The Guilty Secret (15 page)

‘Not Rozalinda,' I whispered under my breath. ‘Anyone else, but please God, not Rozalinda …'

I stood watching them as they walked slowly to the gates of the main villa, heads close together. Then on the wind came the faint tinkle of Rozalinda's laugh and she turned, going into the villa and leaving Jonathan standing at the gate.

My heart was pounding painfully in my chest, my throat dry as he turned, looking out to sea. Then, hands plunged deep into his pockets he began to climb down the dunes and across the windswept beach to where I stood.

He stopped three yards away. I licked my lips nervously, seeing by the set of his shoulders that the savagery of the morning had burnt itself out. At last he said:-

‘Jenny, I'm sorry that I hit you. I'm sorry it had to end like this.'

‘Yes,' I averted my face, unable to look at him, powerless to hide my longing.

‘Phil told me what happened after … afterwards. We've both suffered, Jenny. I don't want us to part in anger.'

I don't want us to part, I wanted to yell. Not now. Not ever! Instead I said with difficulty. ‘No …'

He raised a hand as if to reach out and comfort me, and then stifled the impulse.

‘It's no use, Jenny. There would always be the ghosts of Nanette and Sarah … It's no use …' I kept my head lowered, the tears falling ceaselessly as he turned on his heel and strode back over the sands and away from me.

No use. No use at all. I stared after him till he was out of sight, but he didn't look back. My legs felt incapable of movement. I stood on the lonely beach, feeling as if I would never have the strength to leave it.

‘Hi there!'

Shaken out of my thoughts I turned my head. Tom stood on top of the dunes, waving. With sinking heart I saw him begin to scramble down and come towards me.

‘Phew, it's a bit chilly now, isn't it? This old Atlantic breeze doesn't give you much of a chance to get a tan.'

‘It's still early in the year.'

‘Suppose so. Say, are you all right? You look as if you've been hit by a bus.'

‘I'm all right,' I said flatly.

He looked sheepish. ‘Bloody silly thing for me to say under the circumstances. You must be feeling deathly. Would talking help.'

‘No, Tom. I don't think it would.'

He rubbed his hands together looking uncomfortable.

‘I came down to borrow one of the boats and go for a row. It's a bit rough but I like it like that. Especially when I have something on my mind.'

For the first time I managed to drag my tormented thoughts from my own problems to Tom's.

‘Like Rozalinda?'

He stopped rubbing his hands and stared, his face paling. ‘ How the hell would you know if it was?'

I shrugged. ‘We're a small community, Tom.'

‘Hell!'

The expression on his face was one of genuine anguish.

‘Don't worry. It isn't common knowledge.'

He looked sick. ‘I think I'll definitely go out for a row. Want to come? Nothing like it for getting things in perspective.'

‘Even murdering your lover's wife and child?' I said bitterly.

‘Steady on, Jenny. You make it sound as if you did it on purpose. Let's get the boat.'

The boat was a disused fishing boat, looking remarkably spartan to be Rozalinda's property. Together we heaved it down to the shore line and floated it. I raised my head, looking at the sea.

‘It's pretty rough, Tom.'

‘It'll need to be with what I've got on my mind,' he said darkly.

The rearing waves and thundering spray answered something deep in my own soul.

‘You're right. I'll come with you.'

I'd seen a couple of fishing boats out early in the mornings and they had made rowing amidst the Atlantic swell seem comparatively simple. It took me all of three minutes to find out that it wasn't. Between each wave the boat pitched so low I thought it would never surface.

‘Do you do this often?' I yelled over the thunder of the crashing surf.

‘I've done it a couple of times lately.'

‘And has it helped?'

‘Well it sure as hell doesn't give you much time to think of anything else until you've got where you want to be,' Tom said with something of his old vitality.

He was still pulling strongly on the oars, water slopping over us with each pitch and fall of the boat.

‘We're hardly dressed for it.' I yelled back.

He grinned. ‘Another five minutes and we'll give her her head. You can see the whole of the enclave from here.'

I turned. Behind us, a frightening distance away, was the pure silver of the sands, and above them, surrounded by the pinks and yellows of flowers, the villas and the pinewoods. My eyes looked in vain for Jonathan.

