Across the Lagoon (10 page)

There was a scattering of guests lounging in private groups amidst the chesterfields. Stephanie chose a deserted section towards the centre of the room. Carol, for a moment, when she sat down in one of the big armchairs, thought she was never going to stop sinking. She felt swallowed up in floating soft-leathered luxury. Stephanie went for the settee, her small flushed face upturned eagerly as her uncle moved in. But he was busy catching the waiter's eye, and when he had ordered coffee for the three of them he turned and sat down in the armchair next to the settee. Quickly Stephanie snuggled into the arm nearest to him.

She made happy small talk about the lights over the pool and the people sitting at the tall stools beside the bar, oblivious to the fact that the man she was chatting to wasn't listening. She drank her coffee in her dainty decorous manner, laughing at the way the sugar lumps fizzed. She was all attractiveness and animation until her uncle dragged himself back from his thoughts and spoke. Then the merry smile slid from her face.

He pushed his coffee cup to one side and leaned his bulk over the table towards Carol to say with a businesslike air, 'I'll be leaving for Venice in half an hour, so I'd better brief you on your duties.'

Stephanie didn't bother to hide her disappointment. She jumped up and frowned, 'Oh, Gray I Can't you stay here? It's only a fifteen-minute boat ride to Venice.'

Gray Barrett looked impatient. 'I'm a busy man, Stephanie,' he clipped.

Carol looked down at her shoes. How many times had she heard that in the past couple of days?

'I've got more to do than zip back and forth in a boat,' he went on testily. 'Miss Lindley here will see , to all your requirements. I'll make a trip over at the first available opportunity. Now it's time you were in bed.'

'Yes, Gray.' Stephanie's bright little face seemed to drop into the shadows as she nodded obediently. 'Goodnight.' She raised a hand and trying to catch his eye with her own fading light of eagerness she waved at him, then turning she walked slowly away.

Gray Barrett lowered his head immediately and got straight down to the business of money. 'Your wages will be banked for you in England,' he told Carol. 'Naturally you'll require pocket money and expenses while you're here. I've made arrangements at the reception desk for you to draw a weekly amount to cover this. Stephanie has her own pocket money. She knows she need only call at the desk when she wants more.' He shifted his frame and went on, 'Your duties are straightforward enough. You're to see that my niece continues to live the protected life she's been used to, in and around the hotel. I will arrange whatever trips I consider necessary when I come over. I think that's all.' He turned then to fix Carol with his piercing brown gaze, 'Except for one thing. While I'm away Stephanie will be your responsibility. I shall rely on you completely to see that no harm befalls her during her stay in Italy. Is that clear?'

'Yes,' Carol replied in a small voice.

'Good. Then I'll say goodnight.' They rose together.

About to move off, Gray Barrett turned back for a moment to add, 'I have, of course, left my Venice address at the desk should you wish to contact me at any time....'

He left the remark hanging, but as far as Carol was concerned he didn't have to continue. As she watched his brusque frowning departure she could almost hear him saying that he was a busy man and he would rather not be bothered. With a last curt nod he preceded her out of the lounge and disappeared.

Carol walked slowly out herself and took the lift up to the apartment. All was in darkness. As she stole past Stephanie's bedroom she saw the dim shape of her in bed. Though Carol too was ready for sleep she went to sit out on one of the balconies. She felt she needed a few moments to accustom herself to the enormity of her task. For the truth of the matter was that now that her work had really started she was assailed by all kinds of misgivings.

She had never been abroad in her life. Now here she was abandoned on her first night in Italy, with the niece of a very strict uncle, in her total care.

She swallowed worriedly and looked out to where the stars winked over the gardens. She only hoped she could do justice to the job.

A sound on the lamplit road below caught her attention. Outside the entrance to the hotel a porter was carrying luggage out to a waiting car. Carol was in time to see the shadowy figure of Gray Barrett striding out behind it. She watched him settle his bulk into the car and close the door after him. As it pulled slowly away from the kerb a sudden feeling of dejection swept over her.

