Diamond Fire. Anne Mather

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      But the sun was shining, filtering in through the printed silk curtains that someone had drawn over her windows, and Camilla would not have been human if she hadn’t felt a sense of curiosity about her surroundings. Stepping down on to the lower level, she crossed the delicately patterned rug, and drew the drapes aside.

      She startled a brightly coloured bird that had been breakfasting from the tumbling branches of an azalea, whose rose and lilac-coloured blossoms spilled over the balcony; but Camilla scarcely noticed. Her widening eyes were drawn to the brilliant waters of the Pacific surging on to a stretch of almost pure white sand just a short distance away. From a creamy whiteness, caused by the reflection of the sand through the water, to the deepest blue on the horizon, the water shaded from lime to jade, from robin’s-egg pale to sapphire, an ever-changing carpet of shifting colours.

      Camilla caught her breath. She had never seen such a delightful sight before, and for a moment she forgot everything in the sheer pleasure of just looking. It was so unbelievably beautiful, and the isolated prison of Virginia’s letter seemed far from this enchanted place.

      Fumbling with the catch that secured the sliding glass doors, she eventually discovered how to open them, and stepped out on to the iron-railed terrace. The air was surprisingly cool, but only cool by Hawaiian standards, she reflected dreamily. Even at this hour of the morning, the inherent warmth, which would invade the atmosphere later in the day, was already a sensuous promise against her legs. The playful breeze had parted the skirt of her robe, and was exposing her long slim legs to the strengthening rays of the sun, and because she was alone with the morning she let it do its worst.

      What time was it? she wondered. She had removed her watch before her bath, and now, reluctantly, she turned back into the room and climbed the steps again to the sleeping-deck. She found her watch on the table beside the bed, and discovered it was only half-past six. Evidently, the time-change had worked to her advantage this morning. The household wasn’t yet stirring, but she was wide awake.

      She discovered, when she went to take her shower, that fresh towels had been placed on the rack in the bathroom, and new phials of bath gel and shampoo had replaced the ones she had used the night before. She shook her head in wonder. It was like staying at the very swishest hotel, she thought, remembering an article she had read about a chain of hotels in New York that actually employed somebody to anticipate the guests’ every whim. She had the feeling that if she had arrived without her suitcases that would have been taken care of as well! Alessandro Conti probably left nothing to chance.

      But then, she reflected as she dropped her robe on to the laundry basket and stepped into the shower, she was obviously not the usual sort of guest he entertained. She could imagine politicians coming here with their wives; congressmen, or senators, perhaps; people well known in the arts and education; scientists; maybe even a judge. And also, perhaps, some people who operated outside the law. Alessandro Conti was clearly of Italian descent. He might even belong to the Mafia.

      Deciding she was allowing her imagination to run away with her, Camilla abandoned this train of thought and concentrated on what she was doing. The shower was strong and invigorating, pummelling her scalp and the tender skin of her breasts, flowing in rivulets down the lower contours of her body. Watching the water disappear through the grill at the bottom of the shower, she was reminded of the scene in the film Psycho, when the erstwhile heroine of the piece was invaded by the deranged owner of the motel. She remembered the shadow through the curtain, the knife blade raised and then falling with such horrible intent——

      ‘Aloha! Miss Richards!’

      Camilla nearly jumped out of her skin. The shadowy bulk beyond the shower screen was much too close to what she had been thinking, and she dropped the shampoo, and had to scrabble about in the bottom of the shower to find it again.

      Then, realising it was only the housekeeper, she straightened. ‘Y … yes?’ she called, annoyed to find her voice betraying the shock she had had. ‘Wh … what do you want?’

      ‘I have left a tray of coffee in the bedroom,’ Mama Lu replied imperviously, and Camilla could see her reflection through the glass, moving round the bathroom, picking up her robe and folding it over her arm. ‘I guessed you might wake early this morning. If you would like me to bring breakfast to your room I will, or you might wish to take it outdoors.’

      Camilla swallowed her resentment that the housekeeper should come into her room without knocking, and cleared her throat. ‘Um … I think I’d like to have breakfast outdoors,’ she said, wondering if Alessandro Conti would like to join her. ‘Er—thank you for the coffee. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.’

      ‘You’re welcome.’

      The housekeeper drifted out again, and, expelling a trembling breath, Camilla completed her toilet. She had washed her hair again, deciding it would be easier to style damp than dry, and after drying her body she put on the fresh towelling bathrobe Mama Lu had left in place of her own.

      It would have been easy to feel some impatience with the housekeeper for taking her own robe away, but she supposed Mama Lu was only being helpful. Camilla simply wasn’t used to having servants lay out her clothes for her, or provide her with her own pot of coffee that tasted just as delicious as it smelt.

      Abandoning any hope of remaining businesslike in these surroundings, Camilla dressed in cream cotton Bermuda shorts and a collarless silk blouse. The elbow-sleeved blouse was patterned in shades of cream and green, and was cool without looking too holidayish. The last thing she wanted Alessandro Conti to think was that she was regarding the present situation as a holiday. She might have told him she had come here with that intent, but obviously now that was not the way it was. On the contrary, in the clear light of day Virginia’s disappearance was no less disturbing. Camilla couldn’t understand why she should have done it. She must have expected her friend to respond to her summons, and, as soon as she had received Virginia’s letter, Camilla had made arrangements to do so. She hadn’t sent a cable, for obvious reasons. But there had been no reason for Virginia to lose hope so quickly.

      Perhaps she hadn’t run away. As Camilla plaited her hair down the back of her head and finished with a short braid that nudged her shoulder she wondered if it was at all possible that Virginia had simply decided to take a trip without telling anyone. It was irresponsible, of course, but when they had been at school together Virginia had been irresponsible sometimes. Looking back, Camilla had to admit that her friend hadn’t always done what was expected of her. So why shouldn’t she have arranged this trip and taken her daughter with her?

      Deciding it was at least something she could suggest to Alessandro Conti, Camilla finished her coffee, took one last, rather resigned glance at her reflection, and left the bedroom.

      The hall outside was bathed in sunshine. Long windows that overlooked the lawns at the side of the house had not yet had their blinds slatted, and the floor was striped in bands of gold. As in the lower half of her room, the floor itself was made of wood, polished around the heavy fringed rugs that were laid at intervals along the corridor. Camilla looked to left and right, and then started in what she hoped was the direction of the wide arching vestibule she had entered the night before.

      The house was huge, but she had known that before she had started out. Arriving yesterday afternoon, she had had some intimation of its size from the windows of the taxi that had brought her from the airport, but inside it was even more daunting. Halls and passages led off in all directions, and, while initially she had the side of the house to guide her, when she turned a corner even that reference was denied her.

      The corridor ahead of her now ended in a pair of double-panelled doors, and, although she gazed at them with some expectation, Camilla was almost sure she hadn’t СКАЧАТЬ