saw it," he stated, with another shrug, "he might as well
stay once the step had been taken. I saw him last weekend, and I shall
go over and see him again on Saturday. He thinks I've rather sold him
outmaking him work when he was having such a good time with
the boysbut I'll be able to explain that Juan is working now and
wouldn't have time to trot about with him anyway. It won't be long
before the school holidays, and when he comes home the position
will be clearer."

She nodded. "He'll gravitate towards Juan, and that way he'll learn
about planting and perhaps come to love the land."

"You're very sweet and transparent, Josie. You'd like to think of me

reformed, wouldn't you? And of Las Hermanas growing in prosperity
so that Tod can step into my shoes when I'm on the verge of
disintegration!"

She smiled. "I didn't go that far ahead. But if Tod goes to school and
has the feeling of a stable home here, something he can be proud of
as well as love, he'll grow up balanced and have a tremendous respect
for you. That's how it should be, Rick."

"It probably won't be that easy. After a long summer holiday I doubt
if he'll want to go back to school."

"But you'll see that he does!" she said urgently.

"Yes. I've promised Noel."

The name hung between them, like a challenge. Perhaps for the first
time Josie knew that as much as he could love anyone, Rick really
did love Noel Mervyn. There were questions she wanted desperately
to ask, but for none of them could she find words. She could only
know what Rick might care to reveal.

She said, "While Tod's so young you must go over every weekend,
Rick. Give him a tuck-box and start him on some sort of hobby, like
stamp-collecting,"

He spoke almost offhandedly. "He'll be all right. I'm relieved, now,

that everything came to a head when it did. I was beginning to feel
like doing something drastic." He took her glass and placed it beside
his own. "Will you be frank with me, Josie? Why were you so sure
Noel had taken Tod last Friday?"

She hesitated. "Did . . . anyone tell you about the picture she painted
of you just here, in front of the house?"

"I heard about it. Was that all you had to go ona pictorial hymn of
hate?"

"And the fact that she liked Tod and was a little sorry for him."

"She's a self-centred woman and an artist. There are many children

worse off than Tod."

"Well," she said with a small appealing smile, "I did think of that,
too. To her, Tod must be something rather special, because she's not
really the type to be over-fond of children." Then, flinging off
restraint, she said with a rush, "I think Noel must have felt deep
inside her that you could be the sort of man she might be happy with.
And . . . and if that's so, it's possible she despised herself for what she
deemed a weakness. She once told me that the Mervyns loved
unwisely, and you've said the same about yourself. Perhaps I'm being
hopelessly .romantic, but I've been hoping she hated you because . . .
because she wanted you different."

Rick didn't laugh, as she had thought he would. He merely remarked,

"She said she took Tod because she had to scare the daylights out of
me and she was sure, once he'd entered the school, I'd accept the
break."

"She's proved that she knows more about you than the rest of us do."

"Yes, she knows me," he said. "She'd flay anyone wise suggested she
and I are the same sort of person, but the day she does acknowledge
it I may ask her to marry me."

"Oh, Rick! I hope it will be soon."

"I'm not sure that I do. I've got too many adjustments to make. If only
you were staying here indefinitely, Josie!"

"How could I help?"

He laughed ruefully. "Have you forgotten that Isabel's her sister? Can
you imagine poor Isabel with me for a brother-in-law? You could
help me there."

"I hardly think so. If things come out as you hope, Noel will have to
manage Isabel herself."

"I may be sliding into adolescence, but I'd rather handle some of
these things myself, before anything develops. Could you get Isabel
to invite me to tea on Sunday?"

"Good heavens, I don't know. I'll try."

"Don't let me be the only guest, there's a good girl. Perhaps your
father will do his stuff, too. I'll need all the allies I can get."
She stood up and held out her hand. "We'll do our utmost for you,
Rick. When you're talking to Isabel just remember not to be sarcastic.
When she's not bothered about Denis or Noel she's quite a dear, but
she hasn't much sense of humour. You don't have to put yourself out
to be nice to her; she'd suspect you if you did. Just don't be nasty."

He squeezed the hand he held, and gave her a harassed but humorous
glance. "I'm no diplomat, but I'll make the attempt."

"You might wear a suit, if you have one!"

