Today, Tomorrow and Forever Page 7

  'She has a right to come here whenever she wants, but the situation should have been explained.'

  'Then why the hell didn't you explain when you had the chance?'

  There was a silence.

  'Well?' barked the second voice. 'You're capable of sweet-talking a woman, aren't you?'

  'You wouldn't understand, Henry.' Paul's voice was rough. It had an immediate effect on the other man.

  'Sorry, old man. I know you don't like to broadcast to all and sundry, but if she's a decent sort she'd understand. You'd have her eating out of your hand in no time. After all, what's it to her? She'd never set eyes on the place until today. Right now she's in love with the idea of owning an island. But it'll wear off when she understands the inconvenience. After all, at that age what do they want?'

  'What do they want, Henry?' Paul sounded weary.

  'Why, the usual, old man. Lights, music— handsome young men at their feet.'

  'I'm not exactly in line for my pension myself, Henry. Though God knows, I feel a hundred and ten today. Still, I can quite see I'd be less than ideal for a girl like that.'

  The man addressed as Henry gave a soft chuckle. 'I see.' He chuckled richly until Paul broke in with a sharp,

  'No, you don't see. I've got my hands full enough with Rowanna, without casting my sights over anyone else.'

  But Henry merely chuckled softly to himself as if he had discovered a huge joke he wasn't yet willing to share with anyone.

  'You always were a rash young devil, Paul. Glad to see you're adopting a more cautious manner nowadays.'

  'Rash? You're right, not any longer. And surely even you can't say I haven't been cautious enough over the last few years.'

  'Sorry.' Henry sounded genuinely apologetic. 'Never quite sure what you get up to when you're away. 'Nor,' he added warningly, 'is Rowanna.'

  She has nothing to worry about. She knows she comes first. Always will.'

  Shanna knew her knuckles were turning white only when she happened to glance down at them. She released her grip on the edge of the window-frame, bitterly regretting that she had accidentally overheard this brief snatch of conversation, but before she could shut out the sound she heard Paul say quite loudly, 'But none of this solves our real problem, Henry. How in hell do we get her to sign the island over?'

  'Would she consider a leasehold on the buildings? Promise her a summer villa on the beach. Somewhere she can bring her friends in the holidays. I'm sure you could swing a deal like that, old man, if you really wanted to.'

  Shanna turned blindly from the window. She could hear Paul's murmured response, but she felt ashamed to have listened so long. It had been difficult to break away when she herself was the subject—she and some woman called Rowanna.

  Opening the door of the office, and not caring whether anyone heard her or not, she made her way back to the atrium and crossed towards the terrace. Paul was already walking up towards the gates, a large torch in his hands swinging from side to side, casting a bright beam on the path in front of him.

  Her high heels tapped on the paving stones and a figure on one of the pool-side seats turned sharply at the sound.

  'You must be Henry,' she remarked coldly as she drew level, then before the astonished man could get to his feet she ran quickly across the terrace after Paul. Even before she called his name he was turning, evidently having heard her footsteps behind him.

  'My God, so there you are! I thought you'd gone careering off into the night again.'

  'You didn't seem in too much of a hurry to go after me,' she observed caustically, remembering the lengthy discussion that had just taken place outside the office window.

  'I knew you wouldn't go far in the dark. I was worried, though, that you might veer off the path and break your neck in one of the ravines,'

  'Thanks for the thought.'

  'What's the matter? You look furious.'

  'Do I? Why on earth should I?' Forgetting the observer beside the pool, she went on, 'I've no reason to be furious. After all, I've just inherited a part-share in a Mediterranean island with the head of an international company threatening either to run me off it or keep me prisoner. All in the day's work for someone like you, I suppose. Nothing to feel cross about, no, not at all!' Her voice had risen and she knew she wasn't making sense by the puzzled frown that appeared on Paul's face.

  He stepped forward and she flinched, exclaiming, 'Keep your hands off me! I'm not as easy as all that to talk round. Despite your evident prowess, Mr Elliot, at the persuading game.'

