Quest for Alexis Read online

  I capitulated in the face of her gentle persuasion. “Thank you again. It would be a help not having to bother with trains and worrying about connections.”

  Last night I had not unpacked properly but merely transferred a few things I thought I might need into an overnight case. I collected this from my bedroom and went along to say goodbye to Madeleine. She was still in bed. Freda Aiken had brought a tray of tea and toast, and was busy plumping up Madeleine’s pillows. She was brisk, efficient and strong. No doubt an excellent nurse but without the saving grace of human warmth.

  “That will do, that will do,” Madeleine told her petulantly. “Leave us now, please. I wish to talk to my niece alone.”

  Freda Aiken withdrew, looking decidedly indignant, and Madeleine said grudgingly, “She tries, I suppose, but she is not like Belle.” She sighed, and I thought I saw tears glint in her pale golden eyes. “And now you are off, Gail.”

  “In a few minutes. I just looked in to say goodbye. Caterina is driving me to ... to London.”

  “Is she? How nice for you both.”

  Madeleine was in one of her difficult moods this morning, and it made me feel doubly guilty about leaving her. But I knew I was doing the right thing. I need only be gone for a couple of days, and with any luck Alexis would come back with me. With any luck Madeleine need never discover what had happened. Surely if Alexis and I could talk for a few minutes, I could make him understand the full implications of what he was doing. Make him realize the harm not only to Madeleine but to everything he had believed in and worked for all these years. I must be able to make him see.

  I bent and kissed my aunt on the cheek, but she remained unresponsive. I lingered a few moments longer, trying to win her around, but in the end I had to leave her without seeing any sign of a break in this bitter, petulant mood.

  Rudi was standing at the foot of the stairs.

  “Gail, I wish you weren’t going off like this. It’s still not too late to change your mind.”

  “Oh, Rudi, we had all that out yesterday.”

  He nodded helplessly. “It’s just that I hate to think of you being hurt. At least promise one thing—that you’ll keep in touch. Will you phone me tonight and let me know what’s happening?”

  I felt moved by his concern for me. Tears pricked my eyelids and I had to blink them away. For a long time I had known that Rudi was in love with me. I was terribly fond of him, and if it hadn’t been for Brett, then perhaps ...

  “Yes, of course I’ll phone you, Rudi. I must go now. Here’s Caterina.”

  Through the long hall window I could see the car coming across from the stable-block, a bright-red Fiat. Caterina had become quite anglicized since marrying Sir Ralph, but she still had her Continental breakfast each morning and chose an Italian car for herself. And her warm, impulsive, Latin nature—nothing would ever alter that.

  As we drove off, Rudi stood waving from the doorway. Glancing up at the house, I saw a quick movement, someone backing swiftly out of sight. Freda Aiken or Mrs. Cramp, indulging their morbid curiosity.

  I sighed unhappily. It wasn’t any longer the Deer’s Leap I had known and loved these past years.

  Chapter Five

  Caterina’s volatile nature never allowed her to remain silent for long. She chatted as she drove, commenting on the traffic, the places we passed through, reminiscing whenever something triggered off a memory. But presently she became serious.

  “Gail, there is something I want to say, something it is important for you to understand. In spite of all this unpleasantness, Ralph still has the greatest feeling of sympathy for Madeleine. There will always be a home for her at Deer’s Leap. And for you, of course.”

  Already, I noted sadly, Alexis was written off completely. But I was going to reinstate him in the minds of Sir Ralph and Caterina—and of everyone else, too. How, I didn’t yet know. I had only my own determination to guide me.

  I mumbled my thanks to Caterina, which she brushed aside. Then she shot me a shrewd, appraising glance.

  “Brett is very concerned, Gail.”

  “Yes, I know.” I was unable to conceal the bitterness I felt. “That film of his is just so much useless junk now, he says. And of course he’s angry because his father has been so upset.”

  “Oh, but I didn’t quite mean that, Gail. Brett is concerned about you.”

