To Play With Fire Page 3

  'The Caribbean is such a long way from here. Sup- posing you're ill while you're out there?' she had said. 'I've been away from home before, to university, and

  managed quite well, and I've held down a job here for a year. Honestly, Mother, the way you're talking you'd think I was still a child unable to manage my own affairs,' Tory had said,

  Pamela Latham had given her a shrewd' glance and had said quietly,

  'That's the trouble. In some ways I don't think you are able to manage a certain sort of affair.'

  'What do you mean?' Tory had demanded.

  'I mean, love, that you're a lovely stubborn woman who is strangely innocent for this day and age, the result, I think, of being more interested in plants than in people. You know next to nothing about this man, yet you're going quite happily to live in his house.'

  'I do know something about him! I know he's clever and kind, a brilliant teacher of his own subject who has already taught me a great deal about botany ...'

  'Is he married?' Pamela's quiet determined question had stopped Tory short in her eulogy of Magnus's finer points of character.

  'I ... I don't know,' she had mumbled. 'He doesn't seem to be married.'

  'There you are,' said the worldly-wise Pamela, who worked as a secretary to the headmaster of a big comprehensive high school nearby. 'You know nothing about him.'

  'I know all that matters,' Tory had argued stubbornly. 'Anyway, I don't much care if he is married. I'm going to Airouna to work for him. It's a chance I can't afford to miss, and you can't stop me from going.'

  'I know I can't,' Pamela had sighed. 'I wouldn't mind, only I know you and that blind stubborn faith you have in any person who catches your fancy. I can only hope you don't get hurt and that your knight in shining armour doesn't turn out to have feet of clay.'

  Tory blinked. The ornate carving of the plaster ceil-

  ing had blurred suddenly. She touched her eyes and found to het surprise that they were full of tears. How right her mother had been! Magnus was, or had been, married. Carla was proof of that.

  Yet he had never told her. It wasn't as if he hadn't had plenty of opportunities to tell her. They had spent many hours together in the university laboratory when he had been a full-time assistant professor; hovering over microscopes, studying specimens and comparing their observations, conducting experiments on plant genetics. He had even taken her out to tea several times to a dark-beamed, low-ceilinged teashop near the university where the cakes and scones had been homemade.

  And it was on the basis of those hours spent talking together about the science in which they were both interested that Tory had formed her attachment to him. When he had left to take up the position of director of the Airounian Botanical Gardens she had been most unhappy, and when he had returned during her final term to give some talks to the graduating students about the work he was doing she had been delighted. When he had singled her out and asked her if she would consider coming to Airouna to work for him and help him with the book he was compiling about plants of the Caribbean, it had seemed to her that life could offer her nothing more wonderful.

  So she had come. And now she was lying there thinking how true was the saying that it is better to travel hopefully than to arrive, for although the island and its setting were far more beautiful than she had ever dreamed, and although Magnus was just the same, her arrival had been spoilt by the shock of meeting Carla and the realisation that somewhere in this house there might be a woman whom she had yet to meet—Mrs Magnus Jarrold.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IMPATIENT with her thoughts, Tory jack-knifed into a sitting position. Being an essentially practical person with a fairly serene outlook on life, she did not go in much for introspection; she preferred action to sitting around moping. Her recent self-indulgence in a few tears had been merely the result of being overtired. The fatigue produced by travelling a long way in a short time had lowered her spirits and robbed her temporarily of her usual resilience.

  But she was bouncing back. What did she care if Magnus had a wife? She could still work for him and worship from a distance, enjoy a spiritual and purely platonic relationship with him. After all, he had never shown any indication that he had ever wanted any other sort of relationship with her. And if there was a Mrs Jarrold it would be better if she prepared herself to meet her by unpacking her clothing and hanging 'it up in the big walk-in closet, and then finding out what washing facilities the house provided.

