chit!’ Adele stared at her incredulously. Rebecca had never answered her back in this manner before.
‘Now, Adele,’ murmured Piers St. Clair quietly. ‘Perhaps Nurse Lindsay is right. Perhaps she does not have to spend all her time with us—with you! She has feelings, too, you know, and I think you have teased her long enough, oui?’
Rebecca stared at him now. Although she hated to admit it, his intervention was welcome, and his deliberate use of the verb to tease reduced it all to a playful confrontation and gave Adele the chance to get out of the situation without loss of face. In consequence, after a moment’s soul-searching, Adele accepted his directions, and said reluctantly:
‘Yes, that’s all right, Rebecca. You can go.’
With relief, Rebecca left the room, and after informing Rosa that her employer and her guest were ready for their meal, carried a solitary tray to her room.
When the meal was over, another problem presented itself. Adele usually slept for an hour after lunch, but how was Rebecca to arrange such a thing today? She wondered whether she should simply forget her instructions, but somehow her code of training was too strong, and therefore it was with an immense sense of relief that she heard, a few moments later, the sound of a car’s engine being started. She rushed to the window and looked out. Her room was on the side of the house, but by opening her window she could look out and see the further length of the drive. She was in time to see the blue convertible approach the gates and after slowing, accelerate into the road beyond.
She heaved a sigh, resting her elbows on the window ledge. So he had gone. And now she could go and settle Adele down for her sleep without complications.
But that was easier said than done. Adele was emotionally and physically stimulated by her visitor, and was in no mood to be amenable with Rebecca.
‘How—how dare you speak to me like that in front of a guest!’ she stormed, as soon as Rebecca appeared to take her for her rest. ‘Don’t imagine because Piers chose to champion you that I have forgotten it! A chit like you who doesn’t even know who her own father was!’
Rebecca controlled the angry retort that sprang to her lips. Once, in a moment of compassion for Adele, she had confided the circumstances of her birth to her employer and she had regretted it ever since. ‘My father was killed on his way to the church to marry my mother!’ she said, through taut lips. ‘I wish you would not speak to me about it again!’
‘I’ll bet you do!’ jeered Adele unkindly. ‘If your parents were such paragons of virtue, how did you come to be here?’
Rebecca flushed hotly. ‘They were young—and in love! I couldn’t expect you to understand that!’ She turned away abruptly, unable to prevent the lump that filled her throat when she thought of the agony her mother had suffered. Her grandmother had never understood either, and had taken every opportunity to deride her for it. The train crash which had robbed her mother of her life must have seemed a blessed release.
Adele seemed to sense that she had said enough, for almost conversationally now, she said: ‘It was quite nice, wasn’t it? Having a man dine with us? There’s the doctor, and old Blackwell, of course, but they’re not the same, are they?’ Andrew Blackwell was the local churchman, and although Adele was not particularly religious and grumbled about him continually, she was often glad of his company.
Rebecca composed herself and turned to help Adele into her wheelchair. Adele looked at her critically before saying: ‘Seriously, why didn’t you want to have lunch with us?’ She frowned. ‘You couldn’t have thought we wanted to be alone. Piers wouldn’t be interested in an old hag like me!’
‘You’re neither old, nor a hag,’ responded Rebecca quietly. ‘Don’t be silly.’
Adele sighed. ‘Once Piers and I knew each other very well. When I was younger and not paralysed as I am now. I used to be able to do a lot of things.’
‘You’re not paralysed now, Miss St. Cloud,’ Rebecca contradicted her gently.
‘Not actually, perhaps. But in every way that matters, I am. Tied to a wheelchair, unable to walk, or dance, or swim!’ Her face twisted bitterly, and Rebecca felt distressed. It was at times like this when she felt an immense sense of compassion for Adele.
‘Now then,’ she said, smiling a little. ‘You’re not tied to the villa. We have the car. We could drive to Navua tomorrow if you like. Dr. Manson says the trip up river from there is quite beautiful. Forests and waterfalls—and it would be refreshing on the water.’
Adele turned to her impatiently. ‘I don’t want to go on a river trip,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t humour me, Rebecca. I don’t want that. Just because you’re young and healthy, don’t try to fool me! I’m useless! A wreck of a woman, not even fit to be called a woman.’
‘That’s nonsense!’
‘What is nonsense?’ Adele clenched her fists. ‘Do you think I don’t notice the way men look at you? The way Dr. Manson looks at you. The way Piers looked at you!’
Rebecca’s cheeks were scarlet. ‘Please, Miss St. Cloud—–’ she began.
‘Why? Why shouldn’t I say it? It’s true, isn’t it?’ Adele’s eyes narrowed. ‘And you can’t fool me about that, either, Rebecca! Piers was the reason you didn’t want to lunch with me. Piers! I wonder why? What did he say to you last evening to cause you such anxiety?’
Rebecca began to wheel the chair into the corridor and from there to Adele’s room, but Adele was not finished yet. Twisting in her seat, she watched her nurse’s mobile face, and her own grew contemptuous. Turning round again, she went silent, and Rebecca was relieved. But as they reached Adele’s bedroom, Adele spoke again, this time in an entirely different voice.
‘Tell me, Rebecca, now you’ve had the chance to speak to him again, what do you think of Piers?’
Rebecca bit her lip. What did Adele want of her now? Searching for a suitable reply, she said: ‘He seems—quite nice.’ She helped Adele on to the bed and began to loosen the buttons of her dress. ‘Have you known him long?’
‘Most of my life,’ answered Adele, sliding her arms out of the dress. ‘‘His family and mine were always very close.’
‘I see.’ Rebecca bent to unfasten Adele’s shoes and Adele’s eyes narrowed.
‘At one time—it was thought that he and I—might marry,’ she said.
Rebecca looked up, hiding her surprise. But then, of course, Piers St. Clair would be about Adele’s own age. Something he had said came back to her: he had called her his sister-in-law! A strange feeling twisted her stomach. He was married, then. Married to Adele’s sister.
Adele watched Rebecca closely. ‘Why are you frowning?’ she asked. ‘Are you so shocked by that knowledge?’
‘Why, no!’ Rebecca answered quickly. ‘But—it was something Monsieur St. Clair said.’
‘Which was?’ Adele prompted.
Rebecca shrugged. ‘Only that he was your brother-in-law.’
Adele nodded, and lay back against the pillows. ‘That’s right.’ Her mouth twisted again. ‘He married one
