The Runaway Visitors (20 page)

‘But it could be true,’ she cried.

‘It could equally be untrue. Victoria darling, you must try to be patient. ’

‘But she’s been gone more than twenty-four hours now.’

‘And we could get news at any moment.’

‘Should I cable to my parents?’ she asked him anxiously, putting herself into his capable hands.

Charles thought for a moment or two. His arms still held Victoria reassuringly, and she wondered how she would ever do without their support for all the future. Then he said:

‘Well now, let’s suppose the worst for a moment. Suppose anything dreadful
had
happened to Amanda, which is most unlikely, they would certainly arrive here too late for any practical use. And if Amanda turns up here after some adventure which we can’t yet imagine, then we should have worried them unnecessarily. I suggest we wait to-day and see what happens by evening.’

She agreed to do what he suggested, wondering how she would get through the day; but Charles had no intention of leaving her alone. He carried her off to the studio.

‘Now if you feel you could pose for a while, I’ll get some more sketches of you. That’s what I should like. If you don’t want to pose, you can look at my books; or better still, being so capable at secretarial work, you could type some letters for me. ’

He obviously thought it would be best for her to be doing something, so she agreed to pose for a while, listening to music (and he was almost too considerate this time in asking her constantly if she was tired), and then she did some typing for him; and if her hands dropped from the keys from time to time as she stared into space, he knew she was thinking about Amanda; but did not imagine for a moment that she might be studying him as he worked, loving his rugged face and rough brown hair and those strong, capable hands.

Immediately after lunch, which she played with, feeling that food would choke her, he drove her down into Firenze, and they had an interview there with the police, who had not as yet had success in finding Amanda, or anybody who had seen her. Might she have followed her brother to England? they asked, obviously thinking English families extremely undisciplined and allowed too much freedom that they should run off from each other in this fashion: but Victoria had Amanda’s passport, so that was not possible. Charles and she returned to his house, both of them anxious now; and soon after their arrival, the ringing of the telephone sent them hurrying to it once more.

This time, it was Sebastien; cheerful, happy, triumphant.

He was already in England. He had cycled over the Alps, but that was the best bit of the journey; the rest promised to be flat and uninteresting, so he had sold the old bike for next to nothing, and taken the train and boat and was now in their own house, preparing for the camping trip to Snowdonia.

It had been in Charles’s mind to read the riot act to Sebastien, but it proved to be not necessary, for Victoria went for her brother in such a fit of righteous anger, giving him ‘hell for leather ’, that anything Charles might have said paled into insignificance. He was amazed by her forcefulness. ‘ Utter lack of consideration ’. ‘Without telling a soul where you were going’. ‘Putting ideas into Amanda’s silly head, and God knows what’s happened to her’. ‘Attacked, or even raped ... lying dead in a ditch somewhere’. ‘Well, you
should
think, you’re old enough to use your brains, if you’ve got any’. ‘No, of course not, what do you think you can do, if the police and Mr. Duncan can’t do anything?’ ‘Go off to Snowdonia and your rock climbing, and for pity’s sake, don’t break your neck there to add to my worries’. ‘Have the sense to do what your instructor tells you to do, and not anything mad’. ‘All right, then. I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything myself. ’

When she rang off, Charles looked at her consideringly. Her face was flushed and her expression was determined. She was altogether different from the girl who had wept in his arms last night.

‘Sebastien is going to have an uncomfortable half-hour,’ he commented.

‘If that’s all he has, he’s getting off lightly,’ she retorted.

‘I can see that you take your responsibilities very seriously. ’

‘Well, somebody’s got to. But it doesn’t get easier as they get older. I’d rather have Amanda crying for her mother in bed at night, although I didn’t enjoy
that,
than have her chasing off after a lover.’

‘She’s hardly done that, Victoria.’

‘You don’t know Amanda. She would, if she thought Giorgio would have her.’

