 
### FATAL SLIP

### BY

### MARINA OLIVER

### A Dodie Fanshaw Mystery

Flamboyant, wealthy, middle aged and several-times married Dodie Fanshaw is in Madeira to help make a film about her early life as a chorus girl and Hollywood starlet, and her husbands.

She is not amused when her son Jake, indifferent actor, appeals to her for money. Instead of going back to England he remains in Madeira, and contrives to alienate Dodie's friends, a rival actor, the Madeiran family who run the hotel where he had been staying, and a wealthy elderly woman with whom he is now living.

The situation becomes intolerable when Jake, drunk and abusive, comes uninvited to a party on a yacht on New Year's Eve, arranged to watch the annual Funchal firework spectacle.

Fatal Slip

By Marina Oliver

Copyright © 2016 Marina Oliver

Smashwords Edition

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Cover Design by Debbie Oliver

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

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See details of other books by Marina Oliver at www.marina-oliver.net

### AUTHOR NOTE

I spend a good deal of time in Madeira, a beautiful island with friendly people and many English residents and visitors. I always wanted to write a novel set there. One highlight of the year is the magnificent fireworks display on New Year's Eve, and it seemed appropriate to use this as a set-piece which starts my heroine Dodie on her sleuthing career.

### FATAL SLIP

### BY MARINA OLIVER

### Chapter 1

Dodie watched with a mixture of irritation and admiration as the man scuttled backwards in front of the advancing yellow taxi. He was clearly an expert since he scorned the guiding hand men of a lesser breed depended on when stalking politicians. Without faltering he negotiated both the curve and slope of the long driveway, firing off a volley of shots.

The few people around parted like the Red Sea before Moses as he swerved nonchalantly round the end of another taxi. Two loud bangs made the girl who was just alighting start, and she let fall a cascade of shopping bags. Dodie looked round, raised her eyebrows at the sight of a decrepit car which looked decidedly out of place in the front of the Cliff Bay entrance, belching exhaust fumes as it bucked its way along the driveway.

Dodie turned her attention back to Tod. She hadn't yet spoken to him. He'd been busy filming the airport when she'd arrived, then had rushed ahead to Funchal. She didn't know whether he took pride in his ability to run backwards, but she was adept at foreseeing disasters. This one was waiting to happen. Later she concluded that his peripheral vision, though seeming to extend to the back of his head, was above encompassing lowly regions. Affliction lay in unassuming wait. He stepped on one of the glossy shopping bags the taxi's occupant had let slip. One heel skidded forwards, the other leg waggled towards the sky, his body toppled backwards, and he fruitlessly clawed the air as he fell onto a long narrow box. He ended up sitting against one of the Aladdin flower pots at either side of the entrance, while his camera performed an elegant parabola, skimmed the car roof and plopped into the taxi-driver's grasp.

The passenger sprang forward with a cry of dismay and wrested the box from beneath the groaning, floundering photographer. 'My birds! They're ruined!' She held out three stems of strelitzia, their blue and orange heads flopping, inebriated. 'I needed them for the display I'm doing!'

No one was looking at the broken flowers. Even Dodie's driver whistled appreciatively, manoeuvring his taxi to obtain a favourable view of the disconsolate flower girl. He reached back to open Dodie's door, fumbling in his eagerness not to lose a second's viewing time.

'Tod's got the camera back now, so let's hope it's not damaged,' Dodie's companion said. 'Shall we go in?'

Dodie remained seated. 'Don't be crass,' she advised.

'What do you mean? This is the Cliff Bay Hotel. Tod's ready to take the pics we want of you arriving.'

'He's more interested in snapping that girl. Be practical, Jylli. Do you think I want to be in the same shots? Beauty and the beast?'

Her companion gave an embarrassed laugh. 'Oh, come, Mrs Fanshaw, you're still lovely!'

'For my age. Go on, say it. I couldn't begin to compete, even with the Body Shop's help.'

Jylli Goldstone uttered an unconvincing 'No, but – ' and was waved to silence.

'I'm thirty years older, several stones heavier, and though my legs are still as good as they were when I was in the chorus – well, at least below the knees – I'm not wearing a skirt which barely covers my bum! We'll wait until Tod's made his peace and promised to buy her a whole flock of birds of paradise. Go and remind him he's here to photograph me. When she's gone I'll make my own entrance.'

Jylli, clutching her notebook and recorder, climbed out of the taxi. Tod, recalled to the task on hand, bade a reluctant farewell to the slender, slightly-clad blonde, now being escorted by a solicitous young man who bore her parcels and bags as reverently as an altar boy carried relics. He watched her pass through the entrance, then turned resignedly to the job he was being paid for. Dodie allowed the now-attentive taxi-driver to help her from the vehicle, handed him an enormous, unjustified tip, made sure her hat was firmly anchored, shook down the loose jacket which, she hoped, disguised some of her more ample attributes, and strolled elegantly towards the glass doors. She paused, flicked a gauzy scarf over her shoulder, turned and waved to an invisible crowd, then inclined her head to the doorman and, face now hidden by a floating veil, passed out of Tod's viewfinder.

The blonde was on the far side of the huge foyer, gesticulating with the remnants of her flowers. They had succumbed and were spraying neglected petals over the deep sofa behind her. Dodie frowned, and pushed aside the veil to clear her vision, but it wasn't renewed anxiety about the competition which bothered her. It was the man listening to the blonde.

Dodie shook her head. A chance resemblance, that was all. Good grief, there were thousands of tall, dark men around, with slightly too long hair and broad shoulders. She hadn't heard from Jake for months, but his last postcard had been from Florida, and she assumed the pickings would be good there. He'd have no incentive to leave yet. She kept a discreet eye on the blonde's companion, however, as she waited for Tod to catch up with her and take photographs inside the foyer, and swallowed quickly when he turned sideways. His profile was uncannily similar, though his nose was a little straighter and his lips fuller, and his chin rather more determined. Then he turned further and she sighed with relief. Jake's face was thin and narrow. This man's was full and wide, boyish, and with a healthy, outdoor look.

Dodie turned away and made certain Tod was doing his job properly. They processed to the lifts, up to the suite, and out onto the balcony to take pictures of her admiring the view of the harbour. It really was spectacular. Dodie had never before been to Madeira, and she'd been enchanted with the views of the sheer cliffs and precipitous mountains as the plane had swept along the coast during landing. Funchal's sheltered bay, with the backdrop of hills, and the cluster of boats visible in the Marina, decided her. That, and the weather. The past few weeks in London had been cold and wet even for early November, and she'd been thinking of going somewhere warm. Madeira would do very well.

'I'm staying on here for a while,' she announced, turning back into the room.

'But – but Mrs Fanshaw, we'd arranged to go and see your second husband next week!'

Dodie chuckled. 'I'm sure you'll find him much more cooperative if I'm not there to make him tone down his comments. And the series is to be based on my past life, isn't it? Not the stoking of fires long dead!'

Jylli looked puzzled for a moment, and Dodie grinned ruefully. Journalists, like policemen, were getting younger. This one looked barely out of school. She'd probably never seen a real fire, let alone built or stoked one. Her mother's poverty-stricken relatives probably couldn't afford even log fires in their aristocratic ruins – no servants to chop down derelict oaks. Dodie wondered what new metaphors would be found. Turning up the thermostat didn't evoke quite the same vivid picture, and no one took a poker to an imitation gas monstrosity.

'We wanted some pics of the two of you together,' Jylli said, pouting slightly.

'Before and after? Look, you don't have to take them with his swimming pool or the Pacific Ocean as a background. And you can forget me in a bikini.' Jylli swallowed nervously and Dodie grinned. 'He's coming to London in March, to stay with me, and you can take some there.'

'To stay with you?' Jylli looked startled.

'Don't you think it's proper for a former husband to visit me?' Dodie asked sweetly.

'Well, but, didn't your last husband give you that house?' Jylli blurted out disapprovingly.

'Yes, and he stays there with me too.' She chuckled, a warm deep sound from the back of her throat, and laughed out loud as she saw Tod give her an appraising look. 'Together, sometimes.' She grinned at Jylli's shocked expression. 'We older, liberated cookies may have hidden advantages,' she added, and Tod coughed and turned away. 'Just because I divorced them doesn't mean we're not still friends,' she said. 'We just couldn't stand being married – to one another.'

'Yes. Well, shall we talk about your first husband?' Jylli said hurriedly.

Dodie suddenly yawned. 'No. I'm knackered. I had to get up at some God-awful hour, and now I want a nap. I'm ancient, remember, old and past it. I need pampering. Go and settle into your rooms. Go out. Buy some souvenirs, you'll be going back in a couple of days. Perhaps I'll feel like another session this evening.'

She chivvied them out of her suite, but instead of collapsing on the bed unpacked her two large suitcases, hung up her clothes, took a brisk shower, and then settled on the balcony with a double gin and trace of tonic beside her. Had she been silly to agree to the interviews? These days, unlike thirty years ago when any publicity had been welcome, she didn't need to court the media. She admitted she'd been flattered when the TV company had approached her with the project. Her film career had, after all, been short and not particularly glorious. She didn't delude herself that she'd been more than a moderately competent actress, employed more for her figure than her ability. There were no films waiting to be discovered as classics. She wouldn't earn any money from it, but she didn't need money, she had plenty.

'Then why the blazes did I say yes?' she muttered. 'All this hassle, resurrecting old emotions, it won't do any good.'

The telephone shrilled.

'Dodie? It's Bill here. Thought you must have arrived by now. Do you feel like coming here for dinner tonight or are you too tired? Just us and a couple of neighbours.'

'Bill, I'd love to. I was just wondering whether I should call the whole thing off.'

'But why?'

'I'm putting you and Valerie to a lot of trouble.'

'Of course not. It's a bit of excitement for us. Madeira's a quiet, law-abiding place, gets on with its business.'

'Am I stirring up memories better left buried? Perhaps we'd better talk before I let the vultures loose on you both.'

'Then come at six, and we can have a natter before the others arrive. Get a taxi, it's only a few minutes.'

'Thanks. Bill Thorn, you're a darling and I envy Valerie. Why did you have to be married already when we met? Which reminds me, I'm staying on for a while, so can I accept the invitation to your party?'

*

'Turn it up, Emma! Forget the damned flowers. It won't bother Dad whether you send him some or not.'

Emma glared at him, then flounced out of the taxi and walked up the path to the villa. Bruce could be so aggravating. She grabbed her bikini and slid into the bathroom. As she stripped she wondered if she'd made a mistake. What was happening to them? By the time she emerged onto the little terrace that overlooked Point Garajau Bruce, in white shorts and singlet, was on the point of leaving the house.

She swallowed. He was tanned and muscular, and the sight of his bare arms and legs still had the power to arouse her. 'Where are you going?' she demanded, her voice shrill.

'Running,' Bruce said coolly.

'You're going to meet one of your damned women,' she said, her voice bleak with misery.

'Emma, you're like a terrier, once you have some stupid notion in your head you won't let go.'

'It wasn't only a notion when you began playing about with that blasted tramp in New York!'

'Tanya happens to be one of my publisher's PR girls,' he said, sighing. 'Didn't it convince you there was nothing in it when I agreed to come here to finish the next book? Besides, I haven't noticed you being very aloof. You were very busy encouraging that actor fellow we met at the Casino last night.'

'Only because you made me angry flirting with that fat redhead. Bruce, I can't take all this hassle!'

'Then stop believing your own fairy stories.'

He left her abruptly, and soon she saw him jogging easily along one of the paths that wove between the villas scattered on the hillside. Emma flung herself down on a lounger. She could have understood it better if any of the women were raving beauties, but the ones he seemed to prefer were by no means her equal in looks. She wasn't vain, but she knew she was better-looking than any of them. Did he have someone else she didn't know about? Were these others just smoke screens? She brushed angrily at her damp eyes. They'd been married barely a year and already life was becoming unbearably wretched. Why did things always go so badly wrong for her? She'd thought they were so madly in love. She wouldn't have left Alex for anyone else, she knew, but now she began to wonder whether that had been a dreadful mistake. Alex had plenty of faults, and perhaps if she hadn't been so mad at him that time, when he'd insisted on going to his first wife's party, she wouldn't have considered leaving him even for Bruce.

*

'So let me get this right,' Jylli said, nibbling the end of her pen. 'You married Matthew Price when you were dancing in the chorus? And he died six months later. Did he know about the baby?'

'Of course. Jake was a year old when we married.'

'A year old? But – ' Jylli felt hot, and it wasn't from the sun which beat down into the Thorns' garden. 'Was he Jake's – that is, I understood it was a whirlwind romance, you met and married within a week?'

'Correct.' Dodie looked amused, then took pity on the girl. 'Matthew wasn't Jake's father, duckie. There were single mums then, you know, but we called spades by their proper names, we were unmarried mothers and our kids were little bastards. Now Jake's a big bastard.'

'He's a very successful actor.'

'In his opinion. He's had one decent part, in that silly TV sit-com. He was the bad boy on screen until he got so obnoxious off it they sacked him.'

'Yes. Well, we'll interview him later.'

'No. That's in the contract. No interviews with him or my mother.'

'OK.' Jylli sighed inwardly. This restriction would leave open a lot of questions she wanted answered, but Dodie was adamant. 'About Matthew Price, he and Mr Thorn here were in the same regiment, and Bill introduced you, yes?'

'I'd known Bill for years. We lived in the same town.'

Jylli looked speculatively at Bill, who grinned back at her. 'No, I'm not Jake's father, love. Dodie's never let on who that was.'

'Ooh, 'e were a big, important man,' Dodie clowned. 'If I'd let on, there'd 'a' bin such a scandal, governments and even thrones might've fallen! But it's a secret I'll tek ter me grave.'

'Does Jake know?' Jylli asked primly. She was thrown, not knowing whether to believe Dodie, but unwilling to seem either naive or gullible.

'Over my dead body! Jackson was my name then, and it's his too, even though he calls himself Jakes now.'

'Jake Jackson. Bit of a mouthful, wasn't it?'

'Rhymes with mistake.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Jake was my first mistake. And the biggest, unless I count letting my mum bring him up. I was young and innocent then, but I soon made up for it.'

Jylli took a deep breath. She hadn't so far got the material she needed. The company strove to appear a respectable one, and wouldn't use these revelations. She suspected Dodie knew it and was playing with her, but she couldn't work out why. 'Matthew,' she said quickly, 'he died heroically saving Bill from an ambush? In Northern Ireland? Can you tell me about that, Bill?'

'An ambush, as you say. He could have got away, but he and my brother came back to drag me out. My leg had been broken. They shot him.'

Dodie stood up abruptly. 'I'm going to talk to Valerie in the house while Bill gives you the details. You don't need me. I'll be back at the hotel this evening for the next bit.'

*

Isabella Maclean plied the mop automatically. She was going to see him later on. It wasn't because he was a famous actor, she assured herself, though of course that added to the excitement. She'd been fascinated every time she'd seen him in the television series her mother didn't approve of. He had such a wickedly attractive smile, as though he knew some exciting secret. And the part he'd had was one in which he had to be a rebel against society. She could understand that, she often wanted to rebel. She sighed. He was so much more sophisticated than the boys she knew. He was older, of course, and had travelled the world. That made a difference, she admitted. And he had fallen for her!

She leant on the mop handle, staring at her reflection in the big mirror. He loved her dark hair and blue eyes, he said. Blue eyes weren't uncommon in Madeira, where there had been so many British settlers. Her father was one, though she sometimes forgot that, she had so many Madeiran relatives. She was reasonably pretty, she decided, but not a raving beauty. But he'd chosen her. He'd fallen in love the moment he'd seen her. She blushed, and pushed away that thought. He'd watched her when she was serving at table, then he'd spent hours waiting for her to leave the hotel.

Suddenly she began to wield the mop vigorously, If she didn't hurry to finish the rooms, her job today because one of the maids was sick, she'd be late meeting him. As she straightened the pillow once more she laid her cheek on it. His cheek had rested there. If the maid hadn't been sick that day too she might never have met him, or he might not have noticed her. She shivered. That would have been tragic. He was the love of her life, and she of his. Life could be so wonderful, even in this backwater. And she would, she vowed, overcome all the opposition she knew her family would put in their way. She would fight for her happiness.

*

Dodie opened the door of her suite and halted on the threshold. 'Well, well, and how did you get here?'

'That's not a very maternal greeting, Ma,' the man lounging in the armchair reproved.

'You only ever come to see me when you want something. Has your woman thrown you out?'

'Which woman?' he asked, laughing.

Jake looked all of thirty-five, Dodie decided dispassionately. His dark hair was beginning to turn grey, which gave him a distinguished air, but his handsome features, to someone who knew him well, showed faint signs of imminent flab. He was nonetheless still a remarkably attractive man. She felt a momentary pang as she recalled the charmer who'd been her first lover, then thrust away the unaccustomed nostalgia. Jake, perhaps unfortunately for him, had inherited that charm in full measure and used it for his own advantage. Since he usually went for rich, older widows, the fact that he didn't look the typical toyboy might seem, to them, expedient.

'There's always some fool,' she replied, and moved into the room. 'Why have you come, and how did you know I was here?'

'I was on a cruise ship. My – friend – had to fly home. Family problems. As I'd heard about the series they're doing based on your matrimonial adventures, and I was stranded and broke, I thought I'd come and visit my loving Mama! I knew she'd help me out. Unfortunately you weren't here.'

'There was a delay. Why did you stay on?'

'I don't have the cash for a ticket to get anywhere. I've been kicking my heels for a month.'

'That's a new name for your horny pastimes.'

'What?'

'Forget it. Haven't you found another rich widow yet?'

'Why do you, who made a profession out of marrying rich widowers, condemn me for following in your footsteps?'

'At least you have the sense not to marry them!' Dodie chuckled suddenly. 'Can you imagine me with a daughter-in-law older than I am? Where are you staying?'

'Some small place. They wouldn't let me stay here, even though I said you'd pay the bill.'

'If you're broke, who's paying?'

'No one, yet. I'm depending on you, Ma.'

