The Tender Years (7 page)

Luke’s face was set in rigid lines and there was a wrathful thrust to his voice as he said, ‘You’ll have dinner with Clarice and me— No more arguments!’ he added when Christine opened her mouth to interrupt. ‘You’re here in my care; your father would never have allowed you to come on your own—’

‘I
am
eighteen!’ she cried indignantly.

‘And please don’t interrupt me,’ rasped Luke, sending her a glowering glance. ‘Your father put you in my care and he’ll expect me to look after you. There’ll be no dining out for you with this man you’ve picked up at the poolside.’

‘I didn’t pick him up!’

‘No? Then he picked you up. What’s the difference? The argument’s ended,’ he said repressively and walked with unhurried steps to the cocktail cabinet to pour himself a drink.

‘Do you suppose I shall let Kevin down just because you are adopting this dictatorial manner with me?’ Defiance edged her tone but in her heart there was pain. What was happening to her and Luke these days? He had never been like this with her before . . . but, she was quick to own, neither had she been like this with him. She had always treated him with respect, remembering that he was older; she had always accepted his advice, admitting he was wiser; she had always allowed herself to be bent to his will, because of his mastery—gentle mastery it was true, but his word was to be obeyed for all that. But now . . . She was defiant, but why? It was a question she was unable to answer and she felt ashamed because the more she dwelt on her behaviour the less excuse she could find for it. Luke had poured the drink and was holding the glass in his long fingers, twirling it as if to see the oily surface catch the light.

‘Did you want a drink?’ he asked.

‘You’ve ignored my question, Luke.’

‘I’ve said my last concerning the matter of whom you are dining with. You’ll do as I say, Chris, and forget this date you have made.’

She bit her lip, aware of his austere withdrawal as he sat down and put the glass on a side table close to his chair. He seemed no longer interested in her and she wondered if he had forgotten he’d asked her to have a drink.

‘I feel the odd one out,’ she said at last. ‘Surely you want to be with your girl friend—alone with her, I mean?’

‘I’m quite happy with the situation as it is.’ He looked at her over the rim of his glass he had now ricked up. ‘And if
I’m
not complaining, then why should you?’

‘It’s not a complaint,’ she denied. ‘I just feel—well, out of it.’

Rubbish!’ His anger was dissolving but impatience took its place, it’s this thing about Steve—’

‘It has nothing to do with Steve,’ she said. ‘It’s me—the way I feel.’ She swung around, expecting to see Clarice come into the room but the door was swinging open on its own. She moved to close it, murmuring, ‘I thought it was Clarice.’

‘She’ll not be coming here; she’s to meet us in the lounge in half an hour.’

‘She’s not coming here—why?’

‘Because I haven’t invited her.’

‘Does she need to be invited, then?’

‘Of course, seeing that this is my private sitting room.’

Christine frowned in puzzlement. ‘But if she’s your girl friend, then she’ll feel she has a right to come and go, surely?’

‘Just how serious do you imagine my friendship is with Clarice?’ he asked, leaning forward to lift his glass again.

‘It isn’t serious?’ A leaden weight was lifting with every second that passed.

‘Not at the moment,’ answered Luke calmly, but after a slight pause he added, fixing his eyes on hers with an inscrutable expression, ‘For the future—who knows?’

‘It could become serious, you mean?’

‘Perhaps.’ Abruptly he changed the subject. ‘I think you had better phone this Kevin and tell him you’ve changed your mind. While you do that I’ll pour you a drink. Martini?’

‘Yes, please.’ She hesitated, feeling sorry for Kevin. ‘I—’

‘Use this phone,’ he said, flicking a hand towards it. There’s no need for you to go to your bedroom. It isn’t as if you’ve anything private to say.’

She sent him a speaking glance and saw his mouth curve in amusement. With a sigh of resignation she did as he told her. Kevin was disappointed and would have plied her with questions but she said on a note of finality, ‘I’m very sorry, Kevin, but it isn’t possible. I ought not to have made the date. Good-bye.’

‘Your drink, dear,’ Luke said as she turned.

Dear . . .

‘We’re friends again, Luke?’ The tremor in her voice brought a slight frown to his brow.

