This Rough Magic (26 page)

Maria was outside, bending over a rusty tin with a stick, stirring what seemed to be hen food. When she heard the car she straightened up with the tin clutched to her breast, and the hens clucking and chattering round her feet. Godfrey, slowing down for the turn into the main road, raised a hand and called out a greeting, to which she returned a look of pleasure mingled with respect, as warm a look as I had seen on her face in the last week or so. I had noticed the same look, shy but pleased, in Miranda’s face, as she had showed him into the
salotto
earlier, as if the two women were grateful to Spiro’s employer for his continued kindness to them in their bereavement.

I stole a look at him as the car swerved – rather too fast, and with a blare of its twin horns that sent Maria’s hens up in a squawking cloud – on to the main road. I
don’t know quite what I had expected to see this afternoon – some smooth-skinned monster, perhaps, with hoofs, horns, and tail all visible to the eye of knowledge – but he was just the same, an undeniably attractive man, who handled his exciting car with skill and obvious enjoyment.

And this man, I thought, was supposed to have brushed the boy – the beloved son and brother – off the stern of his boat as if he were a jellyfish, and then sailed on, leaving him to drown …

He must have felt me watching him, for he flicked me a glance, and smiled, and I found myself smiling back spontaneously, and quite without guile. In spite of myself, in spite of Max, and Spiro’s story, I could not believe it. The thing was, as I had said to Max, impossible in daylight.

Which was just as well. If I was to spend the next few hours with him, I would have to shut my mind to all that I had learned, to blot out the scene in the cellar, drop Spiro out of existence as if he were indeed dead. And, harder than all, drop Max. There was a curiously strong and secret pleasure, I had found, in speaking of him as ‘Mr Gale’ in the off-hand tones that Godfrey and Phyllida commonly used, as one might of a stranger to whom one is under an obligation, but whom one hardly considers enough to like or dislike. Once, as I had mentioned his name in passing, my eye, downcast, caught the faint mark of a bruise on my arm. The secret thrill of pleasure that ran up my spine startled me a little; I slipped my other hand over the mark to hide it, and found it cupping the flesh as if it were his,
and not my own. I looked away, out of the car, and made some random remark about the scenery.

It was a very pretty road. To our left was the sea, blue and smooth, broken only by a tiny white crescent of sail thin as a nail-paring and almost lost in the heat haze. On the right was a high hedge of apple blossom and judas-trees, their feet deep in a vivid bank of meadow flowers, yellow and purple and white. Two little girls, in patched and faded dresses of scarlet, stood barefoot in the dust to watch us go by, one of them holding a bough of oranges as an English child might hold a stick of balloons, the fruit bulging and glowing among the green leaves.

The road straightened, and the XK 150 surged forward with a smooth burst of speed. My spirits lifted. This was going to be easy; in fact there was no reason why I shouldn’t simply relax and enjoy it too. I sat back and chatted on – I hoped naturally – about nothings; the view, the people Phyl had met yesterday in Corfu, the prospect of Leo’s coming with the children for Easter …

We flashed by a fork in the road.

I sat up sharply. ‘That was the turning, wasn’t it? I’m sure the signpost said Palaiokastritsa!’

‘Oh, yes, it was. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking; I meant to have told you, I’m not taking you there today. It’s a long way, and we’ve hardly time. We’ll go another day if you like, when we don’t have to be back early.’

‘
Do
we have to be back early?’

The question slipped out before I thought, ingenuous in its dismay. I saw the faint shadow of gratified
surprise in his face, and reflected that after my evasions over the telephone he had every right to find provocation in it.

‘I’m afraid so. I’m going out tonight. I don’t say we couldn’t do it, but it’s a shame to go all the way for a short time; it’s a lovely place, and there’s a lot to see. Besides which, it’s a damned waste to go there and not have lunch; there’s a restaurant right on the beach where they keep crayfish alive in pots in the sea, and you choose your own and they take them out fresh to cook.’ A sideways look at me and a teasing smile. ‘I suppose you disapprove, but I can tell you, they’re wonderful. I’ll take you there soon, if you promise not to stand me up for lunch next time.’

‘I didn’t – that would be lovely.’

We flicked through a tiny village, one narrow street of houses and a baked white church with a red roof. The snarl of the engine echoed back in a quick blast from the hot walls, and we were through, nose down through a scatter of goats, children, a scraggy puppy, and a donkey trailing a frayed end of rope. The children stared after us, admiring and unresentful.

