Across the Lagoon (15 page)

The noise inside was just as punishing as last night. Stephanie moved on to the dance floor at the first offer. Carol, ignoring the pawing hands and over-friendly smiles around her, pushed her way to the bar and took up her post.

For the next three hours she wore herself out, standing and keeping an eye on Stephanie. When the cacophony died down and the group finally left the stage, she hustled the younger girl towards the door and stopped an oncoming taxi. At least if it never got any worse than this she could cope. And perhaps Stephanie would quickly tire of the frenetic night life. But this was too much to hope for. She went to the Devil's Den the following night and the night after that.

By this time Carol was learning to relax a little. As she stood watching Stephanie on this their fourth consecutive session in the nefarious cave of flashing lights and weird music, she thought she understood a little the reason for the younger girl's unseemly behaviour.

Stephanie had had no real contact with her parents in five years. When she wasn't at school she was either farmed out with obliging friends, or left with an uncle who was too busy to notice her. When she had been younger she had accepted her lonely existence without question. But now she was growing up and she was learning that there were other ways of seeking the affection she craved.

Carol watched the small figure in her tight white skirt and green blouse, laughing in the midst of the crush around the stage. It was true, with her gaudy make-up and her frothy hair-style, the results of Stephanie's efforts to appear grown up were pretty awful, and she was too naive yet to guess what was behind the men's smiles, who held her so tight. But she was probably happier now than she had been in the whole of her fifteen years.

Shifting her weight on her aching legs, Carol looked at her watch. It was almost two-thirty. She blinked her tired eyes and waited for the music to come to an end. Thank heavens they could sleep in, in the morning. Breakfast at the Albany went on until ten o'clock and she had taken to catching up with her rest by snoozing at the beach in the afternoons. She was beginning to feel quite ancient with all this late-night gallivanting about.

The music crashed to a finish at last and Stephanie, looking as fresh as when it had started, drifted across the dance floor.

'Over here, Stephanie,' Carol called, giving her a wave. As they moved towards the door she smote the smiling, smouldering-eyed Romeos who clustered around them with her haughty gaze, and bustled Stephanie before her outside.

Her heart leapt when she saw they were going to be all right for transport. She always had a horror of the taxis all being full or non-existent and the two of them having to walk back to the hotel along the darkening Strada. Thankfully she bundled Stephanie into the taxi that drew up. She slammed the door after them and relaxed once again.

Within a few minutes they were stepping out at the gaunt starlit bulk of the Albany and treading softly through the shadowy lit foyer towards the stairs. Growing used to sneaking in at this hour, they relaxed once they were outside their own rooms. Carol even giggled along with Stephanie as she opened and closed the door softly behind them. Her relief to be back was, as usual, overwhelming.

In the darkness they scuffled along to their bedrooms. They bumped into oddments of furniture along the way and in the confusion giggled their goodnights to one another. They had almost reached their respective doors when there was a sharp snick. The room was suddenly flooded with light and they froze in the presence of Gray Barrett.

S
EATED
in an armchair next to the light switch, his steely brown gaze trained on them, his voice was deceptively calm as he asked, 'And how long, may I ask, has this been going on?'

The girls were rocked at the sight of him. Carol's terrified glance noticed the night air drifting in from the balconies, the ash tray beside the armchair, half filled with cigarette ends.

As though he followed the workings of her mind he rapped, 'I've been here since eleven-thirty. Carlo at the desk saw you go out at eleven o'clock.'

Carol winced at his words. With bright pink cheeks she looked down at her shoes. What could she say without telling tales? She had no wish to get Stephanie into trouble, but obviously the girl's uncle expected some kind of explanation. She was racking her brain to try and think of some feasible story, when Stephanie, showing that she had no wish to be protected, spoke up with, 'It was my idea, Gray. I wanted to go somewhere different from the hotel, and it's my fault that we were out so late.'

'I'll speak to you when you've cleaned that stuff off your lace,' he silenced her witheringly.