  Springing off the bed, Tory started to unlock her cases. It took her the best part of half an hour to unpack and arrange her clothing satisfactorily. That done, she went in search of a bathroom and found to her delight that she had a private one opening off the room. It was very modern, with green tiles and a bath-tub into which she had to step down. It didn't, however, live up to its promise, for the water-pressure was temperamental. Sometimes water gushed madly from the tap, sometimes there was none at all. The temperature of it also seemed to be uncontrollable and it either scalded her or chilled her, so that after several unsuccessful

  attempts to have a shower she decided it would be safer in future to have a complete bath.

  Eventually, clean and refreshed, her blonde hair smooth and shining, and her simple evening gown of delphinium blue flattering her long shapely figure, Tory went downstairs to face up to the reality of Magnus's wife.

  But when she found him on the terrace at the back of the house, to which she had been directed by Mrs Dunnet, he was alone, sitting in a chair made from white cane and watching the crimson-flushed western sky from which the sun had slipped suddenly behind a dark blue ridge of hills. When he saw her he stood up punctiliously and gestured to another chair of white cane.

  'Do sit down, Tory—I'm afraid Carla has the sulks and won't come down for dinner. Let me help you to some of Mrs Dunnet's fruit punch. It makes an excellent sundowner.'

  He ladled some golden liquid from a huge cut-glass bowl, which was set on a small wrought iron table, into a tall glass, added ice cubes from a silver bucket and decorated the edge of the glass with a slice of orange.

  He handed her the glass, took his seat and raised his own glass in a toast.

  'Here's to a splendid new partnership, you and me,' he said brightly. 'I feel sure our work together during the next few months is going to be valuable and productive. What do you think of your room?'

  'It seems very comfortable and elegant, though I had one or two problems with the water in the bathroom,' she said, and took a sip of her drink. It was delicious, a blending of pineapple with citrus fruits and another new flavour which she could not recognise.

  'It's coconut juice,' said Magnus softly. He had been watching her drink and had read the expression of

  puzzlement on her open fair face. It's the best drink in the islands for slaking the thirst. About the water—I'm afraid it's a problem we have to live with. I've known the pressure to be down to nil even while a tropical downpour has been hissing and steaming outside. Electricity is temperamental too and the supply can fail several times in one week. But I think you'll find the advantages of living here outweigh the disadvantages. This is a nice island with good people. You'll find the food good too, Mrs Dunnet is an excellent cook. Her breadfruit souffles are out of this world for lightness and tastiness.'

  So far no word about his wife. It looked as if she would have to ask him outright.

  'Magnus, I ... I ... meeting Carla was a shock. I didn't know you were ... are ... had been married.' It came out garbled, but at least it was said.

  'Mmm.' He studied the contents of his glass and frowned. Light was fading rapidly from the sky but she could see he was worried. 'Yes, well er ... it isn't one of the subjects one normally discusses with students in a seminar,' he said slowly.

  The dart found its target. Tory felt the shock of pain as she realised that was all-she had ever been to him— a student from one of his seminars.

  'Is she ... your wife here?' she managed to say.

  'No, she's ..'
He broke off to take a long pull at his drink, draining the glass, and set it down empty on the table. Studying his averted face, Tory decided it pained –him to talk of his wife because she was no longer alive, and at once she felt an easing of her own small pain.

  'Please don't say any more,' she said in a low voice, leaning forward. 'I think I understand.'

  Magnus turned to look at her. The fast-falling tropical dusk was all about them, but in the glow of yellow light which came from lamps which had been lit in the

  room behind the terrace she saw him smile at her.

  `That's a relief,' he murmured, and leaned forward too to take her free hand in both of his. 'But then I've always thought you were a most understanding person, older than your years, and that's why I'm going to ask you to help me with Carla. She's been at a boarding school in England for the past five years, but she finished there last June and came here, and I don't know what to do with her. Since she arrived she's been in one scrape after another.'