Dodie smiled grimly. 'That figures.' She wondered how much it would cost her this time, and what other bills apart from the hotel Jake had run up. She went to pour herself a drink, but didn't offer him one. He'd raided the fridge and had several drinks already. 'I thought you were in Florida.'

'I got bored. And the cruise seemed like a good idea.'

'You mean there was trouble. Were the police after you?'

'You'll never believe me, will you? You always take the part of the old hags. They get frightened, or their children turn them against me, or I get bored with them thinking they can order me about just because they have money. They want what I can give them, but like all rich bitches they don't want to pay a fair price.'

'They must be really desperate. You're not staying here. If you want sympathy go and see your gran. She always spoiled you and fell for your daft stories. I'll give you enough for your hotel bill and a ticket back to England, and an extra thousand provided you're out of Madeira by the first plane tomorrow. You can be crying on your gran's shoulder by teatime. Now go and pack.'

He held out his hand. 'Thanks, Ma. I knew you'd turn up trumps. I'll take the cheque now.'

'Not likely. I'll give it to you at the airport, when I've booked your flight.'

Jake frowned, then shrugged. 'You're ashamed of me. OK, I understand. I suppose you don't want me to meet whoever it is they're interviewing? I didn't think the husbands who survived lived here?'

'They don't.'

'Have they descended to interviewing your lovers too? That'll take a long time. Are you by any chance about to reveal to the world the secret of my paternity?'

'Jake, go away. You're giving me a headache. You've been a nuisance ever since I was mug enough to keep you instead of letting someone else adopt you.'

Jake wasn't listening. 'That would be amusing. It might even be interesting – if my dear daddy's rich or important as you've always tried to make out. I'm sure he'd like to meet his long-lost son. Think of the publicity! My talents would be in even greater demand, especially in American TV. Chat shows, a new part, a big publishing deal for my story.'

'Except that there's nothing to tell.'

'I wouldn't be too sure of that. He might be worried. Let's be friends for at least a couple of hours. Won't you even have dinner with me?'

'I prefer to be alone.'

He grinned as he heaved himself to his feet. 'Fame's going to your head, Ma. You vant to bee alo-o-one. Couldn't you make it two thousand?'

'One, providing you scarper, or nothing.'

He shrugged. 'A thousand, then, and I'll get out of your hair. Make it cash?'

'Don't be a fool. A cheque. I'll arrange the ticket, and give it to you tomorrow.'

Jake grimaced, but went towards the door. 'Make it as early as possible. Sweet dreams, darling Mama. Don't have nightmares about my revelations.'

*

Dodie buried her head under the pillow and tried to block out the clatter of a heavy metal band, which muffled but did not drown the roar of twenty jet aeroplanes screaming past within inches of her ears. There seemed to be an unmusical bell-ringing contest happening somewhere too, and right beneath her bed a dozen volatile Italian cooks were singing arias while hurling iron pans around.

Then she awoke properly, and feebly clutched her head. The noises merged into a confused thumping and clanging, and she knew she was in for a day or more of utter misery. There was something urgent she had to do, but couldn't remember what. If she could find the bathroom and her pills she might feel partly human in a couple of hours.

It was less than an hour later when there was a discreet knock on her door. Dodie heard it because it was gentle and insinuated itself under the cacophony in her head.

'Mrs Fanshaw? Are you there? Tod and I are off first thing tomorrow, and he wants some more pics.'

Dodie groaned, and uttered a feeble invitation. When Jylli closed the door with a sharp click she groaned again and clung to her temples to stop her head from exploding.

'Mrs Fanshaw! Are you all right?' Jylli exclaimed, and Dodie winced, then tried to stop because any movement hurt.

'Dear girl, don't bellow at me,' she managed. 'It's just one of my migraines. If I'm left quite alone I'll live, perhaps. But I'm not having photos taken of me in this state.'

'I should think not! You look absolutely ghastly,' Jylli whispered, and the hissing consonants made Dodie shudder. 'Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want breakfast?'

Dodie tried to believe the child meant well, but it was a struggle and she soon gave up. 'Not unless you want me spewing all over the room,' she muttered through clenched teeth. 'Bring me my handbag, will you. Don't open the curtains!' she added as Jylli brushed against them and a dagger shaft of sunlight pierced the gloom.

'Here you are,' Jylli whispered, tip-toeing round the bed.

Dodie raised herself on one elbow and extracted her cheque book. 'Can you find my pen? Thanks. Listen, I haven't the energy to repeat it. My son's here. Jake Jakes.'

She flinched at Jylli's squeak of excitement. You'd think the child had enough of theatre people. Those of her mother's relatives who weren't aristocrats had been chorus girls and circus acrobats. Dodie quaked at the thought of flying trapezes and dragged her mind, such of it as she still controlled, back to immediate concerns.

'This is a cheque for him. And this one's for cash, the hotel will change it. It should be enough to pay his hotel bill and buy a single ticket to London, first plane possible. I want you to settle the bill, buy the ticket, and give it to him. Keep the change. Please telephone Bill and Valerie and explain why I can't make lunch. And call me when you get back to London. Thanks.'

Resolutely she subsided and shut her eyes. After a doubtful look Jylli decided it would not be a welcome gesture to offer to plump up the pillows, so she crept from the room clutching the two slips of paper.

She'd never met Dodie's son, Jake, and Dodie had been adamant he was to play no part in this project. Jylli had wondered why. Was it some odd form of jealousy, a middle-aged mother resenting the son's success? Whatever, it provided her with a wonderful opportunity of getting some background information. It might not be possible to use it, of course, since Dodie's agent had put so many restrictions into the contract, but it would perhaps suggest an angle, provide an ambience, give illumination, and anyway she'd had a crush on him when she was at school.

An hour later Jylli was sitting on one of the hotel terraces with Jake, her eyes wide as she listened to his childhood recollections.

'And you didn't see Dodie for years?' she breathed. 'How terribly sad! You must have been a really lonely little boy.'

'I saw her briefly, between marriages,' Jake sighed. 'Of course the old girl did her best, but it wasn't the same, being brought up by your gran in the East End instead of living it up with rich American step-fathers.'

'I'm going to see Dodie's second husband next week. Joe Broughton. Is he very rich?'

'He was until she milked him of a vast settlement. But instead of being satisfied she had to find another mug with a few millions, and trick him into marrying her too.'

'Trick? You mean the Brazilian millionaire? Really?'

Jake grinned. 'Feminine wiles. She was determined my darling little sister could claim a rich father. And it worked. Elena always had everything she wanted, damn her. Jylli, can't I persuade you not to buy that damned ticket?'

'But that was what she told me to do. And to settle your hotel bill.'

'She won't know. Look, I won't use it, and even if you could manhandle me onto a plane I'd turn round and come straight back, so it really would make more sense not to try. Tell you what, give me the cash, I'll pay my bill at Maclean's, and we can split the fare, then we'll both benefit. You'll have some spare cash, and I'll be able to enjoy the sunshine here for a few more weeks instead of the fog at home.'

'But Mrs Fanshaw will know. She's staying here until after Christmas, I believe.'

'I don't intend to meet her, I've other plans. And she'll no doubt be gone by New Year. She gets bored very quickly. And if I do meet her I'll say I used some of her conscience money to fly back. She can't blame you. No harm in that, I suppose?'

Jylli demurred, but Jake was very handsome, better even than on the screen, and when he smiled in that particular way her insides went all gooey. She couldn't resist the wistful look in his eyes, so in the end she agreed. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the promise he made of looking her up once he was back in London, she insisted to herself, though it would be wonderful if he did. That would just show her sister, with her big house and rich banker husband, that she could find exciting men too. It would be something to boast about to know, perhaps even have a relationship with, a minor star of a TV soap. She would not split the money however. Shaking her head, she handed over both cheques, and reluctantly went to pack.

***

### Chapter 2

Maria Maclean, though plump now, was still beautiful despite her fifty years. Tall and stately, she retained her lustrous black hair and sparkling hazel eyes. It was clear where Isabella had inherited her looks. Both women, though, were looking far from their best as they shouted at one another.

'You are a wicked liar!' Maria hissed. 'Tell me where you were, or you will spend the rest of the day in your room with just bread and water!'

'Why should I tell you?' Isabella screamed back at her. 'I'm not a child. I don't have to tell you where I am for every minute of the day! If I do my work here I can have some time to myself.'

'You lied. You were going to visit Rui, but you went somewhere else.'

'I didn't say I was going to see him.' Isabella knew she sounded sulky, but she didn't care. She was grown up now, she was entitled to a life of her own, to make her own decisions.

'You always go to see him on your days off,' Maria stated flatly.

'Then it's time I had a change. It's _boring_ doing the same things week after week.'

'Boring? Being with your fiancé?' Maria laughed scornfully. 'You are stupid! You don't know how fortunate you are to be betrothed to such a fine young Madeiran, with a thriving family business to inherit one day.'

'I am not stupid! And Rui is boring. He has no ambition. He's content to stay here working for his family or mine all his life, and I want to do exciting things.'

'What things? You want to go to Lisbon, to waste your time at the university when you know you will come back here and marry Rui afterwards. Why squander the time and money?'

'I don't want to marry Rui,' Isabella said defiantly.

'That's foolish talk, and wicked. You agreed when we suggested the betrothal, and you cannot change your mind now.'

'I was only sixteen then. I didn't know much else. And I don't love him.'

'Love! You've been reading too much trash. What use is love compared with a good man and a prosperous business?'

'I don't love him,' Isabella repeated stubbornly.

'You think there is someone wonderful waiting for you somewhere?' Maria was scornful. 'That foolishness belongs to books.'

Isabella suppressed a smile. What would her mother say if she told her that someone wonderful had come to her, wanted her, and meant to carry her off to an exciting life away from this small, tediously respectable island? But Jake had warned her most particularly not to say anything at home yet. She knew he was right, her mother would be angry, but part of her wanted to be done with all the secrecy, to proclaim her love. And surely the world had changed, even here in Madeira, since her parents had married more than thirty years ago.

'You found someone your parents hadn't meant you to marry,' she said. 'You even ran away to England with my father. Why can't you let me make my own choice?'

'I knew your father would come back.'

'He'd be made to come back, you mean,' Isabella muttered.

'What do you say? He came back willingly!' Maria insisted.

'With Uncle Carlo's knife at his throat!'

Maria bit her lip. 'How did you know that?'

Isabella wished she had not let her anger betray her into revealing this secret, which she knew her mother would hate to have known. 'Grandmother told me once, when I said I wanted to go to the university. She said that even if I ran away, and tried to marry someone else, my brothers would fetch me back, as yours had fetched you! But I don't believe they would, it's barbaric.'

'It was a joke! Your father was prepared to return here, to become one of the family.'

Having started this diversion Isabella suddenly could not resist probing it further. 'Is that why he has so many books about the Anglo Saxons in England? He's always buying them. He was going to teach at one of the universities, wasn't he? Before he met you.'

'That changed his mind,' Maria said more calmly, and smiled. 'Have you found anyone like that? Someone who loves you enough to give up his own dreams? No, you can't have done, I keep too close a watch on you.'

Isabella almost said that her lover was stronger, and would ensure that her dreams came true, but prudence belatedly prevailed. 'How did you know I hadn't been to Rui's?' she asked, anxious to deflect her mother from thoughts of how she might have met anyone else. She was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her new-found love secret from her mother if Maria saw her and Jake together. Their bliss would illuminate everything. In fact Isabella wouldn't be surprised if bells rang and lights flashed, and a heavenly choir descended to sing anthems of joy.

The thought of heaven made her hesitate, then she shrugged off her doubts. Jake wasn't a Catholic, but he'd insisted that as they were soon to be married, what they had done was allowed. It wasn't sinful between lovers who meant, as soon as possible, to ask God's blessing on their union. It was old-fashioned, he said, foolish to deny themselves the natural expression of their love. If they waited for the wedding, which was really only an excuse for all their friends and relatives to have a party, would she like to think of all those people speculating on their activities, giggling and making crude remarks, imagining them in bed together? Isabella blushed at the very idea. But that was what would have happened if she'd married Rui. He had never done more than kiss her chastely. He wasn't so passionately in love with her as Jake was that he couldn't wait to possess her. In fact she doubted if he loved her at all. He was simply doing what their families had decreed. It was so backward, so primitive!

'He telephoned,' Maria answered. 'He was worried about you. We all worried, until you came home at almost midnight. Where had you been?'

'I went for a walk along the levadas,' Isabella said, keeping to some of the truth. 'I wanted to be alone, out in the fresh air after spending all week in the hotel.'

'You are crazy. There is fresh air here, when you go shopping for me. And you were not walking for hours after it grew dark! It must be your father's blood in you. The English are all mad and the Scots worse. But you will have no more days off to spend dreaming. In future Rui will come here, and we'll begin to think about a wedding as soon as Christmas is over.'

An hour later Isabella, abandoning her usual caution, was in Jake's room, sobbing in his arms. 'I won't be able to come with you again,' she wailed. 'My mother is a fiend, she'll watch every step I take.'

'But she won't keep you in the hotel all the time, will she?'

'No, she needs me to work here, but I won't be allowed to leave Funchal, and I'll only be able to get out for an hour or so when I'm sent shopping. And there's nowhere private for us to meet here.'

'Don't worry. I have a plan. Did I tell you my mother is staying here, at the Cliff Bay? She'll help us. She's longing to see me settled down with a beautiful girl like you. But I do think I'd better leave here in a few days. No,' he added as she protested and clung to him, 'it's not safe to meet here regularly, as you said before. Besides, how could we disguise what we feel for one another under your mother's eyes?'

'Why can't we tell them about us? Surely if they knew your mother approved they'd come to see it our way?'

Jake laughed scornfully. 'You can bet if we did they'd have you straight in a nunnery until you let them force you into marrying this Rui chap. Madeira's still in the dark ages where women are concerned.'

Isabella could not deny it. She complained about it too often herself.

'I must find a job, here in Funchal, for a few weeks,' Jake went on.

Isabella looked puzzled. 'Why don't you just move to another hotel? I could visit you there.'

'I'm short of cash,' Jake confessed. 'I was stupid, played poker with chaps I didn't know, and was swindled. But don't worry, for you I'll do anything. I'll find a safe place where we can meet for an hour or so, whenever you're able to escape. And when my next series starts I'll have ready cash, and can send for you.'

'Why can't you ask your mother to lend you some money?' Isabella asked. 'If she wants you to marry, wouldn't she be happy to?'

'I won't ask her for financial help,' Jake said virtuously. 'I have plenty of money, but it's tied up at home for the moment. Ma will help in other ways, but I insist on supporting my wife myself.'

Isabella sighed and went back to the dining room where she was due to wait at table. Resigned to dreaming of the day when she'd be able to escape for good, she comforted herself by recalling her surprise when she'd accidentally walked into Jake's room that first day, to find him sprawled naked on the bed, fast asleep. She'd been horridly embarrassed, but he'd smiled at her so ruefully, and apologised for not putting the 'Do Not Disturb' sign out, and then begged her for some coffee and rolls, so that she'd been put at her ease almost at once. Later he'd watched her all the time as she served lunch, and lain in wait for her when she went shopping. He'd explained he couldn't help himself, she was so lovely and enchanting. She sighed. It was so romantic, like the books visitors sometimes left behind, which she secreted in her room and read at night. She'd never imagined anything so wonderful would ever happen to her, and could still scarcely believe it. But it had, and one day she'd be married to Jake, sharing the sophisticated life he'd told her about, travelling the world, meeting famous people.

She'd try to make an excuse to see Jake's mother. Not deliberately to speak to her, that wouldn't be right, but she had a great curiosity just to see her. It wouldn't take her long to walk past the Cliff Bay when she went into town, and she had a newspaper photograph of Dodie Fanshaw which had been printed in the local paper. She'd be able to recognize her. And just maybe, if they should happen to get into conversation, she could ask for help.

*

'I didn't know you lived in Madeira too,' Dodie said as she kissed Howard Thorn. He looked remarkably young, despite his thinning hair and heavy spectacles. Whereas Bill was bluff and hearty, with rosy cheeks and a bristling white moustache, and looked like a retired sea-captain, Howard was tall and thin, the very picture of an academic. It was sometimes difficult to believe he and Bill were brothers, though Dodie remembered there was a ten-year age gap, and Howard was her own age.

'I kept quiet until your journalist friends had gone,' Howard said, grinning. 'I'd no intention of baring my soul for their cameras.'

'But you were with Bill when Matthew went back to get him out,' Dodie said.

'Just a sidekick. I was no more than a corporal, they were very superior officers. They were the heroes.'

'Where do you live? In Funchal?'

'In a manner of speaking. I have a boat, it's moored in Funchal Marina, and I live here most of the time.'

'But Bill said you ran a computer business.'

'I do, but I have a partner back in England who does all the tedious stuff like administration and selling, and I design the software. With modern communications, fax and e-mail, you know, it's as easy to keep in touch from here as from the home counties.'

'You must get Howard to show you his boat,' Valerie said as she handed Dodie a drink. 'He did it up himself, and made a wonderful job of it.'

'A man of a hundred talents?' Dodie looked impressed. 'I haven't a clue about computers, and I get queasy in a rowing boat, but I'd love to see yours.'

'I'll take you after lunch,' Howard promised.

It was three in the afternoon when the taxi stopped on the Avenido do Mar, near the sixteenth century Fortress of St Lawrence. Howard led the way down to the crowded Marina.

'What sort of boat is it?' Dodie asked. Not that she'd know the difference, but she wanted to distract herself from the bobbing craft to either side as they threaded their way along narrow catwalks. She gulped when Howard turned and pointed to one of the boats.

'Here she is, my _Silicon Lady._ Let's get aboard. Can you manage without the gangplank?'

He hopped across the narrow gap. Dodie tried not to look down as she held tightly to his hand. She stepped gingerly onto a narrow seat which seemed to run all way round the sides of the boat, and then scrambled inelegantly down to the deck, her flowing sleeves and scarf floating in her wake.

'You have quite a lot of room here,' she said in surprise. 'I thought boats were cramped and there wasn't room to move except in a sort of dance by numbers.'