‘But the competition is too stiff,’ he commented; and before Victoria could cope with that observation, he went on: ‘Of course, her instability is not really her own fault. I see that now.’ ‘Oh, don’t let’s start on
that!’
Victoria hovered between weariness of spirit and sarcasm. ‘Don’t let’s start looking for causes or motives. I’ve lived with that particular devil just a bit too long.’

He looked at her for a long time, his face thoughtful, studying her intently. She was looking away from him, over the olive groves to the pink and white and ochre loveliness of Firenze, not really seeing the great Duomo or the tall towers. Lost in her own thoughts.

The afternoon seemed endless, and as evening approached Charles realised that Victoria became more restless and more anxious. She could not endure the thought that Amanda would be missing for another night. He said:

‘Do you want to go out on another search, Victoria? I don’t think you can really do more than the police are doing, but if you would feel more settled, we’ll go out on a search of our own.’ ‘Well, I realise that it probably won’t do any good . . .’

‘But you’d like to do it.’

‘I would, really.’

‘Then we’ll go. There
is
a secondary road which we could explore, not that I think for a moment Amanda would take it; but at least it will eliminate another possibility. Go and get your coat.’ Victoria went. She knew that Charles was indulging her in what he thought a useless search, but it seemed more than she could do simply to sit and wait. She rejoined him on the terrace and they went together to his car.

As Charles opened the car door for her, they heard the sound of another car approaching. Both paused immediately, waiting to see if it would pass by or stop at their gate. When it did stop at the gate, they went forward together as if moved by a single impulse, to meet it. Its door opened and a police officer emerged, who opened the back door of the car for a passenger.

Victoria held her breath and then expelled it on a long sigh of disappointment as a well-dressed woman of middle age stepped out on to the driveway. She was followed, however, by a slight, familiar figure in a recognised grey coat, and at sight of her Victoria felt such a great surge of relief that she almost fainted. Charles’s arm supporting her helped her to recover from that giddy moment.

‘Amanda,’ she said. ‘Amanda! ’ and next moment Amanda had rushed madly towards her sister, throwing her arms around her and breaking down into a storm of weeping. Victoria held her, swaying gently with her, saying over and over: ‘Are you all right, Amanda? Are you all right?’

It took a little while for the confusion to sort itself out. Charles led them all into that sumptuously furnished hall that had so impressed the Fenn family on its arrival here. Miss Jameson brought coffee for everybody. Amanda continued to weep in Victoria’s arms in the depths of the deep couch. Victoria, distracted by the weeping, was trying to give her attention to what was being said, in Italian too fast for her to follow, by the three others. She knew she would have to wait for Charles’s interpretation of the interview, so that it was almost a relief to her when he suggested that Amanda might feel better in her own room and that Miss Jameson would bring them some coffee there. The two sisters left for their room, Victoria shaking the hand of the police officer and thanking him as best she could, still not knowing what the role of the other woman had been.

It took a long time for Amanda to compose herself and drink some hot coffee; still longer to give Victoria some account of what had happened to her in the past thirty hours.

She had, as Victoria had supposed, set out to visit Giorgio. She had thought that anything Sebastien could do, she could also do. She had thought of going by train, and then by taxi to the hospital; but it had been so easy to get a lift down to Firenze yesterday morning that she had supposed it would be equally easy to travel the whole journey by this method. But the first car to stop for her had taken her only two or three miles along the road and deposited her on a country lane; and she had gone on by a slow country bus, constantly stopping, which had tried her patience so sorely that she decided to hitch-hike again. But nobody had stopped to pick her up, and she had trudged on until she was desperately tired and it was growing dark, and she was becoming very frightened indeed. As Amanda had always been frightened of the dark, Victoria could understand this only too well.

Then, when Amanda was really beginning to panic, a car
had
stopped, and it was being driven by Signora Delmonte, the lady who had come with her in the police car. The Signora had been quite appalled to find this young English girl hitch-hiking, and had tried to get from Amanda her name and address, so that she could take her to somewhere safe. But Amanda too was appalled, at the thought of giving up her adventure so quickly and without a struggle. ‘I knew Sebastien wouldn’t,’ she said to Victoria, ‘so I wouldn’t tell her where I was staying, only that I was going to see Giorgio in hospital.’

