The Guilty Secret (7 page)

‘Darling, you remember Miles Sullivan, don't you?' Rozalinda was saying, leading me by a perfectly manicured hand to a darkly handsome face.

Miles smiled. ‘Nice to meet you again, Jenny. I hear you've been staying at the Santa Luzia. Nice hotel. I stayed there myself a couple of years ago. Very Rivieraish if I remember.'

‘Yes. It's very quiet at the moment. There's only a handful of people there. The rush starts this next couple of weeks.'

‘Then you were wise to leave,' he said, his smile intimate as if we shared a secret.

I smiled and turned back to Mary. Rozalinda flung her arms wide, spinning round in a circle and collapsing onto a plushly upholstered chair.

‘Isn't this just
too, too
much. Darling Jenny with us and our party complete! I think it calls for a celebration. Champagne, Harold, tell Maria we want iced champagne.'

I had only had the briefest glimpse of Harold, hovering with beaming smile on the edge of the circle, Rozalinda's back firmly seeing to it that he kept off the centre of her stage.

Her expression changed to one of deep sorrow, the sympathy of one who fully understands another's suffering.

‘Jenny. Jenny
Darling.
You shouldn't have stayed in that silly old hotel moping by yourself when we were all here waiting for you and knowing only too well what you were going through. No …' she raised a hand dramatically to prevent my protests. ‘We
do
know, and that's why we wanted you here. To forget, amongst those who love you most.'

‘She's not likely to forget anything with you reminding her all the time,' Phil said bluntly.

She looked sorrowfully at him. ‘You're a man. You couldn't possibly understand. But
we
do. Don't we, Mary?'

Mary smiled and tried not to look embarrassed … I laughed.

‘You're wasting your sympathy, Rozalinda. I'm going to enjoy holidaying with you all here, but I'm not in
need
of it. I'm not an invalid you know.'

Rozalinda pouted prettily. ‘Not
bodily
, darling, but …'

‘Oh, cut it out, Roz,' Phil said bad-temperedly. She glared at him. Being called Roz wasn't part of Rozalinda's image.

‘Yes,' Harold said unexpectedly, ‘No more references to the past, what?'

Before his wife could shoot him down in pieces, Aunt Harriet rallied to the rescue.

‘Very sensible, Harold. That champagne looks frozen not chilled. I'm sure it would help if one of us could speak enough Portuguese to tell Maria what we want properly. Poor child, it's not her fault …'

‘It is,' Rozalinda said, rising from her languorous position as it was no longer claiming attention. ‘Good God, the girl should at least speak English. I thought
everyone
could speak English!'

A smile hovered on Phil's lips. He knew she was perfectly serious.

‘I think she does very well,' Harold said with the air of one who knew he was being brave and was justly proud of the fact. ‘At least the other maids do everything she tells them.'

‘Where
are
the vast army of servants?' I asked. Rozalinda never travelled without a private secretary, her own hairdresser, her personal maid, as well as cook and butler and several dogs-bodies.

‘They come every morning,' Aunt Harriet said. ‘There's not enough room for them to live in. Only Maria stays through the day. She cooks and serves the evening meal and then goes home.'

‘Where to? There doesn't seem to be a village for miles.'

‘There's one the other side of the estuary. I think she comes from there,' Rozalinda said airily. It was typical of her that she didn't know.

‘I've seen to it that a taxi comes to collect her and also brings her and the other girls every morning,' Harold said. I smiled at him. He might not be the best company in the world, but at least he was human. Seeing that the girl got home safely in the dark would never have occurred to his wife.

‘And what about your hairdresser, etc., etc., etc.?' I asked.

Rozalinda shrugged. ‘I wanted a complete rest, darling. Only those who are
truly
close to me.'

For a dreadful minute I thought Phil was going to put his foot in it, but then Tom was saying:-

‘And that's what you've got. An intimate house-party with no outsiders. Who could ask for anything more?'

The champagne popped and frothed, our glasses were filled, and Rozalinda was radiant once more as Tom toasted her as hostess, her arm protectively around my shoulders, her heavy perfume filling the air.

A young girl stood hesitantly on the threshold and Harold turned to her. ‘Ready are we, Maria? Good. Come on. Into the dining-room.'