'Most small boats are like that, but this is a converted fishing boat, so the deck was large. I rebuilt the cabin, but I don't need much room. I prefer to have the space outside. Plenty of room for parties,' he added. 'We'll be coming down here to watch the fireworks after the ruby wedding party Valerie and Bill are arranging.'

'Fireworks? Specially for the party?'

Howard laughed. 'No, not even Bill's so extravagant! It's New Year's Eve, and Funchal celebrates with the best fireworks show you've ever seen. You'll enjoy that.'

They walked round the deck, into the small wheel house where Dodie listened to an incomprehensible explanation of the various instruments, and then Howard unlocked the cabin door and ushered her down a few steps.

'There's more room than I expected,' she exclaimed.

'It's custom-built, for me and perhaps one or two very occasional guests, so it isn't cluttered with extra berths and benches. Sleeping and eating that end, with galley and a shower room beyond, and my working space this end all laid out for instant use. The table converts to a double bunk, and I can draw curtains if I or my guests need privacy.'

'You have a lot of paintings,' Dodie said suddenly, crossing to inspect several hung above the bunks. 'Are you the artist?'

'Heavens, no, but I enjoy looking at them. They're all by local, that is Madeiran, artists.'

'And all local scenes. I can recognize the flower sellers by the Cathedral, and the fort just over there, but what are these vicious looking rocks?'

'That's the volcanic rock at Porto Moniz. It's razor-sharp, and the sea swirls round in the tiny pools.'

'It's frightening, menacing. I imagine anyone falling into one of those pools would be smashed and torn to ribbons in minutes. They look like teeth, like the teeth of those ugly espada fish.'

Howard laughed. 'I wouldn't like to encounter either. Fortunately espada can't live except deep in the sea, under immense pressure. This boat used to fish for them.'

'Do you go to sea in her?' Dodie asked.

'Not very often, and it wouldn't be safe on my own in bad weather, but she's capable of going across the Atlantic if I ever wanted to.'

He made tea and they carried it up to the deck, sitting on the low shelf by the side of the boat. Dodie leaned over the low gunwale and reached down towards the water.

'I can almost touch it. You know, I don't think I'd mind a boat if it kept still like this one.'

Howard handed her a cup of tea. 'Try some bolo de mel,' he said. 'Has Valerie given you any yet?'

'No. Is that honey cake?'

'Yes. Sold everywhere, a national delicacy.'

Half an hour later they walked back towards the town and Dodie took a taxi to go back to Valerie's house.

'I'll call for you tonight then,' Howard said as she stepped in. 'We'll storm the Casino. Let's hope our luck is in.'

She was paying off the driver when Valerie appeared, running down the steep path from her front door.

'Dodie, can you keep the taxi?' she called. 'I'm so glad you're back. Come with me, please. I need your support.'

*

Isabella looked round carefully. There was no one about she recognized. She slipped through the small entrance which gave onto a path leading to the wider drive serving the Cliff Bay hotel. For a moment she hesitated. Jake hadn't wanted to approach his mother for help, but she was sure he was just being stupidly independent. Surely if his mother knew of his plight she'd be happy to help? And it wasn't as though it meant giving him money – it was just a loan.

She straightened her shoulders and went towards the huge glass doors, smiling nervously as the doorman opened them for her. She'd never been inside before and was overawed at the vastness of the foyer, the luxurious furnishings, and the opulent décor. It made her own family's hotel look puny, old-fashioned. It was all very well for her mother to say that discriminating guests preferred the native, homely style. She for one was tired of it. But with Jake they'd stay at smart hotels. It was pure chance he'd wanted a quiet place, where he wouldn't be recognized, and had found Maclean's.

She went nervously to the desk.

'Can I help you?' A pretty girl in a smart suit smiled at her.

Isabella swallowed. 'Can I – is Mrs Fanshaw in?' she managed to say.

'Just a moment, I'll check. Do you want to see her?'

'Please.'

'Who shall I say?' The girl was searching through the keys. 'Oh, I'm sorry, she must be out. Why don't you leave a message for her?'

Isabella stared blankly. That wouldn't do at all. She shook her head and turned away, crushed with disappointment. As she left she wondered if she would ever pluck up the courage to try again. But she must, she insisted, rallying herself. If Jake wouldn't ask, she would, to prove her love for him.

*

'What is it?' Dodie demanded when Valerie, having told the man to drive to the airport, sat back and heaved a big sigh. 'And where's Bill?'

'He's seeing the manager of the shop.' Bill had various business interests, including shares in a flourishing wine cellar. 'It's Libby. The wretched child's been expelled from school and they've sent her out here. They didn't tell us until she was in the air.'

'What? But that's completely irresponsible! What if you'd been away? And why send her to you? Where are her parents?'

Valerie sighed. 'I wrote only last week, so she knew we weren't away. I imagine they were so eager to be rid of her they took her word for it. Sally's in Australia, with her new husband.'

Dodie nodded. 'Yes, of course I know she went there, but that was six months ago, surely?'

'Where did we go wrong, Dodie? We did our best to give Sally plenty of love and security. It's difficult, living in army houses, and all over the world, but we thought she was happy. We sent her to a good school and she did well there. And then she refused to go to university, took off doing odd jobs round Europe, met Alex Ross, and had Libby.'

'It was probably the glamour attached to an actor,' Dodie said wryly.

'Maybe we shouldn't have forced them to get married. Alex always resented the way Bill coerced him into it. We would have helped her bring up the child. And because Sally wouldn't leave Libby to go on tour with him, he made that an excuse to have affairs with young actresses. Even her patience snapped in the end, and she's well rid of him.'

'He's quite a bit older than she is, isn't he?'

'He's almost forty now, but she was only seventeen when they met, and now Libby's almost that age.'

'Where is he? Why couldn't the school contact him?'

'I wish they had. It isn't that I don't love Libby, but she's such a responsibility. Apparently he's on location somewhere, can't be reached.'

Dodie grunted. 'Of course he can be! They're stalling you. Did the school say what she'd done?'

Valerie chuckled suddenly. 'She's always been rebellious, difficult, but it was Alex who insisted she went to that wretched school. Serves him right. It was supposed to be a free, relaxed and progressive regime, to have marvellous successes with children no one else would tolerate. But she wasn't bad enough to need that. Not when she went.'

'What did she do?' Dodie repeated.

'As far as they told me, it began with a midnight feast. They raided the larders, but then it got out of hand and the idiots began chucking food at one another.'

'Flourbag fights instead of pillow fights.'

'Libby emptied tins of honey and treacle onto the floor, and tipped beans and pulses and lentils all over it.'

'It sounds a very healthy diet,' Dodie chuckled. 'And she was expelled for that? I'd have stopped their pocket money until they'd paid for the food, and made them get down on hands and knees to scrub the floor! Were they all chucked out?'

'No, only the ringleaders. It isn't the first time Libby's been in trouble, and she'd been warned.'

Dodie shook her head. 'No idea, some of these teachers, how to deal with high spirits. But tell me, did Libby like the school? Bill said the other day she wants to be an actor.'

'That's what she says she wants. She liked the school last year, so far as I can tell.'

'Then is it possible the little devil did it on purpose?'

Valerie looked startled. 'Could she? Yes, it's just the sort of thing she would do,' she decided. 'Just wait until I get my hands on her!'

They didn't have long to wait. Valerie took Dodie up onto the roof of the airport building and within five minutes they could see the plane approaching, flying past, and then sweeping low as it returned to the landing strip. Valerie gasped and clutched Dodie's hand.

'I've flown in and out dozens of times,' she said, swallowing hard, 'but I find it terrifying to watch. The runway's so short, and it's built out over the sea. What would happen if it overshot?'

'It won't,' Dodie said reassuringly, though she knew she, and she suspected everyone else, had the same thought every time they came in to land. 'At least you're preserved from big planes, only small ones can land here.'

They watched as the plane made a perfect landing, swung round at the end of the runway and taxied back to pull up with a flourish before the airport building. Valerie watched for the first glimpse of her granddaughter, but failed to see her.

'Do you think that's the wrong plane?' she asked, worried. 'I could have sworn they said this one was from London.'

'You were probably expecting school uniform. Do they wear it?'

'Nothing so decadent! It's a very unorthodox school. Let's go down and see.'

They were scanning the arriving passengers when a girl stopped beside them, and gave a tentative smile. 'Hello, Gran.'

Dodie had difficulty suppressing her amusement. Valerie was speechless. The girl, clearly a would-be siren, was wearing skin-tight lime green leggings, a skin-coloured see-through top which left her midriff bare, and lavishly applied black and purple eye-shadow. Her hair had been bleached some time ago, since the natural dark brown showed at the roots, but it was heavily lacquered and stood up in spikes coloured blue and orange. She looked just like the strelitzia which grew all over the island.

'You'll be well camouflaged here,' Dodie murmured, and Valerie roused herself from her stupefaction to greet Libby. That was all she was capable of, though, and Dodie was the only one to speak in more than monosyllables all the way back home. When they reached the Thorns' villa Valerie looked pleadingly at Dodie, but she shook her head.

'Sorry, I have to go back to the hotel and change. I'm trying my luck at the Casino tonight, and I don't want to keep Howard waiting. I'll take on the taxi.'

'A busy day for you,' the taxi driver said as he turned into the Cliff Bay driveway. Dodie admired his reticence. He hadn't so much as blinked when confronted by Libby. She grinned and to her delight he winked solemnly back.

'And it isn't over yet,' Dodie groaned, wondering briefly whether she really did want to go to the Casino tonight. But Howard, who had been a shy young man, never one of her escorts in the days of their youth, didn't deserve such treatment. She just had time for a gin and tonic accompanied by a deep bath before he arrived.

*

Howard Thorn sipped the wine, and shrugged.

Dodie was trying to understand. 'You were content to abandon London? But not to become a lotus-eater. I'd have thought you might have lost touch.'

'I was sick of the rats and the rat-race,' he said mildly. 'I can make plenty of money and live here, enjoying the sun, sailing when I feel like it, drinking superb wines, and even playing the tables when I want to.'

She nodded. 'I envy you in a way, but I get bored so soon, I need to move on. Places as well as husbands,' she added, chuckling.

Howard grinned. 'I work when I feel like it, and have plenty of time for other things. Shall we go back in and throw away a fortune?'

They went across to the gaming rooms and Dodie soon became absorbed in the drama. Howard, after a few turns, soon gave way to another player and stood behind her, watching the other gamblers round the table.

As the bets were being placed he studied a woman opposite. She was tense, clearly anxious, and looked familiar. At that moment she caught his glance and frowned, then smiled and gave a brief nod.

'Who's that?' Dodie asked, catching the small exchange.

'I think she lives near Bill. I've seen her at some of their parties. You know how sociable Valerie is – no day's complete for her without some party. I can't remember her name, but she's a widow, very well off, and though she's as old as Valerie she admits to being forty.'

Dodie laughed. 'I didn't know you were so catty.' Then she stiffened. Jake had appeared behind the woman, resting a hand proprietorially on her shoulder, and she'd patted it as she glanced coquettishly up at him. So he hadn't gone home, the devious bastard, she thought. Had he snaffled the cash from poor gullible Jylli, or come back with the money she'd given him? Why? Did he mean to ask her for more? She'd be damned if she gave him more. He'd found an open cash till by the looks of it. He could depend on that. As Dodie watched cynically, she decided that he was practically mopping up her tears when she lost a few chips.

The croupier had started the wheel again, and Dodie observed the mismatched couple with considerable interest. She'd never seen Jake in action before. Fortunately he hadn't spotted her yet. He was being very attentive, and it seemed clear the woman, loaded with diamonds, was looking for a vigorous stud. Toyboys were clichés these days. Suddenly she didn't want to watch her son any longer.

'I'm exhausted,' she said firmly. 'Do you mind if we go?'

*

'Emma? It is, isn't it? I'd know your hair anywhere.'

Emma turned from inspecting the tiny silver bananas piled lavishly on the stall. 'Libby? Hi! What on earth are you doing here?'

'My grandmother sent me shopping. I think she hopes it will keep me out of mischief.'

Emma eyed the briefest of brief cut-off jeans, and the teeshirt with male hands provocatively positioned. 'Dressed like that? She's optimistic. I meant in Madeira. Isn't it still term time?'

'I was expelled, just for a silly prank.'

'It was more than that, I expect. Did you want to be sacked?' Emma asked, grinning. She'd always liked her step-daughter, and wasn't so much older that she'd forgotten her own difficult adolescence. 'Where's Alex? Why isn't he having to look after you?'

Libby shrugged. 'He's on location. But they should be finished soon. Then he'll be unemployed again.'

'No more parts in sight?'

'I don't think so. He was written out of the American soap, and got passed over for various other parts there. I think America's tired of him. He was glad when this piffling film turned up.'

'Your mother? Where is she?'

'Off with Greg, on the other side of the world. Perhaps as well, I couldn't stand her going on at me as well as the grandparents. But why are you here?'

'I loved it that time I came with you and Alex, to stay with your grandparents. I persuaded Bruce he'd be able to write in the peace here.'

'I knew you'd married him. But I wish you hadn't left Dad. You made him see things my way.'

'Come and have some coffee?'

Libby glanced at her watch. 'I'd better get back, I'm kept on a tight leash. But can I come and see you? Maybe when Dad gets here you'll be able to soften him up, persuade him to let me go to drama school.'

Emma gave her their address and watched as Libby, with a cheerful wave, passed through the market entrance, stopping to sniff at some of the flowers massed there. So it seemed probable Alex would be here soon. Did she want to see him again? She didn't know. She sighed deeply, and returned to her shopping.

*

Jake eased through the door and went along the cool tiled hallway to the kitchen, where he drained a can of lager. Then, feeling in need of fresh air after the heavy, cloying perfumes which filled Gloria's bedroom, he went into the garden. The sun beat down and he guessed it was almost noon. Gloria had been insatiable for two nights and a day, and he decided she was either a geriatric nymphomaniac or had been starved of sex for decades.

Gloria Neville had happened just in time. The money Dodie had provided had soon vanished, mostly because of a run of bad luck at blackjack. It was when he switched to roulette, hoping to recoup enough to pay his hotel bill, that he'd seen Gloria. It was her profusion of diamonds rather than the lady herself that had attracted his attention, and the fact that she was alone. He'd soon repaired that defect, even though he could do little to mend her personal failings. However, Jake was not fussy when the bed was strewn, as it were, with jewels and banknotes and the lights were doused. He didn't intend to stay for long, and in the meantime he had Isabella's nubile body to console him for what he regarded as his bread and butter exertions. If, that is, he could induce her to penetrate the portals of this opulent refuge where he'd consented to be known as the gardener. She could play Eve to his Adam. Gloria didn't fit that part. She might be the serpent, though.

He climbed the series of steps which wound through the garden towards the wall bordering a quiet lane. All of Funchal, apart from the centre of the town near the harbour, was built on steep slopes. Gloria's garden, he was thankful to see, would need little attention. It was full of mature trees and shrubs whose spreading foliage concealed dozens of nooks suitable for activities best kept concealed from Gloria.

'I need a handyman, to drive me and keep the garden tidy,' she'd suggested the first evening, a bare hour after he'd escorted her home and been asked in for a nightcap. Gloria hadn't been slow in making her requests known. As soon as she'd poured two generous tumblers of whisky she'd led the way into her large bedroom, and they'd still been in the palatial bed, enjoying an interlude in their exertions, when she began to set out her terms. 'It would be a nominal position, of course, but I have my reputation to consider. A woman living alone in this place has to be careful.'

That suited Jake. He preferred his professional amours to be conducted in less than the open. 'The salary?' he'd asked bluntly. 'And where would I be expected to live?'

'Here, of course.'

'I have to pay my hotel bill before I can move out.'

'I'll pay that.' She was businesslike, and Jake wondered how often the arrangement had been made before. 'There's a small cottage in the garden, tucked away near the wall. Lots of these houses have them. The previous people used to let it to visitors, but I can't be bothered. My old gardener lived there until he went to work in one of the hotels. Leave some clothes there, and put the lights on a timer, and no one will know you're not living there.'

She named a generous salary, and handed over what she laughingly called a retainer. Jake saw that it was sufficient to clear his debts, and smiled warmly at her.

'I can hardly accompany you to the Casino if I'm your chauffeur,' he pointed out.

She shrugged. 'I only go there when I'm bored. And now I won't be bored. Will I?'

In one corner of the garden Jake found the small cottage. There was a gate nearby, locked, but he'd soon find the key. He estimated that it was no more than half a mile from the Maclean's hotel, and surely he could persuade Isabella to meet him here. It was private, secluded, and the lane outside, which was quiet, could be on her route into the town.

He returned to the house where he'd left Gloria asleep. He must fetch his belongings, making sure he spoke to Isabella. Then what? A couple of months, perhaps less, until he had the means to move on.

'Jakie, is that you?' Gloria trilled. Jake went into the bedroom. The shower was turned on in the adjoining bathroom, and Gloria was standing in the doorway. 'Why don't you come and join me?' she cooed.

Jake averted his gaze from her skinny frame and sagging breasts. She spent a fortune on her face, he thought sourly, but next time she had a facelift she ought to try some silicone transplants too. Still, she was wealthy and generous, and he'd have Isabella. He smiled, wriggled sensuously out of his jeans, cast his shirt on the rumpled bed, and with a playful growl swooped onto the giggling Gloria and thrust her beneath the spurting jets of water.

***

### Chapter 3

'How is Libby settling down?' Dodie asked when she and Valerie met for coffee at the Pátio café. She hated to see her old friend looking so careworn.

Valerie grimaced. 'Not very well, I'm afraid. She pretends to be studying for her A levels, but the mound of open books all over her table and bed never seem to have the pages turned, and her notebooks are pristine, might still be new.'

'Overkill, eh? What does Bill say?' Surely, Dodie thought with an inward grin, he'd be able to control his granddaughter. She recalled an occasion when Bill had managed to quell a bunch of near-rioting squaddies. One teenage girl wouldn't defeat him.

