The Runaway Visitors (19 page)

‘Then I’m coming with you. ’

‘You can’t do that. She might come back, or there might be news of her and there would be nobody here.’

‘I think it’s a mad scheme. Still, do it if you want to do it; but I insist on your eating supper first; and make sure you have plenty of petrol so that
you
don’t break down. And don’t give a lift to anybody. But I’d much rather you stayed here.’

Victoria’s mind was made up. She agreed to eat her supper, and Miss Jameson gave her a small parcel of food for emergency and a small bottle of brandy, and more injunctions, and saw her go with great reluctance.

It was a miserable night for Victoria. Quite early on, she realised the almost-hopelessness of her search. Her headlights revealed very few walkers on the country roads and nearly all of these were men, and the few women could not be mistaken for Amanda. Several of the men indicated that they wanted a lift, but she did not stop. Once, a swinging light in front of the car did cause her to slow down, and she saw with relief that it was a uniformed policeman; and discovered after some struggle with the language that he had been alerted about a missing girl. Further urgent questioning revealed that she was an English girl named Amanda Fenn. So Charles had been very prompt about his work. Victoria was advised to drive home, since there was nothing she could do that the police could not do better; and they assisted her to turn on the narrow lane and she began her drive back.

Firenze was an empty city when she drove through it on her return journey in the early hours of the morning. She was dog-tired. It was a relief to sweep up the winding hill towards Fiesole, to turn on to the lane and arrive at Charles’s gate. She stopped the car under the carport, switched off her engine and dropped her tired head on to her hands on the wheel. Anxiety still gnawed at her. Troubled uncertainty as to Amanda’s whereabouts, or what could have happened to her, filled her with despair.

Then she saw the strange car on the drive, and immediately hope surged up in her. Somebody had brought Amanda back! It could only be that. She got out of the car and hurried to the house, where lights were blazing at this unusual hour. Yes, Amanda must be here. Relief was almost overwhelming. She kept her finger on the bell until the door was opened.

It was opened by Charles. She stared at him in amazement. She had not expected to see him, and momentarily could not take him in.

‘Amanda,’ she said. ‘ Amanda. Is she here?’

He shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘ Not yet, Victoria. But thank God you are.’

‘Oh, Charles,’ she said, and began to cry. ‘Oh, Charles, Charles.’ And fell into his arms, tired and despairing, and was held there closely, firmly, comfortingly.

CHAPTER IX

It was such deep peace to be where she was, such a consolation to be supported by his strong arms, that for a few seconds she even shut out thoughts of Amanda; but not for long could her anxiety be allayed. She lifted her head from his shoulder, looking into his face with troubled eyes.

‘How did you manage to be here so soon?’ she asked him.

‘By ringing the airport and discovering I could fly to Milano almost immediately if I stirred myself. And at Milano I got a hire car and scorched down here. ’

So that was the reason for the strange car on the drive!

‘And nothing has been heard of Amanda while I’ve been gone?’

‘No, but you mustn’t worry, Victoria. She’s probably booked into some wayside hotel for the night. The police will find her. You shouldn’t have gone tearing off into the night like that. What did you think you could do?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Her eyes filled again with tears which she tried to blink away. ‘I thought of her trudging along country roads, tired and depressed and wishing herself home again . . . ’ Victoria stopped speaking, unable to go on. She was drooping from weariness.

Charles, with a strong arm securely round her shoulders, was leading her towards the kitchen.

‘You’re going to have a hot drink and go straight to bed,’ he said.

‘No, I couldn’t possibly, not until we hear news of Amanda. ’

‘You’re to do as you’re told. You’ve had no sleep and you’ll be washed out all day if you don’t snatch a few hours. If there’s any news at all, I’ll wake you at once. Probably when you wake up, Amanda will be waiting for the scolding she thoroughly deserves.’ There was no gainsaying him. Miss Jameson produced the hot drink and two aspirins to go with it, but Victoria refused to eat anything. Charles took her to her room and made her promise to get undressed and get right into bed. Reluctantly, she promised.