He let go of her hand, went down the steps a pace ahead of her. As
she came to his side he said, with an assumed smile, "This may not
work out, Josienone of it. Noel's a highly successful woman . . ."

She turned on him swiftly. "You're not to think like that! Noel's a
successful painter, but as a woman she's so far been a failure. She ...
she feels something for you, Rick, and it's up to you to make what
you can of it. I expect you think I've an awful nerve, speaking like
this to someone of your experience, but I do think marriage would be
good for you both."

"My dear Josie," he said with affection, "you've more wisdom than
either of us. If you're able to give an objective slant to your own
affairs you'll have a wonderful life." He patted her shoulder. "You
might come over on Sunday to lunch, and if the tea-party's on I'll take
you back in time for it. By then, my curtains will be up and you can
tell me how else to improve the place without parting with a fortune."

She shook her head at him. "You're almost too good to be true, Rick."

"Either that, or I'm hoping too high," he returned with his old worn
grin as he closed the car door after her. "Any message for Tod?"
"Yes," she said brightly. "Tell him I just know he'll be a pilot one day
and even keep a helicopter of his own here at Las Hermanas!"

"Is that child psychology; aim for the heights but stick to the home?
You'll have a roaring time with your own bunch of kids, Josie."

She nodded with the same brightness, said goodbye and drove away.
But when she had left Las Hermanas behind she became conscious of
a cold weight about her heart and a pain at the back of her eyes. She
couldn't think much about Rick, or about Tod. And of Noel she
thought only that the woman had been born lucky, however wretched
she might have felt for a short period. After all she had known Rick
only since last Christmas, and it was safe to say that apart from
occasions during her two visits to Marganeta she had not been
entirely unhappy about him; otherwise she would not have gone on
living in Alicante, just across the water from his mouldering home
and plantation.

Perhaps it was true that neither Rick nor Noel had the capacity for
agonized loving. Rick's first experience of marriage had taken
something from him, and Noel had given much to her work. But both
no doubt had a great deal left; and there was Tod.

It was getting late, so she decided to drive on to her father's office

right away. There was not even time to go in for a word with him,
and after leaving the car keys with Gonzalez at the desk, she went
straight up the street and on to the coast road; and to save a further
minute or two she took a path through the wild figs to the back gate
of the Villa Panado.

She walked along the corridor and tapped, as usual on the door of the
senora's private rest room. As usual, she was bidden to enter. She
went inside, closed the door and dropped her bag into the nearest
chair. She smiled automatically at the couch, realized that for the first
time Lola was not there. Then someone was standing beside her and
looking at the beads of moisture across her cheekbones.

"Have you been running?" asked Stuart with displeasure. "I called at
your house to give you a lift here, but Isabel told me you were out in
the car."

A chill feathered across the heat of her body. "I had to leave the car
at my father's office," she said. Then she turned to the aged Lola,
who was seated at a table covered with papers. "Good morning,
senora. Am I in the way?"

"No, pequena. We had nearly finished." The claws waved at Stuart.

"Are you two not good friends today?"

"We're always good friends," said Josie mechanically, as she went to

the cupboard and lifted down her overall. "Are you quite sure you
want me to stay in the room?"

"Sit down, Josie," ordered Stuart. "And don't put on that foolish
overall first or you'll steam."

"I came here to work," she said, but the overall remained draped over
her arm. "Please finish whatever you were doing."

He looked her over through narrowed lids, moved slowly back to the
table. The senora's bright little eyes were almost cunning as she
regarded them both, but then she took up a sheaf of papers and
rustled through them.

"They seem to be in order," she said. "How long will it take to build
these cottages, Stuart?"

"Each pair will take two months; they're very simple. The six pairs
should be completed by this time next year."
"You promise you will help me to change my will?"

"I promise, but I think your family should know of the change."

Lola gave a snorting laugh. "That would rob this business of its spice,
and I want there to be no argument. Besides, I have it all arranged in
my mind. When the will is complete I will invite all my family here
for a holiday, and when they are all together I will tell them that they
need no longer wait for Lola to die." She chuckled. "I will watch
their faces then.

They will smile with greed and tell me I am too generous! After
which I will explain that the Villa Panado will be handed over after
my death to the trustees of this scheme, for use as a ... a place of
recoverywhat is the worda convalescent home! Their smiles will
go sick and angry." Lola shrugged. "It is best. I leave them a little
money each, but they will not have to quarrel about selling or
keeping the Villa."

