‘
You
’
d better come indoors,
’
the man invited.
He helped her over the rough ground until they came in sight of a pink-washed villa with a vine-covered pergola. He placed a chair for her, then fetched a bowl of water and a towel.
‘
You
’
ve a graze or two on your arm. Nothing very much when I
’
ve cleaned it up. Are you staying near here?
’
‘
At the Villa Stefano.
’
‘
Friends of yours?
’
he queried.
‘
Well, no. My father has rented part of the villa for the summer. He
’
s been ill and needs rest.
’
‘
I see. My name
’
s Sanderby. I came yesterday. I
’
m hoping to be able to spend a couple of months here. I
’
m trying to repair this villa and make it more habitable. That place where you fell is the site of one of the Emperor Tiberio
’
s old villas—or at least, so the tale goes.
’
She groaned slightly as he lifted her shoulder to wind a bandage around the top of her arm.
‘
Thank you for your first aid,
’
she said.
‘
Rather clumsy, I
’
m afraid. It
’
s not my kind of job. If you have real trouble with that shoulder muscle, see a doctor, Miss—er?
’
‘
Buckland,
’
she answered shortly.
‘
Althea Buckland.
’
She rose to go, but he interrupted with,
‘
I can
’
t offer you a dainty English tea, I
’
m afraid, but perhaps you
’
ll have a glass of wine?
’
‘
No, thank you,
’
she replied.
He began to smile.
‘
On what grounds are you refusing? Don
’
t you like the local wines or is it that you won
’
t drink a friendly glass with me in my house?
’
‘
Neither. If you
’
ll show me the way, I
’
d like to get back to the Villa Stefano. I
’
ll promise not to intrude on your property again.
’
‘
What English chilliness
!’
he murmured.
‘
All right, have it your own way, although I assure you I have some excellent Marsala in stock.
’
She emphasised her refusal by turning away and walking to what she thought would be the path that led through his garden back to the main road.
‘
Not that way, if you
’
re sure you really must go. There
’
s a path up this way that will lead you straight to the Villa Stefano.
’
He accompanied her until she was in sight of the villa.
‘Y
ou can hardly lose your way now,
’
he said.
‘
I apologise for leaving Tiberio
’
s ruins in a place where you fell over them, but I hope the shoulder won
’
t give you trouble.
’
She knew that the coolness in his voice was merely a cover for hidden laughter and the look in his blue eyes infuriated her.
‘
Goodbye, Mr. Sanderby,
’
she said decisively, and hurried towards the villa.
No one was in the garden and Althea slipped into the
‘
gingerbread house
’
and to her bedroom without meeting her father or anyone else in the household. She had already decided to say nothing of this encounter with the Englishman. Yet, she asked herself, what inexplicable reason made her want to hush up the incident? This was a question she could not answer, but she would certainly take care not to intrude again, as she had said, on Mr. Sanderby or his ruins.
For tonight she had to choose a dress with sleeves that would hide the smaller bandage she had managed to apply.
Even so, it happened that as Carla went to her place at the dinner-table, she touched Althea
’
s shoulder. Althea could not smother the sharp gasp of pain and her father looked at her in surprise.
‘
It
’
s nothing
,’
she said glibly.
‘
I knocked my arm against a piece of wall when I was out this afternoon.
’
That was probably true enough even though the piece of wall had been lying on the ground at the time of impact.
After dinner Carla decided to sing and asked Althea to play the accompaniment. Althea did her best, but afterwards Carla reproached her.
‘
You did not play well for me tonight, but perhaps it is your arm that hurts you.
’
‘
Oh, it
’
ll be all right by tomorrow,
’
Althea returned airily.
She was uneasy that so much attention was being focused on this trivial injury.
Next afternoon she was sitting in the garden with her father when she was amazed to see Carla coming across the lawn, followed by Mr. Sanderby, spruced up today in a pale beige jacket and trousers with a white silk shirt and well
-
polished brown shoes.
‘
Kent has come to visit you,
’
announced Carla, her face twisted into a scowl.
‘He
wants to know about your arm.
’
‘
Mr. Buckland? I
’
m Kent Sanderby.
’
The young man held out his hand to Althea
’
s father, then turned towards her.
‘
No really bad effects from yesterday
’
s adventure, Miss Buckland?