‘Victoria.’

‘Yes?’

‘I had no idea you were all so unhappy here. You must believe me when I say that I feel very guilty about all this, and think I could have prevented it with a little forethought. My only excuse is that I must be out of touch with young people. I hope you’ll forgive me.’

‘Oh, Charles, none of this is your fault. We haven’t been so unhappy.’

‘Happy children don’t run away, Victoria. Why should both of them be driven away? As for you, I realise that you have a conscience about them both: but you’ve also had cause for unhappiness just lately, and I should have understood that too. . . . Well, no more talking. You get to bed and I’ll wake you the moment it’s necessary. Good night, sweet child,’ and he leaned down and kissed her lightly, gently, on the lips; and all the things Victoria wanted to say to him vanished from her mind. And she
was
tired. Too tired to go into troublesome questions at the moment, or she might have explained that she had no cause for unhappiness apart from her anxiety for her brother and sister. She had no doubt he was referring to Giorgio and the accident. He thought she was worried about Giorgio and was missing him; and perhaps, remembering the tender scene he had been an unwilling witness to in the fountain garden, he had reason to think so. But she was too tired to tell him it was not true, and suddenly, now she
wanted
to be in her bed, to lie between cool sheets and to remember that gentle, consoling and rapturous touch of his lips.

She woke by herself, prompted no doubt by the anxiety that would not be repressed, even by sleep; and immediately wondered if there had been any news of her sister. She got out of bed, pulled on a negligee, ran a comb through her tousled hair and went directly to the kitchen and Miss Jameson.

That lady, although she too had had very little sleep, was at her post in the kitchen, immaculate as ever, cooking eggs, making toast and warming rolls.

‘So there you are, Victoria.
You
didn’t sleep long.’

‘Any news, Miss Jameson?’

‘Not yet, my dear. There’s sure to be news soon. Sure to be.

I’m getting breakfast for Mr. Duncan, and I’ll take yours in

too. It’s ready right now, and you must fortify yourself for the day ahead. ’

‘All right. I’ll just go and dress.’

‘No time for that. You’ll do as you are. Everything is hot and ready.’

She looked at Victoria as she turned with the tray before her; a Victoria completely unconscious of herself because her thoughts were so deeply with others; a Victoria in a knee-length nightdress and negligee of ice blue, with her burnished hair lying round her shoulders. Yes, Miss Jameson thought drily, you’ll do as you are, Victoria. You’ll do indeed.

Victoria followed Miss Jameson along the corridor. Charles was breakfasting at the drum table in the library-living room, and he rose to his feet at once at sight of Victoria.

‘You
shouldn’t be up yet,’ he protested.

‘Miss Jameson says there’s no news yet.’

‘It’s only a few hours since you went to bed. You must give them time, Victoria.’

‘Yes, I know, but in a few hours anything could happen to Amanda.’

‘It doesn’t do to have too vivid an imagination,’ said Miss Jameson, arranging the breakfast table.

‘Well, it wouldn’t do not to have
any, ’
said Victoria sharply. ‘All right, all right,’ Miss Jameson said quietly, and took her tray and left Victoria with Charles.

‘I shouldn’t have been so sharp,’ said Victoria penitently.

‘She understands,’ said Charles. ‘Now sit down, Victoria, and let’s see you sensibly eat a good breakfast. I’ve been in touch with the police this morning, and there isn’t any news yet, but we’ll hope that no news is good news. They say there’s nothing we can do, and they’ll be in touch with us as soon as there’s anything to report. ’

She sat opposite him, the sun glinting on her beautiful hair and unable to find a blemish on her petal-fine skin. In her negligee and satin mules, she might have been a wife sitting there rather than a guest. This only very briefly occurred to her, as she thought how wonderful it would be to come and have breakfast every morning with Charles.