  He heaved a weary sigh and Tory's heart contracted with compassion. How she longed to ease his anxiety, to be of help to him! 'Quite frankly, Tory,' he continued diffidently, 'I'm not much of a parent. I get too engrossed in my work. When it comes to coping with teenage girls I haven't a clue what to do. She really needs more guidance than I can give her.'

  `What do you think I can do to help?' said Tory recklessly, once more committing herself wholeheartedly to this man who seemed so much in need of her strength and abilities.

  'I'm not really sure,' he said with a self-deprecating laugh. 'I was hoping you'd know what to do. You could perhaps give her some advice in a sisterly way, tell her perhaps how easy it is for a girl of her vulnerable age to be led astray by an older, more experienced man like Hallam.'

  Tory sat very still, her hand caught between both of his. The irony of the situation did not escape her. Here was Magnus appealing to her to guide his daughter away from the path which she was treading herself, and apparently quite oblivious to the fact that she was attracted to him, a man much older than herself, in the same way that Carla was attracted to Denzil Hallam.

  There's a trend lately for young women to fall for men old enough to be their fathers. Her brother

  George's mocking statement flashed into her mind, and withdrawing her hand from Magnus's clasp she leaned back in her chair to take another sip of her drink.

  'You're very quiet,' remarked Magnus. 'Have I asked too much of you? I realise that it's a presumption on my part to ask you to keep an eye on Carla when you've come here to do work which you've been trained to do, but I'd be very grateful if you would. Perhaps you could suggest some form of training she might take? She doesn't seem to have any ideas of what she wants to do with her life. As far as I can make out all she's interested in is having fun, and she doesn't seem to be able to have it anywhere else on the island but at Hallam's marina. And the worst part of it all is that he doesn't hesitate to encourage her to go there.'

  'No, you haven't asked too much. I'll do what I can,' Tory answered quickly, noting the bitter, discouraged note which had crept into his voice. 'But have you ever had a word with Mr Hallam yourself about Carla going there? Maybe if you approached him and told him how you feel about it he would stop encouraging her.'

  'I've thought of doing that, but each time I've discarded the idea.'

  'Why?' Tory could scarcely believe her ears. For a father to go and speak his mind to someone whom he thought was having a bad influence on his child seemed the correct action to take to her way of thinking.

  'You've met the man, briefly I know,' responded Magnus, 'but you've some idea of what he's like, so you can imagine how he would react if I went to him and said : "Please don't encourage my daughter to come to your marina anymore." Why, he'd laugh in my face.'

  Tory stared at him in amazement. At shaft of golden light from the room _behind illuminated his face quite clearly, and for the first time she saw weakness there

  and not sensitivity. Then Magnus's slightly snub nose, protuberant blue eyes and clean-shaven rounded chin were obliterated as she had a sudden inward vision of a lean, dark face in which the eyes danced with wicked humour and the wide mouth had a twist of scorn to it. Yes, one blast of Denzil Hallam's mockery would shrivel Magnus.

  But she wouldn't be shrivelled! She was made of stronger stuff than this highly intelligent man and she could use her strength to bolster him. In fact the idea of going to cross swords with the pirate who managed the marina appealed to her. He had bested her at their first meeting by making her feel that she had overreacted to what he had insisted had been an attempt to befriend her. He had made her appear to be narrow-minded and ungenerous, and by doing so had roused her hostility so that she found herself looking for a chance to get her own back.

  'Perhaps I could go and see him and ask him not to encourage Carla to visit him,' she murmured.

  'Good heavens, no!' exclaimed Magnus. 'I couldn't let you put yourself into such a position.'

  'But it might work. It's possible that he doesn't realise how anxious you are about Carla,' she argued.

  'And do you think he would really care if he did realise it?' he challenged. 'Oh no, my dear, Hallam isn't the sort to consider anyone else's feelings. He's tough, and is only to be approached as a last resort if we find nothing you do or say has any effect on Carla's behaviour. And now let's go and have some dinner and forget about such problems. I want to tell you what your appointment as an assistant botanist in charge of horticulture is going to involve.'

