Stormspell (3 page)

'Celeste!' Ruth was affronted. 'Don't be so silly!'

'What so silly?' Celeste shrugged. 'You seventeen now. It time you learn about men.'

'With Mr Howard?' Ruth almost laughed. 'Celeste, he's old!'

'He not old.' Celeste was impatient. 'He twenty- five. twenty-eight, maybe. Twenty-eight not old. Thirty not old!'

'It's old to me.' replied Ruth firmly, concentrating on spreading butter on her roll, but those disturbing feelings had started inside her once more. Celeste was crazy, she told herself severely. And she was man-mad! Daddy said so. Hadn't she got three children already, and none of them within the bonds of wedlock? She was no connoisseur of the opposite sex. and if Professor Jason could hear what she was saying, she would be sternly reprimanded for spreading such gossip to his daughter.

Nevertheless, as Ruth munched her way through three rolls and a slice of melon, topping it up with two cups of the strong black coffee Celeste provided, she couldn't help remembering the supple smoothness of the man's skin against her arm. and the pain-filled intensity of those curiously feline eyes as they looked down at her. She had never met a man quite like him before, and if Celeste was to be believed. neither had she, which was unusual. Celeste always maintained she had had experience with all kinds of men, and even if half what she said was true, she knew what she was talking about.

Ruth sighed, running an exploratory finger round the rim of her cup. For the first time she wished she had listened with more interest to the stories Celeste had told her. But mostly her highly-dramatised narratives of what this man or that man had said to her had left Ruth cold, and certainly in no way convinced that she herself might entertain such feelings. She had found the whole business of the relationship between a man and a woman rather silly, and truth to tell, a little boring, and the idea of letting any man touch her in the ways Celeste had described had always aroused sheer disbelief. It simply didn't seem credible that one day she might permit some member of the opposite sex such liberties, and she half suspected Celeste was teasing her when she spoke of such things. She sometimes wished she had a mother, or that her father was not such an unworldly man. Apart from a rather embarrassed soliloquy on the facts of life, when Ruth had felt he was talking more to himself than to her, he had told her nothing of love, or marriage, and she had not been sufficiently curious to find out for herself. She supposed there were ways of finding out, books one could buy; but swimming and snorkelling, fishing and hunting for seashells. had always seemed infinitely more exciting. and it was only now that she was realising her ignorance.

Dominic Howard was a disturbing man—she acknowledged that. And he was to blame for this sudden introspection. Even with the overnight roughness of his beard upon his chin, and his eyes heavy with exhaustion, he emanated a totally incomprehensible sexuality, and she was not immune to it. He was not a handsome man—at least, not handsome in the way the models were handsome in the mail-order catalogues her father had delivered from time to time. His features were too irregular—his eyes were too deeply set, his cheekbones were too high, his nose was too prominent, his mouth was too thin—and yet the whole combined to make a face she found quite fascinating, and her knees shook as she contemplated this conclusion. Here she was at seventeen— almost eighteen—years of age. and for the first time she was actually considering what it might be like to be married. Heavens, at seventeen Celeste had already had a baby, although she believed her father when he said that this was much too young. Nevertheless, it meant that she was old enough to have a baby, too, and her tongue circled her lips in trembling anticipation.

Then she shook her head, irritated by her own naivete. Imagine contemplating what it might be like to have a baby when she didn't even know what a man looked like! She had never seen a man without clothes, and even her own nakedness aroused a kind of guilty excitement, as if by looking at herself she was committing some terrible sin. Usually she undressed and dressed without giving herself a second glance. and she had given no thought to the burgeoning maturity of her body.

'You going to sit there with that cup of coffee all morning?'

Celeste's faintly malicious tones aroused her from her reverie, and she glanced up almost absently. 'Why. I—no. No. of course not. I was just—thinking, that's all.'

'About that Mr Howard?' insinuated Celeste

mockingly, and Ruth felt the hot colour sweeping up her cheeks. 'I seen that mooning face before.' the black woman went on knowingly. 'You just realising what manner of man he is. ain't you? You thinking what it be like to have a man like that making love to you.'

'No!' Ruth sprang to her feet, hot and embarrassed. 'You have a one-track mind. Celeste. I was thinking about what we might have for dinner, that's all. Can't I even think without you putting some sordid purpose to it?'

