Buch lesen: «No Gentle Possession»

CHAPTER ONE

THE long room with its pine-logged walls and low-beamed ceiling was full of people, most of whom were stamping their feet and clapping excitedly to the sound of Tyrolean music gone slightly mad. The small band of local musicians had all imbibed rather freely of their host’s hospitality, as indeed had everyone else, and by now the party was totally uninhibited, dancing and singing, or keeping time with their feet. At the far end of the room a huge fireplace was filled with logs which blazed brightly, adding their own illumination to the scene, while the atmosphere, thickened by cigar and cigarette smoke, exuded the mingled scents of perfume and shaving lotion, wines and lager, or plain body heat.

At the opposite end of the room to the fire, a man sat apart from the rest, lodged on a tall stool beside the long buffet tables where food and drink were being dispensed by several white-coated attendants. For time to time, someone would approach him with the obvious idea of rousing him from his solitude, but from their expressions when they turned away it was just as obvious that they had not succeeded.

Alexis Whitney was bored. It was no new experience for him. He was often bored, more frequently with people than with places, and right now he was in no mood to appreciate the kind of bonhomie that was created at such a gathering. He was well aware that his attitude would have been noted and commented upon; it wasn’t very kind, it wasn’t even very polite, but quite honestly he didn’t particularly care. He was all too compellingly aware that no matter how rude or objectionable he might be, his so-called friends would forgive him, and if that forgiveness was conceived all the more rapidly because of his father’s undoubted wealth and social position, then who was he to complain? It was a cynical attitude, he knew, but events had generated that cynicism, and looking ahead he could see no reason to change his opinions.

Finishing the remaining Scotch in his glass, he rose to his feet, flexing his back muscles tiredly. He Had spent the day on the ski slopes above the village and although during the past couple of weeks he had done a lot of skiing, today he had really taxed his strength and endurance. It had been another attempt to shed the boredom that seemed to be seeping like a poison into his soul.

His amber eyes surveyed the room critically. There must have been about forty people present, almost all the guests from the Grüssmatte Hotel, in fact. But Axel Fritzlander was like that. He threw open his chalet without reserve, inviting anyone and everyone to his parties. Alexis had known him for about twenty years. He was a contemporary of his father’s, and Alexis could remember coming here years ago when he was only a child and his mother had been alive. They had spent many winter holidays at the Grüssmatte Hotel, and in consequence they knew its owner intimately. Now, of course, Grüssmatte was much busier than it had been then, and there were other small hotels and pensions catering for the ever-increasing influx of tourists, but still the hotel owned by Axel Fritzlander maintained its individuality, and his guests expected and received personal service. It was expensive, of course, much more expensive than the Hochlander, or the Gasthof, but that, said Axel, was the only way to ensure that his guests would be of the right type and background to mix socially. To Alexis, in his present frame of mind, it was all rather pretentious, and he half wished he had chosen to stay at one of the other hotels, just to see what kind of a reaction that would have aroused.

Still, he thought reflectively, these weeks in Austria had served their purpose in that they had taken him away from London at a time when he most desired it. He had come to the Grüssmatte with David Vanning, a young barrister in London, and one of his few real friends. They had gone to school together, but nowadays, since David began his career, they didn’t see much of one another. Alexis recalled with wry humour his father’s astonishment when he had told him he was going away with David. The usual crowd he mixed with didn’t go in much for actual working, and until recently he had been quite happy to go along with their philosophy so long as he remained conscious of his father’s displeasure …

At the moment, David was at the opposite end of the room, sitting near the fire with Rosemary Lawson, whose parents had not joined the party. Rosemary had been David’s prime objective in coming to the Grüssmatte, he had made that clear from the start, but Alexis had not minded. It had suited him to have some time alone; it had given him a chance to think, and while he didn’t particularly care for his thoughts, at least he had enjoyed the sense of release gained in purely physical achievement.

