Grasp a Nettle Page 8

  ‘What a delightful prospect,’ he murmured across the table, ‘but aren’t you forgetting that your aunt will need you while she has that treatment we have decided to try?’

  Jenny was too grateful to express surprise at this piece of information—indeed, she admired the Professor for the convincing way he had spoken. Her ‘Oh, dear—I’d quite forgotten, thank you for reminding me, Professor van Draak,’ was a masterpiece of regret.

  Aunt Bess wanted to go to her cabin directly after dinner, and Jenny went with her. It was still early and there would be dancing until the small hours, but Aunt Bess, after a leisurely half hour of undressing, had other ideas. ‘You shall read to me, Jenny,’ she decreed. ‘You have a pretty voice and I find it soothing. The editorial in the Guardian, I think.’

  So Jenny read. She read for a couple of hours and even then her aunt demanded that she should sit with her until she fell asleep, and by the time she had done that Jenny was too tired herself to join the captain and his party in one of the lounges, and certainly too tired to dance.

  She didn’t see anything of the Professor until lunch-time the next day, when he appeared at the table, wished his companions a good day and applied himself to the task of entertaining Miss Creed. It wasn’t until that lady was being escorted to her cabin for her post-prandial nap that Jenny had the opportunity to ask: ‘What treatment?’

  The Professor, who had attached himself to them waved an airy hand. ‘Purely mythical, Jenny, purely mythical. You were so completely bogged down, were you not? Only the unkindest of men would have left you in such a predicament.’

  He opened Miss Creed’s door so that both ladies might enter and Jenny edged past him without speaking. ‘Ungrateful girl,’ he murmured into the top of head, and shut the door silently behind them. It had barely closed when Aunt Bess exclaimed: ‘My scarf—I left it in the restaurant.’

  ‘Well, you don’t need it at present,’ said Jenny reasonably. ‘I’ll fetch it later.’

  ‘I require it now. I refuse to take my nap until I have it.’

  Jenny sighed, muttered under her breath and started back to the restaurant, to find her way barred by the Professor, lounging at the end of the corridor.

  ‘You disposed of your aunt very quickly.’

  She shot him a cross look. ‘I haven’t—she left her scarf in the restaurant, and she wants it this minute.’

  ‘Do I detect a slight vexation? Where is your sunny disposition, Jenny Wren? Snappish, and no gratitude for your rescue, either.’

  She made an effort to work her way round him. ‘Well, I haven’t had the time…’

  ‘To express your deep obligation to me? But this will take very little time, my dear.’

  He had kissed her soundly before she could dodge him and then disconcerted her utterly by standing aside without another word, to let her pass.

  She lingered unnecessarily in the restaurant so that he would be gone by the time she went back, and was quite put out to find that that was exactly what he had done.

  The ship had been delayed at Madeira, but now Lanzarote was clearly visible ahead of them. Jenny looked longingly at its mountains as she went back to her aunt’s cabin, for she saw little chance of going ashore. They were due to sail again in the evening and although there was a coachload of passengers going on an afternoon tour, Aunt Bess had refused to consider staying quietly on board while Jenny joined them. She went into the cabin, handed over the scarf, picked up various articles Aunt Bess had dropped and prepared to go again, to be halted at the door by her aunt’s voice. ‘I understand the island is very interesting—Eduard has offered to drive you round this afternoon. I told him that you would be delighted.’

  ‘Aunt Bess, I’m not a child—I can accept my own invitations, and the Professor hasn’t said anything to me. In any case, I don’t want to go, thank you—I’d much rather go with the coach.’

  ‘Out of the question, Janet.’

  ‘I’ve just told you I’m not a child!’

  ‘You’re behaving like one. I thought it very kind of Eduard. He pointed out that the coach will be hot and stuffy and probably break down. But if you won’t go, you’d better go and tell him so now—he’s on this deck, up in the bows.’