Rozalinda sat at the head of the table. Harold at the foot. On either side of Rozalinda sat Tom and Phil, then Mary and I were seated opposite each other, and then Miles next to me and opposite Aunt Harriet. There wasn't going to be much opportunity for private conversation with either Aunt Harriet or Mary, and the more I saw of them, the more worried I was becoming. The signs of strains, partly hidden by relief at my arrival, were now only too transparent. Rozalinda's seating arrangements gave Mary no chance for any words of privacy with Tom, and throughout the meal she kept trying to catch his eye, but she was no match for Rozalinda who kept up a constant flirtatious chatter with both him and Phil. As she was their hostess, neither man could do much but respond. Though Phil's eyes kept glancing in my direction, a smile of secret amusement on his mouth. I knew very well that he was going to steal Rozalinda's thunder and at my expense. I would have preferred to tell Aunt Harriet first about Jonathan and privately, but could see the temptation was going to be too much for Phil.

As Rozalinda finally paused for breath and daintily speared a mushroom with her fork, Phil said:-

‘I believe Jennifer has a friend she would like to ask down for a few days.'

Only Phil ever referred to me as Jennifer. His smile as he turned towards me was filled with so much complicity that my exasperation changed to one of shared amusement.

‘Darling, but of course! Is it someone you met at Viana?'

I nodded.

‘How lovely. Of
course
she can stay. There's plenty of room in your villa for two people. I'll get one of the maids to make up the extra bed tomorrow.'

I tried to avoid Phil's eyes.

‘I'm afraid it isn't so simple, Rozalinda.'

‘Why of course it is.' She leant impulsively forward, brushing between Tom and his dinner, clasping my hand. ‘ If she's a friend and you would like her to stay then of course she can stay. I know …' she went on as I opened my mouth to explain. ‘I know Tom's just said how lovely it was to be together with no outsiders, but you can't
possibly
think I would object to a girl friend of yours staying for a few days.'

‘It isn't a girl friend,' I said as Rozalinda released me, allowing Tom to see his plate once more instead of Rozalinda's over exposed breasts. ‘It's a man.'

For once the centre of attention was taken well and truly away from Rozalinda.

Phil said with blatant pleasure:- ‘So you see Roz. Making up the other bed in Jennifer's villa could be a little compromising. I don't think Jennifer is quite into the film scene set of morals yet.'

Rozalinda ignored any insult Phil's remarks disguised.

‘Darling, how wonderful! So
that's
why you've been hiding away from us. You must tell us all about him. Who is he and where did you meet …'

‘His name is Jonathan Brown and I met him at the Santa Luzia.'

‘Don't ask for any more details. She doesn't know them.' Phil said wickedly.

Aunt Harriet cut across Rozalinda's stream of questions, ‘When is he coming, Jenny?'

‘At the end of the week. He's visiting friends in Vigo at the moment.'

‘A holiday romance!' Rozalinda was rhapsodising. ‘What a wonderful start to your stay in Portugal!'

‘It's not a holiday romance,' I said, this time not looking at her but at Aunt Harriet. ‘I'm going to marry him.'

I saw the same thoughts chase through Aunt Harriet's mind as had gone through Phil's. My eyes smiled at her, willing her to understand that I wasn't acting unreasonably or in reaction to what had happened in the past months. Something of my new found confidence must have transmitted itself, because I saw her shoulders, which had stiffened at the news, relax.

‘
Marry
him!' Mary said happily. ‘ Oh Jenny, I
am
pleased.'

‘Me too,' Tom said, turning and shaking my hand. ‘Congratulations Jenny.'

‘Allow me to offer you my congratulations as well,' Miles said, holding my hand for longer than necessary. ‘I think this calls for more champagne, don't you Rozalinda?'

For a fleeting second there was an expression on her face that made her look suddenly old, something that wasn't meant to be seen. Then she was her usual self, clapping her hands high above her head, her gold bracelets tinkling down sun-tanned arms, demanding that Harold uncork more champagne and saying she just couldn't
wait
to see Jenny's Jonathan.