The woman insisted on Amanda spending the night at her house. ‘It was a beautiful house,’ Amanda said, ‘and she was very kind, but I was quite determined to go on in the morning. But to begin with, I slept late—I’d been so tired, and then she fussed over breakfast. And at last she said if I would wait until the afternoon, she would drive me there herself. Only then she saw a piece in the morning paper; only she didn’t get her morning paper until lunch time. About me being missing. So that was that. Instead of driving me to see Giorgio, she drove me to the police station at Firenze . . .’

‘We were there this afternoon,’ cried Victoria. ‘We could only just have missed you! ’

‘Well, I had to answer a whole lot of questions, and they seemed to take a long time, and make an awful lot of fuss; and then they brought me home.’ She looked doubtfully at Victoria. ‘I suppose you’re very angry,’ she said hesitantly.

Victoria looked at her without comment. Angry? No, she wasn’t angry any more. Despairing? Resigned? She wasn’t sure.

The reaction from so much suspense, so much waiting and worry, left her now without feeling. She felt she could drop on to her own bed and sleep for hours.

‘I’m sorry, Vicki,’ Amanda said in a small voice. ‘I’m really sorry. I won’t do anything like it ever again. Only I did want to see Giorgio so much.’

‘I’d have taken you to see him if you’d asked me,’ said Victoria flatly.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Amanda again, tears flowing freshly down her cheeks.

‘It’s no good crying now you’re safely back. And Sebastien is safely in London, ready to go camping. I suppose I just have to be thankful.’ But Victoria was swept by a wave of wretchedness so forceful that she could have joined her sister in weeping. She knew it was simply reaction, and steeled herself against it.

‘Now don’t upset yourself, Amanda,’ she said more kindly. ‘You’d better get to bed and you can have your supper there; and after a good night’s rest, you’ll be your old self.’ After a moment or two, she added: ‘And if you want to see Giorgio, I’ll drive you there myself. Don’t go skipping off again.’

‘No, I never will, Vicki.’

When Amanda was in bed, Victoria went to see Charles again. The story told by the police and Signora Delmonte tallied with Amanda’s.

‘So all’s well that ends well,’ said Charles. ‘Cheer up, Victoria, don’t look so glum. Your ewe lamb is back in the fold.’ ‘Yes. And very repentant—for the moment.’ Charles looked at her searchingly.

‘Poor Victoria, they have given you a tough time. You’re feeling rotten, aren’t you?’

‘No. Just fed up. Just flat—flat as a pancake.’

‘That’s too bad, because I’ve just accepted an invitation to go out to dinner. I thought it was all right as you were reunited with your sister. But now I think I shall cancel it and stay here, and have dinner with you.’

Victoria looked at him expressionlessly.

‘Margarita,’ she said. It was a plain statement of fact, not a question, although she knew Margarita had been in Paris that

morning.

‘Yes, Margarita,’ he said, ‘but I can have dinner with Margarita to-morrow.’

‘Of course not,’ she said sharply, thinking that Margarita had lost no time in following him back to Firenze. ‘If you’ve made the arrangement you must keep it. I shall have my supper with Amanda.’

‘Very well,’ said Charles. He held out his hands to her, and she put hers into his keeping. ‘I’m very happy for you, Victoria, that it turned out well. ’

‘And I’m very thankful to you, Charles, for all your help,’ and she stood on tip-toe to reach his cheek and kissed him. He released her hands and held her closely in his arms for a few precious seconds. Closely and tenderly. Oh, why did it have to end so soon? Victoria wondered, when he let her go

Victoria did not have supper with Amanda. Miss Jameson took a tray into the bedroom quite early for Amanda. She had prepared an appetising light meal and arranged it meticulously, but as she presented it to Amanda, she said: