The Sun and Catriona (14 page)

The play began nearly half an hour late, but nobody seemed to mind. It was being staged on one of the terraces, against a backcloth of golden stone, and on either side pine trees crowded close. In such a setting
Twelfth Night
took on a rare and special magic, and in spite of her aching unhappiness Catriona was conscious of the fact that she was witnessing a performance worth remembering. The cast was good, and she was forced to admit that Jacqueline made a charming and convincing Olivia. The costume suited her, and she looked stunningly beautiful, a creature over whom any man might be expected to lose his head. For the first time in her life Catriona found herself wishing that she had been
born
beautiful and irresistible—a breathtaking Circe with limitless power over the whole of the male sex.

And yet
...
She didn’t want the whole of the male sex. She wanted just one man.

She saw Peter, seated
nearby
, watching the stage with an expression on his face which she found hard to fathom. He was certainly attentive, and his eyes dwelt a lot on the lovely Jacqueline, but Catriona did not feel that he was particularly interested in the progress of the play. Toni, on the other hand, was enchanted by everything—by the actors, by the costumes, by the lyrical charm of the play itself. Catriona wondered, absently, where her boy-friend was, and whether in fact he still was her boy-friend. She seemed so happy, so carefree, so in love with life.

During the first interval Catriona remained in her seat. With formal courtesy Peter had asked if he could get her a drink, but she had refused and he had disappeared, no doubt to go in search of Jacqueline. Left alone, she stared at the empty stage and wondered how she was going to get through the remainder of the evening. That afternoon, her life had been changed by the feel of a man’s arms about her, by the touch of his lips, and now she was being forced to spend an evening watching a theatrical performance by the woman who would one day most probably be his wife. She had no doubt that Peter intended to marry Jacqueline. And she hadn’t much doubt that he wanted her to be aware of the fact.

Not far away, in the Italian garden, a string quartet had begun playing Mozart and she watched a full moon rise slowly above the encircling trees. She felt alone as she had never been in her life before, even on the day her mother finally left for the other side of the world. And yet all she wanted to do was to get as
far away as possible from the sight and the sound and even the memory of Peter Vilhena. If she didn’t do that soon, life would become unbearable. She had fallen in love with him; nothing could alter that. But he didn’t want her. He didn’t need her. And there was no possibility that he ever would.

In the morning,, she would tell him that she had to go home. Toni didn’t need her, not now, and it wouldn’t be difficult to find an excuse that would satisfy the Maltese girl. And if Peter himself guessed the truth, she couldn’t help it. Tears of humiliation stung behind her eyelids.

During the second interval Toni insisted on drawing her out into the throng of humanity clustering round the bar, and almost immediately she was seized upon by Paolo Sciberras, who told her that he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to contact her. He urged her to have a drink with him and she tried hard to think of an excuse for saying no. Glancing round, she told him she thought Toni might be looking for her, but he laughed and pointed the other girl out to her. Surrounded by an admiring group, Toni was testing out her own dramatic skill by declaiming some lines from the play, and she didn’t look as if she was unduly concerned about the whereabouts of her
English friend.

‘You see?’ Paolo said triumphantly. ‘Now, come and have a drink.’

She shook her head, and was about to think of another excuse when she suddenly saw Peter. He was leaning against a stone balustrade, a glass in his hand, and he was staring straight at her. She stared back, then suddenly, hardly knowing what she was doing, she turned to Paolo.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m beginning to feel thirsty.’

He steered her towards the bar, and as they went she could feel Peter’s eyes boring into her back. Firmly refusing anything stronger, she let Paolo buy her a tomato juice, and then she tried to listen attentively while he told her about his hopes of studying geology in America. He told her that he had made several attempts to get in touch with her that day, and as they talked she tried not to notice the eager glow in his dark eyes. He was a nice boy, but she certainly didn’t want to encourage him. She was sorry she had let him buy her a drink.

When the interval was over she managed to persuade him that she really had to rejoin the Vilhenas, and reluctantly he let her go, assuring her that he would be on the phone the following morning.

Somewhere around eleven o’clock the play ended, to rapturous applause. All the actors seemed to be popular, but Jacqueline received a particularly wild ovation and as the floral tributes piled up around her feet she seemed to glow with satisfaction. She was born to be admired, Catriona thought wryly. She would never be happy away from the limelight Peter would have to remember that.

People began to move, most of them clustering together in groups, a few heading towards the car park. Toni hesitated for a moment, then she placed a hand on Catriona’s arm.

