Perchance to Marry (10 page)

“Do not be afraid of life,” said the tired old voice softly. “The courage will be there when you need it. I will expert you with Marcus at four.
Adios
.”

Sally answered her and got out of the room. By the time she reached her own bedroom she had control of her limbs, but there was still a tightness in her chest and a burning sensation behind her eyes. Without pausing to think, she stripped and had a cool bath and put on a black skirt and a gay blouse. Resolutely, she made up, stepped into black shoes and went downstairs. For the rest of the day, she told herself firmly, she would stick close to her mother. There was one blessedly dependable fact about Viola Sheppard; nothing heartshaking ever happened while she was within hearing.

* * *

For several days life was soothingly quiet for Sally. Viola was mildly excited about the quick progress in the preparation of her flower department and the fact that Captain Northwick had decided to lease a tiny property adjoining the store which belonged to McCartney. This could eventually be turned into a gardening and pottery department of which Viola would have charge.

“The pretty side of the garden,” she explained to Sally, “and many more indoor plants. There’ll be a selection of flower holders and plant pots, hanging baskets and other decorative oddments. It would be part florist’s and part gift shop. And what do you think the Captain suggested—that we call it Violette! Touching, isn’t it?”

Sally smiled wonderingly. It was amazing how lighthearted Viola had become. She seemed to be years removed from England, in perfect health and full of enthusiasm and the will to make the new venture successful. She saw nothing but her own rosy present and future, and if she ever thought about Sally it was with pride in her own accomplishment. For obviously without Viola Sally would never have had a look-in with Marcus.

For a day or two Sally helped her mother plan her counter and its arty-crafty backdrop, and when she was no longer needed inside the small modern department store she strolled about Naval Town or walked on the beach beyond the buildings. Once she met Carlos and again visited the nursing home with him. He was calm and kind, told her about his hospital days in Madrid, and of the difficulties of getting Spanish parents to allow their daughters to train as nurses. Even here on San Palos, he pointed out, a girl seldom saw her fiancé alone. When a couple sat on a bench facing the sea you could be sure the whole family were crowded on the very next bench, watching the courtship’s progress with grim fondness.

It was not till Carlos drew the stitches from Josef’s wound and left Sally to cover it with a dressing that the young man became a little difficult. On that particular morning Josef had remained in his bedroom, writing letters, and that was where Carlos had seen him. The doctor had snipped off the large dressing which had replaced the bandage, drawn out the threads and dabbed iodine on the thread wounds. Sally had stood by, receiving the discarded dressing and handing the cottonwool and iodine.

Carlos had said, “There are dressings in the bathroom next door, Sally. I put them there myself some weeks ago. Find one to cover this, will you? It needs some protection till the hair grows.”

Sally had gone off to find the box of dressings and had returned to meet Carlos as he left the bedroom. The doctor had given her his quiet cordial smile. “I will leave him with you now. He needs me no longer.”

She nodded and smiled, re-entered the bedroom to find Josef still seated where they had left him. He was half turned from the writing table, his head on one side, awaiting attention. With her eye, Sally measured the long regular wound which stretched back from the top of the right ear. She selected an adhesive dressing.

“Are you sure this happened in a brawl at the hotel?” she asked. “I’ve been told there’s no crime on San Palos, so why should someone suddenly start on you?”

He shrugged deeply, his face was very close as he looked up at her. “I was unlucky. Perhaps they were seamen who had had too much to drink. It was before I entered the hotel—just outside in the dark.”

“But it’s straight—like a knife wound.”

He agreed. “Carlos says it must have been a knife. I was so surprised that I saw nothing. I fought ... and then was unconscious.” He laughed ruefully. “I had been waiting a long time for that drink at the hotel, and I was robbed of it.” A pause. “But perhaps in a way I was fortunate. You are sorry for me.”

Sally pressed down the edges of the dressing and stood back. “When I first saw you, perhaps, but not now. You’re looking much better. I daresay Marcus will let you go in to see Dona Inez this afternoon or tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes, the old one. She does not even know I am here. Is she well?”