  She wanted to hit him. He was standing motionless with that look of icy aloofness on his face that made her feel so helpless. It was as if nothing she said would be received in the way in which she meant it. He obviously thought she was a monumental nuisance, but someone over whom he could assert his will at any time.

  'I'm just a minor irritation to you, aren't I? Go on! Say it! Have a good laugh—your plan misfired and instead of the island you've got—you've got --' Dashing a hand across her face she turned and ran blindly past him up the track into the darkness.

  'Shanna! Come back!'

  She slowed, feeling melodramatic to be running away like this, but too distraught to want to return to face him. He came up beside her.

  'I've got what?' he demanded.

  'Nothing,' she choked back, trying to walk away.

  'We seem to be doing a lot of this, don't we?'

  'What?'

  'Misunderstanding each other.'

  'There's no misunderstanding,' she exclaimed, her lips trembling. 'Only one or two blanks to be filled in.' She turned to look squarely into her face. 'I understand you very well now, thank you very much. Have no fears.'

  'Shanna, Shanna . . .' His voice dropped to a whispered caress and he reached out towards her. She saw his hand illuminated in the light from the torch before the beam swung away, then warm fingers were holding her wrist and she tried to snatch her arm out of reach, but he tightened his grasp saying, 'No, I'm not letting you go like that. You'll explain that little outburst, and you'll let me put things straight. I hate to see you like this.'

  'Don't give me that, you heel,' she uttered, still struggling half-heartedly to get away. 'No doubt you've already thought of a suitable story——' she stifled a sob '—but it won't work. I told you I wanted time. And now I'm even more determined to hang on for as long as I can.'

  There wasn't a shred of truth in it, but the thought that her feelings weren't returned, despite the conviction with which he begged her to trust him, and despite the wonder of his lovemaking, drove her to say things she didn't mean.

  'Stubborn.' He laughed softly and evidently he didn't believe her.

  She could just make out his face in the darkness and she saw a flash of white teeth, then his lips closed and he was bringing her close into the crook of his arm, turning her back towards the villa with the words, 'Let's cool it, shall we? I think the time has come to set the record straight as far as I can. But I must warn you, there are one or two things I find it difficult to talk about.'

  'You're going to ask for my co-operation?' she asked, letting him lead her back towards the lights.

  'Yes.'

  'For co-operation read capitulation,' she added bitterly.

  He paused. 'Let's not prejudge the outcome. You're a free agent.'

  She halted at the gates. 'I'm not as stupid as you seem to think. If you imagine all it takes is a bit of flattery, then you couldn't be more wrong. I know I'm a free agent without you telling me so. And I'm not open to pressure. From anyone.' She surprised herself with the firmness of her words. Glancing at Paul's expression, she saw something in it like respect. Or open surprise at such bluntness coming from a mere girl.

  'I respect your point of view,' he told her, confirming her first impression, 'but wait until you know some of the problems you've set us before you make a decision. And Shanna,' he slid his hand down her bare arm as he released her, 'I don't want you to try to make a decision before tomorrow morning. C
ome along,' he said over his shoulder, 'let's discuss this like rational human beings.'

  Aghast at the prospect his words conjured up, she followed nervously behind. If he thought she was going to stay up all night, pretending to discuss the pros and cons with him, when his whole intention was to persuade her to do what he wanted in the end anyway . . . her cheeks blazed. There was the extra danger of spending the long night hours alone . . .

  'I hope I misunderstood you back there,' she said as soon as they reached the lighted terrace again. When he raised his eyebrows for an explanation, she blushed, adding hastily, 'My day started about four a.m. I was hoping for a nice long sleep at some point before tomorrow.'

  'I'm sure that can be arranged.' He gave her a teasing look. 'You can stay on here, you know. Nobody's going to expect you to get the nine o'clock boat in the morning.'

  'I thought it was arranged,' she said stiffly.

  'Anything can be unarranged. Don't worry.'

  'Even the helicopter link to the airport?'

  'I'm sorry—I was trying to pressure you. I shall be piloting it myself, so there's no problem there either.'