‘There is someone I must speak to. Do you mind?’

‘Of course not.’ Catriona sat down again, watching as Toni slipped gracefully through the crowd. Once again she was completely alone. She hadn’t seen Peter since the second interval and she supposed he
had found a seat closer to the Stage. By this time, anyway, he would be with Jacqueline. She looked towards the darkened terrace which, until a few minutes ago had been the stage, and saw that all the actors and actresses had disappeared. By now they would be entertaining their families and friends. There would be toasts and congratulations, laughter and excited tributes. Husbands and wives would be there, boy-friends and girl-friends. Peter would be there.

She sighed, digging the toe of her shoe into a carpet of soft turf. At least she could be thankful for one thing—she had not been called upon to join the party congratulating Jacqueline.

One by one the floodlights and spotlights were turned off, and it wasn’t long before the gardens were illuminated only by moonlight. The string quartet had gone and the bar had closed down, but there were still people lingering in the parterres and broad walks, shadowy figures, picturesque arid unreal, and with detached interest Catriona watched them. Here and there, moonlight gleamed softly on a
girl’s hair or drew cold fire from a massive jewel. It was a tableau vivant more impressive than anything she had witnessed in the play itself, for these people were real. Tonight, in this enchanted, scented garden, they were living a part of their lives.

Gradually, though, everyone was drifting away, and she was beginning to feel conspicuous, even vaguely uneasy. There was no sign of Toni or of her brother, so when fifteen minutes had elapsed she decided to make her way towards the car park. It would be better, somehow, to wait by the car than to linger here in the gardens alone.

The car park was an extensive gravelled area capable of accommodating a very large number of vehicles, but by the time Catriona reached it there were barely ten or twelve cars left. She couldn’t think where Toni had got to, and Mario had not come with them tonight. Peter was doing the driving himself. She caught sight of Gina and Paolo Sciberras, who were just getting into a rakish black-and-purple two
-
seater which had been parked next to the Citroen, and at sight of her Paolo looked startled.

‘You are all alone
?
’

‘Yes, I’m waiting for Toni and Count Vilhena.’

‘Waiting for them
?
Where have they gone
?
’

Gina intervened rather hurriedly. ‘I saw Antoinette a little while ago,’ she confessed. ‘She and Vittorio were going for a drive in his car. She said they would not be long.’ She moved closer to Catriona. ‘I didn’t know she had left you alone, though. Where is Peter?’

‘I think—well, one of the actresses is a close friend of his.’

Gina’s eyes rolled upwards. ‘Men are impossible! I suppose it’s Jacqueline Calleja?’

‘I think so.’

‘Well, they cannot abandon you like this. Get into the car, we’ll drive you home. Won’t we, Paolo?’

‘Of course,’ Paolo agreed with alacrity. He looked as if he could hardly believe his good fortune.

Catriona shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I must wait for Toni.’

‘Why
?
She may be a long time, and you can’t wait here alone,’ he pointed out.

‘I know that.’

While they were talking another two cars had pulled out of the line, and she realised that once Gina and Paolo had gone, her situation might soon become rather unpleasant. Still, she couldn’t leave—not, at least, without Toni. That would be impossible. And Toni was with Vittorio Falzon. Her uneasiness deepened.

‘Where did they go
?
’ she asked Gina. ‘Have you any idea?’

Gina looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, why did they go?’ Catriona heard her own voice rising and becoming faintly agitated.

Gina moved her slim shoulders expressively. ‘Who knows? They are in love.’

Realisation hit Catriona with the violence of a cold douche. She actually believed that Toni had put Vittorio Falzon out of her mind, and all the time
...
Another thought struck her, and she felt rather cold. That evening, while they were waiting for Peter, Toni had asked a lot more questions about the motor
-
launch
Sultana.
She didn’t seem to have known, before, that her brother kept the boat moored at Marsa, and she wanted to hear all about it, even asking some fairly technical questions connected with the outboard motor. Catriona had been quite unable to answer them and assumed that she was interested only because she had been brought up among boats and boatbuilding. Now, a sudden fear swept over her. A wild thought entered her head and with a flash of intuition she decided that she knew what Toni was doing. She was sure, too, that she was right. She had no real doubts at all.

She looked through the dimness at Gina and her brother. ‘I’ve got to follow her.’ she said. ‘I’ve got to.
But I can’t drive.’

Gina looked blank. ‘Why follow them? They just want to be alone, that’s all.’