It was strange. She had had to suffer his bombastic orders and irritableness ever since they had started out. She ought to have been only too glad to see the back of him. And yet as she watched him disappear into the night she felt oddly alone, almost desolate.

M
ORNING
came with the tumultuous sound of traffic on the road alongside the Albany. Motor-scooters tore by. Taxis whooshed along in both directions. The chugging of motor-cycle delivery vans swinging into the smaller hotels intermingled with the tinkle of bells and steady clip-clop of horse-drawn tourist conveyances. All was gaiety and bustle, as though someone had pressed a switch and the world had suddenly sprung to life.

Away from the road on the other side of the hotel, smudges of snowy white cloud were pasted to a vivid blue sky, and the sea, beyond the tropical greenery of the gardens, was white-capped and boisterous. Even at this hour the faint laughing crescendo of sound could be heard from the miles of beach.

Standing on the balcony, a cotton negligee thrown round her, Carol inhaled deliciously, smitten already by this Italian zest for living. She couldn't think now why she had been seized by worry last night. This was a job in a million. So long as they were here, all that she and Stephanie had to do was enjoy themselves. What could be simpler, or more agreeable, than that? In high spirits she went off to dress.

As the morning promised to be hot she donned her vivid yellow slacks and a brief white sun top. Stephanie followed her into the bathroom to shower and dress, choosing violent pink trousers and a brilliantly flowered sun top.

They took their time adding the finishing touches. There was no watching the clock this morning, no precise time by which they must present themselves downstairs. Carol found it rather fun, being able to please herself.

After preening on and off before their mirrors, and experimenting with different types of footwear, they finally decided that they were ready, and locking the door of the apartment behind them took the lift downstairs.

The outdoors appeared even more scintillating from ground level. The black and white umbrellas looked as fresh as new paint against the blue of the sky. The leaves of the slender chestnut trees lining the dining terrace shimmered in the sparkling air. Both girls agreed that it would be pleasant to breakfast outside.

At a table overlooking the gardens they were served with coffee and rolls and lemon-flower jam. The sun was warm on their shoulders as they attacked the crisp golden twists of bread with the specially shaped knives. Stephanie seemed in a cheerful frame of mind. Apparently she had got over her disappointment of last night when she had unsuccessfully begged her uncle to stay.

During the meal Carol decided that the best way to keep up this happy state of affairs was simply to fall in with the younger girl's wishes as far as it was possible to do so.

After breakfast they explored the gardens and the hotel. They found the tennis courts and toured the pool and flicked a ball back and forth in the table tennis rooms. From the foyer posters they discovered that there was a weekly candlelight gala dinner, and dancing two evenings a week in the space adjoining the main lounge.

In the afternoon Stephanie chose to go to the beach. They put on their gayest bathing outfits, packed their beach bags and scuffed along the sun-dappled paths towards that rising murmur of sound.

The sea had settled down a lot since the morning. Ruffled only at the edge now, the sun caught the crystal sparkle of its gently lapping waves. The hotel section of the beach was fairly well populated. Stephanie chose a couple of sun beds on a vacant patch of sand. They dumped their things, discarded their sandals and prepared to enjoy the sun.

Part of the time they spent splashing and swimming in the water, the rest they sat or stretched out and watched the life around them. For Carol it could have been a perfect afternoon but for one thing.

On this their first day together, she noticed with a mild sense of shock that Stephanie seemed to have quite an eye for the boys. Carol could well remember her own giggly first stirrings as a fifteen-year-old, but Stephanie's approach was almost frighteningly grown up. With her neat little figure, already turning gold, her cascading dark hair and liquid brown eyes, she was quite lovely in a girlish way. And she made the most of it.

Her glances at the bronze-skinned youths and young men who happened to be near at the time had open invitation in them. Her laughter, when her small white teeth showed to perfection, was always aimed at them.

Fortunately the clientele at the Albany was made up mostly of cultured Italian families. The young men therefore were very mindful of their position in life and seemed in no way inclined to look further than their own aristocratic group.

