The Mermaid Garden (54 page)

She sighed. “What must I look like! Have I got mascara halfway

down my face?”

“You’d better hit the loo before Mr. Fisher gets in. Hasn’t he got a

nine thirty meeting?”

“Oh Lord, I forgot. Do me a favor, lovely, go and get some buns?

And if you bump into another handsome foreigner, for goodness’ sake

bring him back for me!”

Clementine hurried out into the street. It was a warm, sunny day,

pigeons dropped onto the pavements to scrounge for scraps, and gulls

circled high above like gliders. She sighed happily, filling her lungs with fresh sea air. Today she felt lighter inside, as if she had been relieved of a heavy burden. She walked with her shoulders back and her chin held

high, and noticed the interested glances of the men she passed in the

street. It had little to do with her clothes or high heels, and everything to do with her attitude. She liked herself, and that confidence radiated around her like sunshine. As she stepped into the Black Bean Coffee

Shop she resolved to follow Marina’s advice and just be herself. Rafa

thought she was beautiful—that was a good start—and hadn’t he said it

was impossible to love someone without knowing them properly. They

had the whole summer to get to know each other—and she looked

forward to lying on her stepmother’s bed and confiding her progress.

“They’re on to him,” Jake told his father as Grey prepared to take some guests out in his boat.

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“Your mole in the police force?”

Jake nodded importantly. “Apparently, they have a lead.”

“Do they now? Well, that’s good.”

“He’s getting a little complacent.”

“Complacency will be his downfall in the end.”

“He should quit while he’s ahead.”

“They never do. It’s like a drug. They can’t stop.”

“It shouldn’t be long before they catch him, but keep it to yourself.

They don’t want him going to ground.”

At that moment Marina appeared at the boot room door. “I’ve got

good news for you, darling.” Grey raised his eyebrows. “William Shaw-

cross has just telephoned.”

Grey’s eyes lit up. “And?”

“He’ll be very happy to come and give a talk at our first literary

dinner.”

“Well, that’s just fantastic news.”

“I’ve got his number so you can call him back.”

Grey patted his son firmly on the back. “Great idea, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.” They watched Marina walk off down the corridor.

“Though I’m not sure it’s going to be enough to save us,” Grey added

in a low voice.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying hard
not
to think at the moment, but it’s not looking good. The bank is hot on my tail. It’s only a matter of time before we

have to make a tough decision.”

“You could retire.”

“I’m not rich enough to retire.”

“Buy a lottery ticket.”

“We need more than luck,” said Grey darkly. “We need a miracle.”

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31.

I can’t believe it’s come to an end,” said Pat mournfully. “It’s gone too fast!”

“I wish we were staying another week, don’t you, Grace?” added Ve-

ronica, leaning over to take one last sniff of the lilies. “Oh, I do love the smell of this place.”

“You’ll have to come again next year,” said Marina.

“I’ve had a lovely time,” Jane said, trying to sound jolly when inside

she felt full of concrete. “Thank you so much, Marina.”

Marina sensed her heavy heart and wondered whether it had any-

thing to do with the brigadier. They had been joined at the hip for the past few days, but she had noticed his absence at breakfast.

“You can come any time you like,” she replied in a low voice so the

others wouldn’t hear. “You can stay as my guest.”

Jane’s cheeks reddened at Marina’s implication, and she hastily

brushed it off. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a burden. I’m sure we’ll all come again next summer.”

“If we’re still around,” Grace interjected drily.

Marina accompanied them out onto the gravel, where the people

carrier waited to take them home.

“It’s an oasis here. One forgets oneself,” said Pat, sweeping her eyes

over the house one final time.

“I know. Heaven, isn’t it?” agreed Veronica. “Now I’m beginning to

remember myself again.”

“What hell,” quipped Grace.

“Not so bad. I feel like a different person,” Veronica retorted. “I shall miss my lovely room, though.”

“And I shall miss the maestro,” said Grace as Rafa appeared up the

track, followed by an exuberant Biscuit.

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Santa Montefiore

“I’m sorry you’re all leaving,” he said to the departing ladies. He tried not to look at Marina, who was staring pensively at the dog.

“Biscuit looks a lot better than he did the night you rescued him,”

said Pat, whistling heartily and slapping her thighs. Biscuit trotted over eagerly.

“So, you’re going to keep him,” said Veronica.

“Of course,” Rafa replied. “He has nowhere to go.”

Pat bent down and gave his curly back a vigorous rub. “What a good

dog you are. Yes, you are, a very good dog.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Why is it the English all think their dogs

understand what they’re saying?”

“Oh, but he does,” Pat insisted.

Grace tutted. “It’s all in the tone of the voice. Look, Pat.” She ap-

proached the dog, and in the same excitable voice as Pat, she gushed,

“You’re a very
bad
dog, yes, you are, a very
bad
dog.” Biscuit wagged his tail so hard he nearly took off like a helicopter. “See, said with the same intonation the silly animal doesn’t know the difference.”

“You’re an old cynic,” said Pat. “Or should I say in my most jolly

voice: You’re a silly old bag, Grace.”

They said their good-byes and climbed into the vehicle. The driver

started the engine. Marina, Rafa, and Biscuit stood back to wave them

off. Just as they were drawing out of the drive, the brigadier’s old Mer-cedes swept round the corner, tooting the horn, demanding that they

stop. “He’s late for breakfast,” observed Marina, glancing at her watch.

“I don’t think he’s come for breakfast,” said Rafa.

The brigadier leapt out of the car like a young officer, reached into

the backseat, and extracted an enormous bouquet of white roses. The

door of the people carrier slowly opened, and a blushing Jane stepped

lightly down.

“I want to ask you to stay,” said the brigadier, presenting her with the flowers.