Catriona shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I think it’s more serious than that, a lot more serious.’ She kept remembering Toni’s unnatural composure and air of self-possession, the radiance she had exuded tonight. ‘I believe
...
’ She hesitated, even now unwilling to say the words. ‘I believe they may have been planning to run away together.’

‘Planning to run away?’ Gina sounded horrified. ‘Oh no
...
no, it’s not possible! Where would they go? They could not—no, it’s quite impossible.’

‘It might not be,’ Catriona pointed out. ‘If they took one of Count Vilhena’s boats they could—well, I suppose they could make for Sicily.’ She described the motor-launch that was moored at Marsa and the questions Toni had been asking.

‘But Antoinette would not do this,’ Gina protested again. ‘Her brother would be so angry. And besides, it is very dangerous, I think.’

‘I know it’s dangerous,’ Catriona said urgently. ‘But I’m sure Toni would do it, unless Vittorio is the type to stop her.’

Gina looked a little less certain. ‘Vittorio loves her. He would not wish to make her unhappy.’

‘That’s what I thought. And it really is vital to catch up with them as quickly as possible.’

Moving with more decision than she would have expected of him, Paolo held open the door of his little two-seater and indicated that his sister should scramble into the minute space behind the bucket seats. ‘In that case we shall go and chase them, uh?’

For just a moment Catriona hesitated, wondering whether or not she should try and contact Peter Vilhena. Then she pushed the idea out of her mind. Peter was with Jacqueline; there wasn’t much doubt about that. He would hardly want his evening interrupted, and she certainly did not want to be responsible for the interruption. She might even be wrong about Toni and Vittorio, and even if she were not
—
well, with the help of Paolo and Gina there was no reason why she should not be able to handle the situation.

Noisily, Paolo reversed out of the line of cars, and within seconds they were on the road. The lanes near Castel Verdala were narrow and twisting and beyond the drystone walls there were dense thickets of carob and prickly pear which made it difficult to see very far ahead, even with the aid of moonlight, but in spite of everything they managed to make good progress. It was impossible to drive as fast as Paolo would probably have liked to drive, but even so they seemed to be doing about sixty miles an hour, and it wasn’t long before Catriona found herself holding on to her seat with both hands. She felt faintly guilty about Gina, pushed unceremoniously into the back, but at the same time she was too worried about Toni to bother much about anything else. After about five minutes they emerged on to a fairly straight main road, and immediately Paolo put his foot down, flashing through tiny villages at frightening speed. Once, a thin, rangy cat crossed in front of them, its tortoiseshell markings vivid in the glare of the headlamps, and Catriona closed her eyes, terrified that it would be hit. But it crossed the road in safety and they hurtled onwards, the speedometer climbing steadily.

Once or twice, she knew, Paolo glanced at her in the darkness and she was vaguely conscious of the fact that he hoped she would be impressed by his driving, but she had no time to think of him. She was hardly aware that he existed. He was simply the means by which she might be able to prevent Toni doing something incredibly stupid and dangerous.

It took them nineteen minutes to reach Marsa, and as they roared down the hill to the wide open space behind the landing-stage she could see that a light burned on the jetty and a solitary car was parked beside the locked and abandoned
café
that normally served the ferry queue. There was no one about.

They all piled out of the car and without much delay Paolo identified the parked vehicle as belonging to Vittorio Falzon. Feeling that her worst fears had been realised, Catriona began running towards the Vilhenas’ private landing-stage, the others behind her, and as she ran she tried to think. She didn't really know what she would say if and when they caught up with Toni and Vittorio, but she had no doubt in her mind that it would be possible to stop them. Toni was sensible—she would listen.

She ran past the boathouse, Paolo close behind her now. Low down, near the horizon, there was a bank of lowering cloud, but the moon was still riding clear and the shore was bathed in silver light. Breathlessly, Catriona turned the corner. The boathouse doors were wide and with the exception of a few tools there was nothing inside. She walked to the edge of the jetty and looked down at the water. Dark, shining water lapped almost soundlessly against the steps. She could see the iron ring to which the
Sultana
had been moored that afternoon, and it seemed to mock
her. Biting her lip in bitter frustration, she stared out across the moonlit sea, but there was nothing in sight. Though she strained her ears, there was no sound of an outboard motor.

Paolo came up behind her. ‘They had a good start on us,’ he pointed out. ‘It’s a calm night and with a good engine they could be a long way away by now.’

‘It’s calm so far,’ said Catriona. Her voice was small and tight. ‘But those clouds
...
’

Gina appeared round a corner of the boathouse, carrying one fragile silver sandal.