'Ain't nothing sordid about making love!' retorted Celeste shortly. 'You just don't know what you're missing, that's all. If'n you did—'

'That will do. Celeste.' Ruth clenched her fists at her sides. 'I don't want to talk about it any more. And I'd be grateful if you'd refrain from making those kind of comments in the future.'

With this unequivocal statement Ruth left her. marching out of the kitchen with her head held high. But once she was outside, out of sight of the black woman's resentful glare, her shoulders sagged, and she thrust her trembling hands into the pockets of her shorts. Was Celeste right? Was that what she had really been thinking? And if so, what kind of girl did that make her?

Her father came out on to the verandah, as she was leaning over the rail, securing the ravaged stem of the vine that had been torn from its bedding by the storm. She glanced round at the sound of his measured footsteps, and exclaimed at the evidence of fatigue in his face.

'Sit down.' she insisted, dragging a cane chair forward. and helping him into it. 'You look worn out, Daddy. Let me get you a drink—some coffee perhaps. Or would you prefer something stronger?'

'I don't want anything.' Professor Jason lay back in the chair and let his head relax against the cushion. Til be all right in a couple of minutes. I just need a few moments to rest.'

Ruth studied his pale face with unconcealed concern. Every time she saw him he seemed to look frailer, and her heart beat fast at the realisation. How unfair life was! Why. when they were so happy together, did something like this have to happen?

After a few minutes the look of exhaustion eased, and a faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. 'You're a good girl. Ruth,' he said, taking an unsteady breath. 'What would I do without you?'

Ruth returned his smile tremulously, crouching down beside his chair and stroking his sleeve with tender fingers. 'You won't have to try,' she assured him firmly. Then, adopting a deliberately casual tone: 'Did you manage to dress Mr Howard's arm?'

'It's done.' her father replied, nodding. 'It was quite a wound. Thank heavens for disinfectants.'

'Will it be all right?' Ruth watched him anxiously. 'It won't go bad. will it? I mean, it's not infected or anything?'

Her father moved his shoulders wearily. 'I don't think so. I've given him an anti-tetanus injection, and the wound seems clean enough. He's lost a lot of blood, but he's a strong man. His body will soon recover that.'

Ruth bent her head. 'Did he—did he tell you any more about himself? Did he say where he was from?'

'Well, he's English, of course.' Professor Jason frowned. 'I don't think he belongs in the Islands. He was probably on holiday.' He paused. 'As a matter of fact, he has asked me to contact the telegraph office on St Vincent. He wants a telegram sent to his friends in Bridgetown, informing them that he's safe and well, and requesting that they transfer funds to the bank in Kingstown. He insists that I don't reveal his exact whereabouts, and he intends to use the money to buy some clothes and pay for his air ticket back to Barbados.'

'But what about the yacht?' exclaimed Ruth in surprise, and her father nodded.

'He intends to employ a salvage company. I believe. Right now. he has other things on his mind. He doesn't seem to care that the charter company may sue him for damages.'

Ruth shook her head. 'Won't there be insurance?'

'Possibly. But the fact that he apparently set off alone, in the face of a storm warning—' Professor Jason sighed. 'Insurance companies take all these things into account, you know.'

Ruth made a helpless gesture. 'Perhaps he borrowed the yacht from a friend.'

Her father looked doubtful. 'I hardly think so. Yachts are expensive, and while I get the impression that Mr Howard is unaccustomed to taking anyone's advice but his own. I don't think any friend would have permitted him to leave Barbados.'

Ruth straightened and walked a little impatiently over to the verandah rail. 'It sounds as though you don't like him. Daddy.' she ventured tentatively, turning her face up to the sun.

'I don't.' Professor Jason was blunt. 'The man's too sure of himself, too—arrogant for my liking.'

Ruth turned, resting her slim hips against the wooden spar. 'Celeste thinks he's quite a man.'

'She would.' Her father was unmoved. 'Celeste's interest is skin deep. A man's character means nothing to her.'

'She thinks he's very attractive.' Ruth paused. 'Do you think he's attractive. Daddy?'