'He's resumed his army persona.' Valerie giggled. 'We were going out for a meal with some friends, and she had on a dreadful satin affair – a cat-suit, I think she called it. It was black, slashed with positively indecent holes which were bound with fluorescent ribbons, orange and purple and gold.'

Dodie laughed. 'Standard teenage gear.'

'She also had lashings of paint on her face. Bill took one look and barked at her, parade-ground fashion, and she went off, quite lamblike, to scrub off the paint and change. Luckily she did bring one respectable dress with her. I must buy her some more.'

'Have you heard from her parents? They ought to be the ones taking care of this.'

'Sally can't be contacted. She and Greg are sailing with some friends of his, and no one knows precisely where.'

'And Alex?'

'I phone every day, and leave endless messages on his machine. And Howard's faxed his agent. There's never any reply.'

'Have you been in touch with the school?'

'Bill rang them to complain about them sending her here on her own. It seems she really has been making a nuisance of herself for months now. It's worse than she told us, or the headmistress said in her first call. At least it wasn't drugs or sex, thank God.'

'Isn't she worried about her exams? She must be due to sit them next summer.'

'She insists they don't matter, as she wants to act. But I know neither Sally nor Alex, much as they disagree about other things, would permit her to go to drama school at her age. It would mean living in London, and apart from Alex having women in his flat, he's away too much.'

'Has she any young company?'

'That's the one gleam of hope. Bill met a young man, English, who's out here to learn the wine trade. Libby seems to like him and they've been walking levadas.'

'Le-what?'

'Those irrigation channels that were dug out round the contours of the hills to direct water from the mountains to where it's wanted.'

'I've heard of them. Otherwise it would all run away, and they wouldn't be able to grow all these lovely vegetables, and endless tomatoes. They have paths alongside, don't they?'

Valerie nodded. 'Most of them. Anyway, David Holmes has an ambition to walk as many as he can before he goes home, and Libby's been with him a couple of times. She even consented to wear those woolly hats with ear flaps. I thought Bill had blown it when he told her the Madeiran men wore the flaps down so that they couldn't hear the women nagging!'

Dodie chuckled. 'Has Libby got a feminist streak too?'

'It's not a streak, it's a great wide stripe.'

'What about girls her own age?'

'I tried to introduce her to young Isabella Maclean. Her father, Theo, is English. He runs a hotel here. He married a local girl.'

Dodie knew she's heard the name somewhere, but couldn't think where. 'What happened?'

'I don't think they got on. Isabella is a year or so older, but like all Madeiran girls, has been brought up very strictly. I don't think she approved of Libby's appearance or her rebelliousness.'

'Is Sally planning to come to your anniversary party?'

'She wouldn't promise.' A tear forced itself out from behind Valerie's closed eyelids, and Dodie grasped her hand in sympathy. Valerie took a deep breath. 'She's so happy with Greg. I don't want to risk that, she's has such a rotten time with men so far. When Alex went off with Emma I thought she'd go quite to pieces. By the way, did I tell you Emma's here on the island with her new husband? He's an American, a writer of thrillers, I believe, and quite famous. Bruce Jellicoe, his name is, though I don't read that kind of violent fiction. Goodness, Dodie, I'm going on so much about my own affairs, you must be bored stiff.'

'Rubbish. You need to get it out of your system, and if I know men, Bill just won't listen. He'll tell you not to worry, it'll all come right in the end. When what you need is to talk.'

Valerie looked gratefully at her. 'Only another woman understands. I was so desperate I almost contacted Emma. I know Libby admired her when her father was married to her.'

'Why don't you? Is she sensible?'

'I hardly know her. She got rid of Alex faster than Sally did, at any rate! That says something about her.'

'Give her a ring. Where is she staying? At one of the hotels?'

'No, out in a rented villa near Point Garajau. Shall we drive out this afternoon? Libby's out with David today, so she needn't know. Gosh, I feel like a naughty schoolgirl myself! But Dodie, will you come with me? I'd feel easier to have you along too.'

Dodie agreed, thankful to see her friend looking more cheerful. They went back to Valerie's house for lunch, and were just about to set off to see Emma when the maid announced a visitor.

'Senor Ross,' she said, and Dodie blinked rapidly as Valerie's erstwhile son-in-law walked into the room.

Was there no end to tall, dark men who reminded her of Jake? she wondered angrily. She wanted to forget him! Then she recalled that Alex Ross had won several acting parts Jake had auditioned for, much to her son's jealous fury. They were the same type, not very different in age, a difference that was made smaller by Jake's greying hair and Alex's youthful vigour.

He was greeting Valerie in a friendly manner, and Dodie was amused to see that Valerie was responding to his charm and good manners. When Valerie introduced him to her, Dodie was impressed that he immediately recalled the name of her most famous film, obscure though it had been to all but real cinema addicts.

'What are we to do with my wretched daughter?' he asked ruefully after Valerie had explained the situation and they sat drinking coffee. 'I can't take her home, but I have a week free before the next audition. I'll stay and try to talk some sense into her. I have to go back for the audition, and I'll try to fix up another school while I'm in England. I could come back until January if you think it would help. Perhaps Sally will be here by then.'

'Would you like to stay in our studio, in the garden?' Valerie asked impulsively. 'It's just the one room, under the garage, but it's quite large. It would be nice for Libby to have you near.' And someone else to share the responsibility, she added to herself.

'That's kind of you. Yes please, Valerie.'

'It's always kept ready. I'll get Luisa to show you where everything is. We were just going to see Emma. Oh!'

'Emma? Not my ex-wife?' he asked quizzically. 'Is she here?'

'Yes. And I thought – well, Libby did seem to get on well with her while – while you were married.'

'It might work. Don't worry, Valerie. We're still, as they say, good friends. She just preferred Bruce and his greater fame and earning power. Would you mind if I crash out on a bed now? I'd just got home from California, got your messages, and rushed straight here. I was lucky to get a seat, but I won't be able to talk sense into Libby until I've had twelve hours of deep sleep.'

*

Libby escaped into the lane behind the house. She was fuming. Her father hadn't been in the least sympathetic. He was threatening to find her a school which sounded more like a prison since, he said, she wasn't responsible enough to be trusted at one which expected their older pupils to behave like adults. She'd show him.

She bumped slap into the man who came out of a narrow gateway from another of the houses. As he grabbed her to prevent her from falling, she looked up and gasped. 'You're Jake Jakes.'

'Fame at last,' he drawled. 'Are you hurt?'

Impatiently Libby shook her head. 'I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. I was mad at my father. He's not really much like you,' she went on, studying him closely.'

'Should he be?'

'Well, people say you're terribly alike. You always seem to be auditioning for the same parts.'

'Look, who is your father?' Jake demanded suspiciously.

Libby grinned at his tone. 'I'm not playing the star-struck fan, honest. Alex Ross is my father. I'm staying with my mother's parents, just along here. Do you know them? Their name's Thorn.'

He shook his head. 'I've only just moved here. So you are dear Alex's daughter. Let's walk down into town and we can get a drink. Why is he making you angry?'

Libby told him, and was soothed by his obvious sympathy. When he suggested it would be fun if she sneaked out to a disco that evening, she readily agreed. 'I can get out at the back, there's a door by the garages which is never locked,' she told him.

'Then I'll meet you there. And help you cock a snook at your stuffy father.'

*

'Isabella, are you in the bathroom again? Hurry up, I need it!' Pedro called, hammering impatiently on the door. Isabella emerged, white-faced, and Pedro looked closely at her.

'Have you been sick again?' he demanded suspiciously, just as Maria came to investigate the noise he was making.

'It was the fish last night,' Isabella said quickly. 'The piece I had must have been off.'

'No fish served in my hotel or my home is ever off,' Maria exclaimed, enraged. 'And why are you not dressed yet? The hotel is full, and we have so much to do. But before we do anything I'll have the truth out of you. You are being sick too often. Come, now, into your room. I won't be defied any more.'

Isabella shuddered when she recalled the rest of that day. Her mother had raged at her for what seemed like hours, stopping only when she was hoarse and exhausted. Then her grandmother and uncles had arrived, and Uncle Manuel had started. They'd all shouted at her, but he had been the worst. Rui had come, briefly, but said nothing apart from a quiet hope that she was well. His patent hurt had affected her more than any of the shouting, for she was used to being scolded by her mother and her uncles.

She was proud that she hadn't betrayed Jake. He wouldn't have to face her family's anger. She didn't regret loving him, she told herself defiantly. She had never been away from Madeira, not even to mainland Portugal, and his stories had finally made real to her what sort of life was available outside, something previously seen only through cinema and television. She hadn't before known more than a faint wish to experience it, and some slight jealousy that her brothers had been sent to her father's old school in England, but now, as well as shame about having an illegitimate baby here in a religious community where everyone knew her, she possessed a fierce if secret determination to escape. Jake had gone to England for an audition, one he was sure to be successful in, he'd said. He would be able to do that as well as the series he was already signed up for. She missed him intensely, but he'd warned her he might not be able to return immediately. Flights were often fully booked at this time of year. He'd come for her soon, though. He would have to start rehearsals in January, and then he'd have the money to be able to care for her properly. Isabella smiled, comforted. He would take her away, they would have a wonderful life together, and until then she would be strong for her child.

It was a pity about Rui. She'd been content at the prospect of marriage to him before she'd met Jake, and she didn't want him to be hurt. In a way she still loved him, but he wasn't exciting and dangerous, like Jake. He was kind and would have treated her considerately. Guiltily she wondered whether it would have been different in bed with Rui. If she was completely truthful she hadn't much enjoyed sex with Jake. She'd been flattered he wanted her, spurred on by knowing he preferred her to the more worldly-wise girls he knew. The reality, instead of being the earth-shattering event she'd expected from her covert reading of the lurid romances hotel guests sometimes left behind, had been uncomfortable and messy. Jake seemed to have enjoyed it, though, and after their hasty couplings had collapsed beside her into an oblivion which eluded her. Maybe, when it wasn't all so strange, and when they could use a bed instead of the hard rocky paths beside the levadas which dug into her back, she would learn to enjoy it too.

His desire for her told her she could expect more from life than working in the family hotels until she had her own children, and then being the dutiful wife and mother everyone expected. Maybe one day they would choose to come back and live on the island, but not yet. First she had to experience life elsewhere.

She let the storm beat about her head, and said nothing when her mother banished her to her room. What did she care about the Christmas festivities? She had another child to scheme for, her own, and then she must devise plans for the time when Jake would be able to take her away.

*

Emma selected the flowers with care. She loved arranging them, and in the few months they'd been here she'd been asked to do arrangements for several neighbours when they had big parties. She'd spent the morning going round the main hotels, studying their magnificent foyer displays, for tomorrow's event was a prestigious one and she wanted something very formal. Stately arum lilies would form the basis of her main arrangement, but she bought pots of poinsettia, some small variegated rubber plants, sprays of bougainvillea and Golden Shower, and dozens of camellias. She'd even found some late plumbago and oleander, and some huge daisies.

Back at home the house was empty, and she had to unload the car herself. She carried in the armfuls of flowers, and then the basket of fruit, with some of Bruce's favourite red mullet. She planned a special meal tonight, for it was exactly three years since they'd met. She stood at the kitchen window gazing out towards the sea, down the steep slope which ended in precipitous cliffs, then turned to look at the enormous statue of Christ which stood on the headland. She wondered if Bruce was out there running. He said it helped him to think through his plots. For a moment a stab of jealousy made her stomach clench, and then she forced it away. Bruce had promised her, and she'd never known him break a promise, that he had no interest in any of the women she'd suspected in Madeira. And, as he'd pointed out to her after they'd made love so tenderly, he wasn't in New York for her to even suspect anyone there.

In the sitting room there was a note propped against the clock. Emma smiled. Bruce had begun to leave little messages around the house for her to find, especially if he planned to be out for more than half an hour or so. She unfolded it and read it and suddenly sat down, her face white. Then she turned red and her eyes glittered, her fists clenched at her sides.

'He's gone to New York! I know it's that bloody woman!' she whispered to herself. Then she forced herself to think it through. Tanya worked at his publisher's. She rang him constantly for the most trivial things. Last time they'd been in New York he kept sneaking out of the hotel, never saying where he was going. Emma was convinced it was to meet her and Bruce had never denied it, like he'd denied his interest in women here. I'll murder her, Emma thought wildly. She's been after him for years, but she won't have him for long.

Suddenly she turned and ran out of the kitchen, dry sobs torn from her throat. She went into the big bedroom and began tipping the contents of her dressing table drawers onto the tiled floor.

'Where's my passport?' she muttered furiously. 'He's hidden it, damn him! I don't care, I'll go without it. When's the next flight? I'm going straight to the airport. Perhaps I can get on a charter flight to England and be in New York as soon as he is.' Suddenly a blank look came into her eyes and she became still. 'Oh, what am I to do?' She sank onto the floor, kneeling in front of a pile of lacy underwear, and began to twist the straps of a bra round and round her hands, pulling them excruciatingly tight but unaware of the pain. 'What can I do?'

*

'Come in, Dodie. You haven't met the Macleans, have you?'

Dodie followed Bill out onto the big terrace which ran all along the southern side of the house. Maria, about her own age, was typically Latin, dark and intense. But Dodie detected pain in her eyes. Though her mouth was pursed, her lips thinning in an angry expression, her eyes looked bleak. Theo, who rose to meet her, looked rather unhappy too, but he disguised it better with his polished manner. He was a few years older than Maria, with thick grey hair, and a soldierly stance. Under his tan he was pale, and Dodie wondered if he might be ill.

'I'm sorry if I'm early,' Dodie said, glancing at her watch.

'Dodie, come in. You're not early, we're running late.'

'Our fault, I'm afraid,' Theo said. 'We had a slight problem at the hotel before we came out. It delayed us.'

Maria shot him a venomous glance, and Dodie wondered just what the poor man had done to provoke such fury.

Maria stood up abruptly. 'I think we have finished, I have written down all you said. Come Theo. Thank you, Valerie. We will ensure you have the best possible food and excellent service for your party. Forty years, a very long time to stay so happily married. Not many people succeed so well.'

She turned and went hurriedly through one of the French windows. Theo sighed and went after her more slowly, Bill following. Dodie was curious, but restrained her questions until Bill returned.

He forestalled her. 'What the devil's come over Maria?' he said as he came back onto the terrace. 'She was simmering inside, it was an effort for her to be civil, and usually she's so friendly.'

'Theo looked devastated too, poor man. Do you think his mother-in-law has decided to come and live with them?'

Bill chuckled. 'No. If that had happened he'd have been on the first plane back to England. Maria's mother,' he went on, turning to Dodie, 'is a holy terror. She's dominated the Caritas family for eighty years, but fortunately she lives in Santana and says she is too infirm to come to Funchal. But that's an excuse to have them all trail over to her house.'

'At least they're willing to do the catering for our party,' Valerie said. 'When the other firm cancelled I began to think we'd be spending days in the kitchen. And hotels are so busy over the holidays.'

'They can do the preparation along with their own cooking, and the family will be in control on the night. As many people as possible try to take time off for the New Year fireworks,' Bill explained. 'I'd better be off, girls. I promised to be at the accountant's half an hour ago.'

*

Jake strolled along the lane behind Gloria's villa, speculating on schemes to improve his bank balance. He needed, immediately, more than his earnings as Gloria's gardener promised. His trip to England for the audition had been expensive, especially as he'd had to stay on and go up to Edinburgh. He'd used up all his spare cash, and he needed some fast for when he had to leave. He ought to have suggested that Gloria came with him. She'd have paid for everything. She'd been resentful, saying that if only he'd given her warning they could have gone together and had a wonderful time. Perhaps it was because she was jealous she'd announced that tomorrow she was going to Paris for a few days to do her Christmas shopping.

He'd been living with Gloria for three weeks now, and to his secret relief had plenty of time to himself. Gloria's demands might be intense but she had, as she told him, her other life to maintain. As that involved frequent lunch and drinks and dinner parties with other British people living in or visiting Madeira, he was free, in between driving her to and from these events, to pursue his own activities. Apart from sessions with Isabella, who had rather fearfully agreed to meet him in his cottage, these included attempts to waylay Bill Thorn. He'd decided to implement the previously vague plan of making use of his mother's old army friends for his own benefit. Bill Thorn's proximity seemed heaven-sent, and the fact that he was Alex Ross's father-in-law added piquancy.

He had prospected the Thorns' villa which abutted onto the same secluded lane. But in their case the villa's garden was mainly to the front, overlooking the town. Set into the perimeter wall, however, was a large garage where they kept two cars, and Jake, whenever he was free, kept observation on these.

His patience paid off. Gloria had been driven to a charity reception to be followed by lunch at Reid's. It was late morning when he saw Bill Thorn, on his own, opening the garage doors. Jake hastened along to intercept him.

'Mr Thorn. May I have a word with you?'

Bill turned, eyebrows raised. 'Mr – ? Sorry, but I don't think we've met, have we?'

Jake guffawed. 'Not exactly. But you once, at a very critical time for me, knew my mother very well. Very well indeed.'

'Your mother? Who is your mother?'

'Come, now, I know I'm not a household name, but my show was on satellite TV. You must have seen me.'

Bill frowned. 'I don't watch much. Are you anything to do with the television people who've been interviewing me recently? For the programme on Dodie Fanshaw?'

'That's rich,' Jake exclaimed, his vanity temporarily crushed. 'I'm Jake Jakes.'

'Dodie's son? But she said you'd gone back to England. You asked her for money for the fare.'

'I went, and I came back. But that has nothing to do with this business. You knew Ma a long time ago, didn't you?'

Bill nodded, puzzled. 'We grew up in the same town,' he agreed.

'And you met her later on, when you were in the army and she was in the chorus.'

'So? Several of us went around with Dodie and her friends when we were in London on leave.'

'And you took advantage of her, and she an innocent little girl only barely sixteen.' Bill took an angry step forward, and Jake resisted the urge to back away. He wasn't a coward, but he was suddenly reminded that Bill Thorn had been in the army, an officer, and had won a medal for gallantry.