"You're a wicked woman," said Stuart, "and I'm not even sure that
you mean well. But the Villa is excellently placed for a convalescent
or children's home, and there's a certain justice about its being used in
that way."

"You don't wonder what it is that has given me a change of heart?"

asked the old senora, mischievously.

Stuart smiled. "You haven't changed," he" said tolerantly. "You're

still trying to get your own back."

"But this way," remarked Lola blandly, "I get my revenge and my
reward in heaven also." She sat back among the cushions and cast a
hooded glance at Josie, who rested in one of the chairs near the wall.
"This senorita has had something to do with itshe says much by
talking little. I think you must have known as much when you
insisted I engage her, Stuart."

Josie stiffened, not sure that she had heard correctly. She stared
across at the senora, then at Stuart, who stood beside the old woman.
He was calm and aloof, in a fashion she remembered. He had looked
like this the day she had taxed him with paying Denis's debts; as
though he were above and beyond it all. Slowly, she got to her feet.

"Is this true?" she asked in dry flat tones. "Senora Panado didn't
really want my services, but you . . . insisted?"

Stuart pushed his hands further into his pockets but didn't move from
his position. "If it's necessary we'll discuss all this later," he said.

"There's nothing to discuss. I asked you a question."

Lola was smiling with malicious pleasure. "To which the answer
must be obvious," she said, before Stuart could speak. "You are a
little bit silly, senorita. Stuart wished only to do both you and me the
... the good turn. I complained to him that my bones ached and he
suggested that you could help me. I knew it was not so, that I am too
old to be relieved in such a fashion, but he said I must try, though I
must not let you know his part in the idea. I tell you now because he
is here, and it pleases me!"

Josie was white to the lips. "So you pretended. It came easily,
because you've acted all your life. I haven't done you a scrap of good
physically, and . . ."

"But you are wrong," said Lola firmly. "The massage disposed of the
aches for an hour or two each day."

Josie dropped the overall she had been holding as if it burned. "I
understand perfectlyeven better than you do, senora! You and Mr.
Morland are partners in good deeds, and to him I was an object of
pity, to be helped financially."

"Stop it," he said sternly, as he came round the table. "What could
possibly be wrong in my recommending that the senora might
benefit from electric massage? Leave all this dissection till later,
Josie!"

"There's nothing to dissect," she flashed at him. "From my first night

in Marganeta you pitied me, but this is the end, in more ways than
one. I shan't come back to the Villa Panado, ever!"

Lola pulled herself creakily but with surprising speed to her feet.
"Now come, Josie. You and I have become good friends. It is not
usual for the old Lola to admit she has been influenced, but there is
something that you have done to me during these days when you
have let me talk. My life was empty, and my only enjoyment was in
the contemplation of the squabbling of my relatives over the property
after my death. Because you would not be amused or angry or
impressed in any way, I saw how very stupid were my desires.. You
made me want to leave something better than a legacy of family
fighting over the profits from the Villa Panado. Compared with that,
the professional services were nothing. Yet they, too helped me. I
think you are right that we must now cease them, but I would not like
to think that we shall not meet again."

"You're very kind," said Josie frigidly, as she picked up her bag, "but
nothing you can say will alter the conditions under which you . . .
you invited me here. Goodbye, senora."

"I owe you money for this week."

"You owe me nothing!"

Stuart said diplomatically, "Yes, leave it that way, senora. I'll take
Josie home."

Josie was at the door, her back to it and her fingers on the handle.
"I'll go alone, thanks. I feel as if I'm stifling in the same room with
youlet alone in the car!"

His smile faded completely; his jaw went taut as steel. "I refuse to
row with you over this. I wanted only what I thought was best for
you; and whether you like it or not your coming here day after day
has done good in several directions. We'll go together. I've got to talk
to you, Josie."

"Too bad," she retorted swiftly, a break in her voice, "because I don't
want to talk to you ever again, anywhere!"

"Josie!"

But she had swung open the door and closed it after her, and in that
moment her brain worked like lightning, defensively. Within seconds
she had opened the very next door to the senora's, and locked herself
into a bathroom. Breathing quickly, she leaned back with her ear to
the door. She heard a few firm footsteps; they quickened into a run.
Then, clearly, Senora Panado said to a servant. "Did you see the
senorita go out?" The rest of what they said was in Spanish, but at
length another door closed and the place went quiet.

