His desire for her told her she could expect more from life than working in the family hotels until she had her own children, and then being the dutiful wife and mother everyone expected. Maybe one day they would choose to come back and live on the island, but not yet. First she had to experience life elsewhere.
She let the storm beat about her head, and said nothing when her mother banished her to her room. What did she care about the Christmas festivities? She had another child to scheme for, her own, and then she must devise plans for the time when Jake would be able to take her away.
*
Emma selected the flowers with care. She loved arranging them, and in the few months they'd been here she'd been asked to do arrangements for several neighbours when they had big parties. She'd spent the morning going round the main hotels, studying their magnificent foyer displays, for tomorrow's event was a prestigious one and she wanted something very formal. Stately arum lilies would form the basis of her main arrangement, but she bought pots of poinsettia, some small variegated rubber plants, sprays of bougainvillea and Golden Shower, and dozens of camellias. She'd even found some late plumbago and oleander, and some huge daisies.
Back at home the house was empty, and she had to unload the car herself. She carried in the armfuls of flowers, and then the basket of fruit, with some of Bruce's favourite red mullet. She planned a special meal tonight, for it was exactly three years since they'd met. She stood at the kitchen window gazing out towards the sea, down the steep slope which ended in precipitous cliffs, then turned to look at the enormous statue of Christ which stood on the headland. She wondered if Bruce was out there running. He said it helped him to think through his plots. For a moment a stab of jealousy made her stomach clench, and then she forced it away. Bruce had promised her, and she'd never known him break a promise, that he had no interest in any of the women she'd suspected in Madeira. And, as he'd pointed out to her after they'd made love so tenderly, he wasn't in New York for her to even suspect anyone there.
In the sitting room there was a note propped against the clock. Emma smiled. Bruce had begun to leave little messages around the house for her to find, especially if he planned to be out for more than half an hour or so. She unfolded it and read it and suddenly sat down, her face white. Then she turned red and her eyes glittered, her fists clenched at her sides.
'He's gone to New York! I know it's that bloody woman!' she whispered to herself. Then she forced herself to think it through. Tanya worked at his publisher's. She rang him constantly for the most trivial things. Last time they'd been in New York he kept sneaking out of the hotel, never saying where he was going. Emma was convinced it was to meet her and Bruce had never denied it, like he'd denied his interest in women here. I'll murder her, Emma thought wildly. She's been after him for years, but she won't have him for long.
Suddenly she turned and ran out of the kitchen, dry sobs torn from her throat. She went into the big bedroom and began tipping the contents of her dressing table drawers onto the tiled floor.
'Where's my passport?' she muttered furiously. 'He's hidden it, damn him! I don't care, I'll go without it. When's the next flight? I'm going straight to the airport. Perhaps I can get on a charter flight to England and be in New York as soon as he is.' Suddenly a blank look came into her eyes and she became still. 'Oh, what am I to do?' She sank onto the floor, kneeling in front of a pile of lacy underwear, and began to twist the straps of a bra round and round her hands, pulling them excruciatingly tight but unaware of the pain. 'What can I do?'
*
'Come in, Dodie. You haven't met the Macleans, have you?'
Dodie followed Bill out onto the big terrace which ran all along the southern side of the house. Maria, about her own age, was typically Latin, dark and intense. But Dodie detected pain in her eyes. Though her mouth was pursed, her lips thinning in an angry expression, her eyes looked bleak. Theo, who rose to meet her, looked rather unhappy too, but he disguised it better with his polished manner. He was a few years older than Maria, with thick grey hair, and a soldierly stance. Under his tan he was pale, and Dodie wondered if he might be ill.
'I'm sorry if I'm early,' Dodie said, glancing at her watch.
'Dodie, come in. You're not early, we're running late.'
'Our fault, I'm afraid,' Theo said. 'We had a slight problem at the hotel before we came out. It delayed us.'
Maria shot him a venomous glance, and Dodie wondered just what the poor man had done to provoke such fury.
Maria stood up abruptly. 'I think we have finished, I have written down all you said. Come Theo. Thank you, Valerie. We will ensure you have the best possible food and excellent service for your party. Forty years, a very long time to stay so happily married. Not many people succeed so well.'
She turned and went hurriedly through one of the French windows. Theo sighed and went after her more slowly, Bill following. Dodie was curious, but restrained her questions until Bill returned.
He forestalled her. 'What the devil's come over Maria?' he said as he came back onto the terrace. 'She was simmering inside, it was an effort for her to be civil, and usually she's so friendly.'
'Theo looked devastated too, poor man. Do you think his mother-in-law has decided to come and live with them?'
Bill chuckled. 'No. If that had happened he'd have been on the first plane back to England. Maria's mother,' he went on, turning to Dodie, 'is a holy terror. She's dominated the Caritas family for eighty years, but fortunately she lives in Santana and says she is too infirm to come to Funchal. But that's an excuse to have them all trail over to her house.'
'At least they're willing to do the catering for our party,' Valerie said. 'When the other firm cancelled I began to think we'd be spending days in the kitchen. And hotels are so busy over the holidays.'