They were half way through their meal when the telephone rang. Charles immediately went to answer it and Victoria turned in her chair, breathless with suspense, apprehensive yet hopeful. They both thought it must be a message from the police.

‘Hallo, hallo,’ said Charles. ‘Yes, this is. ... Yes, I’ll wait. Oh. Oh, I see.’ He turned to Victoria, shaking his head. ‘It isn’t the police,’ he said, and turned away again. ‘Hallo there. Margarita? Yes, this is Charles. Well now, darling, that needs a little explaining. Yes, I know. . . . Yes, I know. . . . My dear, it was an emergency. Yes, an S.O.S. You know I wouldn’t have deserted you for anything less than an emergency . . .’ He listened for some time. ‘Now, Margarita, you don’t mean that. No, I’m sure you don’t, you’re too kind-hearted. . . . Well, what would you have me do? shirk my responsibility? Just a moment, will you?’ He turned towards Victoria, who had already risen to her feet. ‘Would you mind, Victoria? This is going to be a rather private little quarrel. Now take your coffee with you, otherwise it will be cold.’

Victoria picked up her almost full cup of coffee and carried it to the door. Almost before she had closed the door behind her, she heard Charles’s voice again, saying: ‘ N o w do be sensible,
cara,
I couldn’t help myself . . .’

She took the coffee back to her own room and sat on the edge of the bed sipping it slowly. How could she have forgotten about Margarita? Even for one night ? Margarita was obviously very angry at Charles’s desertion of her. Was Charles angry too that his time with Margarita had been so roughly disrupted? He would not show it, of course. He had been kind. No, much more than kind; he had been tender and considerate, but that did not mean that he was not sorry he had had to leave Paris; or that responsibility for the Fenn family was not a nuisance to him. Would you have me shirk my responsibility? he had asked Margarita; and Victoria thought it was a good thing she had been reminded that she was no more than a responsibility to him.

She felt miserable and dejected. She must not make a fool of herself about Charles, as poor young Amanda was making a fool of herself about Giorgio. If she got Amanda back (and she prayed fervently that she would) they would go back to England. They would relieve Charles of this responsibility and settle down in their familiar surroundings. They might have had rather unhappy times before in some of the moves their parents had planned for them, but there had never been anything cataclysmic like this. But they were all growing up now. They were becoming independent. Sebastien was a manly sixteen, nearly seventeen. Amanda, who had always been so very dependent on Victoria before, was old enough now to consider herself in love, and would not much longer do as her sister thought best for her. Victoria decided that, when eventually her parents returned to England, she must have the whole thing out with them. But that would not solve the immediate problem, and it was the immediate problem that engrossed her the whole of that day.

Charles came to find her after breakfast, not at all put down by his altercation with Margarita. Victoria was on her terrace, now dressed in a sober cool dress of navy linen, and if she was not actually wringing her hands in despair, that was the impression he got of her.

‘I don’t know what to do for the best, Charles,’ she said to him. ‘What
can
I do?’

They sat down to discuss the matter. No, she said, Amanda had no friends here other than the Beltonis. The Rimini girls were acquaintances, but Victoria had already satisfied herself that Amanda had not gone to them nor to the farm. There was nobody else, and Victoria was quite sure that it was Giorgio Amanda had started out to visit.

‘Love certainly does complicate life, doesn’t it?’ said Charles, and Victoria wondered whose love he was thinking of. Amanda’s for Giorgio, or her own supposed love for Giorgio? or his for Margarita? or Margarita’s for him?

‘Yes, it does,’ she admitted sadly. She could not remain seated. She was restless, walking up and down the length of the terrace.

Charles had again rung the hospital at which Giorgio was recovering; but again there had been no visitor for him resembling Amanda.

‘I keep seeing her lying in a ditch somewhere,’ said Victoria unhappily. ‘Unconscious—or even worse.’ Charles was immediately on his feet and at her side. He took her into his arms consolingly, but spoke to her quite severely.

‘Now, no more of that nonsense, Victoria,’ he said.