For the next few minutes I was able to sit back and watch them all. That brief glimpse of Rozalinda had reminded me of what Phil had said. That she was virtually hiding at Ofir, and that not even Miles' visit had managed to lure her away and into a major film part.

It was hard to tell if she was genuinely in need of a rest or not. Rozalinda's play acting never ceased and I had long ago given up the attempt to discover what her real feelings were about anything or anyone. Her blue-black hair hung in a cloud around her face, her eyes a brilliant, compelling violet. That she had been born with grey ones hadn't deterred Rozalinda. Violet eyes were more photogenic. Soft contact lenses saw to it that she had them. The same was true of her hair. As a child it had been mouse-brown, I didn't fancy anyone's chances of surviving if they reminded her of the fact now. Aunt Harriet had once told me in amused exasperation, that Rozalinda had destroyed all her childhood photographs in case any enterprising pressman should get hold of one of them. Rozalinda was a
natural
beauty. And that meant that her violet eyes and blue-black hair were natural too! Phil had said callously that she had also had her breasts operated on. Certainly they were breathtaking and I couldn't remember them being quite so awe-inspiring when we were in Templar's Way, but how Phil, of all people, would know a detail like that was beyond me. Rozalinda was Rozalinda. Bright. Sparkling. Flirtatious. Demanding constant attention. But tonight there was something else as well. A brittleness under the gay laughter that I had never noticed before. Perhaps she
was
under pressure. Being a constant sex symbol couldn't be easy.

Phil, satisfied with his mischief making, was looking more like a little boy than ever. His auburn hair curled attractively around a regular face that was usually too serious. Aunt Harriet said it was only my company that brought out the light-hearted side of him. What he needed was someone who would love him and with whom he would feel as much in tune as he did with me. And who, hopefully, he loved in return. I sometimes doubted Phil's ability to love physically. He had once had a brief affair with an older woman. She expected nothing more from him than he was prepared to give, yet he had broken off the relationship suddenly, saying that he had found out it wasn't her first affair and that it made him feel unclean. It seemed to me an unnatural attitude to take. She wasn't promiscuous and surely he couldn't have expected a woman of twenty-nine to have remained a virgin. But Phil had. The fact that he had no serious intentions towards her didn't signify. If there had been any other affairs I knew nothing of them. As far as I knew, and I was sure I knew pretty well, Phil's life was celibate.

The way Rozalinda was teasing and flirting with him, I wondered if I wouldn't be doing her a favour by telling her what I knew. She might have seduced every other man she had wanted, but she would never get Phil into bed with her in a million years. Purity of the soul was what Phil was looking for. Despite her many other attributes, purity was definitely not on Rozalinda's list. Failing to get the answering banter from Phil, Rozalinda was turning her attention more and more to Tom. I felt sorry for Mary having to watch Tom manfully respond to his hostess's flirtation. Though perhaps Tom wasn't finding it so hard. Rozalinda was undeniably beautiful and when she wanted to turn on the charm she could do it at a full blast. It was a charm that worked only on the opposite sex, but it certainly worked, and seeing the hurt in Mary's eyes I began to feel annoyed. I accepted a helping of the delicious looking sweet, determined to have a private word with Rozalinda afterwards. It was unfair of her to ruin Mary's holiday by teasing Tom for want of another more suitable admirer. She lifted her eyes at that exact moment, narrowing them on Miles' unseeing head. I had a glimmer of the answer in that look. Suddenly sure that Rozalinda was only flirting with Tom to make Miles jealous. I remembered back to the night of Phil's party and the gossip that had been current at the time. That Miles and Rozalinda were having an affair. If the affair had lasted and she was wanting to provoke him, then the only other males she was able to do it with were Tom and Phil, and as Phil wasn't playing it had to be Tom. I wondered if Harold was even slightly aware. He didn't look it. He sat at the foot of the table, corpulent as ever, beaming at all and sundry, seemingly oblivious of his wife's neglect.

Miles said softly to me:- ‘Rozalinda is in fine form, don't you think?'

‘If you're meaning what I think you mean. Yes.' I said shortly.

He laughed. ‘I'm glad you've come. I don't like to see innocent little creatures getting hurt.'

I said equally softly, my voice tinged with anger, ‘Are you referring to Mary?'