snorted furiously. ‘You’re not still interested in her, are you?’
‘No.’ Alexis was cool. ‘But as one human being to another, I guess I can feel sympathy for her, can’t I? Or don’t you know what that is?’
‘I shouldn’t waste my sympathies on her,’ retorted Howard brutally. ‘But as far as I know, she’s still at the apartment.’
‘Did she—?’
‘—find her husband? No.’ Howard was definite about that. ‘He took an overdose of drugs at the office. The night watchman found him. He telephoned her.’
‘I see.’ Alexis digested this. ‘Okay, okay, don’t distress yourself. I’ll fly back tomorrow. But I don’t see what there is to get so steamed up about.’
‘Don’t you?’ Howard caught his breath. ‘Well, maybe you will tomorrow. You think about it, right?’
‘Right.’ Alexis reached for a cigar and put it between his teeth. ‘Is that all?’
‘Isn’t it enough?’
Alexis lit the cigar and inhaled deeply. ‘Fine. See you some time before dinner. That’s the best I can promise,’ and he rang off.
He smoked his cigar thoughtfully for a while, and then stubbing it out went back into the bathroom to finish drying his hair. When he returned to the bedroom he had put on a towelling bathrobe and he flung himself on the wide bed and stared up at the ceiling. His father’s call had banished all thoughts of sleep he might have had, and he felt a rising sense of frustration at the inadequacy of the information he had been given. But then telephones were not particularly confidential pieces of equipment and he supposed he could understand his father’s reluctance to be too explicit. Even so, it was an unsatisfactory state of affairs.
He thought about Janie Knight. He hadn’t seen her since the beginning of December last year, which must be about six weeks ago now. Of course, after he had stopped seeing her, she had telephoned him, numerous times, and even visited his apartment, although Drake, his manservant, knew better than to let her in. She had not been able to accept that it was all over, and he had hoped these weeks at Grüssmatte would convince her irrevocably that he meant what he said. And now this had happened, and while he didn’t feel any sense of blame, it left a nasty taste in his mouth.
David Vanning was most put out the next morning when Alexis broke the news to him that he was leaving as they had breakfast together.
‘But, Alex, we’ve only been here a couple of weeks. Surely your old man can do without you for longer than that!’
Alexis smiled rather ruefully. ‘It seems not, Dave. I’m sorry, but there it is. Still, I guess Rosemary will find the time to console you!’
David made a helpless gesture. ‘That’s not the point, Alex. Rosemary’s okay; you know I’m very keen on her, and I guess one day we’ll get married and all that, but – well, she’s no athlete, and I don’t intend to spend the rest of my holiday hanging round the hotel or making shopping excursions into Innsbruck.’
Alexis rested his elbow on the table, supporting his chin on one hand. ‘Do I detect a note of dissatisfaction in your voice?’ he queried lazily. ‘Surely the romantic idyll hasn’t begun to pall already?’
David looked slightly embarrassed. ‘It’s not that. It’s just that – well, her parents are always around. We never get any time alone. Not really alone, that is.’
Alexis looked amused. ‘Well, that’s what comes of doing things by the book.’
‘What do you mean? Coming here with her parents?’
‘More or less.’
‘They’d never have let her come away with me alone.’
‘Hard luck!’
‘I suppose you think in my position you’d have managed to persuade them.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘No, but you thought it.’ David lifted his shoulders dejectedly. ‘Hell, Alex, is it absolutely essential that you leave today?’
‘Absolutely, I’m afraid.’ Alexis finished his second cup of coffee looking idly through the restaurant window on to the groups of holidaymakers making their way towards the ski slopes. ‘I suppose I ought to go and see how they’re getting on with my packing. I shall be sorry to leave all this.’
David grimaced. ‘I half wish I was coming with you.’
Alexis’s lips lifted at his friend’s outburst, but then his attention was arrested by a sleek continental coach that was slowly progressing along the village street. He was suddenly reminded that the girl he had met last night in such unusual circumstances had said she and her group were leaving today. The coach was most probably for them.
‘Did you hear what I said?’
David’s irate tones brought his attention back to the present and he looked at him apologetically. ‘No. What did you say?’
‘I said I’d ring you once I got back to London.’
‘Oh, yes, yes. Fine.’ But Alexis was preoccupied. He rose abruptly to his feet. ‘I’ve got to get moving. What are your plans for this morning?’
David lay back in his chair shrugging. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been promising to take Rosemary on the nursery slopes for days. I guess I could do that.’
Alexis nodded, and then with a sense of compunction he patted David’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, man. But there’s nothing I can do.’ He paused. ‘Be seeing you, then.’
‘Yes. Sure.’
David nodded, managing a faint smile, but as Alex crossed the restaurant to reach the hall, he could see David’s dejected reflection in the long mirrors that flanked the swing glass doors.
The flight from Salzburg landed in the late afternoon. It had been delayed by bad weather conditions, and it was even snowing slightly at Heathrow as Alexis left the plane.
The formalities over with, he emerged from the reception lounge bent on finding the nearest bar and a stiff drink. He knew he was delaying the moment when he would have to take up his life again, but airports were those transient kind of places where one was in limbo, a condition he presently desired.
But as he climbed the stairs to the bar, a voice he recognized only too well, called: ‘Alex! Alex, where are you going?’
He halted reluctantly and turned, looking down into the well of the hall where a fur-clad feminine figure was waving vigorously at him. He hesitated only a moment, and then with resignation descended the stairs again. He knew perfectly well that had he pretended not to hear her and gone on to the bar, she would have followed him.
Reaching ground level, he turned up the collar of his sheepskin coat against the cold draught of air which swept through the hall, and said, in drawling tones: ‘Hello, Michelle. What are you doing here?’
Michelle Whitney smiled up at