Now he made his way towards the door, but before he reached it, a small, slim, red-haired girl interposed herself between him and his goal.

‘Alex darling,’ she exclaimed appealingly, grasping the sleeve of his dark blue suede suit. ‘You’re not leaving!’

Alexis looked down at her wryly. ‘Aren’t I? I thought I was.’

‘Oh, Alex, you can’t go now! It’s only just after midnight! Darling, why aren’t you joining in the fun like everybody else? It’s not like you to be so – so – detached!’

Alexis shrugged. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. But it was a refusal.

The girl’s hand dropped from his sleeve. She had to tip back her head to look up at him. ‘What’s the matter? What have I done? You’ve scarcely spoken to me for the last five days!’ Her voice quivered a little. ‘I thought – I thought you liked me.’

Alexis controlled his impatience. He despised women who ran after a man, who could not control their emotions. ‘I do like you, Sara,’ he replied briefly. ‘But right now I’m tired, I want to go to bed.’

Sara Raymond touched a strand of her hair provocatively. ‘I don’t mind where you want to go, if I can go with you.’

Alexis expelled his breath on a long sigh. ‘No, Sara,’ he said definitely, and with a faint smile he walked past her to the door.

No one else tried to stop him. Only Axel was likely to have attempted to do so, and he was occupied with a group of people near the band. Alexis cast one last look at the scene, and then went out into the hall.

He collected his sheepskin coat, and fastened it warmly before stepping out into the frosty air. He scorned the fur hats worn by some and his hair, which at first sight could appear almost white because of its silvery lightness, lay thick and smooth against his head. It was a magnificent night, the sky an arc of inky blue above, inset with a million jewel-like stars. All around the chalet, and the village on whose outskirts it lay, the mountains slumbered beneath their pall of snow like rampant giants, their startling whiteness illuminating the scene with brilliant clarity.

Hunching his shoulders, Alexis set off to walk back to the hotel, but as it was only some hundred yards from Axel’s chalet, he decided to walk the length of the village before retiring. Now that he was away from the party, from the thick, cloying atmosphere, his brain felt sharper, and clearer, and the weariness in his bones seemed to ease as he moved.

There were still one or two people about, although most were enjoying the kind of après-ski entertainment Axel provided, and the sound of accordion music drifted on the air. But it was not an unpleasant sound, and Alexis felt more at peace with himself at that moment than at any time he could recently remember.

It did not take long to reach the end of the village where the bare iron supports of the ski-lift stood out starkly against the background of snow. Motionless now, they stretched up towards the line of spruce and pine trees which marked the beginning of the higher slopes. During the day, these lower slopes were thronged with people, young and old alike, but the more rarefied atmosphere of the upper slopes was what Alexis preferred.

He was about to turn back again when a movement some way up the slope caught his attention. Someone was up there, and because they were wearing something light, they had not immediately been noticeable. Alexis frowned. Surely no one was foolhardy enough to be messing about at this time of night without anyone on hand to offer assistance should it be necessary. Even these lower slopes could be treacherous, providing their users with twisted ankles, sprained muscles, and sometimes actual broken limbs.

He hesitated. It was really nothing to do with him. If his eyes were not so accustomed to searching the slopes for possible dangers on his own perilous descends he might never have noticed that there was anyone up there.

But even as he considered this, there was a startled cry and the person, whoever it was, overbalanced and came tumbling down the slope towards him. It was obvious in that undignified descent that whoever it was was not wearing skis, and Alexis gave a resigned sigh before he went to help the unfortunate climber out of the drift of snow into which he had tumbled.

However, as he reached the place where the snow was thickest, the climber was scrambling to his feet, and brushing himself down, so that clearly there was no damage done. Alexis halted, and then said:

‘Are you all right?’