  “Concerned about me?” I tried to pass if off with a light laugh. “That’ll be the day.”

  “It was, once,” she said, and her voice sounded sad. “Neither of you told us very much, but we knew you were seeing a good deal of each other in London. For

  a time Ralph and I thought-----”

  “Then you got it wrong,” I said brusquely. “Look, Caterina, wouldn’t it be better to go through Staines? There should be less traffic on that road.”

  A change of route, a change of conversation. After that, Caterina began asking how I liked America. In her singing days before she met and married Sir Ralph, she had traveled all over the world. She had sung Verdi and Puccini in Chicago and at the Met in New York, and had given concerts in many other American cities.

  We reached the airport in good time. Emerging from the approach tunnel, we parked the car and went to collect the ticket I’d booked by phone. The desk was very busy, and we had to stand around waiting.

  Caterina asked if I was sure I had everything I needed. Did I have sufficient money? She could easily lend me some.

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I brought back my bank balance from the States in traveler’s checks. It’ll be enough to cover this trip.”

  I was still talking when I felt it, a sharp strong tug at my handbag. My fingers tightened, too late. The bag was gone.

  I gasped and spun round, my eyes searching wildly in all directions. But there were so many people milling about that I couldn’t pick out the thief.

  “Gail, whatever is the matter?” asked Caterina, beside me.

  “My bag. Someone snatched my handbag. Did you see who it was?” With a sickening rush, the full extent of my loss hit me. “Oh, Caterina, what am I going to do? It’s got my passport and money and everything.”

  The girl at the desk was quick off the mark. The phone was already in her hand. “I’m calling the airport police. Can you give me a description of the man?”

  “I didn’t even see him,” I said miserably. “He snatched it from behind. It’s a black patent bag, with a strap.”

  I felt a terrible wave of frustration, of helplessness, of sheer panic.

  Hearing a sudden commotion somewhere across the lobby, I turned to look. Other people were staring, too, but in the confusion I couldn’t make out what was happening. Then, like a miracle, I saw a tall man pushing his way toward me, waving my handbag above his head.

  “This is yours, miss, I think,” he said, presenting it to me.

  “Oh, thank you. That’s marvelous. I was feeling desperate, wondering what on earth I was going to do.”

  “You’d better make sure nothing is missing,” he suggested.

  The clasp was still fastened. I unclipped it and took a quick look inside. Passport, wallet—both safe. A tidal wave of relief flooded through me. “I ... I really don’t know how to thank you enough.” I stammered. “What happened, exactly?”

  “Well, I was standing over there waiting around for my wife, and I happened to notice this little guy snatch your purse. He made off fast, dodging into the crowd, and I lost sight of him. But a couple of seconds later he came right past me, and I grabbed at him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hold him—these sneak thieves are as slippery as eels—and it was all so quick I don’t think other people realized what was going on. I’m afraid he got clean away. Still, he dropped your purse, that’s the main thing.”

  “I’m so very grateful to you.”

  “Glad to have been of service.” He smiled, gave me an embarrassed little bow, and strode away.

  It needed several minutes for my heartbeat to slow back to normal. I’d had a very narrow
escape. Without my handbag, it wouldn’t have been possible to go on to Majorca. A phone call to my bank might have replaced the stolen money, but it would probably have taken days and days to replace a lost passport.

  * * * *

  There was half an hour before the plane was due to leave. Caterina wanted to wait with me, but I wouldn’t let her. I knew that Sir Ralph disapproved of my going to Majorca. I didn’t want to keep Caterina away from home for too long and give him something else to hold against me.

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she kissed me goodbye. “I still wish you wouldn’t go. Take care of yourself, my dear one.”

  “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry. You’ve been so sweet and kind, Caterina. One day I’ll be able to thank you properly.”

  The time seemed to crawl by when she had gone. But at last the formalities were over, and I waited with a group of other passengers to board the plane.

  From close behind me a low voice murmured into my ear, “That wasn’t very clever of you, Gail.”