Panting for breath, Tom rested the oars, wiping the sweat and the sea spray from his face. The boat continued to plunge and rear wildly.

‘Now. What did you mean back on the shore about me having Rozalinda on my mind?'

I looked at him. It was obvious why Mary loved him so much. His regular features and dark hair and eyes. His careful grooming and perfectly fitted suits. He didn't look like a boy from Templar's Way, which is what Mary must have always imagined she would end up marrying. Although they still lived there, Tom brought with him a sophistication. He travelled daily to London to work. Often he went abroad on business. To Mary it must have seemed he was the epitome of the successful man. And he loved her. Or so she thought.

‘It's been fairly obvious that you're very attracted to her.'

‘Half the men in the Western world are,' he said with a lop sided smile.

‘But she isn't accessible to them. She is to you.'

‘You haven't been talking to Mary, have you?'

‘No. Though she isn't happy, Tom.'

He sighed and swore under his breath. We were silent for a while, the waves roaring around us.

‘So it's just a wild guess on your part?'

I shook my head. ‘Aunt Harriet knows.'

‘Harriet!'

He didn't ask how. Didn't bother to deny it, just sat with shoulders slumped and his eyes unseeing.

‘When you said you were coming out here to think, was it because you intend finishing the affair?'

With difficulty he dragged his eyes back to mine.

‘I suppose so. God, I've been going to finish it even before it started. But she's like a magnet. I can't keep away from her. I've tried and I can't!'

‘You'll have to if you want to keep Mary and the children.'

He didn't answer and I said brutally. ‘You're not the first of Rozalinda's lovers and you won't be the last. Unless you come to your senses Tom you'll find yourself without a home and family and without a mistress as well. The nearest you'll get to Rozalinda will be a pound ticket at the local cinema.'

He looked at me as if he hated me. Then he said ‘Okay. You're right. God damn it, I know you're right. But she's like a fever in my blood! Have you ever wanted someone so badly, Jenny? So badly that not being with them causes physical pain?' His face changed and he said:- ‘Don't look like that, Jenny. I was a fool. I shouldn't have said it. I was too busy thinking about Rozalinda to remember Crown.'

The boat sank down into a deep, glistening green trough of water, rising precariously to be smashed down once more. I understood why Tom came out here. The savagery of the sea was a compliment to the savagery I felt inside.

‘I saw him earlier on. Leaving the beach. Had he been speaking to you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, that's a start. After this morning I thought he'd never speak to you again.'

‘He only came to say that it was no use. That it could never be any use now. There would always be Nanette and Sarah between us.'

My voice sounded as wild as the waves. The concern on Tom's face deepened. ‘He's right you know. It's been a tragedy for both of you. Falling in love like that. Not knowing. But it couldn't possibly work.'

‘No …' the tears were falling and I didn't even bother to wipe them away. ‘No. It couldn't possibly work.'

‘What will you do?' Tom's voice was worried. ‘ You're only just out of hospital and a shock like this …'

‘I'll stay with Aunt Harriet. What else is there to do?' I laughed harshly, pushing the hair from my face. ‘ Someone, somewhere is having a hell of a joke at my expense!'

‘Is there anything I can do, Jenny? Anything at all?'

‘Yes. You can sleep in your own bed instead of Rozalinda's.'

He looked as though I had slapped him.

‘Anyone else Mary might forgive. But Rozalinda … Stop it before it's too late, Tom. You know nothing can come of it.'

‘Women,' he said, as he turned the boat round. ‘Bloody, bloody women!'

It began to rain, and the small boat was so tossed and buffeted that it was impossible to see if we were making any headway at all to the shore. Tom's pent up emotions were unleashed as he tried to master the boat and inch her nearer and nearer the beach. I welcomed the cold and the wet and the growing height of the waves. They were the outward signs of the storm going on within me. I didn't care much one way or the other if the boat ever reached dry land.

‘I was a bloody fool to have brought you out in this.'