’
Althea was almost too astonished to make any reply other than a jumbled murmur. So this was the composer who was such a powerful magnet to Carla! Of course Althea had wrongly assumed that his surname was Kent. Carla had not indicated that it was his first name.
Already the two men, a generation apart, were talking happily together. Carla sat upright and silent on a garden chair and glared at Althea.
‘
Are you sure that your arm is not painful?
’
insisted Kent Sanderby.
‘
I
’
ve told you! It
’
s quite all right,
’
Althea snapped the words, but was immediately sorry for that flash of temper, for she noticed a brief satisfied smile cross Carla
’
s face.
The girl brightened when Mr. Sanderby turned towards her.
‘
And how are the singing lessons, my dear Carla?
’
‘
My teacher says I sing like an angel, but he does not really know, for he has never heard an angel. He is too old, also, and I wish I could go to Naples for lessons from a better teacher.
’
‘
And preferably a younger one?
’
Kent teased her, and laughed when she blushed.
Rosanna came out with a tray of coffee and little cakes, and Carla acted as hostess un
til
her mother appeared. Signora Marchetti gave Kent Sanderby a polite, but cool, greeting.
‘
So you have come back again,
’
she said as though he were a bad penny that had turned up again.
‘
Last year I could only attend to the foundations of my villa,
’
he explained easily,
‘
but this time, if I can stay long enough, I hope to repair some of the walls and roof.
’
Signora Marchetti shrugged her plump shoulders.
‘
Is it any use? One day your villa will fall into the sea. It is too near the edge.
’
‘
Not so near as to be dangerous,
’
he answered mildly.
‘
It
’
s only venturesome young women who clamber about and trip over broken marble columns.
’
He gave Althea a meaning glance, and she could cheerfully have killed him with her return glare.
‘
Oh, was it there that you fell against the wall?
’
queried her father, obtusely pushing her
farther into this awkward situati
on.
‘
Well, yes,
’
she admitted.
‘
You called on Signor Sanderby?
’
asked Signora Marchetti.
‘
Not intentionally. I lost my way and found myself in Mr. Sanderby
’
s garden.
’
‘
I see.
’
The Signora
’
s face became frosty.
Althea was only too relieved when at last Kent Sanderby took his leave, with Carla accompanying him out of the garden.
‘
He seems a very interesting young man,
’
was Mr. Buckland
’
s verdict.
The Signora almost snorted.
‘
I do not like him. When he was here last year, I thought he was quite objectionable. He has many undesirable friends and they sing and dance and play until all hours.
’
‘
He tells me he is working on an opera,
’
put in Lawrence Buckland.
‘
Opera!
’
Signora Marchetti
’
s full-lipped mouth stretched into a sneer.
‘
As though he could write an opera, that one! Does he think they will come from La Scala to hear his little times?
’
Both Althea and her father were stunned into silence. Then Signora Marchetti added,
‘
I do not like the young man and I do not wi
s
h to encourage him to visit us. I must look after my Carla and see that she does not meet the wrong men. So, if you please, Althea, do not ask him to the villa.
’
The girl nodded, although she wanted to point out that she had not invited Kent Sanderby on this occasion.
‘
Excuse me, I must go and find Carla,
’
muttered Signora Marchetti.
When she had disappeared, Mr. Buckland glanced with raised eyebrows at his daughter.
‘
You didn
’
t mention him yesterday, Althea.
’
Well, I didn
’
t know then that he was an unwelcome visitor here and, after all, it was only a trivial accident. I wanted to make light of it, that
’
s all.
’
But Althea soon discovered that Carla was in no mood to make light of the affair. As soon as she caught Althea alone, she blazed out at her.
‘
You met him yesterday and did not tell me
!’
she accused indignan
tl
y. Why did you keep it secret?
’
‘
Carla, I
’
m sorry, but I didn
’
t know
exactly
who he was.
’
‘
That is a lie. You knew his name was Kent. I told you so.
’
‘
Yes, but I thought He told me his name was Sanderby. He didn
’
t say his first name was Kent.
’
‘
But you went to his villa, the Villa Castagna. That also I told you,
’
declared Carla.
‘
Yes, but only because I lost my way, and even then I had no idea of the name of his villa.
’
‘
You are very unkind to me,
’
retorted Carla.
‘
You go behind the back. It is—what is the word?—a sly trick.
’