  ‘Oh, Aunt Bess…!’ Jenny shut the door quietly behind her, although she wanted very much to bang it. Aunt Bess meant it kindly, but why couldn’t she stop interfering? Jenny went slowly out on to the deck, filled now with passengers watching the picturesque little town of Puerto de los Marmoles getting closer and closer. The Professor was standing with a number of other people, and she joined them silently, wondering how she was going to refuse his invitation without everyone around them hearing it too. There were two very pretty girls in the group, and either of them, from the way they were looking at him, would be only too delighted to take her place.

  But it seemed that neither of them were to have that pleasure; he extricated himself from his companions with finesse, caught her by the arm and walked her briskly away.

  ‘I have a car waiting,’ he told her blandly. ‘We should have two or three hours in which to see something of the island.’

  ‘I don’t want…’ began Jenny, and then changed it to: ‘Well, it’s awfully kind of you, but Aunt Bess…’

  He nipped this in the bud. ‘She assured me that you wanted to go ashore and that she wanted a few hours’ rest and quiet. Ah, they’re tying up now—you’ll need a bonnet or something. I’ll wait here.’

  She saw that it was useless to protest, for he would either not hear or ride roughshod over any excuse she might be able to think up—and she couldn’t think of any not without being rude.

  In her cabin, searching for a pretty headscarf to go with her white cotton sun-dress, she toyed with the idea of staying there, only to discard it at once; to waste a glorious afternoon sitting alone when she could be exploring the island was just plain stupid. She arranged the scarf becomingly, put on a little more lipstick, and went back on deck.

  The car was a small Citroën and rather battered, although it quickly proved its worth, for the Professor didn’t linger in the town but made for the mountains towering to the north of the island. The road was a narrow one, but the surface was good, and he, who seemed to know his terrain, pointed out anything which he considered she might be interested in—dragon trees, the house built by Omar Sharif when he had filmed on the island some years previously, the once lived-in caves…

  ‘It’s like the moon,’ declared Jenny, ‘and there’s no grass.’

  ‘None at all—and you’re right, it’s so like the moon that the astronauts came here to train before their landing on the moon.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘However do you know all these things?’ she wanted to know.

  He looked suitably modest. ‘Oh, I pick up this and that you know.’

  They were climbing now, with mountains on either side of them and now and again a glimpse of the sea. It made a nice change of scenery when they reached Teguise, a sleepy town with an old Spanish style church in its square. But they didn’t stop, climbing on towards the northern coast through the lava-strewn country, only slowing to look briefly at the village of Haria; white-walled, red-roofed houses and villas with colourful gardens and surrounded by palm trees and giant cactus.

  ‘Well, that was nice,’ observed Jenny, craning her neck to get a last glimpse of the pretty little place.

  ‘There’s something even nicer ahead of us.’

  There was—right on the northern most coast and atop a steep mountain slope which Jenny privately thought the car wouldn’t manage. The Professor parked in the clearing at the top and whisked her out to lead her through a door in the high lava wall surrounding them. It opened into a wide, white washed passage leading to a cave, converted to a restaurant, but he took no notice of the tables and chairs but led her to the enormous plate glass window at the end so that she could admire the view from it—a sheer drop to the sea below, and separated from the mainland by a small stretc
h of water, a fair-sized island, its only village facing them.

  ‘No electricity, no gas, no telephone, no shops,’ explained the Professor, ‘just a fishing village—a quiet paradise, although I believe it’s popular in the season. Nice if you want to be alone. Come and have a drink.’

  Jenny elected to have tea—hot water, a tea-bag and no milk, but it was refreshing. Her companion settled for coffee and while he drank it, regaled her with odds and ends of information about their surroundings.

  ‘You know an awful lot about it,’ she said. ‘Have you been here before?’

  ‘Twice—no, three times. It makes a nice change from the Dutch climate.’

  Here was a chance to find out something about his home there. ‘Do you live in a very cold part of the country?’

  ‘It can be cold in the winter. If you’ve finished we’ll go,’ he glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll take the coast road.’