‘One thing,’ said Godfrey cheerfully, ‘one doesn’t have to plan one’s outings here according to the weather. The sun’s always on call in this blessed isle, and one day’s as good as another.’

That’s what you think
, I said savagely to myself. My hands were tight together in my lap now, as much because of his driving as in a panic-stricken attempt to think of the map. How to get him off this road, head him away from Corfu?

I said aloud: ‘I’ll hold you to that one day,
and
I’ll eat the crayfish! I can’t feel strongly about fish, I’m afraid! Where are we going then, Pellekas?’ For Pellekas one turned off just at the north end of Corfu – the only other turning before the town.

‘No, the Achilleion.’

‘Oh? That’s a wonderful idea!’

It was a bloody awful idea, as well I knew. To get there one went right through Corfu – not quite to the harbour, but near enough – and, of course, the whole way home we would be using the same road as Max. Well, I’d just have to see that we didn’t head for home around five-thirty, and I could only hope there was plenty of scope for sightseeing to the south of Corfu town. I reached for my handbag and fished in it for the guide I had brought, adding with great enthusiasm: ‘I’d planned to visit it one day, but there was the same objection – Phyl told me it was on top of a hill with the most ghastly zigzag going up to it! Yes, here it is … “The villa of Achilleion, erected for the Empress Elizabeth of Austria … The villa, which is in Italian Renaissance style, was purchased in 1907 by the German Emperor. The gardens are open to visitors (admission one drachma, applied to charitable purposes).”’

‘What? What on earth’s that?’

‘An ancient Baedeker I found on Phyl’s shelves. It was my grandfather’s – date 1909. It’s really rather sweet. Listen to the bit at the beginning about the history of the island … he says “it came into the possession of” the Romans, then “fell to the share of”
the Venetians, then “was occupied by” the French: then “was under Turkish, then Russian sway”, but – notice the
but
– from 1815 to 1863 it “came under the protection of” the British. Rule, Britannia. Those were the days.’

‘They certainly were.’ He laughed. ‘Well, you can see the whole palace as well, today, and it will cost a damned sight more than a drachma, and I imagine the gate money’ll go straight to the Greek Government. As usual, charity begins at home … I wish there’d been some classical relics to take you to – Phyl told me you were interested – but I don’t know any, apart from some temple or other inside the Mon Repos park, which is private. However, you might say Achilles is the patron saint of the Achilleion, so perhaps it’ll do! There’s some talk of turning it into a casino, so this may be the last chance of seeing it more or less in the original state. And the drive up there is very pretty, you’ll enjoy it.’

‘You’re very kind,’ I said. It was all I could do not to stare. He spoke so easily and charmingly, sitting there relaxed and handsome at the wheel, the sun throwing up fair highlights in his hair, and a dusting of freckles along the bare brown arms. He was wearing an open-necked shirt, with a yellow silk scarf tucked in at the neck – Top People summer uniform – which suited him very well. He looked calm and contented, and perfectly normal.

Well, why not? When a felon’s not engaged in his employment, he has to look as ordinary as possible for his own skin’s sake. I supposed it was perfectly possible
for a man to drown two young men one week, and enjoy a pleasant day out with a girl the next, take a lot of trouble to plan an outing for her, and even enjoy the view himself …

‘And there’s a marvellous view,’ he said. ‘The palace is set on a steep wooded hill over the sea. From the belvedere you can see practically the whole way from Vutrinto in Albania, to Perdika along the Greek coast. On a clear day the harbour at Igoumenitsa’s quite plain.’

‘How splendid.’

‘And now supposing you tell me exactly what happened last night at the Castello?’

It took every scrap of discipline and technique I had not to jump like a shot rabbit. ‘What happened? Well … nothing much – what should? I got home with the diamond, you know that.’

‘Oh, to hell with the diamond, you know quite well what I mean.’ He sent me another sideways, amused look. ‘Did you see Julian Gale?’

‘Oh. Yes, I did. Adoni was with him when we got up there.’

‘Ah, yes, the faithful watch-pup. He would be. How was Sir Julian?’

‘He went to bed pretty soon,’ I said cautiously. I kept my eyes on the road, and in the windscreen I saw Godfrey glance at me again. ‘He was – tired,’ I said.