Josie became aware of the humour in her position, but she couldn't
smile. Sick and full of anguish, she remained there for perhaps
twenty minutes. There was another door which led into the rest room;
Josie had used it often. On the other side of it, she thought, the
senora was probably sleeping with the placidity of age, uncaring that
she had precipitated what almost amounted to a catastrophe in the life
of Josie Vayle.
The pink and white plastic curtaining bellied, but to Josie the air
continued suffocating. She went to the door, opened it quietly and
tiptoed down the corridor. In the entrance lounge she saw a reclining
servant, but he did not stir as she passed. She took the path through
the grounds, came out into the back lane, and instead of turning up
towards the road went down the long winding path to the beach.
Gradually, she would make her way round to the waterfront and go
down again to the beach on the other side of the harbour. It was a
long way round but she would take her time about it. By the time she
reached home she simply must have some sort of plan. She couldn't
go on like this.
CHAPTER TWELVE

USUALLY, Josie arrived at Las Rosas when her father was ready to
leave for his office. With Denis away, though, Julius Vayle was apt
to take five or ten minutes longer and to make up for it later in the
afternoon, if necessary. Gonzalez was working well because he had
been promised a similar break in a week or two, so Denis wasn't
being missed unduly.

She was a little earlier than usual, too, and not surprised therefore to
see the Vayle vehicle outside the house, but her nerves stiffened
against the sight of the long white car in the drive. The thought of
another session like the one at the Villa Panado made her feel ill. Yet
how was she to avoid it?

To get upstairs she had to reach the foot of the staircase, and the
house was so constructed that one could see the stairs from the
lounge. The big archway was convenient in some respects but a
nuisance in others. Even if one went in the back way there was no
avoiding the front approach to the stairs. Her only course was to walk
in boldly, say hallo and drift upwards.

She opened the door and entered the hall, squared her shoulders as
she moved towards the archway. Casually, she looked into the
lounge.

"Hallo, everyone . . ."

"Oh there you are, dear!" exclaimed Isabel. "We've been worried.
Where have you been?"

Fleetingly, Josie looked at Stuart's set face. Determinedly she kept

her tones even. "So you've heard I ran out on Lola? I took a walk by
the sea."
"But how tiresome of you. Stuart was looking for you a long time,
and then he thought you might have got someone to bring you home.
You've quite upset your father's lunch break."

Julius gestured. "That's not important. Were you unhappy, Josie?

You don't look well."

"I'm fine," she said. "It's quite a relief to have done with the Villa."

"Well, I must say," put in Isabel, "that you've chosen the wrong day
for asserting yourself. And you chose the wrong morning to go off to
Rick Hedley's, too. You really missed something.'' She threw a
placating smile at the austere- looking Stuart, and went on to Josie,
"Camilla Lopez and her mother came here for chocolate, and then
they went on to the jasmine farm to make lists and arrangements.
Camilla's most excited because she's to be officially engaged at last!"

"I hardly think Josie cares to hear about such things at the moment,"
said Stuart. "She's had no lunch, and neither have I had any. Possibly
. . ."

"Why, of course," said Isabel. "Lucia always gets a tray ready for
Josie, but I'm sure she won't mind getting a proper lunch for you
both."

"I'd rather take Josie to my own house for a meal," he said. "We have
things to talk over."

"You're quite wrong," Josie observed huskily. "You and I haven't

anything at all to say to each other."

Somehow, Stuart had come closer and was as much in the archway as
Josie herself. "You're going to listen to me, you stubborn little so-
and-so! I know you're hot and tired, and if you'll only be reasonable I
won't rush you. But I'm not leaving this house without you.
Understand!"

"Oh, leave me alone," she cried. "Wasn't the scene at Lola's enough
for you? Just go away and leave me alone. Please!"

Isabel was appalled. She was on her feet, with Julius close behind
her. "What a way to behave, Josie! Stuart, I assure you she's not
generally like this. The incident at Lola Panado's must have upset her
a little. Josie, do be reasonable. Stuart only wants to ... to explain,
don't you, Stuart?" She floundered, and probably thought of stronger
words she would have used had it been possible. "I can't imagine
what's got into you, Josie!"