  She felt inward relief; she wasn’t all that keen on mountains, and to be at sea level would suit her nicely. But it took a little while to get there; down the side of a mountain, along a narrow road full of hair-raising bends. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the Professor had driven at a decorous pace, but it seemed to make no difference to him whether he was going up or down hill or on the flat; his pace was fast. They were within sight of the level road below them when he glanced at her briefly and said airily: ‘Nervous? No need, I’ve been driving for years and I know this road. You look quite pale—where’s your British phlegm, Jenny?’

  ‘Thank you, it’s still intact. I’m scared and I dare-say I’m as white as a sheet, but I have no intention of letting you have the satisfaction of frightening me. Pray go as fast as you like if that pleases your odious sense of humour.’

  He laughed then and slowed down at once to a sedate pace. ‘You don’t like me at all, do you? Ever since we met and you tried to make me join the first batch of sightseers.’

  She remembered how curt he had been. ‘You were pompous.’

  ‘Heaven forbid—but there, one is always prepared to think the worst of people one dislikes. This is the bend.’

  They were out on the coast road now, with the sea not far away. It ran between sand and rock, with here and there a small village and isolated villas with carefully cultivated gardens. There was a camel, too, working in the sand with a diminutive donkey beside it, and the Professor obligingly stopped so that Jenny might look her fill. And soon after that they were back in the town, threading its narrow streets, picturesque and colourful, spoilt by glimpses of poverty almost out of sight. And then they were outside the town again, passing the heaps of salt on the flat fields near the water, speeding towards the ship. The Professor drew up neatly before the gangway, ushered her out and prepared to pay the man waiting while Jenny strolled over to the small stalls set up on the quayside, laden with souvenirs. She hadn’t meant to buy anything, but the vendors looked so eager that she had purchased postcards, several rush mats and an embroidered traycloth before the Professor rejoined her, paid for them, bade her buy no more and walked her briskly on board.

  ‘You’re too softhearted,’ he told her severely.

  She stopped in the ship’s vestibule, empty for the moment. ‘Thank you for the trip,’ she said coldly, ‘and if you will let me know how much you paid for these things, I’ll let you have the money.’ She suddenly felt cross with him. ‘And I’m not softhearted—why shouldn’t one help someone poorer than oneself? A few pesetas to them may make all the difference between meat or no meat for their dinner.’ She glared at him. ‘The trouble is with you that you’ve got everything…’

  He gave her a long thoughtful look and then without saying anything at all, turned on his heel and walked away from her.

  There was nothing to do but to go to her aunt’s cabin then, and that lady’s crisp: ‘You’ve been a long time, and in none too good a mood, I see?’ did nothing to improve her temper. Luckily she didn’t need to answer, for her aunt went on: ‘Help me into my dress, child—we might go on deck for an hour before we change.’

  Aunt Bess had her own corner with a chair always ready for her use; she reclined in it now, while Jenny gave a reluctant account of her afternoon, leaving out a great deal, so that presently her listener yawned, remarked that it sounded exceedingly dull and she would read for a while so that Jenny might do as she wished.

  Thus dismissed, Jenny sauntered off to watch shuffleboard, hang over the side of the ship with several of her acquaintances and presently go with them to the bar by the swimming pool, where the younger passengers had formed the habit of gathering in the early evening. She stayed some time, sipping a long drink and pretending to herself that she wasn’t keeping an eye open for the Professor. There was no sign of him. He had disappeared like a puff of smoke, which, considering his size, seemed unlikely. All the same, when she went to dress for the evening she did so with extra care, piling her copper hair into thick coils on top of her head and zipping herself into a rather lovely pink chiffon which she had been keeping for a special occasion, telling herself that she might just as well wear it as allow it to hang in the cupboard.

  She had barely installed her aunt in her usual corner by the bar when the Professor joined them, a steward at his elbow with their drinks. He greeted Aunt Bess warmly and Jenny in an offhand manner which made her grit her teeth, so that she said impulsively: ‘Oh, hullo—I thought you’d jumped overboard.’ She could have bitten her tongue out the moment she had uttered the words, for the look he gave her was amused and mocking too.

  ‘You missed me?’ he wanted to know blandly.