‘Is it so important to you that we be friends?’ he asked and her eyes widened to their fullest extent.

‘You know it is. I’ve said so many times that I need you, Luke,’ she added seriously, ‘you’re all I’ve got.’

‘What about your father?’

‘He loves me, yes, but he’s always occupied with business—well, almost always.’ There was a note of despondency in her voice but she forced a smile to her lips. ‘No, Luke, it is you I depend on; you’re my one sure prop and if I lost you . . .’ Her voice trailed to silence as she thought of Clarice and the possibility of his evenutally marrying her. But it would not be yet—not for a long while, she thought, judging by his attitude and the way he had spoken about her.

‘You’re a strange girl,’ murmured Luke with a sigh. ‘I once believed I understood you but now—’ He shook head and added ruefully, ‘You baffle me, Chris, and yet I know that you don’t mean to be perverse.’ The tender years, he mused as he sipped his drink, years of bewilderment, uncertainty and insecurity. He ought not to lose his patience with her. ‘Come here,’ he said gently as he got to his feet.

Startled, she stared at him, but then rose and went to him, her slender frame delightfully clad in a long evening dress of clinging satin that accentuated its youthful curves.

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘Just to kiss you and let you know we’re friends again.’

Tears filled her eyes as emotion flooded over her. ‘Oh, Luke—you’re so—so kind to me!’

‘Not always, I’m afraid. I’m only human, though, and I’m a man. Those are the excuses I offer for sometimes losing my temper with you.’

He had reached her; he took her arms in his hands and she tilted her face, vitally conscious of increased heartbeats and racing pulse.

‘What did your words mean?’ she asked before his lips touched hers. He kissed her gently and held her close. Her hands came up to meet at the back of his neck.

‘You will understand them one day, my dear,’ he answered, holding her at arm’s length.

‘You say I baffle you, Luke, but you often baffle me by these cryptic remarks.’

He made no comment but bent his head and kissed her again.

She said, rather hesitantly, ‘We’ve almost half an hour to ourselves before we go down to dinner.’

He nodded and went back to his chair. ‘Clarice is leaving tomorrow afternoon,’ he said casually.

‘She is?’ Christine’s eyes were glowing. ‘But we are staying for another four days, aren’t we?’

He gave a low laugh and said, ‘How very transparent you are, Chris. However, it’s most gratifying to know you like being alone with me.’

‘You’ve always known it,’ she retorted.

‘I shall have to leave you all day on Thursday.’ Luke said, abruptly changing the subject. ‘I’ve to fly over to Florida on business.’

‘I’ll find something to do,’ she said. ‘What time shall you be back?’

‘In plenty of time for dinner.’

‘I like this island, Luke. I wouldn’t mind living here.’

‘You wouldn’t?’ His eyes became veiled, ‘It’s a lot bigger than what you’ve been used to.’

‘I know—and I must admit that small islands are nice to live on, but there’s something very attractive about Grand Bahama, don’t you think?’

‘I certainly do or otherwise I’d not have bought this hotel. I’m also considering buying a house here, close to the water, so that I can bring the yacht over.’ ‘You’d live here?’

‘One day perhaps.’

‘When you’re married?’

‘Must you keep on about marriage?’ he asked in some amusement. ‘You seem to have it on the brain.’

‘You’re twenty-seven and that’s quite old. Most men are married by that age.’

‘Old, you think?’

‘No, I shouldn’t have said that. Twenty-seven’s a rather wonderful age for a man.’

‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘do you look upon me as a lot older than you?’

She pondered this a moment before answering. Luke, watching her, saw the pensive expression in her lovely eyes, the pursing of her full, generous mouth. His eyes moved to the delicate blue tracery of veins in her temple, to the silken mantle of her hair, then down to the alluring swell of her throat and the slope of her shoulders.

‘No, not always,’ she replied at last. ‘Sometimes, when you scold me or domineer over me, then you seem much older, but at times like now you seem much younger.’

His mouth curved in amusement. ‘Do I really domineer over you, my dear?’

“You know you do!’

“And I scold you?’

She had to laugh. ‘What is this? A cross-examination?’

‘A personal investigation.’

