Kiss of Hot Sun Page 5

  It could have been utterly delightful. But in fact none of us except George Blunt seemed to be in any mood to enjoy such tranquilly beautiful surroundings. An elusive tension hung in the atmosphere.

  Rosalind Blunt seemed eager to demonstrate there was nothing beyond the most trivial link between herself and Philip. She was laughing and talking vivaciously, making sure the whole party was included in every remark. It contrasted oddly with her behaviour at afternoon tea. Then, she’d had very little to say for herself, until Adeline had skillfully encouraged her.

  Adeline’s usual smooth command of any situation had deserted her now. She seemed uneasy and apprehensive, as if she was expecting something unpleasant to happen.

  A shadow fell across the light streaming out from the salon. Guido Zampini’s grotesque figure almost filled the width of the doors. He was staring blankly at Philip.

  “You, Rainsby?”

  Philip strolled over. “Good evening, Signor Zampini. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  The Italian seemed too bewildered to take Philip’s outstretched hand. “Myself, I did not expect you.”

  “But surely it was...” Philip stopped abruptly, and then began again. “I thought I mentioned to you that I was coming over.”

  “Yes. But not so soon, I understood.”

  Philip frowned. “Does it matter? It’s nice to meet you again, anyway.”

  Zampini recollected himself, and made a plainly false effort to be jovial. “Of course, my friend, of course. It is delightful to find you here, I assure you.”

  Adeline had disappeared inside, and now came out with a drink for Zampini. “So you two know one another as well. But how very nice!”

  Zampini grabbed the glass without a word of thanks. He was glaring at Adeline angrily. “I must speak with you.”

  “Later, Guido.”

  “No, now!” It reminded me of the spiteful hissing of a snake.

  Adeline’s smile became strained at the edges. “I said later, Guido.” She wafted over to George and Rosalind Blunt and involved herself in conversation with them.

  Baffled, Zampini glowered after her.

  When we went in for dinner, the party was split up at tables for two. The Blunts were close to Adeline and me. The timid little Austrian couple slipped in, smiling nervously, and scurried over to their alcove table.

  Philip and Zampini were placed together across the room, and were immediately deep in conversation. They spoke in undertones inaudible to the rest of us. Whenever Carlo went to serve them, they seemed to dry up until he had gone away again.

  Maria had produced another superb dinner. My spirit of defiance gave me the appetite to do it justice. I certainly wasn’t going to let Philip think his presence here had thrown me.

  We all came together again for coffee in the salon. The moment that was through, Adeline went off with Zampini. They didn’t appear again for some time, not until I had done my checkup rounds in kitchen and dining-room.

  I felt certain there had been a flaming row. Adeline looked pale but determined. Zampini still looked angry. All in all, the rest of the evening promised to be darned uncomfortable.

  Playing hostess like mad, Adeline tried to make up a Bridge four. But her efforts fell flat. Whilst George Blunt was keen enough, his wife decided she just didn’t feel like it tonight. Philip begged off by making out he was a goof at cards. I had to duck out because I was utterly hopeless. In the end Adeline had to settle for Solo Whist with Zampini and George Blunt.

  As if casually, Philip and Rosalind Blunt were talking together. They were sitting near enough to the card party not to cause any speculations, yet far enough away to be out of earshot.

  Philip didn’t once look in my direction.

  If I’d been a guest myself, I’d have left them to it. But I couldn’t very well do that. I felt obliged to hang about where I might be needed. So I just sat idly watching the card players, wishing Giles was around. Since he normally spent so much time at the villa, why did he have to choose this evening to stay away?

  I thought for a second he had turned up after all when a tall figure appeared at one of the windows. But then I recognised Cesare Pastore, the police chief’s assistant.

  He took a diffident step inside, and bowed to Adeline. “Forgive my intrusion, Signora, but I was wondering...”

  She first gave him a nice ordinary friendly smile, and then switched to being the gracious lady amused by his confusion.

  “Yes, young man? What was it you were wondering?”