‘Say what you mean,’ said Godfrey. ‘He was stoned.’

‘How do you know?’ The question came out flatly and even accusingly, but since he himself had hit the
ball into the open with the last phrase there was no reason why I shouldn’t keep it there.

‘Come off it, they knew who’d been with him, didn’t they?’

‘We-ll, it was mentioned.’ I leaned back in my seat and let a spice of mischievous amusement creep into my voice. It sounded so like Phyl as to be startling. ‘Mr Gale wasn’t awfully pleased with you, Godfrey.’

‘Damn it all, what’s it got to do with me if he wants to get plastered? By the time I saw which way the land lay, he was halfway there. Do they imagine it was up to me to stop him?’

‘I wouldn’t know. But I’d watch out for Mr Gale if I were you.’

‘So?’ His mouth curved. ‘Pistols for two and coffee for one, or just a horsewhip? Well, maybe he does owe it me, after all.’

I knew then. I’m not sure what it was, something in his voice, or the infinitesimal degree of satisfaction at the corners of his mouth; something at once cruel and gay and quite terrifying. All the daylight doubts fled, once and for ever. Of course he was a murderer. The man was a natural destroyer.
Evil be thou my Good
… And the instinct that had allowed him to create those pictures wasn’t even incongruous: no doubt it had given him much the same pleasure to destroy Spiro as it had to photograph him. Destroying Sir Julian would hardly have cost him a moment’s thought.

I dragged my eyes and thoughts away from the evil sitting beside me in the car, and concentrated on the
idyll of silver olive and black cypress through which the XK 150 slashed its way in a train of dust.

‘What a lovely road.’

‘I wish they’d do something about these pot-holes, that’s all. Don’t side-track, Lucy. Was it really horsewhips?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, Mr Gale had had a trying evening. I’d had hysterics all over him and dragged him out to help with the dolphin, and he fell slap in the sea, and then on top of it all when we got up to the house we found his father drunk … in front of me, too. You can’t blame him if he’s out for your blood.’

‘I suppose not.’ He didn’t sound as if it worried him vastly. ‘Where is he today?’

‘I believe he said he was going to Athens. It was just some remark to Adoni – I didn’t take much notice. But you’re probably safe for today.’

He laughed. ‘I breathe again. Just look at the colour of that girl’s frock, the one picking up olives over there, that dusty red against the rather acid green.’

‘Don’t
you
side-track. I want to know what happened.’

He raised his brows. ‘Heavens, nothing, really. I saw the old man at the garage on the harbour, and he was looking for a lift, so I took him home. I was rather pleased to have the chance to talk to him, as it happened – you can never get near him alone, and it was too good a chance to miss.’

‘What on earth did you want to get him alone for? Don’t tell me you’re looking for a walk-on in the next Gale play!’

He grinned. ‘That’ll be the day – always providing there is one. No, there were things I wanted to know, and I thought he’d be the softest touch. Max Gale and I aren’t just the best of friends, and the watch-pup dislikes me. I can’t think why.’

‘Godfrey! Are you telling me you got him drunk on purpose?’

‘Good God, no. Why should I? I wasn’t trying to get State secrets out of him. But by the time he’d had a couple there was no stopping him, and it wasn’t my business to stop him, was it? I admit I didn’t try.’ That fleeting smile again, gone in an instant; a flash of satisfaction, no more. ‘It was quite entertaining up to a point.’

‘What on earth
were
you wanting to get out of him?’

‘Only what the police were up to.’

‘Police?’

He glanced at me with a lifted eyebrow. ‘Don’t sound so startled. What have you been doing? No, it’s only that on this island everything gets to the Gales’ ears and to no one else’s. I had a hell of a job finding anything out about the Spiro affair – nobody seemed to think it was my business, but I’m damned sure they tell the Gales everything that turns up.’

‘Well, I gather there’s some sort of family connection.’

‘So I’m told. But I don’t see why that gives them an “exclusive” on a police inquiry that involved me as closely as Spiro’s death did.’

‘I do so agree,’ I said sympathetically. ‘It must have been a terribly nerve-racking time for you.’

‘It still is.’ Certainly if I hadn’t known what I knew, I’d have heard nothing in the grave rejoinder but what should properly be there. But, keyed as I was, the two brief syllables hid a whole world of secret amusement. I found that the hand in my lap was clenched tightly, and deliberately relaxed it.