[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
they had to be expensive. She shrank from being thought to be what
her father called a freeloader.
'Not at the moment, thank you. What time is dinner?'
'I should think we'll eat about eight. It depends on Aunt Iris. I'll give
her a call about seven. She won't like not having a bath to lie in, but
that can't be helped.'
'They're lovely showers. I'm not used to hot water. Or even much
fresh water. My father has rigged up a spray for rinsing my hair, but
we have to be careful with water. We never waste it.'
'You needn't economise here. Have as many showers as you like.
Wash your hair twice a day.' He stretched his long frame on a
lounger. 'It's a Robinson Crusoe- Girl Friday kind of life your father
imposes on you, isn't it?'
In the act of reclining, she sat up with a jerk. 'He doesn't impose it on
me. I like it.. .it's a good life.'
'But you've never known anything else.'
'I've read books. I know something about the way other people live.
They aren't necessarily happier than we are.'
'No, they aren't,' he agreed. 'And a lot of them don't have much choice
in the way they live either. But I think your options are unnecessarily
limited. By arranging his life the way he wants it, your father is
stopping you from making the most of yours.'
'That isn't true,' she said angrily, but keeping her voice low. 'If you're
born with a gift, like my father, you have a duty to protect it... nurture
it. He needs to be where he is. He couldn't work in a city.'
'Maybe not...but having a daughter is also a duty. Every child has the
right to be properly educated. By now you should be at a university or
technical college.'
The fact that he might be right didn't stop her saying fiercely, 'I don't
want to be one of those tough career- women battling my way to the
top of some giant corporation. It doesn't appeal to me.'
'Would you like to a be a nun?'
She was taken aback. Could he seriously think she might have a
religious vocation?
'No, I shouldn't like that life either.'
'It's the way you seem to be heading. Your contacts with the outer
world are only slightly less restricted than if you were a novice in one
of the enclosed orders.'
'I'm in the outer world now. Father didn't stop me coming here.'
'There were times when I thought he would,' Raul said drily. 'He
didn't want to let you go.'
The spur of anger sparked by his critical, judgemental comments died
down at the thought of her father spending the evening alone. Was he
missing her? Was he lonely?
'I hope he's all right,' she said aloud.
'He'll be fine. I should think he was older than I am when you were
born. He got by then. Why not now?'
'He was forty when they had me. Now he's nearly sixty, and not very
well.'
'What's the problem?'
'I'm not sure. He won't talk about his health. But he's thinner and
always looks tired.'
At that moment a willowy figure in a scarlet bikini walked past them
towards the pool where, from the top of the steps, she dipped a toe in
the water. A delicious scent lingered on the air behind her. She was
wearing a thin gold chain round one shapely ankle. A thicker chain
showed at her nape below the glossy blonde hair swept up and held
by a red clasp shaped like two hearts with a diamante arrow through
them.
She was carrying one of the blue pool towels. But instead of putting it
aside and stepping down into the water she changed her mind and
turned round, revealing a pretty face enhanced by skilful eye make-up
and a lipstick to match her bikini.
After a brief glance at Maria, her gaze shifted to Raul and then to the
three unoccupied loungers beside him.
'Is anyone sitting there?' she asked, in French.
'They're all yours, mademoiselle,' he replied, in the
same language.
'Thank you.' She spread her towel on the centre one. 'What a beautiful
evening. It was so cold when I left Paris. You're very tanned. You
must be at the end of your holiday.'
Maria might not know much, but she knew when she was de trop. She
said quietly, 'Excuse me, I'm going to my room.'
By the time she reached the upper corridor, Raul was sitting up on the
centre section of his lounger, facing the pretty Parisienne and
laughing at something she had said to him.
CHAPTER THREE
THEY were still there, half an hour later, when she emerged from her
room. But now they both had drinks in their hands. The French girl
had a straw in her tall glass which was decorated with a flower, and
Raul was holding a shorter glass. The girl seemed to be doing most of
the talking, illustrating her conversation with graphic gestures and
shrugs of her creamy shoulders which no doubt were protected from
the sun by some expensive tanning lotion.
Having washed her hair and given it a long rinse under the powerful
spray of warm water, Maria intended to find somewhere to sit by the
lake in front of the hotel. The patio would soon be in shadow but
outside the building the sunlight would last for another half-hour.
Once her front hair was dry, she would twist the rest into a coil and
fasten it with the beautiful tortoiseshell combs which had belonged to
her mother.
There was a small stilt-legged, thatched gazebo jutting out over the
water from the lakeshore. No one else was there, except a great many
fish who seemed to be crowding round as if they expected her to
throw food to them.
Presently the peace of early evening was disturbed by the arrival of a
coachload of tourists whose voices, as they disembarked, seemed
unnecessarily loud to her. Her reaction to the noise reminded her of
Raul's comment that her life had been almost as sequestered as that of
a novice.
She wondered if he would invite the Parisienne to join them for
dinner. Would a young woman of that age, especially one with her
looks, be here on her own? It seemed unlikely. But if she were
travelling with a man, where had he been when she came down to the
pool? Perhaps she was here with her parents who, like Miss Dysart,
were resting.
As the sun sank towards the tree-tops of the jungle on the far bank of
the lake, Maria re-entered the hotel. On the far side of the smaller
patio a shop had opened for the sale of postcards and souvenirs.
She said to the girl behind the counter, 'Do you sell lipsticks?'
'No, I'm sorry, we have no cosmetics.'
'It doesn't matter.' Maria was leaving the shop, when someone said,
'Excuse me...' Turning, she found a girl of about her own age smiling
at her.
'I heard you asking for lipstick,' she said. 'If you've lost your make-up
in transit, or left it behind, maybe I can help. I bought some skin
cream in the Duty Free shop at Gatwick Airport and they gave me a
pack of free samples, including a lipstick. It's not a colour I ever wear
but it might suit you. You're welcome to have it, if you'd like to.'
'That's very kind of you,' said Maria.
'Come to my room. I'll give it to you,' said the girl.
On the way to her room, she explained that she and her boyfriend
were members of the coach party. She insisted on giving Maria all the
free samples. As well as the lipstick, there was a miniature
eye-shadow palette, mascara and a tiny bottle of scent.
Maria went back to her own room feeling as if she had just had an
encounter with a fairy godmother. The first thing she tried out was the
scent. It was called Tresor and, when she rubbed a little on her wrist,
it smelt delicious. The eye-shadow was like the golden lights in an
abalone shell. Using the applicator, she brushed a little on her lids.
Then she used the mascara on the tips of her lashes. The finishing
touch was the lipstick. When she sat back to stucfy the effect, it was
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]