Professor Jason's expression hardened. 'Oh. he's a good-looking man, I'll grant her that,' he admitted offhandedly. 'And I've no doubt he knows it.' He frowned. 'What did Celeste say to you? I expect she finds your attitude hard to understand.'

'My—attitude?' Ruth was puzzled.

'Of course.' Her father relaxed. 'If I've succeeded in anything in my life. I hope it's been in teaching you that an intelligent woman is worth a dozen empty-headed morons. It's natural that Celeste should try to influence you, particularly as you're growing older. But I hope you have more sense than to listen to her.'

'Yes.' Ruth managed to answer him, but inside she was torn by the knowledge of her own duplicity.

in any case.' said Professor Jason, pressing his hands down on the arms of his chair and getting to his feet once more, 'this is a pointless discussion. You're much too young to be interested in a man like Mr Howard. Celeste should have more sense than to discuss him with you. I must have a few words with her when I have the time. But now I'd better go and attend to his wishes.'

Ruth smoothed her moist palms down over her hips. 'Will—will you use the radio?'

'No.' Her father shook his head. 'I'll send Celeste for Joseph. He can go over in the launch. There are one or two things I need in Kingstown, and I prefer to send my instructions in writing.'

Ruth took a step forward. 'Would you like me to go with him?' For some reason it seemed imperative that she should get off the island for a while, but her father shook his head.

'I need you here,' he replied. 'I shall need your assistance when I examine Mr Howard's arm again after lunch. Joseph is quite competent. I can leave the matter comfortably to him.' Ruth nodded. 'Yes. Daddy.'

'And now I suggest you go and get on with your studying, as usual. Did you read that chapter of Ovid as I asked you?'

'Some of it.' answered Ruth reluctantly, feeling in no mood for Latin translation, but her father seemed unaware of her lack of enthusiasm.

'Good.' he said. 'So you won't require my assistance for the rest of the morning. We'll discuss it at lunch. After I've attended to Mr Howard's affairs.'

After her father had left her, Ruth obediently made her way to the tiny room adjoining the dining room which Professor Jason had adopted as his study. Small, and cluttered with books, it was not the most agreeable place to spend a sunny morning, but normally Ruth forgot her surroundings in the delight of learning. Her father had taught her since she was a small girl, and although she had never taken any formal examinations, her education was in advance of most girls of her own age. Languages came easily to her. and she was as proficient in French and Spanish as she was in English.

Her present studies in Greek and Latin had proved less enjoyable, but usually she succeeded in absorbing her. This morning, however, the words of the
Metamorphoses
just danced meaninglessly before her eyes, and her eyes constantly turned towards the window, as her thoughts ran in an entirely different direction. Who was Dominic Howard? Where did he come from? Why had he taken the yacht out in the teeth of the storm? And what reason did he have for keeping his whereabouts a secret?

By lunchtime. her head was aching and only one line more of the chapter had been translated. She hoped her father would not suspect the reasons for her lack of concentration, and she was uneasy when she entered the dining room to find him talking with Celeste.

'Ah. there you are. Ruth.' her father said, somewhat absently, moving away from the black woman and taking a seat at the table. 'We'll have our meal now. Celeste, and then you can prepare a tray for our - guest.'

'Yes. sir.'

Celeste cast a knowing look at Ruth's white face, and left the room through the swing doors that led into the kitchen. It was obvious what she was thinking, and Ruth seated herself hurriedly, hoping to avoid a personal discussion.

'Joseph's gone,' her father informed her, shaking out his napkin. 'And I've set some of the boys to cleaning up the beach. Naturally, the devastation the storm caused can't be rectified in a matter of hours, but we can make a concerted effort to restore order.'

'Yes.' Ruth nodded, spreading her own napkin over her bare knees.

'Fortunately, no one appears to have been injured in the storm.' Professor Jason went on steadily. 'Apart from our unexpected guest, of course.' His keen grey eyes came to rest on Ruth's pale cheeks. 'Though I must say. now I come to notice it. you look a little drawn yourself. Didn't you sleep?'

Ruth fidgeted with the cutlery. 'Yes. I slept.' she assured him. avoiding his eyes. 'I've got a bit of a headache, that's all.' She glanced up. 'I'm afraid I haven't made a very good effort with the Ovid.'