  'No, the only problem is me, isn't it?' She sat down on the chair he pulled out for her. Music came floating from inside the house and Paul's companion from a few minutes ago came shuffling out again.

  He was an old man in his late seventies, she saw now, but despite the silvery hair he was tall, well built, bronzed, and cosmopolitan in an expensive white suit and silk cravat. He was lighting up a cigar and held it in his left hand as he reached out to offer Shanna his right in greeting with old-world courtesy.

  'My dear, so good to meet you at last,' he greeted her as if they hadn't already encountered each other. 'I'm Henry Denfield, Vi's fourth husband. She spoke often of your poor dear mother. Quite her favourite in the collection,' he told her.

  'That must be why she left this place to me. I didn't expect it.'

  'Neither, my dear, did any of us.'

  'So I gather,' she said shortly, with an unforgiving glance in Paul's direction.

  Henry followed her glance. 'Shall I --?' He waved the cigar.

  'No, stay,' replied Paul, interpreting the gesture. 'You may be able to account for Vi's eccentricities better than I.'

  'Ha!' Henry took a seat and frowned slightly. 'There'll never be her like again.' His eyes held a look of genuine pain, and Shanna guiltily remembered that it was only two months since his wife's death.

  'I only met her once. When I was three. It was in London. I scarcely remember her. I think we had ice-cream. It was green and blue. I'd never seen anything like that before.'

  'That's Vi. Always providing surprises.'

  'Huh! You can say that again!' It was Paul.

  Shanna gave Henry an apologetic look. 'Mother loved her, but she died when I was still at school, so I never really got to know Aunty Vi. Somehow this all seems like a dream.' She cast an eye over the pool and the white walls of the Villa Mimosa. 'It's as if some fairy godmother has suddenly appeared and waved a wand for me --' She stumbled, hoping she was making sense.

  So far Paul had been listening with a sceptical expression since his brief outburst, but now he leaned forward. 'Fairy godmother, yes, you're exactly right, Shanna.' He patted Henry on the knee. 'Right, Henry? That's it exactly. I always knew she reminded me of something.'

  'That's all right if the gift is welcome, old man, but you can't go around playing games like that without taking into account all the consequences.' He turned to Shanna. 'As you've discovered, this bequest of Vi's has put a regular cat among the pigeons.' His eyes flicked to Paul as if to reassure him about something.

  'Paul here --' he paused '—well, he runs a group of companies from the island. It'd be an upheaval for him to relocate, for one. And me, well, I'm an old man with a backlog of memories. Lived here with Vi for years. A place where we've grown old together. Sorry to leave it.' His voice trailed away.

  'But why did she do it? That's what I don't understand. She must have known how you all felt about leaving here?'

  Henry laughed. 'There was method in her madness. She knew what she was doing all right. Me—well, she had this crazy idea I'd be better off on the mainland, putting a little project of mine into being. And Paul here --' he broke off '—well,' he said as some sort of unspoken warning was issued, 'she had her reasons there too, no doubt.' He cleared his throat and pretended to relight his cigar.

  Shanna remembered what Katerina had said about Vi's hopes for herself and Richard. Things hadn't worked out, though. Paul had stepped into her life instead. She wondered what reason Vi had for wanting to release Paul himself from the island. A look at his face now told her nothing.

  Feeling guilty to be the unwitting instrument of Vi's machinations, Shanna knew she would have to reassure Henry, as well as, to her greater reluctance, Paul too, should they be completely sure they wanted to go against Vi's wishes. She could understand their reluctance to obey a request from beyond the grave. Vi must have been an autocratic lady, right enough. But Shanna had no intention of upsetting anyone. First, though, she had to ask a few questions about her co-owner, questions she hadn't got around to asking Katerina.

  'Who is Richard Mather? Why do you think Vi left the place to us both?'

  'There's a family connection,' broke in Paul before Henry could open his mouth. 'Not between you and him, of course ---' He broke off. 'He used to spend holidays here. With his sister. He still visits from time to time.'