That left Carol. She still hadn't got over the shock of finding him here. Tonight was Friday. It had been only Monday night when they had danced together at the gala dinner. How was she to know that he would come back again so soon?

Under his stringent gaze she blurted out feebly, 'Your niece is very strong-willed…I tried to discourage her from going out late at night, but she didn't want to listen, so ... well…'

He sliced off her ramblings with, 'And where, might one ask, have you been spending your time?'

'At the Devil's Den,' Stephanie spoke up beside her.

There was a grinding pause before he rasped, 'I've heard of it. And what I've heard I don't like.' His face was wooden. All his anger seemed to be directed at Carol, even though his niece had openly admitted that she was the culprit. Carol supposed it must be because she was the one he had left in charge. Or perhaps he suspected she was a willing party in their search for dubious night life.

A small muscle flexed in his jaw as he questioned her icily, 'Do I take it that this has been going on ever since I left?'

'Yes,' admitted Carol weakly. For long enough she listened to the wild pounding of her heart. The only other sound in the room was Gray Barrett's tightly inhaled breath. At long last he removed his moody gaze from her and swung it on to his niece.

He took another deep breath and hunched forward „ in his chair to fire at her menacingly, 'Now you listen to me, Stephanie. Any more of this kind of behaviour and you'll have me to answer to. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Gray,' came the whispered reply.

'I will not have you behaving like a common trollop, and certainly not in a foreign country,' he bombasted bitingly. 'And as from now I forbid you, absolutely, to go to this ... this Devil's Den. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Gray,' came the quiet answer.

Shaking in her own shoes, Carol stole a look at Stephanie to see how she was standing up to the lashing. Strangely enough she didn't seem at all cowed by the dressing down she was being given, but more—well, somehow elated. It was as though she was saying to herself, there was her uncle, who was always too busy or preoccupied to notice her, actually addressing
her
and no one else. He was actually seeing that he had a niece, and that she could get up to mischief. The young girl's eyes held a new light. To Carol she looked, oddly enough, exhilarated at having stumbled on a way to gain her uncle's attention.

Stephanie let a long pause elapse and then asked with feminine guile, 'Have you come to stay for long, Gray?'

'On the contrary, I was merely making a flying visit,' he said sternly. He didn't look at Carol now as he added, 'However, it seems to me that my presence is needed here. I shall give Venice a ring in the morning and tell them I won't be in for a day or two.'

'Yes, Gray,' Stephanie said gravely over her delight.

Hfc-gave her a steely look and told her sharply, 'Now go and wash that muck off your face and get to bed. Heaven knows, it's late enough.'

Stephanie nodded obediently and turned towards her room,. She glanced back to sneak him a smile, 'Goodnight, Gray,' then switching on the light in her bedroom she closed the door behind her.

Carol stood where she was, waiting to be dismissed. Gray Barrett rose to his impressive height and began to collect his oddments from the table, cigarette case, lighter. There was a wrapped package alongside them which she hadn't noticed before. He picked it up and, while her heart was still banging, he gave it to her, saying in a gruff off-handed way, 'You wanted to take one of these things back with you, I believe.'

Flabbergasted, Carol took the parcel from him. Slowly, completely mystified, she began to unwrap it. Then there before her eyes was a glass figurine. It was the reproduction of a seventeenth-century troubadour complete with stringed instrument. His colourful clothes caught the light at all angles.

'Oh!' Carol's eyes shone with pleasure as she stared at it. Forgetting to be terrified, she gasped, 'It's ... just beautiful!'

She removed her starry gaze at last and let it fly to Gray Barrett. But she felt that to express her thanks would only embarrass him. He was watching her, but turned away when their glances met to say in his brusque manner, 'I happened to be in St Mark's Square today. It's the only place to buy these things.'

Energetically he patted his pockets to check that he had everything, then making for the door he told her, 'I'll see myself out.'

A second or two later she heard the door close behind him.

Carol gazed in wonder again on the figurine before carefully wrapping it back in its paper. It was fairly fragile, so she would have to take care of it. A good place to save it from getting knocked would be at the back of the top shelf in her wardrobe. Switching off the lounge light, she went straight to her room and packed it away.