‘My tights are torn,’ she complained, ‘and I think my heel is broken. I am very angry with Antoinette.’ Sinking down on the stones of the jetty, she examined her damaged shoe, then glanced at the other two. ‘She has gone, I suppose?’

Through the stillness of the night there came the distant hum of an engine and for a moment Catriona glanced hopefully out to sea. Perhaps—could they be coming back
?
Then as the sound grew louder she realised that it came from the road behind them. It was the sound of a car approaching fast and as its headlamps swung into view she knew instinctively who was driving it.

The Citroen stopped with a squeal of brakes and almost in the same moment Peter swung himself out of the driving-seat. He was alone, and they all three stared at him. How could he have known?

He strode rapidly towards them over the uneven ground and Catriona saw that his face was pale and taut in the moonlight. ‘You were too late,’ he remarked tersely, as he caught up with them. ‘They put to sea half an hour ago.’

‘How did you know
?
’ Catriona asked helplessly.

‘I was told that my sister had left the gardens with Falzon and also that you,’ he looked at Catriona, ‘had been seen driving off with Gina and Paolo. I guessed that you had thought it necessary to go in search of Antoinette, and then an idea occurred to me, so I telephoned the police station here.’ He nodded towards a small lighted building a couple of hundred yards away to their left. ‘The Sergeant told me that my launch had put to sea a few minutes earlier. He was not worried at the time because he knew the boat was fitted with a variety of alarms. Whoever took her obviously understood the system, so he assumed it must be all right.’

‘Does Toni understand the alarms?’

‘Yes. Last summer, when she was here, she enjoyed playing with a similar security system which had been fitted to another of our boats. Anyway, Sergeant Mjfsud believes the
Sultana
was taken by a man and a girl, so there doesn’t seem to be much doubt. He has been put in possession of the facts and the rescue services have been alerted, together with the excise patrol boats for this area.’

Catriona looked at him, a question in her eyes. ‘Rescue services?’

He nodded towards the thickening cloud bank. ‘That’s coming closer, and it may affect conditions.’

Catriona swallowed. Despite the sticky warmth of the night she felt cold, and her body seemed to ache with sympathy for Peter. She thought of Marina, broken all those years ago on the rocks of Filfla, and understood what he must be going through.

Gina looked frightened. ‘They’ll be all right, won’t they? They’ll be brought back?’

Peter turned away from them. ‘There’s no point in
hanging about here.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Paolo. ‘I’m very grateful to you, Sciberras, but there’s nothing more you can do. You had better take your sister home.’

Paolo nodded soberly. He looked at Catriona. ‘I’ll telephone you in the morning.’

‘All right,’ she said absently. ‘If you like.’

As they moved back towards the cars, Peter turned round to look once more at the glistening sea. ‘I hope they’re all right, out there.’

‘So do I,’ she answered, moistening dry lips.

Paolo and Gina drove away almost immediately, but for a moment or two Peter sat very still behind the wheel of the Citroen. Then he extracted a bundle of maps and charts from the glove compartment.

‘Where do you think they’ve gone?’ Catriona asked at last, her voice husky.

‘Sicily.’ With the aid of a torch, he studied one of the charts more closely.

‘How far is it?’

‘Too far.’ His voice was toneless. ‘They won’t make it.’

‘Not—not even if the weather holds?’

He shook his head. ‘No.’ Then he stiffened, listening. From far out over the sea there came a faint ominous growl of thunder.

Catriona shivered, and she saw Peter’s lips tighten.

‘Wait here,’ he said abruptly. ‘I shan’t be long.’ He got out of the car, taking the torch with him and as he closed the door on her and
walked away into the darkness she felt a sudden panic-stricken urge to follow him. But she didn’t. Instead, she sat very still, willing herself to stay calm. She knew that
he needed her support and she wasn’t going to let him down. Of course, Jacqueline should have been with him, but naturally she would still be celebrating the success of her first night. It probably wouldn’t have been possible to drag her away. Perhaps she didn’t even know what was going on. With iron determination, Catriona forced herself to be fair, at least in her own mind. At the very thought of Jacqueline, she felt cold and sick with jealousy, but she mustn’t let her judgment be affected by that. She mustn’t.