'Explain what you mean!' Bill snapped.

Jake swallowed. 'My mother was left holding the baby, me,' he said quickly. 'She'd been seeing a lot of you at the appropriate time and the inference is obvious. I've always wanted to meet my father.'

To his fury Bill actually laughed. 'There's no possible way I could be your father, thank God.'

'She says you are, and I'd rather believe her. It's your ruby wedding party soon, isn't it? So you must have been married at the time, as I'm thirty-five. And your daughter, I'm told, is less than a year older – '

'Why, you dirty little rat!' Bill exclaimed, and stepped forward angrily. 'Get out of here!'

Jake smiled and shook his head. 'It's a public road. Your wife must have been pregnant when I was conceived. What would she say if one of your bastards came calling? But make it worth my while, and I'll forget the relationship.'

'You can go and crawl back into your hole. I'm damned if I'll even speak to you. Now get out of my way, scum!'

He marched to his car, got in, started it, and drove swiftly out of the garage, making Jake spring aside to avoid being run down. Jake glared after him, frustrated. Bill had been his first choice, as Jake had assumed he would not want his wedding anniversary party ruined. He'd mistaken his man. Briefly he contemplated visiting Mrs Thorn, but he had little hope of persuading a woman to disgorge cash to suppress details of her husband's peccadillos. She'd be more likely to have hysterics, or confront her husband with noisy reproaches. In his experience women only paid up when they wanted to keep their own doings secret. Would it be worth trying the younger Thorn brother, the fellow who lived on the yacht? Morosely Jake decided he would receive the same sort of reception there. He returned to Gloria's house and spent the next hour searching all the likely places she might keep money stashed away. Eventually he found a roll of notes in a shoe box and abstracted two. She wouldn't miss them, but he could buy Isabella some small gift to keep her sweet. He then began to plot revenge on Bill Thorn. No man would treat him with such contempt and get away with it.

*

Libby eyed herself critically in the mirror. She'd grown up a lot, she thought complacently. This dress, in slinky smoky-blue silk, which her grandmother had bought her for the Christmas and New Year's Eve parties, was far more enticing than the loud, vulgar clothes she used to wear. She paused, considering. She still liked the cat-suit. It had been fine for the disco, but it wouldn't do for this occasion when she didn't want to attract too much attention. It was as well she'd had her hair dyed back to its natural colour too. She twirled round, enjoying the sensation of floating draperies. It was because it was understated, she told herself, echoing Emma's approving comment when she'd shown it to her. Close fitting to the hips, and swirling out in sensuous waves whenever she moved, it enhanced her figure and made her look at least twenty. There'd be no trouble getting into the Casino.

She listened to the noises in the villa. Everyone seemed to be following her apparent example and going early to bed. She grinned. It would be so easy to escape. For a moment her conscience pricked her, she knew she was abusing the trust now placed in her, then she shrugged off the thought. It was a harmless bit of fun, that's all, and why shouldn't she go out with anyone she chose, and not fat, boring David Holmes? Jake was a grown man, sophisticated, and he had a mean, wealthy mother who denied him help she could easily afford. And her father was being so stuffy, especially since the audition which he'd failed. She'd show him she was no longer a child to be browbeaten and ordered around.

The taxi swept into the Casino entrance and Libby glanced up at the modern, circular building. She suppressed the shaking of her knees, and walked in as though she did it every day.

Jake was waiting for her, immaculate in evening dress. She smiled coolly and inclined her head.

'I was beginning to think you'd chickened out,' he said curtly, and Libby reverted to her younger self, glaring at him in annoyance. 'Did you bring your passport?'

'What on earth for?'

'They won't let you in without.'

Libby gulped, her veneer of sophistication cracking. 'I didn't know, and if I had they'd know my real age,' she whispered, looking around her, suddenly afraid.

Jake grinned at her, and put one finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. 'Don't look so devastated, darling. We're celebrating. I thought of it all and brought one for you. Your name for the night is Belinda Mason. Fortunately the photo's more blurred than usual, and woman are always changing their hair colour and styles.'

Libby looked at the passport he held out to her, the photo of a pretty but vapid looking blonde, and frowned. 'How on earth did you get hold of this?' she demanded.

'Don't fret. It isn't one of the women I've gobbled alive. It was left behind at my flat in London after a party. I picked it up when I was over there last week. Here, stick it in your bag.'

Saying they would eat later, Jake paid the entrance fee and led the way into the gambling rooms. Soon he became absorbed at the roulette table. Libby, afraid of showing her ignorance and by that betraying them, refused to join in, saying she'd prefer to watch. She soon regretted it. For a while she'd been fascinated watching all the people, studying their reactions when they won or lost, but this occupation soon palled. Jake took no notice of her and exhibited considerable annoyance when she spoke to him.

'Right, I'm going home!' she announced at last, thoroughly disgruntled, and started to move away only to find her hand grasped tightly.

'Stay here, you little fool, don't draw attention to yourself.'

'But I'm bored rigid!'

'Let me finish this game and we'll go up to the restaurant.'

Libby subsided. It would, she realized, be a confession of failure to walk out after so short a time. She waited, tapping her feet impatiently, ignoring the angry looks Jake cast at her for disturbing his concentration. At last he stood up and took her arm.

'OK, we'll go and see what they have to eat.'

He seemed to have lost a great deal, Libby thought, but he didn't appear upset or worried. His eyes were glittering with excitement, as they'd been when he'd told her he'd been offered a big part in a new TV series. In the restaurant he ostentatiously ordered the most expensive dishes, ignoring Libby completely and not bothering to ask about her preferences.

'Tell me about the auditions,' she demanded when the first course had been put before them.

'The first was a washout,' he said dismissively.

'Dad told me someone else got the part, and he was hopping mad. But I had the impression there was something else bugging him too.'

Jake grinned. 'What's he got to worry about? He's had plenty of parts in the past, must be rolling.'

'He says he's almost broke.'

'Don't believe him. He can go back to America, to their soaps if he needs to earn money. They love his sort of wimpy English type there.'

'He said he couldn't. I think there was some sort of trouble. He means to stay in England now.'

Jake laughed and poured himself more wine. Libby had barely touched hers. 'Well, neither of us got the first part, but what he probably didn't tell you was that there was another audition, in Scotland, for a totally new TV series. We both went, and I got it.'

'You did? Great! Tell me all about it. No wonder he's seething.'

'He's always had a down on me, even though he kept getting parts and I didn't.'

Libby toyed with her food. He talked, drinking copiously of different wines with each course. Libby felt faint stirrings of unease. He wasn't nearly so charming as he'd been before. And she was faintly surprised when they finished that he could still stand upright.

'Let's get a taxi,' he muttered, leering at her in a way she found uncomfortable. Taking her arm he steered her towards the door.

'Let me go, you're pinching me!'

'Gloria's gone off to Paris, we can have the place to ourselves, have a whale of a time.'

Libby began to feel scared, out of control. 'I have to go home now. Please get me a taxi.'

'We'll go home, to my pad, like I said.'

'No!' She was beginning to panic. 'I'm not coming there with you. I'm going home. On my own, Jake!'

'Don't you want to go on having fun? Look, here's a taxi, in you get, darling.'

'No, Jake, I won't. Stop it, I won't go with you! Oh, please let me go!'

Suddenly he released her. Libby glanced over his shoulder and saw her father, his normally pleasant face grim, one fist travelling rapidly towards Jake. It connected with his face and the sound was audible. Libby gulped, looking with both disbelief and a certain glee as Jake subsided gently to the ground.

Alex grinned reassuringly at Libby, whipped out his wallet and had a swift word with the doorman and the amused taxi-driver, helped them heave Jake into the back of the taxi, and waved them off before turning back to her. Another taxi drew up and before she knew what was happening Libby found herself in it, Alex beside her and eyeing her with what looked like exasperation.

'How could you get involved with that creep?' he demanded.

'I didn't mean any harm,' Libby protested. 'Where are we going?'

'Straight back home, and if your grandfather doesn't thrash you I will.'

'You daren't,' she challenged, swiftly recovering. 'I'll tell them I saw you and Emma coming out of that hotel.'

He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. 'So what? I'm not the only person having a meal or a drink.'

'It isn't the sort of place you normally use. Not for drinks or meals,' she added insinuatingly. 'Nor Emma. I wonder what her new husband would say?'

'Don't try silly blackmail with threats you can't possibly prove. I made enquiries about a school while I was in England, one that sounds more like a prison. I've arranged to send you there after Christmas, whatever your mother says.'

'I want to go to drama school. Look, school fees for two years would cover the cost and keep me in London. How much is schooling going to cost you? Thirty grand?'

'Forget it. You're not going to London.'

She was silent for some while. Then, as they drew near home she glanced across at him speculatively. 'Do you have to tell Gran?'

He raised his eyebrows. 'You actually mind her knowing what a fool you are?'

Libby flushed. 'OK, don't go on about it. It's all so tedious. I just wanted a bit of excitement.'

'You promise to behave properly, and go to this school, and this time I won't say anything.'

She sighed. 'You win.'

'I always do. We're almost home. Shall I walk down with you? How do you intend to get back into the house?'

***

### Chapter 4

'Where have you been?' Bruce demanded.

Emma tossed her head. 'I wouldn't have thought you were in the slightest bit interested!' she snapped back. 'You vanish with just a casual note, and we all know where you've been.'

Bruce took one step across the kitchen and grasped both her shoulders, shaking her slightly. 'You were out, Emma. I had an urgent phone call about this prize I've won. They'd set up some interviews in New York. Then I got home late last night, and you were out. You roll home at ten in the morning, reeking of sex. Have you been making a fool of yourself with some local gigolo? I've seen the way you've been eyeing them.'

'What's sauce for the gander. Ouch, let go. You're hurting me!'

He shook her, slowly and deliberately. 'I will hurt you much more, my darling wife, if you don't tell me the truth.'

Emma suddenly flared at him. 'It's perfectly all right for you to dash off to New York and dear little Tanya's bed. Right under my nose! If I choose to spend time with a man who appreciates me more than you do, I don't think you have any right to complain.'

'I'll do more than complain. I'll kill any bastard who thinks he can bed my wife.' He went on in remorseless detail to describe exactly how that would be achieved, while Emma squirmed under his hands, powerless to escape. 'And then I'll make sure no man ever fancies you again.'

'What – what do you mean?' she gasped, breathless as he continued to shake her.

'You cherish your beauty, don't you, Emma mine? Centuries ago adulteresses used to be branded with the letter 'A'. Would you like it if I carved it on your cheeks?'

Suddenly he dragged open a drawer and snatched up a wickedly sharp knife. Emma screamed and began to struggle, but Bruce held her easily and she stared at him, helpless and petrified, as he lovingly drew the point of the blade across the taut skin of her cheek.

'One little bit of extra pressure, and I'd draw blood,' he remarked coolly. 'Well, Emma, is it to be your sacrifice? Do you think men would look at you again if you were mutilated?'

'I – Bruce, let me go!'

He deliberately, slowly, slashed her dress from neck to hem. 'Promise you'll never be unfaithful again?'

She gulped, shivering. Beneath the very real terror a frisson of excitement stirred, and unconsciously she swayed towards him. 'I – haven't been, I was at the Casino, truly I was,' she said swiftly, feeling the blade cold against the heated skin of her thigh.

Bruce smiled and replaced the knife in the drawer. 'The Casino shuts at three. I'll make you see reason. Now, my dutiful wife, let's go to bed and you can prove your good intentions.'

Emma sagged against him, releasing a flood of tears. 'Oh, Bruce,' she wailed. 'I was so miserable, so afraid you were going to leave me. We didn't seem able to talk, I thought you were tired of me.'

Slowly he was stripping off her clothes, his hands following as he pushed aside the flimsy, silky garments. When she was naked, her clothes strewn about the kitchen floor, her fingers clumsy in their haste to pull off his jeans, he uttered a crow of triumph and swept her into his arms.

'You're not going to catch up on your sleep today, Emma my love. You'll have to work hard to please me, very hard!'

*

Jake waylaid Libby two days after the visit to the Casino, when she was shopping in the market hall. He'd been racking his brains for another scheme to raise some cash, and if only he could placate Libby he might succeed and at the same time pay back some old scores on Alex Ross.

'Libby, I want to apologize. I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing.'

She glared at him. 'You've got a lovely black eye,' she said, her voice filled with satisfaction.

Jake ignored this. At least she was still prepared to talk to him. 'I deserved it,' he admitted, and smiled. He knew few women who could resist his smile, rueful, roguish, and intimate. 'Look, someone will see us. Who's with you?'

'I came with Gran, but she's absorbed choosing flowers at the far end.'

He glanced round at the lavish, colourful display of fruit and vegetables on the stalls in the central square, and drew her back into the side aisle. 'Let's go up into the balcony, she won't see us there. This is important.'

Libby followed him up the steps and they leaned on the rail overlooking the fish hall. She stared in fascination at the long eel-like espada displayed on several stalls.

'I love the taste, but those heads with the massive jaws and hundreds of teeth are disgusting,' she said with a shudder. 'Aren't they dangerous to swimmers?'

'Like sharks? No, they live miles deep, and always die when they are caught, they can't take the lower pressure as they are brought to the surface. But talking of sharks, what did your father say the other night?'

'About you? Nothing, except to abuse me for seeing you, and threaten to send me to some ghastly school. But I won't go, so he needn't think he can force me!'

'It wasn't that made him hit me. It was jealousy over my new part. How can you stop him?'

'If I had some money I'd run away to England, try to get a job in TV, office girl or something until I can find a way of acting.'

'Look, I know there's no reason for you to trust me after the other night, but I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing. Your father must have some money if he can pay school fees. Why shouldn't he give it to you for drama training instead?'

'He says he'll never pay for that.' Libby shook her head, but she looked interested.

'And when I get established, surely there'll be a small part I could wangle for you.'

'If only you could,' Libby sighed.

'Make him.'

'Give me the cash? How?'

'Blackmail.' She looked startled and he almost bit his tongue. She would not know about his sideline suggesting to her grandfather that he knew about his affair with Dodie, and the probable outcome. 'Well, not exactly. A ransom, I suppose you'd call it. If you hid away, pretended you'd been kidnapped, he'd fork out. So would your mother and grandparents.'

'But – how on earth could I manage that? I'd have to have somewhere to stay, and if I telephoned or wrote notes they'd know it was me.'

He sensed he'd partially overcome her distrust and pressed on. 'I'd be the go-between. You could stay in the place I'm supposed to use. Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't be there.' He explained about the cottage in the grounds of Gloria's house, and that she was still in Paris doing her Christmas shopping. 'I have to stay in the house while she's away.' Libby, he saw with amusement, was eyeing him speculatively although she looked rather shocked.

'She's old!' she exclaimed.

'She looks a lot older than she is, she'd had a hard life,' he said mendaciously. 'It would only be a for a few days, I promise. It could be your last chance of drama school, and without that you'd have no hope of an acting job. Well, how about it?'

'You promise you wouldn't touch me?'

'Cross my heart,' he said, and meant it. He'd been drunk at the Casino, but if there was the slightest possibility Libby might be related to him he wouldn't touch her. Although Bill had scornfully rejected the suggestion, he hadn't believed him. Besides, Gloria was insatiable the night he'd got back, he was still exhausted. He hadn't even wanted to see Isabella, resentful of her increasingly hysterical messages. They had angered him, he didn't like his women to try and pressurize him. He'd sent her a curt note saying that on reflection he didn't feel it fair to her to continue asking her to deceive her parents.

'When?' Libby asked.

*

'This place is too public,' Emma complained. 'I know Libby saw me the last time. And Bruce is already suspicious.'

'Does it worry you? Libby won't give you away,' Alex said.

'Have you bribed or threatened her? She could, quite easily, without meaning to. Your daughter usually says the first thing that comes into her head without a second thought.' Emma shivered. 'If Bruce found out, he'd go berserk!'

'I thought you said he was fooling about with Tanya, and you meant to pay him back in his own coin?'

Emma looked startled, and he laughed and pulled her to him.

'I didn't.'

'Not in so many words, but you need to think before you speak, too. I haven't the slightest misapprehension about your feelings for me, Emma, though you shouldn't have left me, we understood one another.'

'Alex,' she began to protest, but he laughed and silenced her with a deep kiss.

'Who cares? We have fun together, no strings. But how will you get your own back on Bruce and Tanya if they don't find out?'

'I – I'll have the private satisfaction,' Emma said at last.

'But if we can't meet here too often, will that satisfaction last?'

'Look, if we're careful I can come to your studio in the daytime. I've been thinking about it, I was being too cautious. There isn't much danger of being seen, and if I were I could say I was going to see Valerie. She's asked me to try and talk some sense into Libby, after all. And the danger of discovery will add spice, won't it?' she whispered, running her hands over his chest.

*

'Alex, do you know where Libby is?'

Alex groaned and sat up in bed. Thank goodness Emma hadn't been with him. 'Bill? What time is it?'

Bill explained that Libby's room was empty, her bed unslept in. Alex pulled on jeans and a sweater and they searched the garden and the surrounding lanes, and were on the point of calling the police when a taxi arrived. The driver handed Bill a letter and had departed before he could be questioned.

'What is it? Is it from Libby?' Valerie asked.

Bill swallowed hard. 'No. Not really.'

'What do you mean, "not really"?' Alex demanded and took the sheet of paper away from him. He skimmed the few lines and looked up, his expression grim. 'I don't believe it.'

'Give it to me,' Valerie ordered, and despite Alex's attempt to pull the paper away secured it. 'A kidnap? Thirty thousand pounds, and we're not to inform anyone else apart from her father, and especially not the police.'

'Pounds? Not euros?' Bill asked. 'That's interesting.'

They sat looking at one another for a few minutes, then Bill reached for the telephone. 'Be damned to that! I'm getting on to the police at once.'

'No. Let's think,' Alex said. He paced restlessly up and down the room. 'How did they get hold of her?' he asked quietly. 'Why didn't you know she was out?'