  'Once in a blue moon,' added Henry. He leaned forward, 'You won't mind me saying this, but she was a dreadful matchmaker. Knowing how her mind works, she'd be hoping to give you more than an island.' He chuckled. 'She'd be thinking he'd make you good husband material. It wouldn't enter her head that you might already have a boyfriend you intended to set up house with --'

  'I haven't,' she answered shortly, deliberately avoiding Paul's glance. She would demand to hear his story when Henry left them.

  Stifling a yawn, she went on, 'Now you've filled me in on the situation it's making sense, but,' she frowned, 'I still don't see why I wasn't told all this in the first place. This mysterious buyer Mr Metcalf first mentioned? It was you, Paul.'

  'Yes. But it wasn't relevant at that stage to explain all the ins and outs of it. Since then there's been someone else on the scene. We don't know who he is, but we're certainly in a position to match whatever he's going to offer.' Paul sounded bored by the whole business, as if he wanted her questions to come to an end as soon as possible. His clipped tones told her that he still clung to his original intention.

  'I know I said I wouldn't capitulate,' Shanna replied, 'but it's obvious I have to, isn't it? You want me to offer you first refusal?'

  'That's the long and short of it.' Henry blew a smoke ring and watched it float off into the night.

  'And Richard?'

  Henry frowned. 'If I know Richard, he'll make no such promise. He'll sell to the highest bidder. We could land ourselves in a Dutch auction situation.'

  'And is that what you thought I would do if I discovered how much you needed the place yourselves?'

  Paul looked away, but didn't answer.

  Henry got up. 'You were a bit of an unknown quantity, my dear, and Metcalf has been pushing the claims of this other buyer quite strongly, I gather. I always told Vi to put matters into other hands, but he's a first cousin of number one husband, something like that, and she seemed to feel she ought to let him handle her property affairs. Frankly, her relationships were positively Byzantine. It's going to take an army of lawyers to sort out the rest of the claims on her estate. There'll be some fat wallets among the wig and gown brigade after the last document is signed, believe me!' Chuckling genially, he excused himself then and, wishing them both goodnight, made his way indoors.

  'We'd better follow his example,' suggested Paul, 'you're yawning your head off.'

  Shanna flushed at the 'we', glad of the concealing darkness. 'Yes, I am tired,' she agreed.

  Feeli
ng a little perplexed by events, she rose to her feet. What did the island matter anyway? Or Vi's matchmaking ambitions, come to that? She had only toyed with the idea of keeping it on because Paul was here. But she wouldn't want it, wouldn't even want to lease it to his company, so long as he was going to be here with some other woman. All the way through the conversation with Henry the one thought had been hammering away in the background. She felt her spirits drag.

  'Shanna . . .' Paul's voice was like velvet. 'I'm sorry about the lack of frankness. It seemed worth letting it pass if things could be settled quickly. I hadn't bargained on the new owner being someone like you.' He paused.

  'For what it's worth, everything else I've told you is true.'

  'What?' She spun sharply, her hand groping for the back of a chair. Her eyes searched for his, but his face was in shadow, his expression hidden.

  Then he rose quickly to his feet and came over to her. 'Don't look like that. I've hurt you. I'm so sorry. It's the last thing I --'

  'You haven't hurt me,' she lied, averting her face.

  'Then why are you looking like that?'

  'Like what?' she replied in a choky voice, then more strongly, adding, 'If I'm hurt, I've hurt myself, for being so impressionable. I haven't done much travelling,' she went on as if that explained something.

  He laughed gently, putting one hand on her shoulder in a gesture which, because it was a way of showing sympathy, brought a lump to her throat. Sympathy was the last thing she wanted. She shook it off. 'I'm going in.'

  'Goodnight. God bless.'

  She tried to reply but the words were locked in. All she could do was give a little shrug, then, turning, not quite seeing anything in front of her, she made her way rapidly inside, searching blindly for a minute or two for the door of her room and, when she found it, throwing herself down on the bed with a stifled sob.

  How was it possible to feel like this? No one she had ever met measured up to Paul. But it was obvious she could have no part in his life, and he had never intended that she should. There was the woman in the photograph in pride of place in his office. She hadn't been mentioned. But that was only one more example of 'lack of frankness' to contend with.