The White Witch of the South Seas Read online

  ‘Please thank your father for his warning. And now, with my apologies for having abused your hospitality while you were absent, do you think I could have a little more rum?’

  ‘But yes!’ The young man eagerly stretched out a hand to the bottle and poured a lavish portion into Gregory’s mug, then he went on, ‘I’s sorry; mos’ sorry ’bout this. But my father, he is very honest mans. He could not take money an’ lead yo’ up garden path.’

  ‘It can’t be true!’ Manon burst out. ‘It can’t! This filthy old rogue is just being malicious. He is trying to frighten you because he believes we brought the rain that spoilt his ceremony.’

  As she had spoken in French, Enrico remained unaware of her insult to his father. But Gregory abruptly waved her to silence and asked the young man, ‘Does your father often have these visions, and do they afterwards always come about?’

  Enrico shrugged. ‘I regrets. I’s mos’ unhappy for yo’! His visions do not come frequent, but when he has them it is as seeing true.’

  Gregory turned to Manon. ‘Then things don’t look too good. You remember what a shock he appeared to get when he looked at me on first coming into this room? Unless he did see something unusual about me there’s no accounting for that.’

  ‘But it must not happen,’ she protested vigorously. ‘And it can’t if you take care. From midday onwards you must not leave your hotel.’

  He smiled at her. ‘The Arabs have a saying, “The fate of every man is bound about his brow”, and there is no escaping Fate. I’ve been mighty lucky. They say a cat has nine lives, but I’ve had at least a score of narrow escapes from death. And I’m not afraid to die. In fact … Anyhow, please don’t upset your charming self about me.’

  Silence fell again; then, after a moment, Enrico said, ‘The rain, he has stopped. There will be much water still, but yo’ wish it and I make try to get yo’ home.’

  Gregory thanked him and he went out to fetch his car. When he had brought it round to the door the visitors made formal adieux to the old man and the three woman, then went down the steps.

  Water was still rushing ankle-deep down the sloping road, but the little car slushed steadily through it. Then, as they entered the tunnel on the outskirts of the city, Enrico asked, ‘Where I drop yo’?’

  ‘I stay at ze ‘Otel Copacabana Palace,’ said Manon.

  Gregory turned to smile at her. ‘Why, so do I. How very convenient.’

  A quarter of an hour later Enrico set them down outside the hotel. Gregory had palmed twenty thousand cruzeiros. As he shook hands with the young man, he said in a whisper, ‘Just for the petrol,’ then added louder, ‘Good night; we cannot thank you enough.’

  With a happy grin, Enrico shook hands with Manon and drove off. It was by then after two o’clock in the morning, but Latin American cities are said never to sleep. There were still a number of people about and the bar was open. Their clothes were still damp but causing them no inconvenience so they went in. It was a long dimly-lit room, with white moulds of seahorses and starfish decorating the dark green walls. When they had settled in a corner, Gregory ordered foie-gras sandwiches and brandies-and-soda for them both. Then he said:

  ‘It’s been quite a night, hasn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, but it is tomorrow night I am worried about.’

  ‘Please don’t be,’ he urged her. ‘Never meet trouble halfway. Tonight is far from over yet. Much better think about that. By the by, what is the number of your room?’

  She hesitated, then fobbed him off by asking, ‘Why do you wish to know?’

  ‘So that I can tell the waiter to send a magnum of champagne up there.’

  ‘No! No!’ She gave a nervous little laugh. ‘I hadn’t even met you five hours ago. I’ll admit that I have had a few lovers, but I’m not the sort of girl who is willing to jump into bed with every attractive man she meets. I require to be courted and get to know a man really well before I am prepared to play that sort of game.’

  Gregory gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’d be delighted to spend months escorting you about as your chevalier sans peur et sans reproche, given the prospect of eventually becoming your lover, but, unfortunately, it seems that in my case time does not permit such a prolonged wooing.’

  ‘I cannot believe it. I simply cannot.’