  Brett. I spun around and stared at him.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked faintly.

  He held up a canvas airline bag for me to see.

  “I told you that if you were mad enough to go to Majorca, then I was coming with you. But I didn’t expect you’d try and pull a fast one like that. I barely had time to make a reservation.”

  I seethed with fury. “How did you find out? Was it Caterina who told you?”

  “Does it matter how I found out? Actually, it was that Mrs. Cramp. I called you at Deer’s Leap this morning to ask how things were going, and she told me you’d gone off in a hurry to catch a plane.”

  “She’d no right to,” I said in bitter dismay.

  Brett and I didn’t speak again until we had boarded the plane. Without asking, he dropped into the seat next to me.

  “Why are you doing this, Brett?” I demanded.

  “More to the point, why are you doing it? What do you hope to gain?”

  He wouldn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand. I said in an angry undertone, “I’m not obliged to explain my actions to you, Brett.”

  “Maybe not. But you’d be well advised to try and explain them to yourself. Get this into your skull, Gail— your uncle could hardly have made it plainer that he doesn’t care a damn what you or anyone else thinks of him. He’s opted out, and to hell with all those lofty ideals he was supposed to stand for. Okay, so he’s got his hands on more money than he’s ever had in his life before ... and a beautiful woman to help him spend it. He’s not the first man to lose his head like that, and he won’t be the last. But I wish to God he’d picked a less crucial time. Why did he have to wait until the film was nine-tenths made?”

  “That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” I muttered savagely.

  “If you really think so, Gail.... But I think you’re wrong.”

  * * * *

  The gray winter day stretched on interminably as we flew across France. I refused to discuss Alexis any further, and there was little else for Brett and me to talk about. Or too many things. For most of the time we were locked in a tight silence, except for an occasional frozen courtesy. I could never for a single instant forget that it was Brett who sat next to me, and sometimes, accidentally, we touched. My brain spun with memories of the time we had spent together. The pain of it was almost more than I could bear.

  Then we were over the Mediterranean, nearing the end of our journey, and the sun broke through at last. Quite suddenly the air was clear, only the far horizon veiled with a soft lilac haze. Far below, a ship scored a line of gold across the glittering cobalt sea.

  Out of the misty distance an island emerged, rugged mountains and deep valleys, wild and beautiful. As we crossed the coastal range and dipped lower, there appeared to be a white gauze laid upon the land. “That’s the almond trees in bloom,” said a man in the seat behind us, and a sigh of delight rippled among the passengers. So much beauty, yet today it only made me sad.

  Once we landed, I wasted no breath trying to argue with Brett. I let him find us a taxi, and immediately he gave the driver the name of the hotel where Alexis was reported to be staying.

  The taxi rattled along noisily in a stream of fast-moving traffic, flashing past orchards of almond trees and the quaint Majorcan windmills that whirled around like children’s toys. It took only a few minutes to reach Palma, where the buildings struck me as Italianate rather than Spanish. Down by the harbor we joined a broad modern highway that curved around the arc of the bay. It was absurdly warm for February.

  “This is the place for a winter holiday,” Brett remarked. “Who wants to be in England at this time of year?”

  A winter holiday ... with Brett? Twelve months ago that would have been one of my dreams. Now, for all the warmth of the sun, I felt frozen inside.

  With the moment of truth, my confrontation with Alexis, so near, I had to think how I could shake Brett off. I was determined to see my uncle alone. Without Brett, if possible without Belle Forsyth.

  We swept on around the bay, where white-sailed boats gracefully skimmed the water. Here the hotels became more widely spaced—shining new towers, each with tier upon tier of balconies overlooking the sea, swimming pools and terrace restaurants. A holiday paradise.

  The taxi swerved into an entrance, climbed a steep curving driveway, and pulled up by wide chrome-and-glass doors flung open to the warm afternoon.

  “Alexis is certainly doing things in style,” Brett commented dryly.

  We entered and went to inquire at the desk. The clerk, a handsome olive-skinned young Spaniard, informed us aloofly that Dr. Karel was not in the hotel at the moment.