“Fairly. She gets up each day for an hour and walks about the bedroom.”

“This attack of hers—it has not impaired her in any way?”

“I don’t think so. We take great care not to worry her, though.”

“She still has control of her own affairs?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask a thing like that?”

He threw out his hands theatrically, gave a nonchalant laugh which showed a quick gleam of white teeth. “Because I am broke, and very much in earnest about starting a ceramics business here on the island. My only friends at Las Vinas are Dona Inez and Katarina. Marcus tolerates me, that is all. You have chosen a peculiar man for your husband,
querida
.”

Sally ignored the
querida.
By the sudden laughing glitter in his eyes she knew he had slipped it in deliberately, to find out whether she knew the Spanish equivalent for “darling.” Purposefully, she snapped shut the box of dressings.

“That’s my business, isn’t it?”

“One would think so, but I have doubts. Marcus is not a man to fall in love.”

Sally should have left him then, with a patronizing smile, but there was a little raw place in her heart which might grow more painful if she didn’t do something to heal it now. Besides, she was growing tired of being treated gently by people like Carlos. Josef’s approach wasn’t circumspect, but it was enlivening.

“So you think I’m one of your sort,” she said. “You’ve decided I’m after money and a position?”

“Not so cold-blooded, please,” he begged cheerfully. “For a woman, a certain position in any community has glamor. And money ... is not that what we all want? If I had only a thousand of your English pounds I would rent a cottage and erect a small mill. We have almost everything here for the manufacture of ceramics—a large patch of clay and an infinity of sand and rock. My designs are after the Moorish style and it would be easy to find a market for them. But because the idea is mine, Marcus will have none of it. He is cynical and unbelieving.”

“Isn’t that your own fault?”

“Partly. But perhaps I will do this thing in spite of him. It is my wish to live here on San Palos, independently of Marcus, as soon as it can be arranged.”

“Have you discussed it with him?”

“Marcus does not discuss,
senorita.
He makes statements.” The dark eyes laughed at her again. “I am sure he did not propose to you. It is far more likely that he watched you for a while in England and then, one evening, he told you that you must come to Las Vinas decorously, with your mother, and if you fitted into the scene he would marry you.” After a mildly electric pause he added, “I am sure you have never deluded yourself about Marcus. You are no more in love with him than he is with you.”

Sally managed a quick reply in a light tone. “You’re hardly equipped to analyse other people, Josef. If you’re really so keen to get a small factory, why not talk to the business men in Naval Town—Captain Northwick, or even Mr. McCartney? They might help you.”

Josef’s full lips pulled slightly, making his smile unpleasant. “I hate business men, and I want this creation to be my own. No interference, no directions from people who know nothing about ceramics, no poking of the long business man’s nose into my methods and accounts.”

“You’ll have to convince Marcus, then, won’t you? Do you hate him as well as resenting him?”

With a quick change of expression Josef shrugged this off. “I cannot like him ... it has been no more than that, till now.” Still seated, with both arms about the back of his chair, he regarded her with disturbing seriousness. His voice, rounded and alien, seemed almost to throb. “At times I have envied Marcus this house and the estate, his relationship with Dona Inez. But possessions are restricting and I have always coveted freedom ... till the last year or two. Now I find myself more frustrated and jealous than I thought possible. He has you.”

The final word hung on the air between them for fully thirty seconds before Sally was able to say, without a tremor, “That’s a very nice compliment, Josef, but I suspect it’s a conventional one from a Spaniard. I’m sure you don’t want to make my life difficult...”

He jumped up and came to her. “I want to make your life beautiful,” he said urgently. “You are young and very pretty, you need a man who will give you excitement and joy and more love than you can use! How can you possibly be happy here? Marcus wants only a mistress for his house, a mother for his children. His whole life is the estate of Las Vinas and that actress in London!” He caught himself up, smothered an exclamation and burst out, “I did not want to mention that,
chica,
but it has been in my mind. Do not tremble—I will tell you about it if you wish.”