'They can do the preparation along with their own cooking, and the family will be in control on the night. As many people as possible try to take time off for the New Year fireworks,' Bill explained. 'I'd better be off, girls. I promised to be at the accountant's half an hour ago.'
*
Jake strolled along the lane behind Gloria's villa, speculating on schemes to improve his bank balance. He needed, immediately, more than his earnings as Gloria's gardener promised. His trip to England for the audition had been expensive, especially as he'd had to stay on and go up to Edinburgh. He'd used up all his spare cash, and he needed some fast for when he had to leave. He ought to have suggested that Gloria came with him. She'd have paid for everything. She'd been resentful, saying that if only he'd given her warning they could have gone together and had a wonderful time. Perhaps it was because she was jealous she'd announced that tomorrow she was going to Paris for a few days to do her Christmas shopping.
He'd been living with Gloria for three weeks now, and to his secret relief had plenty of time to himself. Gloria's demands might be intense but she had, as she told him, her other life to maintain. As that involved frequent lunch and drinks and dinner parties with other British people living in or visiting Madeira, he was free, in between driving her to and from these events, to pursue his own activities. Apart from sessions with Isabella, who had rather fearfully agreed to meet him in his cottage, these included attempts to waylay Bill Thorn. He'd decided to implement the previously vague plan of making use of his mother's old army friends for his own benefit. Bill Thorn's proximity seemed heaven-sent, and the fact that he was Alex Ross's father-in-law added piquancy.
He had prospected the Thorns' villa which abutted onto the same secluded lane. But in their case the villa's garden was mainly to the front, overlooking the town. Set into the perimeter wall, however, was a large garage where they kept two cars, and Jake, whenever he was free, kept observation on these.
His patience paid off. Gloria had been driven to a charity reception to be followed by lunch at Reid's. It was late morning when he saw Bill Thorn, on his own, opening the garage doors. Jake hastened along to intercept him.
'Mr Thorn. May I have a word
with you?'
Bill turned, eyebrows raised. 'Mr – ? Sorry, but I don't think we've met, have we?'
Jake guffawed. 'Not exactly. But you once, at a very critical time for me, knew my mother very well. Very well indeed.'
'Your mother? Who is your mother?'
'Come, now, I know I'm not a household name, but my show was on satellite TV. You must have seen me.'
Bill frowned. 'I don't watch much. Are you anything to do with the television people who've been interviewing me recently? For the programme on Dodie Fanshaw?'
'That's rich,' Jake exclaimed, his vanity temporarily crushed. 'I'm Jake Jakes.'
'Dodie's son? But she said you'd gone back to England. You asked her for money for the fare.'
'I went, and I came back. But that has nothing to do with this business. You knew Ma a long time ago, didn't you?'
Bill nodded, puzzled. 'We grew up in the same town,' he agreed.
'And you met her later on, when you were in the army and she was in the chorus.'
'So? Several of us went around with Dodie and her friends when we were in London on leave.'
'And you took advantage of her, and she an innocent little girl only barely sixteen.' Bill took an angry step forward, and Jake resisted the urge to back away. He wasn't a coward, but he was suddenly reminded that Bill Thorn had been in the army, an officer, and had won a medal for gallantry.
'Explain what you mean!' Bill snapped.
Jake swallowed. 'My mother was left holding the baby, me,' he said quickly. 'She'd been seeing a lot of you at the appropriate time and the inference is obvious. I've always wanted to meet my father.'
To his fury Bill actually laughed. 'There's no possible way I could be your father, thank God.'
'She says you are, and I'd rather believe her. It's your ruby wedding party soon, isn't it? So you must have been married at the time, as I'm thirty-five. And your daughter, I'm told, is less than a year older – '
'Why, you dirty little rat!' Bill exclaimed, and stepped forward angrily. 'Get out of here!'
Jake smiled and shook his head. 'It's a public road. Your wife must have been pregnant when I was conceived. What would she say if one of your bastards came calling? But make it worth my while, and I'll forget the relationship.'
'You can go and crawl back into your hole. I'm damned if I'll even speak to you. Now get out of my way, scum!'
He marched to his car, got in, started it, and drove swiftly out of the garage, making Jake spring aside to avoid being run down. Jake glared after him, frustrated. Bill had been his first choice, as Jake had assumed he would not want his wedding anniversary party ruined. He'd mistaken his man. Briefly he contemplated visiting Mrs Thorn, but he had little hope of persuading a woman to disgorge cash to suppress details of her husband's peccadillos. She'd be more likely to have hysterics, or confront her husband with noisy reproaches. In his experience women only paid up when they wanted to keep their own doings secret. Would it be worth trying the younger Thorn brother, the fellow who lived on the yacht? Morosely Jake decided he would receive the same sort of reception there. He returned to Gloria's house and spent the next hour searching all the likely places she might keep money stashed away. Eventually he found a roll of notes in a shoe box and abstracted two. She wouldn't miss them, but he could buy Isabella some small gift to keep her sweet. He then began to plot revenge on Bill Thorn. No man would treat him with such contempt and get away with it.