Julius said soothingly, "I don't think you and I are in a position to
understand all this, Isabel. When Josie made the arrangement with
Lola Panado I gave in easily enough, but I've never really liked her
working during her holiday. Stuart didn't like it either, but he thought
it was what Josie wanted. Now that these visits to the Villa are ended,
she can sit back and enjoy the rest of her holiday. I think it would be
nice if as soon as Denis is back, we all went over to the mainland for
a few days. We ought to be able to manage it."

Josie said baldly, "Don't plan anything for me. I . . . I'm leaving for
England."

The pressure of Julius's hand on her shoulder prevented Isabel from

speaking just then. She let out a theatrical sigh, gazed pleadingly at
Stuart.

Stuart said grimly, "That's intriguing, Josie. Tell us more. Tell us

what you're running away from, and why it's suddenly become
imperative that you should do it soon."
Josie moistened her lips, didn't look at any of them. "I've really
nothing more to say. I . . . I'm sorry if I've been too abrupt." And she
turned towards the stairs.

Stuart didn't stop her. For a moment he stood there, looking rather
through Julius than at him. Then his head slewed though Josie had
disappeared, and without a word he had twisted and was taking the
stairs in threes.

"He's gone upstairs," whispered Isabel faintly.

"I'm afraid he has," agreed Julius, mildly apprehensive, "but I don't

see there's anything we can do about it."

"He's never been upstairs before and he looked so peculiar! He

seemed odd when he came in, all nerves and tight teeth, but when
Josie showed up he went sort of tense and watchful. What do you
think can possibly have been going on?"

"I could guess, but I might be wrong. If one or other of them doesn't
shoot out of the house within two minutes it'll mean that something
has been settled. Sit down, my dear. You can't say life isn't
interesting!"

Josie had not, of course, locked her bedroom door; it never for a
moment occurred to her that Stuart would mount the staircase and
stride in, without knocking. When he did, she backed a pace and was
stopped from further retreat by the side of the bed. She pushed back
the short brown curl which had dried to her temple, stood more
firmly to overcome the weakness at her knees, and asked,

"Is this the sort of thing you do in your own house, with Camilla? It
isn't done here at Las Rosas."
"Don't try to annoy me," he said. "Things have gone far beyond that.
You know why I came after you."

"Do I? It seems to have escaped me for the moment."

"You're being a pighead, Josie, so much so that I hardly know where

to start. For the love of Mike let's be alone. Come home with me- for
an hour or two."

"I certainly won't." She added unsteadily, "Haven't you done enough
to me? How can I make you realize that all I want is for you to go
away from me, and keep away?"

"You can't." He was paler than usual, and his eyes looked peculiar, a
little strained and weary. "Let me explain first about Lola. I loathed
the idea of your working for her, but I couldn't help knowing you
were short of cash and daren't go to your father. Lola assured me she
wouldn't work you too hard and that any time you looked tired she'd
give you a day or two off."

"How considerate of you."

"I wanted you happy," he said sharply. "You were obstructive, but I
wanted you happy. Can't you believe that?"

"Yes, I believe it, but I'm not the sort of person who can be made
happy in such a way. What business was it of yours ? Why did you
have to interfere?"

"That's rightwhy did I?" he said forcibly. "What was it about you
that sent me straight back into the Villa Panado that first night to find
out what Denis had been up to, and square it? Why did I chase up
Rick Hedley for improvements to his property so that you would find
him less an object of pity and affection? Why, when your father
asked for only one branch of our shipping, did I discover myself
promising the whole of it?"

"Don't stare at me like that," she said tremulously.

"I'll tell you why," he said rapidly, as if she hadn't spoken. "Since you
came to Marganeta I haven't been able to think of anyone else. I've
tried to be as cool and dispassionate as you are over these things, but
it just doesn't work, because I'm not quite as English as you are! But
there it is. I love you, Josie, and I want you to love me. I know it's too
soon to tell you this, but if I postpone it some other damned thing
will turn upRick Hedley will go mental, or Denis will come home
with measles, or someone else will think up a load of trouble for
you!" His voice rose, almost savagely. "I'm not standing any more of
it, Josie. Let them have their problems, and we'll help thembut
we'll do it together!"