  “I thought Signorina Lyndon might perhaps care to come with me for a drive. It is a beautiful evening.”

  Adeline was already studying her cards again, thoughtfully smoothing her upswept hair. “Yes, yes. You go with him, Kerry darling.”

  “But...” I began.

  “Be off with you.” The single finger she wagged above her head conveyed a playful admonishment. “And not too late back with her, my young friend. Remember!”

  Though I’d been longing to escape from the insufferable atmosphere of the salon, I objected to the way I was being organised. Adeline was practically ordering me to go. But Cesare, having gained her approval, then proceeded to invite me most flatteringly.

  “I should be very happy if you would consent to come with me for a drive. Please signorina, do say you will.”

  Zampini said heavily, and loud enough for everyone to hear: “I do not think it is right...”

  “Not right for young people to enjoy themselves?” cried Adeline gaily. “Nonsense, my dear Guido. You forget your own youth.”

  But what really made up my mind was the sight of Philip across the room. He was watching me sullenly, his face set into lines of deep ill-humour.

  “I’d love to come,” I said quickly. “Just hang on a minute, while I fetch a coat.”

  “I will be waiting... outside in my automobile.” Cesare gave a charming smile. But he must have sensed that the general mood was not in his favour. Guido had made an unwarranted objection to my going out at all; Philip was now scowling fiercely. Rosalind Blunt looked none too pleased either, but that, I guessed, was because Philip’s attention had been diverted from her.

  It was a glorious evening, the landscape etched sharp by a nearly full moon. As we drove off I looked towards Etna, and saw the great snow-streaked cone flaring with a weird inner light of its own.

  Cesare’s car bore no resemblance to Giles’ slick sports model. It was more like the one Philip had hired, a sober little black job. I guessed it was an official police car, borrowed for the evening.

  We drove along deserted roads. The sleeping countryside looked tranquilly beautiful.

  When I said as much to Cesare his reply was sombre. “This is not a tranquil island, Kerry. Throughout history life has been hard for Sicilians. And it still is...”

  “I read all about the terrible earthquake.”

  He was silent for a moment before saying quietly, “Yes, that too...”

  He spoke fluently and colloquially, making hardly any errors even in pronunciation.

  “How come your English is so marvellous?” I asked.

  “Oh... we took it at school, you know.”

  “Maybe. But yours is far above school level, surely?”

  “Ah well—I have kept it up. Languages are useful to a policeman.”

  “In Sicily?”

  “Here, as everywhere else.”

  I couldn’t help liking Cesare. Apart from the fact that he was a darned attractive man by any standards, his unaffected chivalry was extremely fetching. He was so thoroughly nice that I began to feel guilty about my reasons for accepting his invitation. I had to face it—basically I’d just wanted to get one back at Philip.

  “What was it that brought you to Sicily?” Cesare asked. “Did you think that to work in the sun would make a nice change from an English hotel?”

  “Oh, but I’ve never done anything like this before. It was quite by chance that I took a job here.”

  I told him ab
out Monica, and her sudden decision to marry Sam Tracy and live in the United States.

  “Monica Halliday-Browne?” he said in a ruminative voice. “I cannot recollect ever hearing that name before.”

  “There’s no reason why you should have done. She’s hardly a celebrity, even though she gets around an awful lot.”

  “So it seems. Quite the cosmopolitan, it appears. Always on the move.”

  I shrugged. “Monica is one of those restless souls. I don’t think her sort ever know what it is they want out of life.”

  “Perhaps you are right. Or it could be that they know very well?”

  “I don’t get you.”

  He pulled the little car round a sweeping bend, and revved away again.

  “Just an idle remark,” he said carelessly. “It must have been a shock for you when Monica Halliday-Browne announced she was leaving Italy.”

  “I was pretty fed up. I didn’t want to go back to England so soon.”

  “What did you do, then?”

  “Luckily Monica thought of Miss Harcourt, who happened to be in Rome at the time. I was fixed up with this job within a couple of hours.”

  “Quick work! And what precisely is your job, if I may ask?”

  Putting it into words was difficult. “I’m expected to help Miss Harcourt generally any way I can.”

  “But you find there is not enough for you to do, in fact?”

  He’d touched a sore spot, and I reacted with swift annoyance. I didn’t like the idea of anyone else considering my job a sinecure.

  Cesare stopped the car abruptly, and turned to me. “I am so sorry if I have offended you. But Miss Harcourt herself said you were complaining.”

  “Yes, of course. I’d forgotten that.”

  He settled more comfortably in his seat, and took out cigarettes. I refused one, but told him to go ahead.

  “See old Mother Etna,” he said, pointing. “She is angry tonight.”

  As we watched the mountain, belches of denser smoke were thrown up, blood-tinged against the moonlit sky. Etna looked like a gigantic smouldering bonfire. A shudder gripped me at the thought of the volcano’s destructive potential.

  “Is it often like this?”

  I felt Cesare’s shrug where his shoulder touched mine. “She has her ups and downs, like all of us Italians.”

  “I don’t get the impression that you are a particularly eruptive type,” I said with truth. “You seem to be very level-headed.”

  “Aha, but I have my moments. Especially...” he swung round, half facing me, “especially with an attractive woman.”

  In what I hoped was a neat sidestep, I said: “I hope Etna doesn’t get really worked up while I am in Sicily.”

  He laughed. “Are English girls always so cautious?”

  “Only when the necessity arises.”

  Still laughing, he reached forward and flicked on the ignition.

  We stopped somewhere for a drink, and then Cesare drove me back to the Stella d’Oro. He asked if he could see me again soon. “Perhaps you will allow me to take you out to dinner?”

  “Thanks, I’d like that.”

  “Then I will telephone.” He clicked his heels and bowed in a parody of his chief’s Latin gallantry. But the kiss he pressed on the back of my hand was not entirely a joke. “Goodnight, Kerry...” His voice lingered over my name.

  When I walked into the salon I was no longer thinking of Philip Rainsby. I had gone out with Cesare to spite Philip, and had ended up by having fun.

  Only two people were there now—Adeline Harcourt and Zampini. The Italian scowled at me, thick black eyebrows almost meeting over his big nose.

  Adeline still seemed very much on edge as she asked : “Did you have a pleasant evening, darling?”

  “Yes thank you, Miss Harcourt.”

  She hesitated, then plunged in with what sounded remarkably like a prepared speech. “Kerry—I feel I should warn you. That young man may seem very nice, but a friendship with him could be dangerous...”

  “Dangerous? How do you mean?”

  “You must remember he is Italian—and far away from his own home. Besides, we have heard things... rumours. I advise you not to let yourself be alone with him again.”

  I felt a surge of anger. “And just what rumours have you heard about Cesare?” I asked in a stiffly restrained voice.

  “Never mind. You are young...”

  “I am not a child, Miss Harcourt.”

  Guido Zampini lumbered out of his armchair and came towards me, scowling. “You will listen to Miss Harcourt. She speaks as she does only because she has your best interests in her heart.”

  I didn’t answer him. If I had tried to, the strand holding my temper would certainly have snapped. Instead I addressed Miss Harcourt again. I tried to be reasonable in face of this quite unreasonable interference in my private affairs.

  “You are making far too much of a perfectly ordinary incident,” I said with care. “I’ve been for a drive with Cesare. And that is all. Another time I may have dinner with him.”

  “That would be madness,” thundered Zampini. “I forbid you to do any such thing.”

  “Will you kindly mind your own business,” I blazed. “What I may do or may not do isn’t the smallest concern of yours.”

  “Tell the imbecile, Adeline,” snapped Zampini. “If she won’t listen to me, then you tell her.”

  Before Miss Harcourt could speak again, I gave her fair warning.

  “It had better be understood right now,” I said in a level voice, “that how I occupy myself when I’m off duty is entirely my own affair. I have no wish to be disrespectful, Miss Harcourt, but you have no right to interfere in my private life.”

  If she fired me on the spot, that was all right by me. But I was darned if I’d stand for this, from her, or from anyone else.

  Chapter Six

  I didn’t hang around for Adeline’s comeback. I stalked out of the salon and straight upstairs, flaming with indignation.

  By bad luck, just as I reached the landing outside my bedroom door I ran into Philip. We both of us stopped, six feet apart. Our eyes met and held.

  For a brief instant something flickered between us, piercing the formal skin we’d plastered over our relationship. We acknowledged the intensity of caring that had sprung up between us in Rome. And then the contact was broken. A look of cold indifference settled on Philip’s face again.

  I dived for the shelter of my room. My pent-up emotions were too much for me, and I felt like slamming the door violently. But just in time I held back. It cost me a ton of self-control to close that door gently. Then I went over and switched on the transistor. If Philip was still hanging around outside, let him make what he could of the sound of cheerful pop music from Naples.

  A full hour must have passed before I even made a start to go to bed. I spent the time idly padding around the room, hugging my misery. As if it wasn’t bad enough to have Philip about the place, now I had a grievance against Adeline Harcourt.

  The unfairness of her attitude hit me hard. She had pressed me to go for a drive with Cesare, practically ordered me to, in fact. And then, barely a couple of hours afterwards, she tried to make out it was rash of me to be friendly with him, hinting vaguely at sordid rumours.

  As for Zampini daring to intervene! To have the sheer nerve to boss me around!

  It struck me that Adeline’s about-turn was Zampini’s responsibility. He’d objected before I went, and although Adeline had overridden him then, he must have argued her round.

  That man had an unhealthy influence over Adeline. I was convinced of it. However much she protested they were old friends, I couldn’t believe she would free-willingly choose to be so thick with such an unpleasant character.

  It was a puzzle, though, why Zampini should care one way or the other about my going out with Cesare. For that matter, why should he care two straws whatever I did? But for some reason he had it in for me, and I didn’t fool myself any longer it was merely b
ecause I’d once snubbed him.

  A recollection shot into my mind. That first time I’d met Adeline, she had been speaking to someone on the phone. I dug into my memory for the exact words. Something about just a little help with the domestic arrangements, and of no consequence to us...

  Was it Guido Zampini she’d been talking to?

  What a fool not to have realised at the time she was referring to me. Of course it was me! And I might have questioned just who it was she’d got to placate, since the guesthouse belonged to her. But my mind had been too ravaged by the sight of Philip and that Blunt woman, intimately gay on a hotel terrace.

  And hadn’t Adeline also said something like ‘there is no earthly reason why she should ever find out’?

  I’d certainly been a fool all right. A fool not to have been suspicious. A fool to have jumped slap-happily into this blind date of a job.

  By morning I had decided to quit. The row over Cesare finally pinpointed the absurdity of my position here. There was no question of leaving Adeline in the lurch, for clearly I wasn’t really needed at all. I’d owe her nothing—nothing but a certain gratitude for having offered me a job out of sheer kindness of heart.

  Philip Rainsby, I told myself, was entirely unconnected with my decision. I had at last achieved indifference towards him. Whether he stayed or not, whether he acknowledged me or not, was neither here nor there.

  I was downstairs by eight, and to my surprise found Adeline there ahead of me. She took the belligerent wind out of my sails by apologising.

  “I must beg you to forgive me, Kerry darling. What I said last night was unpardonable.” She looked at me with candidly respectful eyes. “I admire your spirit in telling me straight out that I am nothing but an interfering old woman.”

  “But I didn’t say that, Miss Harcourt...”

  Her mobile lips pursed in amusement. “Damn nearly, though! And so I am. And now I’m asking you to forgive me for it.”

  From standing there tall and erect, she once again seemed to shrink into tremulous frailty. It was a mirage, I knew. Or rather, a superb piece of acting.

  Her pose made it more difficult to announce my decision. And we were still standing at the foot of the stairs; I was uneasily aware that one of the guests might appear at any moment.