A Distant Sound Of Thunder. Anne Mather
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Rebecca got behind the steering wheel and then looked up at him almost appealingly. ‘I—I don’t understand you, monsieur.’
‘Non! I would agree with you there.’
Rebecca hesitated, biting her lip. ‘Are you—I mean—will you be coming to dinner before—before you leave?’
He regarded her with intense dark eyes. ‘Do you want me to?’ he asked softly.
Rebecca’s stomach contracted. ‘I—I—it’s nothing to do with me,’ she stammered.
‘Is it not?’ He shrugged. ‘Yes, I will come. I will ring Adele and arrange a time.’ His expression grew brooding. ‘And afterwards? Will you go for a drive with me?’
Rebecca’s eyes were wide and startled. ‘I—I—I am Adele’s employee. I cannot make arrangements like that. Besides,’ she fumbled for the ignition, ‘Adele would never agree.’
‘Adele need not know—need she?’ His eyes held hers.
Rebecca took a rather shaky breath. ‘I—I really think you—you are wasting your time, monsieur,’ she murmured unsteadily. ‘I—I am not like the—the women you know …’
‘I recognise that,’ he replied coolly. ‘I do have some perception.’
Rebecca shook her head helplessly. ‘I—I must go,’ she said. ‘Good—goodbye.’
‘Au revoir,’ he answered, and stepped back as she put the small saloon into gear, and drove rather erratically away.
Outside the city limits the road stretched straight for some distance, cutting between the blue waters of the Bay of Islands. It was unbelievably beautiful, but this morning Rebecca had no heart to appreciate it. She was sick and shaken, terrified at the knowledge that Piers St. Clair could exercise so much power over her. In his presence her antagonism just melted away and so might her resistance.
Even so, it was exhilarating to know that he found her attractive, and that awful traitorous part of her that responded to flattery wanted to take what he offered with both hands. But the sane part of her knew that anything he might offer would be dangerous to accept and in consequence she was torn both ways.
When she got back to the villa, Adele was resting on a lounger in the garden, shaded by a huge striped umbrella. She gave Rebecca a speculative stare, and then said: ‘You’ve been long enough. What have you been buying?’
Rebecca managed not to blush. ‘Just what you asked me to buy,’ she replied, kneeling down on the warm mosaic tiles and beginning to unpack her straw shopping bag. The talc which Piers had given her was on the top and she handed this first to Adele. Then she went on through her purchases, handing out stockings and make-up, hair rollers and hairnets, toilet articles and toothpaste. At the bottom of her bag was a container of cologne-scented talc, identical to the first she had given Adele.
Taking it out, she stared at it incredulously, and Adele, seeing her consternation, exclaimed: ‘For heaven’s sake, girl, what have you been thinking of? Buying two tins of talc!’
Rebecca coloured now and thrust the second container aside. ‘I—I bought it for myself,’ she said quickly.
‘But you don’t like that fragrance,’ said Adele impatiently. ‘There’s no need to pretend, Rebecca. I don’t mind having two tins. They’ll both get used in time.’ She bent and lifted the second container from where Rebecca had put it.
Rebecca bit her lip tightly. ‘Oh, but really …’ she began.
Adele sniffed. ‘But nothing, my girl. Go and put these things away, and then ask Rosa for some coffee.’
It was the following day before Piers St. Clair telephoned, and Rebecca spent the period between meeting him at the market and his eventual arrival for dinner in a strangely unreal sense of expectancy. She had pondered the riddle of the talc until she had realised that as her bag was made of interlaced straw it would have been quite easy for him to see what was in it. Even so, she speculated upon his perception which had instantly jumped to the conclusion she might place upon the parcel in his hand, and the subsequent trick he had played upon her. He must know her sex extremely well, she thought with a sinking heart, the incident adding to her awareness of him as a potentially dangerous man. He arranged with Adele that he should join her for dinner the following evening, and the next morning Adele insisted upon making one of her very infrequent excursions into Suva to visit her hairdresser. Rebecca was doubtful of the advisability of such an excursion on a day when Adele was bound to become over-stimulated anyway, but there was little she could do to prevent it. When Adele made up her mind, there was little anyone could do.
In the afternoon, while Adele rested, Rebecca pressed the gown she had chosen to wear that evening. Adele had been loath to allow Rosa to do it, so Rebecca had offered in order to avoid any further upheavals.
Rebecca herself was absorbed with her own thoughts, aware that she was mentally searching for reasons for being absent from the villa this evening. Not that Adele expected her to join them for dinner, indeed the question had never arisen, but somehow she wanted to put some distance between herself and her employer’s brother-in-law.
She helped Adele to change after her bath, and Adele preened herself for a few moments in front of her dressing-table mirror.
‘Quite nice,’ she conceded at last. ‘Don’t you think so, Rebecca?’
Rebecca managed a smile. ‘Very nice, Miss St. Cloud,’ she agreed, nodding. Then she bit her lip. ‘You will promise not to over-excite yourself this evening, won’t you, Miss St. Cloud? This—well—this has been quite an exhausting day for you, and naturally—–’
Adele stared at her. ‘What are you talking about, girl? You’ll be here to keep an eye on me yourself, won’t you? Surely you know I expect you to join us?’
Rebecca’s cheeks burned. ‘Oh, no! No, Miss St. Cloud. I—I have—made other arrangements.’
‘What other arrangements?’ Adele’s voice was sharp.
Rebecca swallowed hard, searching her mind for excuses. ‘I—I thought I might go out. I—I—haven’t had many evenings off—–’
‘And where would you go alone?’ snapped Adele. ‘You may have freedom of the island during the day, but after dark—that’s a different matter.’
‘You—you did say—I might use the car.’
‘I know that. But it just so happens that I require your services this evening. Now, snap out of that awkward mood and go and get yourself changed. I don’t expect you to eat dinner in your uniform.’
Rebecca stared at her employer unhappily. ‘I’d prefer to eat dinner in my room, Miss St. Cloud,’ she asserted clearly.
Adele’s eyes flickered. ‘Why? Because of Piers?’
‘What? No! No.’ Rebecca turned away, and in consequence did not see the narrowing of Adele’s eyes.
‘Well, it can’t be me,’ remarked the older woman mockingly. ‘You’ve had dinner with me plenty of times.’
Rebecca gathered her composure and turned back to her. ‘I would feel the same, no matter who your guest might be,’ she said tautly. ‘Besides, I can’t recall you showing such a desire for my company before.’ She frowned. ‘Why do you want me to join you for dinner?’
If Adele was surprised by this sudden show of confidence, she hid it admirably, and smiling slightly said: ‘Perhaps, as your days here are so uneventful, I felt sorry for you. And after all, it isn’t every day you get the chance to break bread with a millionaire!’
Rebecca’s nails dug into the palms of her hands. ‘Do I have a choice?’
Adele’s expression hardened. ‘No, miss, you do not! Now go and prepare yourself, or do you want