'She was in bed, went before ten last night,' Valerie said slowly. 'That's a point, I hadn't considered that. They could hardly have snatched her from bed, we'd have heard.'

'Then she went willingly. With that bloody Jakes, no doubt.'

'Jakes? You mean Dodie's son? But she doesn't know him,' Valerie said, bewildered.

Alex gave her a long look. 'He lives a few doors away, doesn't he? She could have met him.'

Bill nodded. 'That's true. Anyway, we can ring him, and David Holmes, and find out if she was planning to meet either of them. Whoever's got her could have been on watch, or might have enticed her out with a false message.'

'Whoever it is. Who could it be, and why do they put her price at only thirty thousand?' Alex asked quietly.

'Only! It's more cash than you or I could raise at the drop of a hat,' Bill exclaimed. 'Though we could manage it in time.'

'Precisely. It's someone who knows we're none of us exactly plutocrats. If they hadn't known, they'd have asked for much more.'

'It would seem a huge sum to a Madeiran peasant,' Valerie said slowly.

'But he'd ask for euros. And would a Madeiran peasant be able to abduct her, even if he knew how to demand a ransom? Besides, I thought you said the natives were all so law-abiding?' Alex said.

'I can borrow it from the bank,' Bill interrupted.

'Your house and businesses are worth far more than that, Bill, so why didn't they ask for more?'

'Why is that important?' Valerie snapped. 'It's far more urgent to decide what we're going to do.'

'Thirty thousand is exactly what my delightful daughter asked me for when she said she wanted to go to drama school.'

Bill stared at him. 'You mean she might be doing it herself? That's impossible! Where could she be hiding?'

'She didn't jump at the notion of a new school, did she?'

'That was your fault for making it sound like a concentration camp! Oh, why did you have to threaten her with that?'

'I don't believe it's Libby herself,' Valerie declared loyally. 'I think we should call the police. They'll be discreet. They have experience with this sort of case.'

'The note doesn't say what we're to do about the money. They intend contacting us tomorrow and will tell us then what to do with it. They'll want cash. We need to stall them.'

'But in the meantime, we ought to tell the police.'

*

'I wish Sally was here,' Valerie said worriedly. 'She'd have more idea of how Libby's mind works, what she's likely to have done. I'm just not in tune with that generation!'

She'd phoned Dodie first thing the following morning, and was sitting in her hotel suite, telling her what had happened.

'Do you think Emma might have some ideas?' Dodie suggested tentatively. 'Libby likes her, and she's not all that much older. We were going to see her, remember, but got sidetracked.'

Valerie nodded slowly. 'It's possible.'

'She couldn't be helping Libby, could she?' Dodie pondered.

'Surely not!' Valerie looked startled. 'Come on, let's go straight up there. I won't even ring to say we're coming. If she's out that's too bad.'

Valerie had driven to the Cliff Bay. She almost ran to the car, swung dangerously out of the car park, and joined the stream of traffic inching down the road. She tapped the wheel impatiently as they threaded their way towards the centre of Funchal, then when she turned onto the wider road past the hospital Valerie trod on the accelerator and shot some lights at the last second, then changed down to overtake a lumbering lorry which was having difficulty up the long hill.

Dodie gulped. Valerie was normally a careful driver, but she seemed oblivious to everything except the need to get to Emma. Dodie couldn't see the urgency. 'The house isn't on fire,' she muttered and closed her eyes as Valerie shot across an island, causing a taxi to slam on the brakes.

Valerie cast her a puzzled glance, and then swerved to the right onto the Via Rapida, and Dodie breathed a sigh of relief.

'This is the way to the airport, isn't it? Where's this villa?'

'It's a development on the way to Caniço. Rather attractive, a sprawl of villas on one of the few gentle slopes in the island, overlooking Point Garajau. That's the headland where that statue of Christ is, which looks like the one in Rio de Janeiro.'

'I saw it when we flew in.' She'd better distract Valerie by talking, Dodie decided, and demanded information about the rest of the island.

None too soon for Dodie's nerves Valerie swung off the main road, and soon they were negotiating narrower ones. Valerie stopped to ask the way, then a few minutes later drew up outside a white bungalow which was smothered in lush climbing plants.

They could see a wide terrace to one side of the building, and a naked foot on the end of a lounger. As Valerie was about to press the bell Dodie shook her head.

'Catch her unawares,' she suggested, and Valerie, after a slight pause, nodded.

They walked slowly round the corner of the building, and saw Emma, clad in no more than a couple of minuscule scraps of black material, lying face-down on the lounger, her head buried in her arms. Dodie considered her appraisingly. She had a superb body, and it was shapely, not skinny, but without an ounce of surplus flesh. Then Emma abruptly sat up, grabbed a pair of powerful binoculars from the ground beside her, and trained them onto a distant point of hillside. She watched intently for a second, then gave a sob and flung herself down again.

'My dear, what on earth is it?' Dodie exclaimed.

Emma sat up in alarm, and brushed her eyes. 'You startled me! Valerie? Hi. Nice to see you. Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Or something stronger?'

'Coffee would be lovely,' Dodie said firmly. She dreaded to think of the drive back if Valerie had been swigging alcohol.

By the time Emma returned, now wearing jeans and a tee shirt, she had renewed her make-up, but she hadn't been able to disguise her red-rimmed eyes.

'Lots of sea birds round here,' Dodie said. 'Do you mind if I borrow your binoculars?'

'Go ahead. Garajau means terns in Portuguese. They called the point after the hundreds of them that nest here.'

Dodie focussed the glasses, then swung them round in a wide arc. From the angle Emma had been using them she'd been watching something on the ground, not soaring birds, but all Dodie could see apart from people sitting or working in their gardens were several people walking dogs and a couple of joggers in the distance.

She laid down the binoculars and turned back, listening to Valerie's account of Libby's disappearance and their suspicions. 'You probably know her as well as anyone else here,' she finished. 'Is it likely she could try to get money out of us this way?'

Emma nodded. 'It's just the crazy sort of scheme she'd try,' she agreed. 'She's determined to act, has been ever since I've known her.'

'Where can she be? You've seen her, I think?'

'Only briefly, once. Oh, and she popped in once with David to show off her new party dress. They were going to his friend's, I gather. I don't know of anyone else here she knows. And she can't be with Alex in his place, even if it weren't him she was trying to get money from.'

'We've asked David Holmes, he hasn't seen her, and she couldn't be with him, he's living with his boss's family. She hasn't any money to stay at an hotel, even a cheap one. I just pray she's not trying to sleep rough.'

'There aren't any hippie beaches in Madeira,' Emma said. 'There are the parks, but she'd probably be seen, they're mostly pretty open. There are a few who sleep rough, but they are mostly old winos and the like. She'd be too scared to mix with them.'

She had no more suggestions, and Valerie got up to leave. 'Thanks. We'd better go back in case there's another message. Emma, just in case it isn't Libby's own idea, but a real kidnap, you won't tell anyone else? Oh, God, I do hope it is her playing a stupid prank, even if she is sleeping under some wretched bush!'

Dodie was deep in thought as Valerie drove home, more sedately this time. 'How did Emma know Alex had what she called his own place?' she asked suddenly. 'He hadn't arrived that first time Libby said she'd seen Emma. And would she have had cause to mention it during a brief visit to show off her dress?'

Valerie tried to remember. 'Emma said she hadn't seen her apart from that, but Funchal's so small, people are always bumping into one another. Libby may have seen her again, or Emma may have seen Alex. It isn't important.'

After a few more minutes Dodie spoke again. 'She'd been crying.'

'Emma?'

'She was very edgy. I'll swear it was connected with whatever she was watching through those binoculars, but all I could see were dog walkers and joggers.'

'Bruce jogs. I'm surprised Emma doesn't. I wonder if she works out to keep that lovely body in trim? It must have dented Alex's ego when such a gorgeous creature left him. Oh, Dodie, I'm so worried about Libby. Children are such a responsibility.'

*

Gloria shook her head and turned away. She couldn't find anything she wanted. In the whole of Paris there was nothing which would make up to her for the misery she felt. There was no one interesting staying in the hotel, the food was terrible, the service worse. She'd try somewhere else next time.

She drained two fingers of neat rum and rolled the tumbler in her hands. It wasn't the thought of Jake which was so depressing. She didn't care for him, he was far too openly greedy, but he had a vigorous body and he provided companionship of a sort. She'd tolerate him for a while longer. Then she grimaced. It was a toss-up whether he went first. She supposed it depended on how generous she was. He could get tired of waiting for the bribes she promised.

She poured more rum. Then she shook her head and tipped it into the flower pot where a leggy plant struggled to survive. 'It's kill or cure you,' she muttered, and forced herself to move into the bedroom. She was too weary to go through her usual routine. Her face could look after itself tonight. After all, who cared? Jake didn't. She was just a wallet to him. She couldn't even kid herself he enjoyed sex with her. He was a stud, but he did it for money. A male whore. What was the word? She'd remember it tomorrow. She was too wretched to care.

She gazed bleary-eyed into the bathroom mirror as she pulled off her skirt and blouse, leaving them on the floor. She could no longer pretend, even to herself, that she looked half her age. There were yet more wrinkles showing, but she could not endure the thought of more surgery. Her underwear was discarded, and she walked into the bedroom. She sat on the bed and then, with a shrug, went to fetch the rum bottle. It didn't make her happier, but it would help her decide whether to leave Jake to stew by himself, while she went down to Monte Carlo for Christmas, or whether to go back home. Perhaps he'd agree to going on a cruise with her. At least he'd find it more difficult to escape from a boat. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to keep him. She drank straight from the bottle, and then rocked back and forth as she lay down, hugging the bottle to her. She sank into oblivion and the rest of the sticky liquid, unnoticed, tricked over her abused body to soak into the expensive Parisian mattress.

*

Libby jumped nervously. She hadn't heard the garden gate open. Jake had said he'd oiled the hinges well to facilitate his own comings and goings. She crouched down near the window, hoping that if anyone glanced in they wouldn't be able to see her. She'd been here for two days and nights now, and was becoming bored as well as anxious. It had been a near miss when her father had come searching for her. She only got out into the garden just in time. The letters she and Jake had composed, with much giggling, had elicited a short reply brought as instructed to a distant rendezvous by the second taxi-driver they'd used as courier, agreeing to their demands, but asking for details of what to do next. She'd wanted to insist on cash being sent to England, and she would be there to receive it, but Jake had pointed out the problems with this idea, and also said curtly that he didn't mean to finance her ticket to England out of his own slim hoard of savings.

Footsteps went past the window and Libby risked a peep. She frowned. It was Isabella Maclean. Was she bringing a message from her parents? Did they know Jake's employer? Surely Isabella could have nothing to do with the old hag who was making such a fool of herself over Jake? Yet Mrs Neville was away.

Curious, bored with her inactivity, she decided to follow the girl. There were plenty of shrubs in the garden to hide her, as she'd discovered when dodging her father's search. She slipped behind a bank of dense foliage and began to weave her way towards the main house. Then she heard raised voices and halted abruptly. Why was Jake, who'd said he would be watering the profusion of hanging baskets Gloria had taken it into her head to put up, in this part of the garden?

'You must help me, Jake!' Isabella was saying, a catch in her voice. 'My mother is so angry. I can't bear it much longer.'

'Hush, darling, we don't want anyone to hear us,' Jake said, trying to urge her towards the gate.

'Why did you say we had to part? Why, just now? Don't you love me any more?'

'Isabella, sweet, of course I do. But perhaps it is wrong. I'm too old for you.'

'I said you weren't! Why haven't you met me like I asked?'

'I've been to London, you knew I had to go.'

'You've been back for more than a week.'

'There's been a great deal to do. Isabella, you have to trust me to know what's best.'

'I can't stay here. You promised to take me away,' she cried, panic surfacing.

'And I will, when it's possible. Look, this isn't the time to talk about it, but don't worry, darling, it'll be all right, I swear.'

'How? What can I do? You said it would be safe, I couldn't have a baby, you would make sure it didn't happen, but it has!'

'You can't be certain it's mine,' he interrupted, and Libby gasped with shock.

Isabella did not appear to see the implications. 'And my mother is furious,' she sobbed. 'Jake, I'm frightened. I have to get away from here.'

'I'll meet you later in the afternoon. Where could we be private?'

'Why not here? Why not your cottage where we used to meet?'

'Isabella, pet, Gloria has another guest there now, and I have to sleep in the house while she's away. I can't ask you there, it wouldn't be right. Can't you think of somewhere?'

There was a short silence, and then they moved towards the gate. Libby flattened herself on the ground and missed the next words. In a short while Jake came back alone and she sat up and stared after him thoughtfully.

Poor deluded Isabella, she thought. Abruptly her own concerns seemed trivial, and what she and Jake were planning shabby and contemptible. It had seemed justified, fun to get the better of her family in such a way, but now she saw it differently. And, a small inner voice asked, could she trust Jake? He'd been very insistent he had to collect the cash wherever it was handed over. Now she wondered cynically whether she'd ever have seen it if she'd agreed. He'd told Isabella plenty of lies.

Slowly she went back to the cottage, gathered together the few possessions she'd brought with her, and slipped out of the gate. As she plodded along the lane she considered how much she ought to tell her father. Not about Jake, she concluded. There was enough bad blood between them, and while she didn't care in the least what happened to Jake, she didn't want her father charged with assault. She'd just say she never saw her kidnappers, but had managed to escape out of a window, and she'd make sure that she wouldn't know the way back to her supposed prison.

*

'Bruce, what on earth's happened?'

Emma, who had reached home a few minutes earlier and was putting away her coat, went to Bruce who was clinging to the edge of the door. His jacket was torn, there were dried streaks of blood on his face, and one eye was closed.

'Get me a brandy,' he said, as she helped him across to a chair.

When he'd gulped down one glass he glanced up at her. 'I was mugged,' he said, his voice full of surprise. 'I was in one of those quiet little lanes which run at the backs of some of the big villas. I'd left the car there while I went to collect my photos. Then out of nowhere someone coshed me on the back of the head.'

'My poor darling! Let me get a bowl of warm water and clean your poor face. Have you seen a doctor? Should I call one?'

'There's no need. I'm just a bit groggy. I think I was out for a moment. I didn't see who it was, but I did see someone tall running away, round the nearest corner.'

'Did they steal your wallet?' Emma asked after she'd cleaned Bruce's wounds. Despite his protests, she had prevailed on him to have a check-up and was driving him to the hospital.

'No, didn't even try to. And they could have done, I was in no state at first to resist.'

'Then why on earth? You don't have enemies who'd do it for some form of revenge, and what other reason could there be? It wasn't Alex Ross, I suppose?'

'Alex?' Bruce asked sharply. 'Why should it be?'

'Valerie says he's acting oddly,' Emma improvised swiftly. 'When we divorced, he seemed not to care, but perhaps he did. Seeing us here, so happy, he might have been suddenly overcome by jealousy.'

Bruce guffawed, and then held his head. 'God, you sound like a trashy teenage romance! I had a feeling I knew the fellow, but it was getting dark and he was some distance away. I don't think it was Alex.'

'He gave Jake a lovely black eye.'

'When? I hadn't heard about this?'

'It was some fight, over a woman, I believe.' Emma tried to sound casual. She wasn't going to tell Bruce all Alex had told her, or she'd set off his jealousy again. 'He's capable of violence.'

'It wasn't Alex. Forget it, Emma, the doctors told you I'm still in one piece, and all I want now is bed and a good night's sleep.'

*

Theo hurried, panting as he climbed the steep hill. He felt as though he'd been playing truant. He'd taken longer than he'd intended, browsing amongst the books in the Quinta Magnolia library. Normally he read in Portuguese, conscientious in trying to perfect his grasp of the language, but there was very little available about his major interest, the Saxons, and he'd indulged himself with a visit to the English section. He hadn't meant to leave Isabella for so long in the Santa Clara Church, but she'd begged for an hour, and he sympathized with her need to be alone. At home she was watched incessantly, constantly chided by her mother and brothers and, when they saw her, by the rest of Maria's family too. Just lately Maria had insisted she could only leave the hotel when one of the family could go with her, and none of them ever seemed free. She must find it irksome. Maria hadn't been able to forbid her to go to confession, though, and fortunately hadn't been able to accompany her because of some kitchen crisis. He half expected Isabella to be waiting for him in the small courtyard, but it was deserted. He hoped she had not broken her promise and left, for that would bring further recriminations down on both their heads. He went inside and at first thought the church, with its heavy grille at the back, and the wonderful, clear blue wall tiles, was empty. Then he saw what looked like a bundle of clothes on the steps of the altar, and recognized the brightly patterned scarf he had given Isabella last week in a vain attempt to cheer her.

'Sweetheart, what is it?' he exclaimed as he hurried towards her, nameless fears surging through his jumbled thoughts.

To his relief she moved, and then he heard the racking sobs which tore from her throat. Carefully he lifted her and cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently as he had all those years ago when she had been a baby. She clutched at his jacket convulsively, and gradually the sobs lessened and she permitted him to carry her to one of the benches beneath the pulpit in the centre of the side wall.

'Tell me, little one,' he crooned. 'It can't be so dreadful. Let me help you. Was the priest unsympathetic?'

'I didn't go to confession. I lied to you when I said I wanted to,' she wailed. 'I'd arranged to meet Jake, but he won't help me, he just sent a note, said he was finished with me, that I'd been stupid!'

'Tell me exactly what happened,' Theo said gently.

She began to stammer out her anguished account, and from the muddle of self-recrimination, apologies, and condemnations of Jake, he discovered the truth. He read the crumpled, tear-stained letter and shook with helpless fury. Until now Isabella had refused to name her lover, but hearing the name made Theo long to rush out and tackle the man. He forced himself to remain calm, fighting down the furious rage which he felt against Jake. Not only had he betrayed Isabella, now he'd deserted her in the most callous way. But Jake would have to wait. He would deal with that monster later. Just now Isabella was all that mattered.