  It took Tory almost a month to become acclimatised and adjusted to the routine of work. During those four

  weeks she travelled by car from one end of the island to the other. First she went by the windward highway where low cliffs dropped sheer to beaches of black sand, past terraces planted with sugar-cane and fields where cattle grazed as far as the slopes of the wicked volcanic mountain that lurked among white clouds. Another time she went by the leeward highway, which swung and twisted through forest-covered crags and banana plantations, along a coast indented with sheltered bays, through sleepy fishing villages where nets were set out to dry, and again reached the foot of the mountain.

  The journeys were made with Magnus and were part of his plan to introduce her to village communities as someone who could come when required to give talks, complete with a coloured film, on how they could make their small gardens more productive and attractive.

  At the Botanical Gardens themselves, she was kept busy writing up simple pamphlets giving information about plants that could be grown in small gardens, as well as setting up experiments in cross-breeding to develop new pest-resistant species of food-producing plants such as maize. In her spare time she helped Magnus with his book.

  With all this activity Tory did not have much time to show an interest in Carla, but she did try, only to have her attempts met by blank stares, sulky silences or rude remarks. She said nothing of his daughter's uncoperative behaviour to Magnus because she was afraid he might take the girl to task, and Carla would then consider her a tell-tale, and any chance of winning her confidence would be lost entirely.

  She was beginning to think that perhaps the girl had given up going to the marina when a chance meeting with Carla in the early hours one morning disillusioned her. She had woken for some reason and had been unable to go to sleep again. Deciding she might settle if she

  read a while, she went downstairs to Magnus's study to select a novel from the bookcase. She had just turned out the light in the study and was about to cross the moonlit hall when the sound of the front door being pushed open slowly made her pause. The door swung wider and a figure entered stealthily, turning to close the door gently.

  Recognising Carla's short slight figure, Tory stepped to the light switch and clicked it on.

  'And where have you been until now?' she asked.

  Carla whirled round. She was dressed in blue cotton pants and a simple cotton T-shirt; sparks of light glittered on the glossiness of her black hair.
After an initial flash of surprise her dark eyes became opaque and sullen. Her full red lips pursed in a stubborn pout.

  'Why should I tell you? You've no authority over me,' she challenged.

  'Maybe I haven't, but I can still be interested in what you're doing and why you're doing it,' replied Tory calmly. 'Don't you think it's a little strange that I should find you returning to the house at this hour of the morning, when you're supposed to be in bed?'

  'I suppose you're going to tell my father?' demanded Carla.

  'Not necessarily. Carla, how many times have you done this, told him you were going to bed and then crept out of the house to return this late?'

  'Not many. Only when there's been a party.' 'What sort of party? Where?'

  'At the marina. Sometimes people who charter yachts give parties when they return from a cruise, before they fly back to the States.'

  'And are you invited to them?'

  'Not exactly ... but if I'm there and I hang around long enough, Denzil says why don't I stay, so I stay.' Tory chewed her lower lip as she searched for a way

  to tell the girl that she shouldn't do everything which the manager of the marina suggested.

  'Look, Carla, what you're doing isn't right, can't you see that?' she began.

  'What's wrong about it?'

  'You're deceiving your father for a start.'

  'So what?' The girl shrugged her shoulders. 'You know very well that if I asked his permission he'd say no, so I go without asking.'

  Tory swallowed hard. Dealing with this girl was difficult. She seemed to be hard all the way through.

  'You should be more careful,' she said, 'you shouldn't do everything a man like Denzil Hallam suggests. He could take advantage of you.'

  Carla grinned suddenly, a knowing incorrigible grin. 'I wish he would,' she retorted.

  'You don't mean that,' snapped Tory, feeling a little shocked by the girl's outspokenness.

  'Yes, I do.'

  'But he's so much older than you,' protested Tory.