Jane pressed them to her nose, not knowing how to reply. She felt

foolish in her awkwardness. “They smell wonderful,” she said. “How

very sweet of you to think of me.”

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because they smell like you.” A warm glow spread across her face, and

she smiled self-consciously.

The brigadier rocked back and forth on his heels as he worked up the

courage to deliver the short speech he had been rehearsing all night.

He cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve asked a girl out.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been asked.” Jane’s blush deepened.

“I’d like to marry you, Jane.”

“Marry me?”

“Well, of course. We haven’t got all the time in the world, why beat

about the bush? I like you very much. Very much indeed and I think

you like me, too.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So how about it?”

Jane looked around her, embarrassed to be the center of attention.

Marina put her hand to her mouth, stunned by the brigadier’s sudden

proposal. They had known each other only a week. Rafa was smiling

broadly. Veronica, Pat and Grace were practically hanging out of the car in their eagerness to hear her response. Jane bit her bottom lip to stop it wobbling. “Well, yes,” she replied timidly. “Why not? Yes, please.”

“Sue McCain would be very proud of you,” said the brigadier, wink-

ing at Pat. “Her motto must be something like ‘seize the day.’ ”

Pat chuckled and shook her head. “Very funny, Brigadier. I’m not

sure what her motto is, to tell you the truth. I’ll remember to ask her.”

She climbed down to join them.

“Well, young man,” Grace barked to the driver, “don’t dillydally, take

Jane’s suitcase off the bus! She’s staying right here.”

“Oh, lucky, lucky girl! She gets to stay in Devon!” gushed Veronica,

dabbing her eye with a hanky. “Oh dear, now we have to say good-bye

all over again.”

Finally, the people carrier disappeared up the drive. The brigadier carried Jane’s case into the hall as she looked on anxiously. “What do we

do now?” she asked. “I’m going to have to go home at some stage to sort myself out and tell my family.”

The brigadier took her hand. “Don’t worry, my dear, you have all the

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Santa Montefiore

time in the world for that. Right now, we’ll go and have a jolly good

breakfast.”

“That would be nice.” Jane had hardly eaten anything earlier.

“It’s on the house,” said Marina. “So is the champagne.”

“Champagne?” Jane repeated in surprise.

“Of course. A champagne breakfast is the only way to celebrate an

engagement.”

“A champagne breakfast, at our great age,” Jane laughed.

“Which is why we’re getting on with it,” said the brigadier heartily.

“I suggest we tie the knot as soon as possible. Where would you like to go on honeymoon?” he asked.

“I’d like to stay right here,” she replied.

“Really? Right here, at the Polzanze?”

“Yes, Brigadier. I’m very happy here.”

“Then we’ll come back after the wedding. But this afternoon I’m

taking you home.” He raised his fluffy eyebrows. “And I think it’s time to call me Geoffrey, don’t you?”

“Geoffrey,” she said softly. “It suits you.”

“Geoffrey and Jane. That’s got a nice ring to it.”

“Do you mind if I move you into a prettier room for your honey-

moon, Mrs. Meister?” said Marina, thinking of the room Grace had

just vacated.

“I’m very content where I am,” Jane protested.

“Well, I’m not,” Marina replied. “I’d be happier if you and the briga-

dier spent the first days of your marriage in our best suite.”

“All right, if you insist.”

“Then that’s settled. Now, let’s open the champagne.”

Mr. Atwood pulled the tights over his head. They were thick enough to

mask his face, but thin enough for him to see through. He wore black

trousers, a black polo neck, and black shoes, soft soled so as not to make any noise when he crept into the house. He tiptoed round the building

where a ladder had been placed in the garden against the back wall.

It was dark enough for him to blend in with the night, but the neigh-

bor’s window threw a shaft of light onto the lawn, which he was careful to avoid. He felt like a cat, treading softly over the dew.

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Slowly, he mounted the ladder. One rung at a time. It wouldn’t do to

fall and hurt himself—his wife thought he was out at a business din-

ner. Being driven to hospital in a burglar’s outfit might give the game away. He grinned with satisfaction, pleased that he was able to keep so many different strands of his life together. It was entertaining to assume diverse personalities. He was a father, a husband, a businessman,

a lover—and now a robber. He reached the window, which had been

left ajar, and slid his fingers through the crack. Quietly, he lifted the bar and pulled it open wide enough for him to climb through.

As he rather clumsily scrambled in, not quite the cat burglar he was

trying so hard to emulate, he heard a sharp intake of breath and an

excited squeak. His heart pounded with anticipation, for there, lying

naked and spread-eagled on the bed, was Jennifer. Her arms and legs

were tied to the four posts, her pale skin, sporran of golden pubic hair, and round breasts loomed out of the darkness, and she shivered expectantly.

“What do I see here?” he said in his coldest voice.

“Don’t hurt me,” she wailed.

“Hurt you? I’m going to
pleasure
you to death.”

“Ooooooh, no!”

“Yes, I’m going to have fun, my little plaything.”

“Please, leave me be!”

“And you’re all tied up and ready for me.”

She pulled her arms and tried to wriggle her legs, but to no avail. She was well and truly bound. He stood beside her and ran a gloved finger

down her neck, over the mound of her breast, around her nipple, which

grew hard with desire, down her stomach, through the sporran and

between her legs, where it lingered.

So great was their focus on their game that they didn’t hear the rustle in the garden below or the loud whispers of the police, who now surrounded the house. The neighbor watched enthralled from her bath-

room window. Hastily, an officer climbed the ladder. When he reached

the window, he peered in to see the burglar about to descend onto his

victim with a very large erection.

With the swift, nimble movements of the cat that Mr. Atwood

could never be, the officer leaped into the room and wrestled him to the 30067 The Mermaid Garden.indd 353