Glancing in the driving mirror, she saw that Peter was walking towards the police station and supposed he was going to ask for advice or information. Perhaps they would have something to tell him already? She looked out of the window, noticing that the moon was beginning to slip behind the advancing cloud bank. Thunder rolled again, a little nearer this time, and she clenched her fingers to stop them trembling. The sea looked very dark now, dark and vaguely menacing. How could Toni have done such a crazy thing? What chance did they stand? Had Vittorio Falzon talked her into it, or had it been her own idea
?

Looking back over the last few days she could see, now, that they might have met again and again. Probably they had been together at Gina’s party, and there must have been many other occasions when brief meetings would have been possible. She didn’t know why she had been taken in, why she had ever imagined they would give up so easily. If she had been in the same position and Peter had loved her as Vittorio apparently loved Toni, would she have given him up?

The moon disappeared completely, and suddenly it was very dark. Spots of rain appeared on the windscreen and thunder growled again. She looked at the digital clock on the dashboard and saw that it was ten minutes past twelve. Toni and Vittorio had now been at sea for something like three-quarters of an hour. How far would they have got
?

Firm footsteps sounded beside the car and Peter unlocked the door. Without saying anything he got in and started the engine. They turned, the headlamps showing that it was now raining quite hard, and then they moved off along the road that led back towards Valletta.

Glancing at Peter, Catriona saw that his face was grim. ‘What did they say?’ she asked.

‘That the storm is getting worse,’ he answered briefly.

‘Is that all? How long will it be before they trace the
Sultana
?’

‘I have no idea.’ He frowned. ‘I spoke by telephone to Falzon’s father. He tells me his son has no boating experience whatsoever.’

She looked at him anxiously. ‘Toni has, though
—
hasn’t she?’

He shrugged. ‘She has been taken out many times, yes. But I wouldn’t trust her to take charge of a rubber dinghy.’

Catriona had a thought. ‘Isn’t there any way they can be contacted
?
’

He shook his head. ‘The
Sultana
has no radio.’

She sensed that he didn’t want to talk, but she had to say something. ‘Where are we going now?’

‘Back to Valletta.’ He glanced at the dashboard clock. ‘We should be there in ten minutes’ time, and
you can then go quietly to bed.’

She looked horrified.
‘I
couldn’t go to bed! Not until I know they’re safe.’

‘No
?
Well, you must do as you like,’ he said rather harshly.

‘You’ll be sitting up, waiting for news,’ she pointed out. ‘Can’t I—can’t I wait with you?’

‘No, you cannot.’ His voice was sharp and impatient. ‘For one thing, I shall not be sitting up, waiting for news. I have a fast cruiser moored in St Paul’s Bay and when I’ve disposed of you I shall take her out and join the search. Assuming, of course, that they have not been found.’

Catriona felt a jolt in the pit of her stomach. Naturally, he’d want to do that. He’d have to. She should have realised.

‘Well,’ she said positively, ‘you mustn’t waste time taking me back to Valletta. I’ll wait in the car, if you like, but—but I wish you’d let me go with you.’

‘Let you
...
’
He sounded outraged. ‘Santa Maria! You’re not serious?’

‘Of course I am.’ She felt tears rising in her throat, threatening to choke her, preventing her from speaking clearly. ‘I’m very fond of Toni,’ she said, floundering desperately. ‘I want to know what’s happening.’ As he remained silent, she added, ‘Please
—
please let me go with you. I won’t be a nuisance, and I won’t get in your way. I’m not nervous, and if the worst comes to the worst I’m a strong swimmer.’ She stopped, wondering if she had said too much.

Peter was silent for a long moment, then he shrugged. ‘Very well, as you wish. On such an occasion I would not choose to burden myself with unnecessary female company but it will certainly save
time.’ He glanced at her. ‘What about your clothes
?
’

‘They don’t matter, and they’re quite comfortable.’ Well, at least her skirt was not long and mercifully she was wearing flat-heeled Roman sandals. She might not be dressed very suitably for putting to sea in a motor-cruiser, but at least her clothes would not hamper her.

When they reached St Paul’s Bay it was very quiet, and there was no one about as they parked the car and made their way down towards the harbour. Twenty or thirty yachts and cruisers were moored side by side, and in the p
a
le light from a solitary street lamp they looked a little like ghost ships. Peter’s was one of the largest, a gleaming white vessel bearing the name
Khamsin,
and as Catriona clambered aboard she wondered fleetingly whether this were another product of the Gozo boatyard. She certainly seemed to have been fitted out to meet the requirements of a discriminating owner, for her main cabin was equipped with everything from an elaborate hi
-
fi system to a bookcase full of books, and there was even a businesslike writing desk with a range of lockers below it.