  How stupid of me to have imagined Alexis would be sitting around here, as if waiting for me to turn up. But I had got myself to such a peak of tension that I felt a terrible sense of letdown.

  “Do you know where he is?” Brett asked. “Or when he’ll be back?”

  “I regret, señor, I do not.”

  Brett looked at me. “I suppose we’d better check ourselves in, then. We’ll have to stay the night somewhere, and we might as well be on the spot.”

  “Yes, all right.”

  Once he knew we were to be guests ourselves, the clerk unbent a little. While consulting the register he volunteered the information that Dr. Karel and Miss Forsyth were not expected to be dining in the hotel that evening.

  Yet I had a feeling that he wasn’t telling us everything he knew. His manner was a shade too smooth. Brett seemed to notice nothing, and I kept my suspicions to myself. If I was going to pump the clerk for information, I’d prefer to do it alone.

  We were given two rooms on opposite sides of the corridor, on the fifth floor. As we parted outside my door, Brett said, “I’ll come and collect you in fifteen minutes? Let’s have a drink and decide what we’re going to do. Okay?”

  “Make it half an hour, will you? I must have a shower.”

  “Not a bad idea. I think I will, too.”

  Once in my room, I flung myself into action, showering and dressing in ten minutes flat. Then, stealthily, I opened my door and peered into the corridor. Everything was quiet. Brett’s door was safely closed. I sped along to the stairs and went down a floor before summoning the elevator, just in case Brett should come out of his room and see me waiting.

  As I’d been hoping, now that I was alone the desk clerk’s attitude was subtly different. He gave me his full attention.

  “Yes, senora ... ?”

  “Just between the two of us,” I wheedled, “are you quite sure you don’t know where Dr. Karel is?”

  He shook his head, smiling at me regretfully. “You are from an English newspaper? There have been so many reporters, and Dr. Karel is not pleased with the way they have pestered him.”

  “I’m not a reporter, oh no.”

  He looked at me hesitantly, and I became more than ever convinced that he was concealing something.

  “Please,” I begged. “I must see him. I’
m a relative. It’s terribly urgent.”

  In the end he gave way gracefully. “I can only tell you this, senora. Dr. Karel asked me if I could recommend a restaurant in Palma, and I told him the Velasquez was an excellent place. It is possible that he and Miss Forsyth will dine there this evening, though of course I cannot promise.”

  The time for dinner was still hours away. But this might be the only chance I’d get of escaping from Brett.

  “Haven’t you any idea at all where they might be now?”

  He shrugged. I was being too persistent. “Sightseeing, perhaps. There is much to interest visitors on the island.”

  The only thing, I decided, was to kill time on my own until there was hope of finding Alexis at the restaurant. I asked the clerk to cash a traveler’s check for me and ordered a taxi.

  “One more thing,” I said as I was leaving. “The gentleman I came with ... please say nothing to him about where I’m going.”

  He nodded, smiling at me like a conspirator.

  I asked the taxi driver to drop me off somewhere in the center of Palma. I found I was in a wide, busy street called (of course) the Avenida Generalissimo Franco. I began to stroll aimlessly.

  For a while I kept to the main thoroughfares, glancing at the shops with their rich displays of old lace and mantillas, Moorish jewelery, and exquisite embroidery, all the time keeping a faintly hopeful lookout for Alexis and Belle. Then suddenly it struck me that by now Brett must have realized I had given him the slip. He might come searching for me.

  The huge mass of the Gothic cathedral rose ahead of me, and I decided to take refuge in there.

  Entering, I was pounced on eagerly by guides. But I was there to get through unwanted time, not to sightsee. I evaded them and wandered alone in the cool, echoing nave. Even in my present withdrawn mood, I could not help being affected by the atmosphere—the magnificence of the lofty vaulted roof, the brilliant bold colors of the stained glass. After a time I sat down quietly at the back of the little side chapel and listened while Mass was celebrated.