Completely shattered by the night's events, she wasted no time after that in getting between the sheets.She could hear Stephanie still moving about between her room and the bathroom. Before switching off the lights the younger girl pushed open her door and - tripped up to her bed. She dropped a kiss on her cheek, her small face glowing, and said gaily, 'Goodnight, Carol. Hasn't it been a wonderful day?'

Had it? Carol watched the girl prance out again feeling utterly confused. They certainly hadn't expected the big bad uncle to appear tonight, that was for sure. Her own face was still a little flushed when she thought of Gray Barrett and those few moments in the lounge, just now.

She had a funny feeling that he had made the trip over just to bring her the figurine. But that was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

The next morning the sun smiled down in happy ignorance of the disastrous happenings of the night before. Stephanie, looking docile, followed her uncle ; into breakfast alongside Carol, who was equally subdued.

They spent the morning in the circular garden adjoining the pool. Gray Barrett read his London newspaper. The girls sat demurely each reading a book. After lunch, for a change of scene, they went to the beach. A surprising thing happened. Though still in his town suit, Gray Barrett walked over the sand with them and sat down on a sun bed. The August heat was terrific, and soon, even under the shady umbrella, he had to discard his tie and his jacket.

Carol couldn't help noticing how much more relaxed he looked in his white open-necked shirt, his brow puckered against the sun. Stephanie was openly delighted. Her uncle had never sat with them on the beach before. Admittedly he had his newspaper with him, but it was as yet unopened.

The whole eight miles of the Lido was crowded that summer afternoon. The Albany stretch of beach had its own quota of Italian families and various other nationalities.

The two girls went for their usual swim, then splashed around at the edge of the water for a while before making their way back to dry off. For some time now Carol had taken to wearing a bikini so that practically the whole of her body was a smooth golden brown. Her hair, bleached by the sun, tumbled in silver strands around her throat. Though she gave no sign of it as she padded over the sand, she was well aware of the appraising glances of the dark-eyed, handsome Italian bathers. They seemed to like her slim statuesque build. She had no idea that she walked with a graceful motion.

Something else which she was ignorant of until they arrived back laughingly to grab their towels was Gray Barrett's dour look. As she began to pat herself off he picked up his paper and said into it, testily, 'Have the goodness to dress a little more adequately when you're on the beach with my niece, Miss Lindley.'

Carol blushed under her towel. Lots of girls on the beach were wearing bikinis. That was why she had thought nothing of her own sparse garment. And anyway, Stephanie, drying herself off some distance away, was wearing a bikini, and he hadn't said anything to her.

Needless to say, the three of them dined formally in the big stately restaurant that evening. Afterwards they took coffee in the lounge. At eleven o'clock Gray Barrett decided it was time the girls were in bed. Since he could see their rooms if he chose to stroll outside, they didn't hang about. By eleven-thirty all their lights were out. As she lay listening to the distant pandemonium of the Strada, Carol couldn't help twinkling to herself. It was good to tell that Gray Barrett was in residence at the hotel.

The following morning Stephanie was very daring. Instead of filing meekly into the restaurant she took her uncle's arm and pleaded impulsively, 'Oh, it's such a gorgeous day! Couldn't we sit outside?'

Gray Barrett, surprisingly enough without his suit jacket this morning, sighed heavily, 'If you insist.' But. Carol thought she saw a gleam of tolerance in his eyes.

It was fun out on the dining terrace. In the dappled shade of the chestnut trees, beneath a bluer than blue sky, they carved their rolls and passed marmalade and jam back and forth. Stephanie was full of girlish chatter. Even her uncle's brow seemed to pucker more in a quizzical way than in a frown, as knives clattered and cups were accidentally knocked.

After breakfast, following the routine of the previous day, they went to sit in the garden to read. Presently, however, Stephanie became fidgety. After a whispered consultation with Carol she approached her uncle. 'Carol and I would like to go for a game of tennis,' she told him, waiting for his permission.