“You’ve said enough,” she exclaimed, white-faced. “From now on, you can keep that sort of thing to yourself.”

Again he threw out his hands in the typical eager gesture. “I am so angry with myself for saying that. There was no need for you to know. This woman—the actress—is the good friend of Marcus. In London I called at his hotel and saw them together. I did not wait to speak to him because...”

“Because you wondered if the information you’d accidentally picked up might be useful here on San Palos! Whom were you going to tattle to—Dona Inez?”

He drooped his head dejectedly. “You think I would do a thing like that? I did not stay to speak to Marcus because I guessed the actress was his ...
amante.
You understand? A man who takes trouble to keep the partner of his affair so far from home...”

“I don’t want to hear any more!”

“But I cannot bear to have hurt you. You are young, but you are full of sense. When you agreed to become the fiancée of Marcus you must have known how things would be—that he would be your husband here at Las Vinas, and the lover of someone else on his trips to England and elsewhere. I am not blind,
senorita.
No one could convince me that your engagement to Marcus was not arranged for the sake of Dona Inez and the del Moscado Durant family.”

“Will you please stop it!”

His tones lowered, became soft and pitying. “I am so very sorry my thoughtless mention of this woman should hurt you. And I am very much ashamed to admit that to a degree you were right when you said that I had thought to use the information here on San Palos. At first it seemed that it might procure for me the money I need for my business; Dona Inez would have bought my silence.”

“The
senora
is in precarious health—she must never hear of this,” Sally flung at him. “You’re just a common blackmailer.”

“But no,” he said, and the pain in his eyes was bewilderingly genuine. “Dona Inez would not have seen it that way. And I promise that I shall say nothing to her; she has been too ill, and you must believe that I am fond of the old one. She has done much for me.”

Her breath came a little heavily. “If Marcus knew what you’ve been contemplating he’d have you off the island within an hour.”

His smile returned. “Less than an hour,” he said gaily. “But you will not tell him,
cara mia.
This foolish indiscretion of mine will remain between us. I shall say nothing to Dona Inez and you will say nothing to Marcus. It is a pact between us?”

“It has to be, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps, but please do not let it make you unhappy. I want very little in return for forgetting that I saw Marcus and his actress in London—only some support from you, your friendship.”

Unbearably tightened up, she said, “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Your friendship,” he repeated. “That is all.”

She moved blindly towards the door. “I’ll be friendly towards you as long as it suits me,” she said in strained tones. “I can’t think why you should try to hurt me...”

“Hurt you?” he cried, distressed. “I wish only to help you. You are too good for the half life you would have here. I beg of you not to make official this engagement. Some day quite soon I will be able to offer help in an acceptable form. Please believe me.”

But Sally did not stay to hear more. Through a sort of miasma she forced herself out of the room, and somehow her legs carried her along a short landing to the main corridor. Then she realized she was still clutching the tin of dressings, stopped and turned, to come face to face with Marcus as he stepped out of his room.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he began. Then, swiftly, “What’s the matter? Feeling grim?”

“No. No, I’m fine. I was just going to return this to the end bathroom.”

“I’ll do it.” He took the box and turned it in his hand. “Have you been using these?”

“Yes. Carlos asked me to dress Josef’s wound.”

“You’ve done nursing,” he said, still eyeing her keenly. “You wouldn’t feel faint over a thing like that.”

“I don’t feel faint.”

“Did Josef upset you?” he probed.

“I’m perfectly all right. Why did you want me?”

“I haven’t had time to go down for a bathe since we arrived. Thought you might like to try out our nearest beach with me, but if you’re not up to it, just come for the ride.”

“I’ll go some other time, thank you, Marcus.”

“Some other time won’t do,” he said sharply. “You’re coming now.”

The violet eyes became huge in the pallor of her face. “I intend to catch up on correspondence this morning. Please let me pass.”