*
Libby eyed herself critically in the mirror. She'd grown up a lot, she thought complacently. This dress, in slinky smoky-blue silk, which her grandmother had bought her for the Christmas and New Year's Eve parties, was far more enticing than the loud, vulgar clothes she used to wear. She paused, considering. She still liked the cat-suit. It had been fine for the disco, but it wouldn't do for this occasion when she didn't want to attract too much attention. It was as well she'd had her hair dyed back to its natural colour too. She twirled round, enjoying the sensation of floating draperies. It was because it was understated, she told herself, echoing Emma's approving comment when she'd shown it to her. Close fitting to the hips, and swirling out in sensuous waves whenever she moved, it enhanced her figure and made her look at least twenty. There'd be no trouble getting into the Casino.
She listened to the noises in the villa. Everyone seemed to be following her apparent example and going early to bed. She grinned. It would be so easy to escape. For a moment her conscience pricked her, she knew she was abusing the trust now placed in her, then she shrugged off the thought. It was a harmless bit of fun, that's all, and why shouldn't she go out with anyone she chose, and not fat, boring David Holmes? Jake was a grown man, sophisticated, and he had a mean, wealthy mother who denied him help she could easily afford. And her father was being so stuffy, especially since the audition which he'd failed. She'd show him she was no longer a child to be browbeaten and ordered around.
The taxi swept into the Casino entrance and Libby glanced up at the modern, circular building. She suppressed the shaking of her knees, and walked in as though she did it every day.
Jake was waiting for her, immaculate in evening dress. She smiled coolly and inclined her head.
'I was beginning to think you'd chickened out,' he said curtly, and Libby reverted to her younger self, glaring at him in annoyance. 'Did you bring your passport?'
'What on earth for?'
'They won't let you in without.'
Libby gulped, her veneer of sophistication cracking. 'I didn't know, and if I had they'd know my real age,' she whispered, looking around her, suddenly afraid.
Jake grinned at her, and put one finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. 'Don't look so devastated, darling. We're celebrating. I thought of it all and brought one for you. Your name for the night is Belinda Mason. Fortunately the photo's more blurred than usual, and woman are always changing their hair colour and styles.'
Libby looked at the passport he held out to her, the photo of a pretty but vapid looking blonde, and frowned. 'How on earth did you get hold of this?' she demanded.
'Don't fret. It isn't one of the women I've gobbled alive. It was left behind at my flat in London after a party. I picked it up when I was over there last week. Here, stick it in your bag.'
Saying they would eat later, Jake paid the entrance fee and led the way into the gambling rooms. Soon he became absorbed at the roulette table. Libby, afraid of showing her ignorance and by that betraying them, refused to join in, saying she'd prefer to watch. She soon regretted it. For a while she'd been fascinated watching all the people, studying their reactions when they won or lost, but this occupation soon palled. Jake took no notice of her and exhibited considerable annoyance when she spoke to him.
'Right, I'm going home!' she announced at last, thoroughly disgruntled, and started to move away only to find her hand grasped tightly.
'Stay here, you little fool, don't draw attention to yourself.'
'But I'm bored rigid!'
'Let me finish this game and we'll go up to the restaurant.'
Libby subsided. It would, she realized, be a confession of failure to walk out after so short a time. She waited, tapping her feet impatiently, ignoring the angry looks Jake cast at her for disturbing his concentration. At last he stood up and took her arm.
'OK, we'll go and see what they have to eat.'
He seemed to have lost a great deal, Libby thought, but he didn't appear upset or worried. His eyes were glittering with excitement, as they'd been when he'd told her he'd been offered a big part in a new TV series. In the restaurant he ostentatiously ordered the most expensive dishes, ignoring Libby completely and not bothering to ask about her preferences.
'Tell me about the auditions,' she demanded when the first course had been put before them.
'The first was a washout,' he said dismissively.
'Dad told me someone else got the part, and he was hopping mad. But I had the impression there was something else bugging him too.'
/> Jake grinned. 'What's he got to worry about? He's had plenty of parts in the past, must be rolling.'
'He says he's almost broke.'
'Don't believe him. He can go back to America, to their soaps if he needs to earn money. They love his sort of wimpy English type there.'
'He said he couldn't. I think there was some sort of trouble. He means to stay in England now.'
Jake laughed and poured himself more wine. Libby had barely touched hers. 'Well, neither of us got the first part, but what he probably didn't tell you was that there was another audition, in Scotland, for a totally new TV series. We both went, and I got it.'
'You did? Great! Tell me all about it. No wonder he's seething.'
'He's always had a down on me, even though he kept getting parts and I didn't.'
Libby toyed with her food. He talked, drinking copiously of different wines with each course. Libby felt faint stirrings of unease. He wasn't nearly so charming as he'd been before. And she was faintly surprised when they finished that he could still stand upright.
'Let's get a taxi,' he muttered, leering at her in a way she found uncomfortable. Taking her arm he steered her towards the door.
'Let me go, you're pinching me!'
'Gloria's gone off to Paris, we can have the place to ourselves, have a whale of a time.'