Theo was thinking rapidly. Life in Madeira had become impossible since Maria had turned against Isabella. They'd been so delighted when she'd been born, ten years after the boys, and when they'd given up hope of a daughter. He'd been thinking nostalgically of England during the past few years, wanting to study Saxon sites before he grew too old, but had never imagined he'd be able to go. Now, if he went to England, he could take Isabella and so hide the family's shame. That would please Maria. He didn't think further, to when he'd have to decide whether to come back. Isabella was the only important thing, her and his first grandchild.

'I could take you to England, to Aunt Connie, I think. We'll find a reason why which will silence the gossips. Let's say you're in need of change after what's happened, to get away and decide whether you want to marry Rui.'

'I've shamed everybody, I'll never be forgiven.'

'Never mind that. Your baby is what we need to consider most of all. You have to be strong and think what's best for him. Let me work out the details. I'll come with you, I was hoping to go to England for a while anyway. I can stay with you if you want me to, until you've had the child. Then we'll see what can be done, whether you keep it or come back.'

The look of relief on her face both gladdened him and made him sad. How could he have allowed Maria and her family to have so much power to frighten his child? But he would make it up to her, she would have a better opportunity than he'd had to recover from his mistakes.

***

### Chapter 5

'Why on earth do you want to go to such a boring affair?' Gloria asked petulantly. 'A ruby wedding, and then fireworks.'

'It's the New Year, a very special one for us,' Jake whispered. 'Besides, I want the chance of meeting my beloved mama where she can't bawl me out,' Jake explained for the second time.

'But why do you have to meet her?'

'To persuade her not to include me in this wretched TV thing they're doing about her.'

'I can't take my gardener handyman to a neighbour's party. It would look most peculiar.'

'Are you ashamed of me?'

'No, but it was mainly to protect you that we thought up such a little bit of pretend.'

He sighed. He'd already discovered what an elastic memory Gloria had, and an infinite ability to twist facts for her own benefit. He had to go to this party. He was furious with Libby for running away, losing him the opportunity of securing some cash, and he meant to tell her so. She'd been avoiding him, he was sure, but at her grandparents' party she could be cornered.

'Look, hardly anybody knows I'm with you, yet, so you could take me as a friend. Let's say we met in France, or Miami. Tell them I'm a friend of a niece or something. If I'm with you the Thorns couldn't have me thrown out even if Mama complains to them. And if I don't get her to stop those journalists ferreting round, looking for dirt on me, they'll soon discover what we really mean to one another. You'd hardly appreciate that.'

'I don't think all this adds up,' Gloria said, her tone suspicious. 'Those journalists aren't here now, you said.'

'No, but they'll be coming back. I'd have to leave the island if they did start pestering me,' he warned. Since her return from Paris Gloria had been even more desperate for his attentions, and he didn't fear rejection.

'Oh, what does it matter. If it means so much to you I'll go along with it.'

'Thanks. It means a lot to both of us. And now, to get us in the mood, how about a little siesta?'

Several hours later Jake, in immaculate evening dress, lounged on the bed as he watched Gloria doing her face. She was eventually satisfied, picked up her necklace, and turned to Jake asking him to fasten the clasp.

He moved across, and drew his finger across her lips, then bent to kiss her. 'Mm, I wish we didn't have to go. Gloria, your sapphires would go much better with this dress than diamonds, don't you think? They reflect the colour of your eyes.'

Gloria considered, then nodded. She rose, went into the small room which led from the bedroom, where her safe was concealed, and brought back the sapphires. Jake fastened the necklace and insisted on placing the earrings. Then he pulled her to him, laughing as she protested he was ruining her make-up.

'I could eat you,' he murmured into her thinning hair. 'But you're right, we have to go. Let's go quickly before I get too carried away.'

They walked the hundred yards or so to the Thorns' house. They had agreed that to preserve the fiction of his friendship with her niece, once he was inside they would not remain together. 'Or our feelings might give us away,' Jake said earnestly, and Gloria hooted with laughter.

'I can't see the Thorns taking kindly to their guests having a quick screw,' she said between gasps. 'They're about the straightest-laced couple on the island.'

The house looked like a Christmas tree, and a vulgar one at that, Jake thought, disgruntled at having to use a stratagem to get into a party. Normally hosts welcomed him, but then his usual hosts were aware of his celebrity status. And his usual parties were not the boring affairs he fully anticipated this one to be, unless he could liven it up. All the lights blazed, the doors opening onto the terrace were ajar, and coloured lights stretched round the edges of this. Garden lights illuminated the steps from the gate to the front door, and others were scattered beside chairs and tables. Though dusk fell early, the temperature might still be warm enough to tempt some hardy souls into the garden.

He was annoyed at the feeling of relief he felt that Bill Thorn was not on hand to welcome them. Valerie Thorn, short and plump, with bright blue eyes and curly white hair, stood beside the front door smiling at her friends. She gave him a serene smile when Gloria begged permission to add her young friend to the party. At his suggestion Gloria deliberately mumbled his name, and as another group of guests followed swiftly after them he was able to escape before his hostess could enquire further. He needed time to find his way around. He also meant to avoid Bill Thorn who would, he felt sure, have no hesitation in throwing him out, whatever he said to Gloria. And he wanted, if possible, to come across his mother unexpectedly before she discovered he was at this party.

He seized two glasses from a passing waiter and went onto the terrace, and stood where an enormous rubber plant threw deep shadows. He surveyed the crowd milling about, and immediately saw Libby talking to an attractive blonde. She was a real looker, he decided, and he'd try to meet her alone when his main business was done.

His opportunity soon came. Libby left the blonde and walked right past where he stood. He stretched out and caught her arm, dragging her into the shelter of the bush.

'You've been avoiding me,' he accused.

Libby struggled to free her arm from his grasp. 'You are a dirty rotten low-down creep!' she hissed at him. 'What are you doing here? You weren't invited. Let go of me.'

'I came with a friend, so don't get steamed up about it,' he said quietly.

'Steamed up? I'm boiling. Were you going to make me pregnant and then deny responsibility?' she demanded.

'Oh, so you girls have been confiding, have you? Don't believe everything that little trollop says. I'm just a convenient scapegoat.'

'I don't believe you. And Isabella hasn't said a word to me.'

'Well, you needn't think it was your body I lusted after,' he sneered. 'I like women, not stupid little girls.'

'It was my father's money you wanted, wasn't it? Well, you won't get it. And now, if you don't let me go I'll scream, and I'll get you thrown out, and – and I hope you get put into prison, you deserve it.'

He watched as she stalked away, and then, turning morosely to glance across the garden, stiffened in shock as he recognized Isabella handing round trays of canapés.

Jake hadn't anticipated seeing her here. Then he shrugged. He could probably avoid her, there seemed to be dozens of guests. He strolled down the garden to a group of chairs beside a small fishpond and sat looking out across the bay. Night had fallen swiftly, and the air was full of fragrance, soft damp earth, the resinous aroma of trees, and elusive scents of flowers. Funchal was spread out below him, bright necklaces of street lights following the curve of the wide bay. The regimented rows of lights of a big cruise liner just arriving floated, disembodied and majestic, in the distance, and he wished fervently he was aboard, away from this place which hadn't come up to his expectations. Lesser boats jostled with intimate fraternity in the harbour. All round, right up the steep slopes of the mountains behind, scattered lights showed the intricate pattern of the steep, winding roads, where houses perched on every available scrap of land flat enough to support a few square metres of buildings.

He breathed in deeply, drank a couple more glasses of wine, and decided it was time to look for his mother. He found Dodie surrounded by a laughing crowd. She seemed to be wearing an excessive quantity of gauzy scarves and flamboyant beads. Why couldn't she wear proper gemstones instead of that rubbish, he thought irritably. She'd collected plenty from her various husbands, but she always kept them safely locked away. He moved around the perimeter of the crowd until he caught her attention and as her gaze, at first shocked and then angry, rested on him, he beckoned.

'Well, just look what the cat's brought in! How did you manage to gatecrash?' she demanded loudly.

'Dear Mama,' he forced himself to say calmly. 'You were always one for a joke. I was brought by a friend and our hosts are quite happy to see me here.'

'Which puts them in a minority of two.'

'If you think I'm going to be insulted like your damn fool husbands, you're mistaken. I came to try and have a civilized discussion.'

'You can't even act civilized,' she jeered, 'even if they spent a million on drama lessons.'

The other guests, embarrassed, had melted away from the group just far enough to pretend they weren't avidly eavesdropping. Jake sat in the chair beside Dodie. 'Cut the insults, Ma. I know you've never liked me, but you did produce me and I've a right to know who my father is. If you know,' he added.

'I know all right,' she replied grimly, 'but despite how he treated me if you think I'm going to sick you on him you're very much mistaken.'

'Gran once told me it wasn't your first husband, you hadn't met him when I was born. He was married, I suppose. Is it our much-revered host?'

Dodie stared at him in amazement, and then dissolved into helpless laughter. When she could speak again she sounded almost friendly. 'Bill adores Valerie and he always did. A group of us from the chorus used to go about with some army blokes when they were on leave in London, but Bill wasn't often there, and he was just one of the lads. He was with them only when it was impossible for him to get home to Valerie.'

Jake knew when she was telling the truth. 'His brother? One of his army pals then? It could be someone here tonight.'

'Why the hell do you want to know? You're not the sort to have finer feelings, needing to look for your roots. It can only be money. That's all you care about. Well, don't expect me to tell you anything. And don't expect another handout from me. I'm going home in a few days, and if you want to stay here you won't do any harm. Nor will you find your father.'

She rose and swept away. Jake swung round to stare after her and found himself facing Alex Ross and the blonde he'd noticed earlier. They grinned at one another, then looked away and began an animated conversation, and Jake gritted his teeth. It was clear they'd heard at least some of the conversation. He stalked off in the opposite direction, fuming impotently, wondering how, if he couldn't prise this secret from Dodie, he could get the cash he needed.

*

Dodie noticed Emma staring at her as she left Jake, but she didn't want to stop and embarrass her further, since she had clearly heard some of the row. Inside the house she saw Howard, but she couldn't face him either in her present angry mood. She discovered a small room where some older women were sitting, complaining that being outside was all very well for young ones, but at their age they felt the chill of the evening.

She joined them, but the conversation soon passed on to local gossip, and it was clear that one elderly lady was mercilessly questioning one of the others.

'Your young man, Gloria, is a friend of a niece? But I didn't know you had a niece. I thought you and poor dear Martin were both only children?'

'My cousin's children always called me aunt,' the other replied testily. When she frowned, Dodie saw with interest, it ruined all the expensive surgery she'd clearly undergone.

'But I thought it was the same young man who drove you to Philip's place before you popped over to Paris. Didn't you say you were employing him as a gardener and chauffeur?'

'He likes to be helpful,' Gloria snapped.

'Isn't he one of these soap actors? I'm sure I've seen him in something on television. He has some funny name, something rude like these dreadful pop stars use to try and shock us oldies.'

'If only they knew,' another chortled. 'Why is it every generation thinks it's the first to discover sex? How do they think they all came to be born – immaculate conception?'

'Jakes! I knew it was lavatorial. Is that your dear unknown niece's friend, Gloria?'

Dodie regarded the woman more carefully. Now she recognized her. Jake had been with her at the Casino. Her concealing make-up prevented the blush that stained her scraggy neck from showing in her face, but it was clear she was either embarrassed or furious. If Jake was sponging off her Dodie had a very astute idea of the payment being exacted.

Gloria had had enough. 'I'm going to find another drink if the waiters intend to ignore us. And then I'm fetching a shawl if we all have to traipse down to the harbour.' She left the room, and when the talk swung to torment someone else, and Dodie could hope to learn no more, she too left.

She collected a plateful of food and went onto the terrace again. She began to talk to people, and managed to forget the aggravation of Jake's continued presence on Madeira. She'd be leaving soon, and once he'd milked Gloria of what he could he'd leave too. There was nothing to keep him in such a quiet spot. She'd no doubt hear of him next on the Riviera, or somewhere else where rich lonely women congregated.

*

Dodie had another migraine threatening. She swallowed a tablet, and hoped it would get no worse. When Howard asked her to walk down to the harbour with him, ahead of the other guests, she happily agreed. It might give her head a chance to recover. They were going to watch the fireworks from his boat.

'I meant to sail out into the harbour, but there will be so many people on board it wouldn't be safe,' Howard explained, laughing slightly. 'It's always the same when Valerie becomes involved. The numbers creep up without your really noticing, and in the end you have twice as many as you'd originally decided was the absolute maximum. We can see almost as well from the Marina anyway.'

Funchal was packed, with thousands of visitors and the islanders who had come to the city to join in the festivities thronging the streets. It was impossible to drive down to the harbour. The town was illuminated with thousands of bulbs glowing with the vivid hues of jewels, strung up from houses and in the trees. Every street had colourful patterns of lights repeated along its length – flowers, stars, crowns, teddy bears. The leaves of the trees, transformed into strange and wonderful shapes and tints, reflected the lights back from glossy surfaces. All round the surrounding slopes of the amphitheatre private fireworks parties were taking place.

Decorated cars and lorries moved slowly along, carrying joyful family parties. 'I don't know why they bother,' Howard said. 'They'll never get anywhere in this crush. By midnight they'll have come to a halt and will just enjoy the fireworks from where they stop.'

Many doors and windows were open, spilling light into the streets. Trees in gardens and window boxes on balconies were festooned with fairy lights. They glowed everywhere, inside and out. The public buildings and fountains were floodlit. Howard exchanged greetings with everyone.

'You know a lot of people,' Dodie said, trying to distract her mind from the throbbing pain in her head.

'No, not really. Oh, you mean all these people? I don't know them, it's just that everyone is happy, enjoying themselves.'

They eventually reached the broad road which ran along the side of the harbour. It was even more crowded than the town streets, traffic barred from it, and many groups having their own parties as they waited. Howard threaded the way between the impromptu picnic tables, occasionally stopping to accept a glass of wine thrust towards him. Horns were blaring, people singing. Some were playing guitars and other stringed instruments, a few struggled to be heard with mouth organs or accordions.

'What's that?' Dodie asked, and the man sitting on the back of a bench heard her and handed down what he had been holding.

'It's a brinquinho,' Howard explained.

Dodie was fascinated. It was half a metre or more long, with a central pole, and tiny dolls dressed in replicas of the national costume. The men wore the traditional loose white shirts and trousers, the women the striped skirts, white blouses, and embroidered waistcoats, with short red cloaks slung over one shoulder. Flower-sellers had to wear this garb, and it was a common sight in the market and other tourist areas. Two pairs of dolls below, two smaller pairs above, with castanets and bells on their backs, bounced up and down the pole making a delightful chiming sound. Smiling, Dodie handed it back. 'I must buy one of those,' she said as they turned away.

'Look, at least a dozen cruise ships,' Howard said, pointing, and Dodie could see the crescent of boats, ablaze with coloured lights, surrounded by a flotilla of tugs and cargo boats, all anchored a short way out.

At his boat a couple of men who worked in the harbour had been paid to ensure no uninvited guests came aboard before Howard arrived. He thanked them and sent them off to rejoin their families, to a chorus of good wishes. Hastily he opened some bottles in readiness.

'This must be like Australia. Christmas just doesn't seem right in hot weather,' Dodie said. Her headache, thank goodness, seemed to be retreating despite all the noise and excitement.

'There it's summer and the days are long. I don't think I'd like it to be too hot. This is just right.'

Theo and his sons arrived and began to prepare trays of drinks. Within minutes the yacht was crowded with laughing, happy people. Most of them looked happy. Dodie saw Gloria, crouched on the narrow seat inside the boat's side, tense and watchful. Serve her right for being such a fool as to take up with Jake, Dodie thought. He was nowhere around, she was glad to see. Bruce and Emma were moving about together, arms entwined round each other's waists as they talked to others. Libby was talking animatedly to David Holmes and several of the younger people, many of them visiting expatriate parents, who had congregated in the bow near the drinks table. Alex stood to one side with Bill, watching the young ones.

Dodie moved across to join them. 'Is Bruce OK? He looks pale.'

'He was mugged just before Christmas, in the lane behind our house, where he'd left his car. He was hit hard but he's OK, he had a hospital check-up,' Bill said. 'Good, here's Valerie.'

Valerie had stayed behind to supervise the maids clearing up at the villa. She, Maria and Isabella were carrying baskets with some of the food left over there, and Bill groaned.

'Haven't we had enough to eat?' he asked, patting his stomach.

'You'll be hungry by the time the fireworks are over,' Valerie said, grinning. Maria glared at her from under lowered brows, and Dodie wondered if there had been any problems. Isabella looked as though she wanted to cry, and when one of her brothers, his expression thunderous, suddenly moved next to her she flinched away from him.

Dodie wondered what on earth was the matter with them. The whole family seemed to be affected. Then she had no more time for reflecting as she was surrounded by other guests. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of Theo offering drinks, and Isabella was working too, though Maria or one of her brothers always seemed to be beside her. Bruce soon sat down, Emma hovering attentively nearby.

Howard came up and chatted for a moment. He was moving away when suddenly there came a loud shout. Dodie swung round and saw some sort of a disturbance by the gangplank. It was in shadow, and she could not see clearly, but several people seemed to be struggling together, and two women were cowering back in alarm. The bunch of men swayed, one man lost his footing, and the group broke up. A dishevelled man staggered forwards weaving from side to side.

Howard had started towards him a moment after the initial shouts, but the intruder pushed him aside and swung round, knocking over a woman behind him. Several guests attempted to restrain him, but he brushed aside their more tentative efforts. He was clearly far from sober, shouting abuse and throwing random punches at anyone in his path. Dodie's eyes widened in horror as he came into a pool of light. It couldn't be. But it was. Her son was looking for trouble.

*

'Where's that bloody man? Well, where is he? Who's hiding the bastard?'

Jake peered into the shocked, frightened, or disdainful faces of the guests. He came to a halt in front of Gloria Neville, swaying slightly. She gave him a contemptuous, unflinching stare, rising to face him.

'You've changed your tune suddenly,' he sneered. 'Had enough of it? Age caught up with you at last?'