He stopped suddenly, saw that she was pale and staring, watched the
effort with which she collected her shattered wits. He moved a step
nearer to her, took both her hands in his.

"I know this is all wrong, that we should slide gently into some kind
of intimacy, but people and events have got in the way. For now, all I
want is to be certain that we understand each other, that you're a little
in love with me and that's perhaps why you've been disliking me."

He turned her hands upwards, bent suddenly and kissed each palm.
The hands pulled away.

In a halting, husky whisper, she said, "You're ... engaged to Camilla."

For endless seconds his gaze was more intense, even, than her own.
Then swiftly, his brow cleared, his mouth smiled and something
sprang alive in the dark eyes. He didn't try to take her wrists again.
Instead he gripped her shoulders, feeling them as if this couldn't be
true, put both arms round her and held her tightly against him.

"Oh, God," he said indistinctly, on a jerky laugh. "It was as simple as

that! I suspected and blamed everyone except Camilla. She's engaged
to our accountant in Alicante! It was hush-hush, but I'd have told you
about it. She's engaged to a Mendoza-Cortez accountant!"

"I don't believe it," she said, muffled.

But she did believe it, just as she had to believe that these two arms
which hurt so exquisitely were Stuart's, that it was his mouth which
burned upon her own and filled her with a swooning bliss. She
surrendered to him so completely that she was drawn out of the room
and along the corridor before realizing she had moved at all.

At the head of the stairs she held on to his cuff. Almost pleadingly
she said, "You did wear her gardenias."

"Occasionally, yes. I'd have been a boor to have refused them.

Camilla was so grateful. This young man of hers happens to be a far
distant relative of mine, but he's a younger son and had no prospects.
A husband had already been chosen by her father, but she didn't love
him. So for the last year we've been doing some intensive training of
the one she wants to marry. It was he and his parents and brother that
I brought over last week, and between us we persuaded Senora Lopez
to consent to an early marriage. The novio is coming over again
tomorrow, for an engagement party tomorrow night. You darling
little nitwit, Josie!"

"You even kept her gardenia in the glove box of the car," she accused
him.

"I did nothing of the sort. That night after we'd bathed I went up for
the car and broke off a gardenia on the way surely you saw it was
fresh? Then it occurred to me you might feel Camilla had made
gardenias her own particular flower and I decided not to give it to
you. As I was already in the car I tossed it into the glove box. I swear
I'd forgotten it when I suggested you should tidy up!"

"Oh, dear. I feel I ought to apologize to Camilla."

"You needn't. She'd be astounded to know her name had ever been
linked with mine."

"But we all thought it!"

"Not after this morning. Camilla and her mother came here to tell you
the grand news; both Isabel and your father know."

"I just haven't seen them since then, that's all. Oh Stuart, I'm so glad
it's me!"

He laughed at that, laughed with enjoyment, before he drew her into

his arms once more. Still holding her, he said,

"You know, our case is rather unique. I knew your whole family a
long time before I knew you. Perhaps that's why I was so quickly
sure of being in love with you. Josie," his eyes were warm and vital,
"you're going to love me enough to marry me fairly soon, aren't you?
Once I'm quite sure of you I shall be horribly impatient to make you
mine."

"You work so fast that I daren't say I'm sure now," she said
breathlessly. "What on earth am I going to do about the hospital?"

"Resign, my pretty one. Do you still refuse to go home with me?"

"No, of course not."

"Come on, then."

It was only when they began to descend the staircase that either
became aware of Julius Vayle and Isabel standing in the hall at the
foot of the stairs. Isabel was plainly beyond words, but Julius was
smiling.

"I take it you've patched things up," he said smoothly.

"Your daughter and I are going to be married, Julius," replied Stuart,

just as suavely. "Now you know why I bought my way into the good
books of the shipping agency."

The usually undemonstrative Julius bent forward and kissed Josie's

cheek. "I couldn't have chosen better for you myself," he said quietly.
"Stuart will make you happy, and we shan't lose you."

It was Stuart who rounded off the scene. Teasingly he put an arm
round Isabel and ostentatiously kissed her. "I promise you here and
now that I will never call you mama! I love you already like a
brother, Isabelita mia."

They were driving towards his villa, when Josie said, "It is a bit hard
on Isabel, I supposemy being her stepdaughter, I mean."