The climber started, as though until that moment he had thought himself alone, but as he looked up Alexis saw that his supposition of which sex had been wrong. It was a girl who stood regarding him with obvious impatience, a tall girl with an oval face, unnaturally pale in the moonlight, and dark, very dark hair that strayed in a deep fringe across her forehead, and pushed out from the bottom of the cream fur hood of the parka she was wearing.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing so that he could scarcely see them between the thick lashes, and then dropping her gaze she said: ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you,’ dispelling any doubts he might have had as to her nationality. Her voice was low and attractive, and unmistakably English.

Alexis inclined his head. ‘That’s good.’ He paused. ‘However, I wouldn’t advise you to do this very often. These slopes have been known to produce quite serious accidents, and as you’re not even wearing skis …’

She looked up then, anger quickening her speech. ‘I’m quite aware of the hazards involved, thank you.’

‘Are you?’ his expression was wry. ‘Is that why you made that ungainly descent from up there?’ His eyes flickered up towards the firs. ‘I’m sorry – it’s something quite new to me. I always thought the idea was to remain in an upright position. Obviously, I was wrong—’

‘Very amusing!’ She made an irritated little grimace at him and giving one last flick to her cream trousers began to walk towards the village.

Alexis smiled, watching her retreating back with humour. Then with a characteristic shrug of his broad shoulders he quickened his stride to fall into step beside her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, with that innate charm which was so much a part of his attractiveness. ‘But I couldn’t resist it. You looked so indignant standing there, all covered in snow. It’s a pity I was around at all.’

‘Yes, it was.’

The girl looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, and something stirred way back in his subconscious. Something about her was vaguely familiar; he had the disturbing suspicion that at some time she had looked at him like that before. But how was it possible? It was obvious from her accent that she was not from the southern part of England, nor did she have the cultured overtones in her voice that he was used to. How could he have met someone like her? Unless it was at university …

He frowned. It was an infuriating impression, and on impulse, he said: ‘Have we ever met before?’

Immediately the words were out he regretted using them. She lifted her dark eyebrows mockingly, and replied: ‘Is that the best you can do? I expected something quite devastating after that introduction!’

Alexis’s frowned deepened. He didn’t like being made to feel small. ‘It was not a line,’ he said. ‘I meant it.’

‘Really?’ She sounded uninterested, and a slow feeling of anger began to burn inside him. It was a long time since any woman had treated him to such a show of indifference, and he resented her assumption that he might be interested in her.

In cool tones, he said: ‘I should have realized it was impossible to ask such a question without you assuming I was necessarily voicing a personal interest in you. I’m sorry if I’m exploding the high opinion you have of yourself, but there it is.’

The girl tensed at this, and for a moment he felt contrite. He felt quite sure that could he have seen her in normal lighting and not the eerie artificiality of the moon he would have found her cheeks to be blazing with colour at the intended slight.

But she made no reply and not really knowing what prompted him to do so, Alexis said: ‘Are you staying long in Grüssmatte?’

There was a moment’s silence while she obviously fought with herself as to whether to reply, and then she said: ‘Actually no. We leave in the morning.’

‘I see.’ Alexis thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his sheepskin coat. ‘Will you be sorry to leave?’

‘Not really,’ she conceded quietly. ‘I – well – two other teachers and myself are responsible for thirty teenagers. It hasn’t exactly been a picnic.’

Alexis was interested in spite of himself, but at that moment she halted and gestured towards the small hotel standing back from the road. ‘We’re staying here,’ she said. ‘Good night.’

Alexis’s brows drew together. All of a sudden he wished they had not had that altercation. He would have liked to have continued talking to her. But she was already walking up the slope towards the hotel and short of going after her and risking another rebuff there was nothing he could do. And he still had that annoying sensation that he had met her before.

He arrived back at the Grüssmatte Hotel, not in the best of tempers, and when the hotel manager stopped him in the hall with a tentative: ‘Herr Whitney!’ he turned to him with ill-concealed impatience.

‘Yes? What is it?’

Jurgen Blass gave an apologetic smile. ‘So sorry to trouble you, Herr Whitney, but there has been a telephone call for you – from your father.’