  He shrugged. ‘I, too, find it difficult to resign myself to the thought that I’ll be a lifeless body by this time tomorrow night. But the old man seemed pretty positive that I would be, so it is only sensible to regard this as my last night on earth.’

  Turning his head, he gazed straight into her big eyes and went on, ‘Try to look at it from my point of view. If you thought the odds were that in twenty-four hours you would be dead, would you be content to spend them alone, sleepless, sweating with fear at the thought of the unknown into which, within a few hours, you were to be precipitated; or, if you had the remotest chance, spend them in bed with a delightful companion who could make you temporarily forget?’

  ‘Of course I’d hate to be left on my own. And I’m desperately sorry for you. But, really, you are taking an unfair advantage of your situation.’

  ‘No,’ he insisted, ‘this is not blackmail. You are not a young, unmarried girl. You have admitted to me that you have had several lovers, so evidently your conscience is not troubled by that sort of thing. I am, too, somewhat of a judge of physical characteristics, and I would bet my last farthing that you love being made love to. So why not enjoy yourself and at the same time do me a great kindness? You like me, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes; you must know that.’

  ‘Then all I am asking is that you should skip the usual preliminaries and be generous. Take me as your lover tonight. Then, if I die tomorrow, you’ll be able to chalk it up as one of the good deeds you have done.’

  As she looked at his lean face, her full lips parted in a sudden smile and she murmured, ‘I have never met such a persuasive man, and the circumstances being so unusual, my pride is salvaged for such a swift surrender. Very well. The number of my room is 406.’

  Gregory took her hand and kissed it. ‘That adds up to ten, which reduces to one—my lucky number. And I think you are adorable.’

  When the waiter arrived with the drinks and sandwiches, Gregory gave him the number of Manon’s room and ordered a magnum of Krug ‘59 to be sent up there. Suddenly they found that they were both hungry, and within ten minutes the plate of sandwiches was empty. They finished their brandies-and-soda, then he escorted her to the lift and whispered, ‘How long?’

  Her eyes narrowed but held a hint of laughter as she whispered back, ‘Twenty minutes, and if you are a moment later you will find my door locked.’

  Up in his own room, Gregory undressed, gave himself a swift shave, put on a dressing gown, then with long-practised silence made his way like a shadow up two flights of stairs and along the now deserted corridors until he reached the door of her room. Soundlessly he opened it and slipped inside. Only seventeen minutes had elapsed since they had parted, but she was sitting up in bed naked, her hands clasped round her knees.

  As they smiled at one another, he said, ‘Come, jump out of bed so that I can enjoy the sight of all your beauties.’ Without a second’s hesitation she slid from between the sheets and clasped her hands behind her neck, so that her round, firm breasts stood out in full perfection.

  His glance ran over her, noting the full hips, the triangle of thick dark curls that covered her lower abdomen, the flared nostrils, through which she was already breathing deeply, and her big eyes that had taken on an almost slumbrous expression. He knew then what he was in for; but as this boded to be the last woman he could ever have, he could have wished for nothing better.

  Throwing off his dressing gown, he slid his hands down the satin-soft skin of her sides, hips and buttocks. She quivered as he did so and lifted her face to his. Her thick lips seemed to engulf his and she sucked avidly at his tongue. When he pushed her gently back on to the bed she was already gasping wit
h uncontrollable passion.

  It was close on seven o’clock in the morning when he left her. They had agreed to meet downstairs for drinks at midday, then lunch together. Back in his own room he hardly gave a thought to the prophecy that his life was drawing swiftly to a close. He had been faced with probable sudden death too often, and physically he felt not exhausted but wonderfully relaxed. Having cleaned his teeth and telephoned down to be called at eleven o’clock, he got into bed. Within five minutes he was sound asleep.

  Manon had also ordered her café complet to be brought to her at eleven o’clock. Having munched a croissant, she poured her coffee, lit a cigarette and lay back to think.

  Like a happy cat that has licked up all the cream, she smiled at her memories of the hours Gregory had spent in her bed. Within ten minutes of meeting him the previous evening she had made up her mind to get him if she could. She had been telling the truth when she said it was not her custom to hop into bed with men after only a brief acquaintance; but she was glad, in this case, that circumstances had enabled her to do so without loss of face.