"In a way," he agreed, "but it'll be good for her relationship with your
father. She harps just a little too much on the difference in their ages,
and it's hardly more than the difference between yours and mine.
She's changing a trifleyour stepmother."

"The way Noel walked out and took Tod with her was rather a blow.
And now, I daresay, she wonders whether it can possibly be true that
Noel's heart has opened to a man like Rick. She always hoped for a
marvellous marriage for Noel."

"Noel is still free," he said with a shrug.

"But she must marry Rick. He said this morning . . ."

"Listen to me, Josie. If there's one thing that sends prickles along my
spine it's the fact that you've cottoned to Rick Hedley. I never minded
the chap before you came, but I never seem to see you without your
having been to Las Hermanas earlier in the day, and I can't tolerate
his importance. You're to stay away from him. Do you hear me?"

"I'm not deaf," she said happily. "But we haven't finished with him,
you know. Have you seen him since he came back from Alicante?"

"Once," tersely, "purely by accident. We met in the town."

"So he told you about Tod and the school? Did he also tell you that
he hopes to marry Noel?"

He slowed, and looked at her. "He hinted, but there's a lot more to it
than hoping. It'll be a long time before Noel will come back to stay
with Isabel, and how else are they going to meet?"

"He'll go over at weekends to see Tod. And I thought..." she tailed

off, purposely.

"Oh, no!" he said decisively. "I've had more than enough of Noel and
Rick."

"Let me put it this way. Rick asked me this morning if I'd get Isabel
to invite him to tea on Sunday; he really intends to start making a
better impression. Well, it seems to me that for the first time it might
come from youthe invitation." She saw a swift retort on his lips
and hurried on, "Couldn't we all come to your house to tea instead? If
Camilla and her mother and this fianc were thereand Rickit
wouldn't look so deliberate. It's just for the first time," she reiterated
coaxingly.

"I don't believe Rick cares one way or the other about impressing
Isabel!"
"Perhaps not, but he's doing it for Noel. I'm sure that in his heart he
wants to go on living in Marganeta. He's the type to wander off with
Noel if she felt an urge to paint elsewhere, and if the banana farm
were well organized he could do that, but I'm sure he'd like to have it
there to come back to and as a home for Tod."

"You're hopeless," he said with a tender smile. "For your sake I'll go
one better and get Rick over to the engagement party tomorrow. That
doesn't mean that you have my permission to dance with him more
than once!" His tones lower, he added, "And we'll announce our own
engagement as well. I've already had a sapphire of my mother's re-set
and altered to fit you. But it was a very mixed blessing, the
possession of your turquoise ring!"

"The brutal way you jabbed it on my finger that night!"

"I used to feel like that every time I saw youangry and glad."

He turned the car on to his own drive and switched off. For a minute
neither of them moved.

Josie said, "I wish I needn't see Camilla and her mother for a while."

"They're still at the Hacienda Jazmin; I'm collecting them at six.

That's why I wanted you to come home with me, you idiot. We need
to eat, and then talk and talk."

"How long are those two staying on with you?"

"Only till Monday. Then they go to the fianc's house for a visit and
afterwards to a relative till the marriage. By that time the house at the
flower farm will be ready for the senora."

He got out of the car, and because it was sweet to have him
proprietorial she waited till he helped her out on to the path. She
looked at the house, dreaming in the sunshine, felt his hand take hers
and hold it closely. They walked up into the porch, entered the dim
hall.

He faced her, tall, dark and strong, and she regarded him with all the
fresh beauty and wonder of youth and awakening in her eyes.

"Our house," he murmured. "I love you, Josie. I'll love you and need
you for the rest of my life."

"And I love you, Stuart."

"More than anything in the world?"

"Much more. Stuart, you're looking more and more like a Spaniard."

"I'm afraid I'll sometimes make love like a Spaniard. Will you
mind?"

She laughed, and colour came into her cheeks. "Why, no. When I'm
in that mood I'll wear a red rose!"

He turned to the flower bowl on the table, drew out a scarlet rosebud
and threaded it through the golden-brown hair.

He even spoke in Spanish between the kisses. And somehow she

knew without a scrap of doubt, during those long ecstatic moments,
that she held his happiness between her own two small hands. And
the knowledge was heaven.