She laughed again. ‘We’re back to old times,’ she said, ‘when we were like brother and sister. . . .’ Her voice faltered to a stop and her long curling lashes swept down, hiding her expression and at the same time throwing delectable shadows onto her cheeks.

‘What is it?’ he enquired gently. ‘Why did you stop?’

‘I don’t know—’ She brought her head up. ‘We’re not really like brother and sister, are we, Luke?’

He shook his head. ‘Nor like guardian and ward.’ ‘Like very good friends, then?’

His gaze was keen and searching. ‘You want us to be very good friends?’

She frowned at him in puzzlement. ‘Haven’t we always been good friends—except for the few occasions, lately, when we’ve seemed to disagree?’

He said, after a long unfathomable pause, ‘Let’s change the subject, shall we? I’m free all day Wednesday, so what would you like to do?’

‘I want to explore the island, and I want to do some moire shopping in the International Market; it fascinates me with all those shops from all parts of the world. I bought some jade from the Chinese shop and some hand embroidery from the Greek shop. I bought the jade for Uncle Arthur—’ She stopped and sighed. ‘Why do I keep calling him Uncle lately when I used always to call him Father?’

Luke shook his head. ‘That’s a question only you yourself can answer,’ he said, but he had recently guessed that she was becoming more and more insecure as regards her home life and he firmly believed it was owing to Loreen and the amount of time she spent away from home. Arthur was away, too, during the whole of the daytime, living for his business. This meant that Christine, instead of drawing closer to her adoptive parents as she grew older, was in fact finding herself on the edge of an ever-widening chasm which she knew she could never bridge. Luke was troubled about her; aware of her volatile nature, he feared she might one day tell him she wanted to leave home.

And where would she go?

‘I’d rather look upon him as my father,’ she was saying seriously, ‘but, somehow, he seems nowadays to be more like an uncle . . . sort of distant. Perhaps,’ she went on as if talking to herself, ‘it’s because he’s away from home so much, or it could be that it is I who am changing.’

Luke glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better be going down, Chris.’ Rising, he moved to pull her up beside him. ‘Arthur needs you,’ he stated, ‘so don’t do anything to upset him. Promise me,’ he added and now his tone had an imperious edge to it, matching the sudden stem, masterful expression in his eyes.

‘I promise, Luke—’ She lifted her face, closed her eyes as he bent to touch her wide forehead with his lips. ‘Why should you want to extract a promise like that from me? You know I’d never hurt my—uncle. I owe him far too much.’

Conscious of what she owed . . . But would she always feel like this? He stared down into the young and lovely face, slid his fingers through that unruly half fringe and said, ‘Just remember the promise, dear; that’s something I am asking you and the whys and wherefores are not important.’

‘Cryptic remarks again,’ she said, but with a smile. ‘I shall remember the promise I made you, Luke, so please do not doubt me.’ She was puzzled as to why he had insisted on having such a promise from her, for surely he knew she would never dream of deliberately hurting the man who had given her a home and a certain amount of affection.

Clarice was tapping her foot impatiently when, glancing up, she saw Luke and Christine approaching the table at which she sat with her aperitif. There was a glint in her eyes as she swept them over Christine’s figure with an almost contemptuous expression. Her face was faintly flushed, and although it added to its beauty it also gave evidence of an anger within her.

‘I’ve been waiting for over a quarter of an hour,’ she told Luke in a quivering tone which she was plainly having difficulty in controlling. Christine felt sure that fury was vibrating deep within the girl and she found herself feeling sorry for her. She was Luke’s girl friend and here he was, with someone else, surveying Clarice with an almost impersonal amicability he might have displayed to someone who was little more than a casual acquaintance. Still, mused Christine as she and Luke sat down for a moment, Clarice
had
come here uninvited, after Luke’s phone call, and she hadn’t wasted much time, either. Christine had asked Luke how he had explained her presence to Clarice and his answer had been that he did not explain anything unless he wished to do so.

‘But she must have wondered who I am,’ persisted Christine.

‘She knows about you,’ he replied briefly.

‘Didn’t she wonder why you should be bringing me here with you on this business trip?’

‘She did ask the reason. I merely said you sometimes do come with me on these trips.’