Alexis sighed. ‘Yes?’

‘He – er – would like you to ring him back as soon as you come in, Herr Whitney. He said it was urgent.’

‘Urgent? At this time of night?’ Alexis glanced at the gold watch on his wrist.

‘Yes, Herr Whitney.’

Alexis considered the man’s impassive face for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Very well. Arrange the call for me, will you? I’ll be in my suite.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The manager bowed his head politely and Alexis went on his way to the stairs. For all its excellence, the Grüssmatte had no lifts.

While he waited for the call to come through, Alexis took a shower. It was when he was towelling himself dry that the telephone in the adjoining bedroom began to ring. Wrapping the huge towel around him, he went to answer it. Until that moment he had not paid a great deal of attention as to why his father should want to speak to him at this time of night, his thoughts had still been absorbed with the girl from the ski slopes, but now as he lifted the receiver recollections of his life in London came back to him, and he felt a sense of resentment that because of this medium there was no real escape.

‘Alexis Whitney,’ he responded automatically.

‘Alex! Alex – is that you?’ His father’s voice was indistinct. It was not a good line.

‘Yes, Howard. Where’s the fire?’ He was laconic. It was a long time since he and his father had had any real communication with one another. They saw one another frequently, they talked frequently; but always there was that unseen barrier between them.

‘Alex! I’ve been trying to reach you since ten o’clock!’

‘I was out.’

‘I know that, dammit. Couldn’t you leave notification as to where you are?’

‘They knew where I was.’

‘Then why the hell didn’t somebody contact you?’

‘I guess you didn’t make the position too clear.’ Alexis was bored with this conversation. ‘In any case, I don’t see why whatever you’ve got to say couldn’t wait until morning.’

‘Don’t you? Don’t you?’ Howard Whitney was breathing heavily down the telephone and Alexis could picture him propped against the desk in his study, his face reddening with frustration as he endeavoured to restrain the temper which Alexis himself had inherited. A big man, as tall as Alexis himself but stockily built with a thickening waistline, he was forced to maintain a rigid diet to avoid the blood pressure which was already evident in times of stress. ‘Damn you, Alex, do you know what Knight has done? He’s attempted suicide!’

‘What?’ Alexis, who had been reaching for one of the slim cigars he favoured, stayed his hand. ‘You mean – he’s dead!’

‘No.’ His father bit off the word harshly. ‘No, fortunately he was found in time. He’s not dead – just off his head, I hear.’

Alexis took a deep breath and wrapped the towel more closely about him. ‘I see.’

‘Is that all you can say?’ Howard burst out.

‘What do you expect me to say?’ Alexis shook his head. ‘Give me a chance to take it in.’

‘You’re to fly home first thing in the morning,’ went on Howard grimly. ‘I want you here, in my office, before noon.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Alexis was controlling his own anger now. ‘I’m not a boy any more, Howard. Don’t try to give me orders!’

‘Alex!’ There was a short explosive silence, and then his father went on more reasonably: ‘Alex, for God’s sake, man, do as I ask. I have to talk to you. And not like this.’

‘Where’s Janie?’

Howard snorted furiously. ‘You’re not still interested in her, are you?’

‘No.’ Alexis was cool. ‘But as one human being to another, I guess I can feel sympathy for her, can’t I? Or don’t you know what that is?’

‘I shouldn’t waste my sympathies on her,’ retorted Howard brutally. ‘But as far as I know, she’s still at the apartment.’

‘Did she—?’

‘—find her husband? No.’ Howard was definite about that. ‘He took an overdose of drugs at the office. The night watchman found him. He telephoned her.’

‘I see.’ Alexis digested this. ‘Okay, okay, don’t distress yourself. I’ll fly back tomorrow. But I don’t see what there is to get so steamed up about.’

‘Don’t you?’ Howard caught his breath. ‘Well, maybe you will tomorrow. You think about it, right?’