  Idly, she compared Gregory with Pierre, her current lover, and could not decide which was the more physically satisfying. Mentally, she found Gregory the more stimulating companion, but that might be because he was still like a book of which she had turned only the first page. In any case, Pierre was far away in Tahiti, so she would not be plagued by jealous scenes owing to their coming into collision.

  Pierre certainly had his points as a lover, but the social graces were not among them. He would have had little chance of penetrating circles that she could hope to without difficulty; that was why she had reluctantly agreed to go to Rio for him. All had gone well. She had succeeded in making the personal contact he had considered so important and had good hopes now that the venture in which they were engaged would prove successful. If it did not, she thought bleakly, she would be in a fine mess.

  Manon’s besetting sin was extravagance. It had plagued her all her life, yet she never seemed to be able to control her impulse to squander money. Building a house on one of the outer islands of the Fiji group had been sheer madness. But for that, she would still be receiving a handsome income. As it was, ferrying the material over from Suva alone had cost a fortune. If the gamble that Pierre had persuaded her to finance failed she would have to sell the house, and how many people would want to buy a handsome property in such a remote place? She would be lucky if she saw a quarter of her money back. And what then? Unless they were successful she would be reduced to living on a pittance. She shuddered.

  The thought of money brought her back to the present. She would never have gone to the expense of this trip to Rio had it not been essential to scare off the Brazilian. Anyway, she should have had more sense than to stay at this grande-luxe hotel; yet, after all, how could she have brought herself to live, even for a week, at some shoddy pension?

  She had booked a passage back to Tahiti for two days hence, but now this exciting Englishman had come on the scene. And she had gathered from something Patricia Wellesley had said that he was extremely rich. Somehow she must find the money to stay on for a while. If need be, she could sell a ring.

  Suddenly it came back to her that Gregory was doomed to die within twenty-four hours. Could that possibly be true? Fortune-tellers often made false predictions. Yet the old man had been terrifyingly accurate about herself. He had told her she would have a new lover, had spoken of another with whom she had financial ties, which fitted Pierre and, quel horreur, had dragged up from the past the fact that she had killed Georges. At the memory of how she killed him, another shudder ran through her. Thrusting the thought from her mind, she jumped out of bed and ran herself a bath.

  The Copacabana Palace formed a huge quadrilateral built round a large swimming pool. Three of its sides were many storeys high and looked down on the pool or across the fourth, much lower side, to the sea. This fourth side faced the promenade and contained the reception hall, bars, restaurant and grill room. But a wide terrace ran all round the pool and along it were set tables, under gaily-coloured umbrellas, at which guests could take their meals in the open while watching the bathers.

  A little before twelve o’clock, Gregory, dressed in a bright blue open-necked shirt and a freshly pressed suit of pale fawn linen, secured one of the tables just outside the bar and ordered himself a Planter’s Punch. His four hours’ sleep had considerably refreshed him, although he admitted to himself that at his age he could not stand up to a succession of nights like that just passed. Having gratefully downed the first half of his drink, he smiled cynically to himself at the thought that it looked as though he would not be called on to do so.

  Manon did not put in an appearance until nearly half past twelve. She looked as fresh as a daisy and came towards him with the faintly swaggering air of a woman who is extremely chic and knows it. The scarlet dress she was wearing suited her dark hair and bronzed skin to perfection. The skirt was short and flaring, displaying her admirable legs, and the bodice had a deep ‘V’, showing the valley between her full breasts. Gregory would have bet good money that she had very little on beneath the dress; but the heat from the sun blazing almost directly overhead was excuse enough for that, and most of the people sitting nearby were wearing only bikinis or bathing shorts.

  Seeing the circumstances in which they had parted only a few hours before, it was quite natural that anyone who observed them exchanging greetings would have taken them for old friends, but in fact they knew next to nothing about each other; and within a few minutes of Manon’s having been provided with a drink, she said:

  ‘I gave up blushing long ago, but if I hadn’t I would now at the thought of what happened last night, and that we’re practically strangers. I don’t even know if you’re married.’

