for a start, and secondly they’re bound to want somebody plain, and ordinary, and not too decorative. After all, the West Indies is quite a place. They won’t want their suitable applicant finding herself a husband during the first few weeks she’s there.’
Juliet looked thoughtful now. ‘Yes, you’re right, as usual,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll just have to make myself look very plain, and very ordinary, and if I put my hair up as you wear yours that should add a few years!’
‘Gee, thanks!’ exclaimed Rosemary dryly, and they both collapsed in giggles.
Remembering all this now, Juliet felt a smile curve her lips. Rosemary had been wonderful, particularly as she was aware, just as acutely as Juliet, that she would be the first person Robert Lindsay would contact when he discovered Juliet had disappeared. She would have to be very astute not to be caught out by a man as determined as Robert Lindsay.
The interview had been rather different from Juliet’s imaginings. When she arrived at the offices of Benyon, Forster, Benyon and Benyon, she found only one other applicant waiting for interview. She was a girl of around her own age, who confided to Juliet that the job did not appear to be the sinecure it had first appeared to be.
‘This girl we’re supposed to be companion to – did you know she was confined to a wheelchair?’
Juliet smoothed the skirt of her dark grey suit over her knees. It seemed far too long after the short styles she was used to wearing, but at least it gave her an added sense of confidence.
‘Well,’ she replied carefully, ‘the advertisement did say that she had some degree of disability.’
‘Some degree!’ the other girl sniffed. ‘I don’t call an invalid in a wheelchair only partially disabled! Heavens, I thought maybe she had only one arm or something like that!’
Juliet felt a sense of distaste at the girl’s words. ‘I don’t see that it matters,’ she said quietly. ‘Surely a girl so young, confined as she is, deserves companionship.’
‘It’s a nurse they want, not a companion,’ retorted the girl shortly. Then she stood up. ‘Oh, anyway, I don’t think I’ll stay. I don’t want that kind of a job. It was the locality that appealed to me. Tell them I changed my mind, will you?’
Juliet’s eyes widened. ‘All right. But are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. G’bye. Hope you get it, if you want it!’
After the girl had gone Juliet felt uncomfortable. What would the interviewers think when she had to tell them that one of their applicants had changed her mind? She hoped they wouldn’t think she had said anything to deter her.
But when a man who she later discovered to be Mr. Forster came to ask Miss Laurence, as the girl had been called, to come in, and Juliet explained what had happened, he merely shook his head sadly, and said:
‘I’m afraid we worded the advertisement wrongly, Miss Summers – it is Miss Summers, isn’t it?’ and at Juliet’s nod: ‘All the applicants appear to have believed Miss de Castro had some mild disablement that would not inconvenience themselves too greatly. I gather Miss Laurence advised you of the facts of the matter.’
Juliet rose to her feet. ‘Yes, she did.’
He nodded. ‘I see. It was very kind of you to wait and see me.’ He sighed. ‘We must advertise again.’
Juliet drew her brows together. ‘Do I take it then that I’m unsuitable?’
Mr. Forster stared at her. ‘You mean — you’re prepared to take the job?’
Juliet bit her lip. ‘Well, yes, if you’re prepared to interview me.’
Mr. Forster rubbed his hands together. ‘Oh, indeed, yes, indeed, Miss Summers. Come in – come in! I’m sure we can work something out.’
And so they did.
Juliet felt the plane bank slightly, and looked down, feeling the bubble of excitement rising inside her again. What had Mr. Forster said? That the girl, Teresa, had been injured in the same car crash which had killed both her parents; that she was paralysed from the waist down; that the accident had happened six months ago, and since she came out of hospital she had been living on Venterra with her uncle, Felipe de Castro.
They were losing height rapidly now, flying low over the island, giving Juliet a marvellous view of a thickly wooded central area, high peaks emerging above the tops of the trees; a coastline of bays and coves, with the inevitable line of a reef some distance out from the shore; villages nestling at the foot of the hills, fishing boats nudging stone jetties; pastel-painted houses, and the tiles of more sophisticated dwellings, standing in their own grounds. The brilliance of the sun accentuated the greenness of the foliage and the exotic colour of the flowers and trees. She breathed a faint sigh, half relief, half apprehension, for now she had to face her future employer, and her future charge.
She was the only passenger on the hydroplane, apart from Louis, the steward, who had welcomed her aboard. She had gathered from his comments that the plane belonged to Senhor de Castro, her future employer, and was used because there was nowhere smooth and flat enough to support an airstrip. Mr. Forster had told her that Senhor de Castro was a Portuguese gentleman, who had sugar estates on the island, and that apart from herself his household accommodated several servants, including an American nurse for Teresa. Altogether it sounded quite delightful, and Juliet, enchanted with her own freedom, was revelling in it all.
The hydroplane came down on the smooth surface of a bay, which was edged by a small community of cottages, the boats by the jetty rocking as the plane caused the water to swell considerably. Juliet loosened her seat belt, looked back at Louis, and said:
‘We’ve arrived?’
Louis nodded his head. ‘Sim, senhorita,’ he said. ‘This is Venterra. You like?’
Juliet smiled. ‘Yes, I like. What do we do now?’
Louis stood up and came to her side. ‘See, Pedro has already started for the plane with his boat, eh!’
Juliet looked through the window as he pointed, and saw the small rowing boat approaching them. ‘Oh, yes. Thank you, Louis.’ Then: ‘How will I get to the de Castro home?’
Louis unstrapped her suitcases from their position in the rear, and then said: ‘Do not worry, senhorita. A car will have been sent for you.’
‘I see.’ Juliet wished she could dispel the apprehension which was rapidly overtaking all other emotions. ‘Is it far to the house?’
‘The quinta, senhorita! No, it is not far. Miguel will take you.’
Juliet decided she had asked enough questions. It would not do to sound too curious about her employers. She wondered if Senhor de Castro was married. It seemed likely, and yet Mr. Forster had not mentioned it. He must be quite old. Mr. Forster had said that Teresa was the daughter of his younger brother, and as Teresa was sixteen it did not take a great deal of mathematical skill to work out that this man must be in his forties at the very least. She hoped, feeling a twinge of nervousness assail her, that he was not the kind of man to make passes at his employees. Such an idea had not occurred to her before, and yet now it loomed large and rather disturbing.
The