Thankful for this, Carol turned a blind eye to Stephanie's flirtatious mood. Luckily she could afford to be more amused by it than concerned.

Towards seven o'clock they made their way back to the hotel. They were ravenous, and after bathing and changing they went down to dinner, enjoying the best in Italian cooking on the tastefully-lit dining terrace.

The day had been a pleasurable one, Carol liked to think. She and Stephanie seemed to get on well together. The only moment of discord between them had been an incident during the morning.

Realising that she would first of all need Italian money, Carol had gone to see the receptionist at the desk as Gray Barrett had instructed her to. She was amazed at the amount she was handed, for she had already learned the value of the
lire
by comparing prices ih the hotel shops. She was sure that such a large quantity of money would cover their expenses for a month, rather than a week.

When she had stuffed the notes into her handbag her first thoughts had been for her family and the postcards that would let them know she had arrived in Italy safe and sound. She bought half a dozen colourful scenes of the Venice Lido at the foyer kiosk and stopped to write them at the little desk provided.

While she was scribbling, Stephanie stood over her watching the flying pen. The younger girl noted the numbers of cards and with cool offhandedness she asked, 'Do you have many brothers and sisters?'

'Dozens,' Carol laughed. Though she had meant it only as a joke because of the pile of cards she had to wade through, Stephanie's face pinched up small and tight and she carped, 'Well, there's no need to be so smug about it!'

Carol was immediately contrite. She smiled and said pleasantly, 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound smug.'

The incident passed off, and thinking about it now as they sipped their coffee together under the stars Carol shelved it as something she could forget. But this didn't prove to be the case with Stephanie. Later, when they were upstairs in the apartment, the girl found a way to edge round to the subject again.

They had changed into their night attire and Carol was fiddling with her hair before her mirror. Stephanie, looking dark and pretty in a short broderie anglaise nightgown patterned with strawberries, had drifted in to, finger Carol's possessions around the room before flopping idly on to her bed. She lay on her tummy swinging her legs, watching the performance before the mirror for long enough. Then she said casually, 'Who's the oldest in your family?'

'I am,' Carol replied, remembering not to be facetious this time. 'Clive is my twin brother, but I was born three minutes before he was,' she added with impish satisfaction.

Stephanie digested this in silence. She swung her brown gaze away from Carol and studied the border of the counterpane in her fingers. Then she let herself - A ask, 'And what about the others?'

'Well,' Carol went on chattily, only too happy to encourage any kind of conversation, 'there's Peter. He's two years younger than us. Sandra's fourteen, and Steve's twelve. Then there's my two younger sisters, Deborah and Sue.'

'How old are they?' Stephanie tried to give the appearance of being only mildly interested, but it was obvious that she was soaking up the information avidly.

'Debbie's nine and Sue's six.' Carol twisted another smooth coil of hair into an elastic band.

'That makes seven of you,' the voice was figuring behind her. 'Then there's your mother and father.'

'Nine in all,' Carol winced laughingly. 'You should see us when we're all sat down at the table together!'

Stephanie made no comment to this. She seemed to have retired behind that air of frigidity which sometimes came over her. A little while later she said goodnight and went to her room.

The following afternoon they walked in the locality around the hotel. The long straight main road which ran through the centre of the island was lined with souvenir shops, cafes, boutiques, raffia and jewellery stalls and endless ice cream bars which displayed all kinds of wonderful concoctions in glass cases.

Though everything was comparatively quiet in the heat of the day, there was fun to be had. The girls were fascinated by the rows of colourful canopied swing seats outsidfc every cafe. They kept on buying drinks just so that they could sink down and kick the dust from their shoes and rock back and forth dreamily in the drowsiness of the afternoon.

They.learned to ask for
caffd latte,
coffee with milk, and
limonata,
lemonade, and learned how to tip without paying too much.

In the evening at their table on the terrace, Stephanie ordered a bottle of wine to go with their meal. With that childishly imperious manner of hers, which she could summon up at a moment's notice, she caught the waiter as he was passing and calmly told him to bring a bottle of
bordolino.