‘Right.’ Alexis reached for a cigar and put it between his teeth. ‘Is that all?’

‘Isn’t it enough?’

Alexis lit the cigar and inhaled deeply. ‘Fine. See you some time before dinner. That’s the best I can promise,’ and he rang off.

He smoked his cigar thoughtfully for a while, and then stubbing it out went back into the bathroom to finish drying his hair. When he returned to the bedroom he had put on a towelling bathrobe and he flung himself on the wide bed and stared up at the ceiling. His father’s call had banished all thoughts of sleep he might have had, and he felt a rising sense of frustration at the inadequacy of the information he had been given. But then telephones were not particularly confidential pieces of equipment and he supposed he could understand his father’s reluctance to be too explicit. Even so, it was an unsatisfactory state of affairs.

He thought about Janie Knight. He hadn’t seen her since the beginning of December last year, which must be about six weeks ago now. Of course, after he had stopped seeing her, she had telephoned him, numerous times, and even visited his apartment, although Drake, his manservant, knew better than to let her in. She had not been able to accept that it was all over, and he had hoped these weeks at Grüssmatte would convince her irrevocably that he meant what he said. And now this had happened, and while he didn’t feel any sense of blame, it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

David Vanning was most put out the next morning when Alexis broke the news to him that he was leaving as they had breakfast together.

‘But, Alex, we’ve only been here a couple of weeks. Surely your old man can do without you for longer than that!’

Alexis smiled rather ruefully. ‘It seems not, Dave. I’m sorry, but there it is. Still, I guess Rosemary will find the time to console you!’

David made a helpless gesture. ‘That’s not the point, Alex. Rosemary’s okay; you know I’m very keen on her, and I guess one day we’ll get married and all that, but – well, she’s no athlete, and I don’t intend to spend the rest of my holiday hanging round the hotel or making shopping excursions into Innsbruck.’

Alexis rested his elbow on the table, supporting his chin on one hand. ‘Do I detect a note of dissatisfaction in your voice?’ he queried lazily. ‘Surely the romantic idyll hasn’t begun to pall already?’

David looked slightly embarrassed. ‘It’s not that. It’s just that – well, her parents are always around. We never get any time alone. Not really alone, that is.’

Alexis looked amused. ‘Well, that’s what comes of doing things by the book.’

‘What do you mean? Coming here with her parents?’

‘More or less.’

‘They’d never have let her come away with me alone.’

‘Hard luck!’

‘I suppose you think in my position you’d have managed to persuade them.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘No, but you thought it.’ David lifted his shoulders dejectedly. ‘Hell, Alex, is it absolutely essential that you leave today?’

‘Absolutely, I’m afraid.’ Alexis finished his second cup of coffee looking idly through the restaurant window on to the groups of holidaymakers making their way towards the ski slopes. ‘I suppose I ought to go and see how they’re getting on with my packing. I shall be sorry to leave all this.’

David grimaced. ‘I half wish I was coming with you.’

Alexis’s lips lifted at his friend’s outburst, but then his attention was arrested by a sleek continental coach that was slowly progressing along the village street. He was suddenly reminded that the girl he had met last night in such unusual circumstances had said she and her group were leaving today. The coach was most probably for them.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

David’s irate tones brought his attention back to the present and he looked at him apologetically. ‘No. What did you say?’

‘I said I’d ring you once I got back to London.’

‘Oh, yes, yes. Fine.’ But Alexis was preoccupied. He rose abruptly to his feet. ‘I’ve got to get moving. What are your plans for this morning?’

David lay back in his chair shrugging. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been promising to take Rosemary on the nursery slopes for days. I guess I could do that.’

Alexis nodded, and then with a sense of compunction he patted David’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, man. But there’s nothing I can do.’ He paused. ‘Be seeing you, then.’

‘Yes. Sure.’

David nodded, managing a faint smile, but as Alex crossed the restaurant to reach the hall, he could see David’s dejected reflection in the long mirrors that flanked the swing glass doors.