  ‘No.’ That didn’t seem quite enough of an answer, so she added: ‘I just happened to notice that you weren’t around.’ She picked up her glass and then put it down again; it would be just her luck to choke and have her back patronisingly patted.

  ‘You don’t like your drink?’ he asked solicitously ‘Let me get you something else.’

  She snatched the glass up again, said: ‘This is fine thanks,’ and sipped cautiously, thankful when Aunt Bess took the conversation into her own hands, as she almost always did.

  It was as they were on their way in to dinner that the Professor managed to separate her from her aunt for long enough to murmur: ‘Such a pretty girl this evening, and so very cross. Seasick, perhaps?’

  She spoke rather wildly. ‘Of course I’m not—cross or seasick.’

  ‘In that case I’m sure Miss Creed will spare you after dinner for a little gentle exercise—dancing.’

  Jenny had her mouth open to say no, but Aunt Bess, whose ears were still much too sharp, said loudly: ‘A splendid idea. I shall watch.’

  He danced very well indeed, although his hold was as impersonal as a kindly-natured man’s might be on an elderly aunt he wished to indulge. Jenny, ruffled in her feelings, was wickedly delighted when the slow foxtrot gave way to something more modern; he wouldn’t know what to do…

  But he did—better than most of the other men in the room. She twisted and twirled, but so did he, with the unselfconscious manner of someone who had done it a hundred times already and wasn’t afraid of making a fool of himself. When they rejoined their party, Aunt Bess paused long enough in her conversation with the captain to remark: ‘If I were half my age, I should enjoy all that gyrating.’ She waved a hand in regal dismissal. ‘Go away and do it again—I’m not ready for bed yet.’

  Before she went to sleep that night, Jenny, reviewing her evening, decided that if the Professor should ask her to drive round Tenerife with him, she would accept. True, he annoyed her almost all the time, but he drove superbly. There would be Las Palmas too… She closed her eyes, thinking sleepily that the cruise was quite fun after all. They would reach Tenerife quite early in the morning; she must be sure and be up early.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JENNY AND Aunt Bess had breakfasted in the latter’s cabin and the first coachload of sightseers were leaving the ship. There had been no sign of the Professor. Jenny had combed the ship with
out success, angry with herself for doing it, but somehow quite unable not to. Perhaps now that most of the passengers had gone ashore, he would seek them out.

  She arranged the curl in front of her ear with exactitude and jumped visibly when there was a knock on the door and the Professor strolled in, wished them a good morning, made a few noncommittal remarks about the day’s activities, asked his patient a few pertinent questions regarding her health and then looked at his watch, remarked that he must be gone, bade Miss Creed goodbye, whisked round on Jenny with surprising speed to kiss her hard and swiftly on her astonished mouth, and went his way.

  Aunt Bess’s voice broke the silence, to say surprisingly: ‘Of course, he’s nearly forty.’

  Jenny shook the amazement out of her mind. ‘That’s not old,’ she said before she could stop herself.

  Her aunt gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Heavens, no—did I say it was? And he of all men…’

  Jenny was staring unseeingly out of the window, to the quay below. She didn’t turn round. ‘Oh? Why do you say that?’

  ‘Very fit for his age—not an ounce of spare flesh on him. He could make rings round anyone half his age—has a good brain too. He won’t look much different when he’s seventy, which is more than I can say for some men I know.’ She added sternly, ‘Toby is not yet thirty and he has a decided bulge.’

  Jenny giggled. ‘Yes, he has, hasn’t he?’ And then with elaborate unconcern: ‘I don’t suppose we shall see Professor van Draak again.’

  ‘As to that, child, you’re quite out. He wishes to see me from time to time and suggested that I should go over to Holland, where I can have a check-up at the hospital where he’s a consultant. It seems to me to be rather a nice idea— I haven’t been to Holland for many years and there isn’t anything much for me to do at Dimworth. Margaret is there and provided she exerts herself she should be able to manage. Eduard suggested that she might like to accompany me but I couldn’t agree to that. You will come with me of course…’