  He looked a little surprised at the question, then shook his head. ‘No; I lost my wife some years ago.’

  ‘Well,’ she smiled, ‘men have been known to travel without their wives and, er … How did you lose her?’

  ‘We were guests with several other people on a private yacht owned by an old friend of mine, Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust, enjoying a round-the-world cruise. One night, on the run up from Tahiti to Hawaii, the yacht struck an uncharted reef that ripped her bottom out. It was all over in a few minutes and a high sea was running. Everyone aboard except myself was drowned, and I was washed up on a remote island.’

  ‘How awful for you. Were you very devoted to her?’

  ‘Very. I still miss her terribly.’

  ‘Had you been married to her long?’

  ‘Since the end of the war, and we had been lovers from within a few weeks of its beginning.’

  ‘Why didn’t you marry her before, then?’

  ‘For one thing she was already married. For another, there were various complications, which made it next to impossible for her to get a divorce.’

  ‘Do tell me about her.’

  Gregory shook his head. ‘No, my dear. The history of an old love would only bore you.’

  ‘It certainly would not. You are a fascinating person and I want to know every single thing about you.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Then we are two fascinating persons. All right, if you insist. But let’s order lunch first.’

  When they had studied the long menu the waiter brought them, Gregory decided on cold bisque homard and poulet Duc de Bourgoyne; Manon on melon, followed by a tournedos done rare and a caju ice.

  ‘I think I could manage an ice, too,’ he said. ‘But what is caju?’

  ‘Cashew,’ she replied. ‘But this isn’t made from the nuts. It is flavoured with the fresh fruit of the plant, and it’s delicious.’

  ‘Really! Then I’ll try one.’ Handing the menu back to the waiter, he went on: ‘As a young man I was a foreign correspondent. Later I carried out several special investigations for Sir Pellinore, the grand old man I mentioned a few minutes ago. He was a banker and immensely wealthy. When the war came he asked me to go into German
y and attempt to get in touch with a group of Generals who were conspiring to overthrow Hitler.’

  Manon’s eyes widened. ‘So you became a secret agent. How thrilling!’

  ‘That’s it and it was on my first mission that I met Erika. She came from a famous Bavarian family and was the daughter of General von Epp. When I met her she was married to a Count von Osterberg. In the early days she had been pro-Nazi and was a great friend of Hermann Goering’s, but she had quarrelled with Hitler about his persecution of the Jews and she proved to be my lead to the conspirators.’

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Golden-haired, blue-eyed and rather like Marlene Dietrich. She was said to be one of the loveliest women in Germany. We fell for one another right away, but she refused to leave Germany for England with me after the failure of the Munich Bomb Plot.

  ‘Instead, she took refuge in Finland. There we met again. Later we were in Norway together, then in Belgium, where she was shot and badly wounded; but I got her off from the beaches of Dunkirk. In due course I carried out many other missions for Sir Pellinore. On one occasion I went into Germany to get Erika out after she had been lured back there and had fallen into a trap. Finally, we met again in Berlin in the last week of the war. The Russians were storming the city and we escaped only by the skin of our teeth. You see now how it was that we couldn’t get married until the war was over.’

  ‘It all sounds incredibly exciting. Are you still a secret agent?’

  Gregory laughed. ‘Good gracious, no. I gave up that sort of thing long ago.’

  ‘What do you do for a living, then?’

  ‘Nothing. Sir Pellinore was a most generous patron. That enabled me to buy a charming estate in Dorset, and Erika and I settled down there. The old boy had no children and when he died he left me a large part of his fortune; so I can well afford to spend the greater part of the year travelling. Since I lost Erika I’ve done little else.’

  Manon sighed. As Gregory’s death was predicted for that night, his confirmation that he was very rich added insult to injury. That Fate should have sent her such a charming lover and one who could afford to indulge her every whim, yet rob her of him before she had a chance to make a bid to share his wealth, was doubly cruel.