The flight from Salzburg landed in the late afternoon. It had been delayed by bad weather conditions, and it was even snowing slightly at Heathrow as Alexis left the plane.

The formalities over with, he emerged from the reception lounge bent on finding the nearest bar and a stiff drink. He knew he was delaying the moment when he would have to take up his life again, but airports were those transient kind of places where one was in limbo, a condition he presently desired.

But as he climbed the stairs to the bar, a voice he recognized only too well, called: ‘Alex! Alex, where are you going?’

He halted reluctantly and turned, looking down into the well of the hall where a fur-clad feminine figure was waving vigorously at him. He hesitated only a moment, and then with resignation descended the stairs again. He knew perfectly well that had he pretended not to hear her and gone on to the bar, she would have followed him.

Reaching ground level, he turned up the collar of his sheepskin coat against the cold draught of air which swept through the hall, and said, in drawling tones: ‘Hello, Michelle. What are you doing here?’

Michelle Whitney smiled up at him warmly. She was an attractive woman of medium height, but wrapped in the expensive sables she looked particularly elegant. ‘Alex darling,’ she cried reprovingly. ‘Where else would I be? I’ve come to meet you, of course. Your father sent me. I’ve been waiting around for simply hours!’

Alexis considered her avid expression without enthusiasm. ‘That wasn’t necessary, Michelle. I’m quite capable of hiring a cab.’

Michelle raised her delicately plucked eyebrows. ‘What a greeting! It’s just as well I’m used to your boorishness, darling, or I’d feel quite hurt.’

Alexis’s lips were wry. ‘Is that possible?’ he queried mockingly, and was gratified to see her colour deepen.

‘Oh, you are a pig, Alex!’ she exclaimed heatedly. ‘I don’t know why I put up with it.’

‘Don’t you?’ He glanced round irritably. ‘Look, Michelle, I want a drink and as I’m perfectly certain that my father did not send you to meet me, in fact I don’t know how you got the information—’

‘I was there when your father phoned you last night!’

‘Okay, I’ll accept that. But now, I suggest you go home, and I’ll see you both later.’

Michelle wrapped her fur-clad arms closely about herself. ‘Why can’t I have a drink with you?’

‘Because I want to be alone.’

‘Alex, please!’

‘No.’ He half turned away and then looked back at her. ‘Don’t worry. Your little secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell the old man.’

Michelle pursed her lips. ‘There are times when I hate you, Alex!’

‘Good. That’s a healthy emotion.’

‘All my emotions towards you are healthy, Alex.’ She put a tentative hand on his arm.

Alex looked down at that soft-gloved hand, and then into her face, and with a muffled gasp she released him. ‘I still don’t see why we can’t have a drink together. I am your stepmother, after all.’

‘Yes. Unfortunately I’m aware of that,’ retorted Alexis, brutally. ‘G’-bye, Michelle. I’ll see you later, at home.’

Without another word, he swung back up the stairs, and didn’t look back, not even as he walked along the gallery.

Alexis’s apartment was the penthouse of a tall block near Hyde Park, and Blake, his manservant, welcomed him home warmly some two hours later. As Alexis shed his coat in the hall of the apartment Blake said: ‘Your father’s been on the phone for you, sir. Several times. I told him you hadn’t arrived back yet, but I’m not sure he believed me. He said he had telephoned the airport, and he knew your plane had landed some time ago.’

Alexis grimaced, and unfastening his tie, he walked ahead into the wide, attractive lounge. This was a room that always gave him pleasure and he looked about him with enjoyment, appreciating its comfortable elegance. There was a turquoise carpet underfoot, patterned in shades of blue and green, while the long settee and armchairs were natural-coloured, soft, buttoned leather. He was lucky enough to be able to afford all the luxurious accoutrements to modern living, but the massive television was seldom turned on, and in recent years his interest in the hi-fi equipment, which had once fascinated him, had dwindled.