‘You were a bloody fool to have come at all!' I yelled back, as the luminous green waves crashed over our heads and into the boat. I began to bail. A watery grave made no difference to me in the mood I was in but it was obvious Tom didn't share my thoughts. Besides, there was Mary and little Helen and Timothy to think of. The small rowing boat continually plunged, shook herself, hesitated and plunged again. The rain drove in sheets between us, so that I could no longer see Tom's face. He strained at the oars and the pounding and crashing continued, the sky darkening and a real storm bearing down on us. The only thing in our favour was that the tide was coming in. If it had been flowing the other way it would have been goodbye to Portugal for good. The pounding and crashing continued, occasionally through the driving rain I could see Tom's muscles straining at the oars, and my back ached in my sodden clothes as I bent and scooped, and bailed out, bent and bailed … Time seemed to stop. I saw again Nanette and Sarah laughing and hand in hand. Saw Jonathan as he had been that first night at the Santa Luzia. Remembered so clearly that I could almost taste him, our lovemaking, his eyes desirous, laughing, loving. Hating.

‘Out!' Tom yelled over the sound of wind and waves. For a crazy moment I thought the boat was sinking and then saw only feet away the firm sand of the beach. Obediently I jumped waist high into the freezing water and helped him drag the boat high up on the beach. Then we leaned, panting, against it.

Tom wiped sweat and sea from his face.

‘I thought we'd had it then. I thought that was really it.'

‘You were magnificent, Tom. If it hadn't been for you …'

‘I was the bloody fool who wanted to go out in the first place. Never thought to check if a storm was brewing and too much of a landlubber to tell the signs.'

‘At least some good has come out of it.'

He gasped for breath. ‘What?'

‘I think you've made your mind up about Rozalinda.'

He gulped in great lungfuls of air. ‘We're leaving at the end of the week. After that it's finished. I promise you.' He draped his arm around my shoulders and staggering with weariness we slowly made our way towards the bank of the dunes.

‘I don't mind telling you, Jenny. I thought we'd had it. I thought of Mary and the kids. It's not worth it. Nothing's worth it.'

We were both too exhausted to speak more. Wearily we clambered up the bank and onto the path to the villas.

‘Some fool,' Tom said, ‘is going to ask us if we enjoyed our swim! Do you want me to see you back to your place?'

I shook my head. ‘I'm fine. Tom. A bit wet, but fine.'

We laughed weakly. The water was still pouring off us, streaming from our hair into our eyes, leaving pools behind us as we walked.

‘A hot bath,' Tom gasped. ‘And a brandy. And Jenny …'

‘Yes.'

‘Thanks for the advice.'

‘Don't mention it. Perhaps I should open a bureau for lonely hearts. I have enough experience.' And with a wave I left him at the gateway to his villa and set off shivering violently for my own.

As I neared the villas I could hear music coming from Phil's. Loud, harsh music, totally out of character. I followed Tom's advice and whilst my bath was running poured myself a brandy, taking it back into the bathroom with me.

There was only tonight to get through. Tomorrow I would leave Ofir and never see Jonathan again. And what, I thought despairingly as I struggled out of my wet clothes and into the blissful heat of the bath, would that achieve? Like the ghosts of his wife and child, Jonathan would be with me forever.

At seven there was a brisk knocking on the door. I finished putting in an earring and went to open it.

Miles smiled at me. It was as if his unwelcome lovemaking that morning had never happened. ‘Glad to see you survived this morning's crisis. Hell, what a moment. I'm not surprised you passed out. Thought I'd leave you by yourself this afternoon to get over it.'

He followed me back inside, helping himself to a scotch and soda.

‘I must say Phil surprised me. He was the only one to keep his wits about him, and when he came back downstairs … wow!' he laughed. ‘He simply charged into the room and landed Crown one on the chin. I've never seen anything like it. I would never have cast our ascetic looking Phil as the knight in shining armour in a hundred years.'

‘Never assume,' I said, putting in the other earring and thinking he must have a hide like an elephant.

‘Too true. Seemed to bring Crown to his senses though. Phil was frothing with rage. Yelled at him that the accident was not your fault, that you'd been in a mental home for eighteen months after it suffering from unreasonable guilt and that if Crown thought he was going to drive you back there he'd have him to contend with. Even Rozalinda was speechless. He said you'd just tried to kill yourself, which I take it was poetic licence on Phil's part, and told Crown to get the hell out of your life.'