'I've been home,' she said through clenched teeth. 'Don't think you can get away with them.'

'You're pathetic. Having kissed, you'll tell all? The tabloids might buy my version. Or maybe I'll go on TV giving advice to plutocratic old has-beens on how to keep the juices flowing. Old bag!' Jake muttered and spat in her face.

Gloria stepped back, and though her mouth worked she was speechless. Valerie, who'd been watching, appalled, cast a hunted glance over her shoulder at Bill, put her arm round Gloria's shoulders and urged her away.

Dodie emerged from her stupefaction. She had never seen Jake so out of control. Before she could intervene, however, Theo strode towards Jake. Maria was beside him, talking volubly, but he pushed her away. He grabbed for Jake's arm, but Jake evaded him. Then Jake stabbed a finger at Theo's chest.

'Get out of my way!' He tried to thrust Theo aside, but by now Theo had both Jake's wrists in a strong grip and was forcing him back.

'You've caused enough trouble in Madeira,' he hissed, 'I advise you to get out before serious harm comes to you!'

Jake laughed as his knees caught the seat behind him and he sat down abruptly, bent backwards over the low gunwale by the pressure of Theo's hold. 'I know you, lording it over your poxy fleapit of a hotel! Get your thrills beating people up, do you? If your wife's as frigid as your precious Isabella, I'm not surprised you need something to turn you on.'

Theo swore, stepped back ready to swing, and would have landed a punch on Jake's smiling face had Bruce not grabbed his arm.

'He's plastered, man, he doesn't know what he's saying,' Bruce urged. 'He's not worth getting into trouble for.'

'Bruce is right,' Emma said softly, coming up beside Theo and slipping her hand under his other elbow.

Jake twisted his head and stared at her. 'Whore!' he snarled. 'You'd drop your knickers for anyone, wouldn't you?'

With an exclamation Bruce raised his fist and it was Theo's turn to restrain him while Emma squeaked in alarm.

'Bruce, don't!' she pleaded. 'He isn't worth the effort of a slap, let alone a punch.'

After a moment Bruce shrugged, and they turned away. Jake stared after them, his eyes narrowed. Dodie glanced at Maria, left alone, and recoiled at the venom in the look she was giving Jake. But Maria then moved slowly away, and a few minutes later Dodie saw her deep in urgent discussion with her sons, who were casting speculative glances at Jake, still sprawling on the seat, his eyes now closed.

'How the devil did that old ham come here?'

It was Alex, glaring down at Jake. Libby was hanging on to his arm.

'Dad, come away, leave him alone,' she was begging, but at that moment Jake opened his eyes.

'Well, well, what's this? A happy reunion?' he sneered. 'Slut!' he spat at Libby. 'I hope she learns to keep her promises, and to be a better lay soon, Ross, or she won't stand a chance on the casting couch!'

Libby gasped, while Alex shook off her restraining hand. He grabbed Jake by the lapels of his dinner jacket and hauled him to his feet.

'You'll apologize for that!' he said through gritted teeth.

Jake laughed, then staggered as Alex let him go, and was flung back onto the seat when Alex's fist connected with his jaw. He sat rubbing it, bleary eyed.

'You'll be sorry one day, Ross!' he said thickly, but did not offer to get to his feet.

Emma had reappeared and pulled Alex aside. Dodie, uncharacteristically, dithered. She was so appalled by her son's behaviour, so ashamed, she could find nothing useful to say. The other guests edged away. Jake was alone, no one knowing whether to risk provoking him by asking him to move, or leave him free to create another disturbance. Then the matter seemed to resolve itself, at least temporarily. Jake sighed, slid down so that he was lying flat along the bench, and apparently went to sleep.

Howard glared at him. 'Damn! I can scarcely heave him onto the quay when he's asleep.'

'It's a minute to midnight,' one of the others said. 'Let's watch the fireworks, then get rid of him.'

Howard hesitated, then nodded. 'OK. Come over here, the view's better,' he said to Dodie and took her arm to lead her away from Jake. 'Forget about him,' he urged. 'Don't let that boor spoil the evening. He's safe for a while, and afterwards we'll get him home.'

'Howard, I'm – I don't know what to say. If he's often like this his reputation is too generous to him. How did I give birth to such a monster?'

She brushed impatiently at her cheeks. 'Damn. I'm not going to cry over him! He's gone too far this time, ruining your party and insulting your guests. Howard, I'm so terribly sorry.'

'Nonsense. It isn't in any way your fault. Now forget him and watch the fireworks. Look at the hillside. See the year picked out in lights,' he said, pointing. 'At midnight it will change. And then the fireworks start.'

The guests seemed to have recovered their high spirits. The chatter was loud, the atmosphere febrile. They waited, a tangible expectation throbbing in the air. As the church clocks began to strike, first one, then all the ships in the bay sounded their sirens and launched flares. Toasts were drunk, kisses and good wishes exchanged, and Dodie felt justified in shedding a few tears. Then the first fireworks shot into the air, and even Dodie was able to push thoughts of Jake into a deep recess as she watched the spectacle. From every slight eminence around the bowl in which Funchal lay fireworks exploded in the most incredible exhibition Dodie had ever seen.

It lasted for a magical ten minutes. Dodie wished it would last for ever, insulating her from grim realities. Rockets screamed across the sky, flowers, of every possible colour and shape, budded and bloomed and faded, their petals dissolving into showers of falling stars. Fireworks soared and darted and spiralled, jewel-bright, kaleidoscopic, disintegrating into multi-coloured puffs of smoke which drifted up into the mountains. The air rang with explosions. When it seemed the end had come yet another display began, originating from another point on the hillsides. By the end Dodie was bemused, enchanted, completely forgetting her headache and her appalling son.

She was soon brought back to earth. The distasteful episode earlier had put a damper on the party despite the excitement and wonder at the spectacle. Normally guests would have remained for an hour or so after the fireworks ended, but several were now leaving. Everyone seemed subdued. Howard was busy saying farewell. After a while he came up to where Dodie was talking to Alex and Bill. He drew Alex aside but Dodie could still hear what they said.

'I ought to try and get rid of Jake,' Howard said, clearly worried.

Alex tried to laugh. 'We were queuing up to thump him,' he said lightly. 'How can one man create such mayhem in so short a time?'

'I'll ask some of the men to help me and we'll take him back to his lady friend's house.'

'Not his lady friend any longer, I'd guess. Didn't you see the looks she was giving him?' Alex demanded.

'Well, I'll dump him in the park. I've no doubt there'll be company there for him.' They moved away, but a few minutes later Howard reappeared.

'Howard, I'm mortified,' Dodie apologized. 'I'm so ashamed that my wretched son should spoil your party, and I wasn't quick enough to stop him.'

'It isn't your fault, Dodie. But maybe the problem has vanished. He isn't there. Have you seen him? Has he gone?'

'I haven't seen him go. But once he was asleep he wouldn't move,' Dodie replied.

'Alex and Theo are searching the boat, but I think he must have gone. A whole crowd left a few minutes ago, I was busy and didn't see them off, and he may have gone with them.'

'I suppose so. If he wasn't as drunk as he seemed. I'll slaughter him when I see him again! Being paralytic is the only possible excuse for that sort of behaviour, and even then it's about as feeble as a flea. About as irritating, too.'

*

Early the next morning Bill left the house and strolled down to the Marina. Twenty minutes later he was stepping aboard Howard's yacht.

Howard, who was sitting at a table tapping at a portable computer, looked up and smiled a welcome.

'Hello. I was just thinking of stopping for coffee. Join me? Let me save this first.'

'Valerie's started spring cleaning after the party,' Bill explained, and Howard grinned in sympathy.

'So that's why I'm honoured, is it?'

They sat and chatted for half an hour before Howard noticed something was amiss. One of the cruise boats, moving away from the mole, halted a short distance away from it. There was a good deal of activity which Howard ignored at first, until he became aware that a dozen small boats were buzzing like angry wasps around the larger one. Had the police caught some smugglers? It didn't seem likely. After a while he went to fetch his binoculars.

The cruise ship, instead of leaving, had let down its anchors and the small vessels seemed to be concentrating on an area by the bow. Howard watched as they pulled up what appeared to be several fishing lines. Then he saw something else, and without being able to distinguish a great deal he knew just what had been dredged from the harbour.

'Bill, what's going on? Over there. Can you see?' He handed over the binoculars.

'My God! Let's go and find out.'

They left the boat to walk along to the docks.

'I'm sorry, sir, no one's allowed past here,' a policeman at the gate said.

Howard nodded. 'I know. But I think I may be able to help. Isn't that a body you've just found?'

'I really can't give any information, sir, I'm sorry, but that's my orders.'

'Then perhaps you'd let me speak to your superior? You see, I had a party for the New Year, on my yacht, and one of my guests vanished. He's still missing. We thought he'd left, but we didn't imagine it had been overboard.'

***

### Chapter 6

Dodie held the receiver away from her ear until her mother had regained control. Mrs Jackson belonged to the generation which believed one had to shout at telephones. It was her third telephone call that day, but she was still inclined to burst into tears at the sound of her daughter's voice.

'It was your fault, being so unfeeling and leaving the poor lad stuck in that foreign hole, without the money to get 'ome.'

Dodie heaved an impatient sigh. Trust the old girl to blame her. 'That lad, Ma, was nearly forty, he's travelled all over the place on his own, and I can hardly be responsible for him getting drunk and falling off a boat. Not that I think he fell, as they're trying to make out. It just doesn't make sense.'

'I never did trust foreigners. They've got dirty 'abits and eat things I wouldn't give ter me dog.'

'You don't have a dog, and the canary wouldn't eat it anyway.' Dodie sniffed herself, and wiped away a tear.

'You should 'ave given him money. Then he wouldn't need to get mixed up with gamblers, just ter buy his ticket home.'

'He had a king's ransom in diamonds in his pocket. I don't suppose they belonged to him. Besides, I gave him his fare home six weeks ago, but he chose not to go. And when he did go for that audition and got the new part he didn't have to come back. I can't believe he wanted to be with that raddled bit of mutton unless it was to pinch her jewels.'

'Of course 'e didn't pinch 'em. The poor lad's not a thief.'

Dodie sighed again. 'He could always bamboozle daft old women.'

'That was just a front. He'd found someone ter love, someone who'd save 'im from himself, give him something to live for,' the older woman said sententiously.

Dodie tensed. 'What do you mean? Who? And do you have to talk like a Victorian agony aunt?'

'I don't suppose he'd confide in you. You never 'ad a scrap of sympathy for him.'

'I don't believe he confided anything like that to you either. It wasn't Jake's aim to be saved from himself.'

'I saw 'im when 'e came for that audition. He loved a dear, sweet girl, but 'er family rejected him in favour of a local squire,' Mrs Jackson said triumphantly. 'It was like _Romeo and Juliet_.'

'That showed the sense of her family, if it's true, but he's more likely to have been touching you for cash. Did you fork out? Unlike you if you did.'

'It's true enough.'

'OK. Then you've got to tell me any details you know,' Dodie said urgently. 'Seriously, Ma. I don't believe it was an accident, and I'm staying here to make sure it's investigated properly. Valerie's asked me to move into their house for company, and I'm going to. I'll move there in a couple of days. Jake may have been a right shit, but no one's going to kill my son and get away with it!'

*

'Bruce, we won't be allowed to go home,' Emma said again.

'But that's ridiculous. We had nothing to do with it, I keep telling you. He must have fallen in. And we've finished here, my next book's done, and I have to deliver the manuscript.'

'You'll have to post or e-mail it.'

'Are you afraid of something?'

Emma shook her head. 'No, of course not, not for myself. But surely everyone on the yacht after Jake came aboard will be under suspicion.'

'Only if it was murder. If it is, I suppose they'll stop me leaving. Damn! I must be in London for the British launch. But it couldn't have been murder. Aren't you making a big assumption? Or do you know something?'

Emma shook her head vehemently and paced up and down the living room. The afternoon sun glanced in, falling on an exotic flower arrangement consisting of a dozen poinsettias placed to resemble the shape of a Christmas tree. It made the bright scarlet bracts glow, their yellow centres becoming gleaming fairy lights. 'Do you really think he might just have fallen overboard? Could it have been an accident?' she asked hopefully.

'I'd say it was most likely, he was so drunk.'

'But I don't see how.'

'That gunwale was pretty low. Theo almost pushed him over it. Or he could have been leaning over, being sick, perhaps. Or he could have walked off the boat first and missed his step.'

'But no one saw him leave. Bruce, why didn't anyone see anything? If he were just heaved in while he was asleep someone might have seen, or he could have come to and yelled. It would have been very dangerous to try and kill him that way.'

'Will they have to have a postmortem? Did Bill know? What else did he say?' Bruce asked.

'He saw Jake being pulled out of the harbour. He'd apparently been caught under the cruise ship and when she moved his body came to the surface. He'd been under for less than twelve hours, one of the policeman said, but I don't know how they can tell.' She shuddered. 'There was a dent in his head, Bill said, but he could have hit it when he fell, or bumped into something while he was in the water. Or someone could have hit him before they threw him in. Yes, they'll have to have a postmortem, and they may be able to tell.'

'If it is murder everyone on the yacht will be a suspect.'

'That's why they'll keep us here. I think I'm scared.'

'Emma, there's no point until we know whether there's anything to be scared about. But I'm taking it for granted neither you nor I coshed him, so why are you worried? We have nothing against him, we couldn't have done it.'

'Of course we couldn't. Don't take any notice of me, it's just so unsettling. I've never been anywhere near a murder before, I don't know how to behave.'

'Let's not panic before we have to.'

*

Libby had been stunned by the news. After the first shock had diminished she felt a rush of relief that Jake was no longer there. He'd been furious with her for spoiling his ransom scheme. She'd managed to avoid him before the party, but when he'd caught her there she'd been terrified what he might do. She couldn't let anyone know how stupid she'd been. It was as well he was dead. Aghast at the way she was thinking, actually to be relieved someone was dead, she was unable to agree openly with her father's freely expressed opinion that it was a blessing for everyone.

Valerie was more charitable. 'You shouldn't say that, Alex, even if he was a dreadful man.'

'No, I know I shouldn't, but I can't be a hypocrite and say I'm sorry,' Alex said. 'None of us had anything to do with his death and I won't start to behave as if we did. He just happened to be on Howard's boat, uninvited and unwanted, and he fell overboard. He could have done the same from any of the boats in the harbour. In fact he might have done, he could easily have gatecrashed another party, or fallen off the quay. There's no evidence he fell from any boat, let alone Howard's.'

'But he came there looking for someone. Why? The police would know if he went somewhere else. He'd have been seen.'

'Unless they have a reason to keep quiet. He could have made several visits, had friends or enemies we know nothing about. He was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing, and his death's nothing to do with any of us.'

'He could have been pushed.'

Libby stared unhappily at her grandmother. 'Do you think he was?' she asked soberly.

'It's possible, isn't it? Everyone else was watching the fireworks while he was out cold.'

'But who could have done it?'

'He could have had enemies. We know very little about him, but he was an obnoxious man. And unfortunately you and he had that fight, Alex. Not that I believe you would have tipped him overboard.'

'Thanks,' Alex murmured, and Valerie flashed him a worried, apologetic smile.

'No one who was on the boat would have, surely. They were all Great-Uncle Howard's friends! And yours. No, I don't believe he was pushed, it's too fantastic,' Libby declared. 'It has to be an accident.'

'Come on, Libby, you need cheering up. I'm going to take you for dinner at the Carlton. Bill, Valerie, would you like to come too?'

They refused, and despite her words Libby could not bring herself to wear the party dress she'd worn to Howard's party. She chose a demure, sober dark green which had been her official best dress at school. It was smart enough for dinner, even in the Carlton Grill.

The dark, low-ceilinged room, which to Libby appeared full of oak tables, ironwork, red velvet seats, copper pans and subdued lighting, was solid, folding her into its comfort. They had a table by one of the shuttered windows, far enough away from others for them to talk, but neither of them mentioned Jake until after the main course had been cleared away and they had chosen from the sweet trolley. When Alex pushed away his plate and leaned back, Libby tensed.

'You look serious,' she said nervously.

'Murder is serious. Libby, you haven't told us everything about that silly kidnapping, have you?' he said quietly.

'Yes, I have, all I know myself,' Libby said, her voice squeaking in alarm.

'Why was Jake so mad at you when he saw you on the boat? What promises had you broken?'

'I haven't a clue,' Libby insisted. 'He was drunk, he probably mistook me for someone else. He didn't know what he was saying.' She dared not admit it. If she did the police might think Jake really had kidnapped her, and not believe she was part of the plot. They could accuse her, or her father or even her grandfather, of murdering Jake for revenge.

Alex persisted, but Libby was firm and denied everything. Nor would she speculate on the possible motives of other people. Eventually, when Libby demanded to know if he might now get Jake's part in the new TV series, Alex gave in, called for the bill, and they walked home in silence.

*

The following afternoon Howard rang Bill to say the authorities could not come to any definite conclusion about the wound on Jake's head. It had happened before his death, but it could have been caused by a fall, when he might have struck his head against part of the boat. Or someone might have hit him.

'I'm afraid they want to interview all the guests at the party, to try and work out exactly where everyone was, and narrow down the time when Jake went overboard.'

'Will the police come here, or do they want us to go to the police station?'

'They'll see everyone at home first.'

Bill fumed, complaining mainly of the effect on Dodie, but it was unthinkable not to cooperate with the authorities. By the time an officer came to see them the next day there was little any of them could add to the picture the police had already built up. They had interviewed several of the guests and heard all about Jake's drunken arrival.

'He was asking for someone. You heard him?'

'Yes, but he was too drunk to say who,' Valerie replied.

'Was it your son-in-law, do you think?'

Alex had already been interviewed. Bill shrugged. 'He and Jake Jakes are both actors, and Alex won parts he – Jakes, that is – thought should have been his. He was often rude when they met. Though he'd just won a part, and I'd have expected him to be smug about it, not jealous or resentful.'

'Mr Ross could have been jealous.' The policeman paused but no one replied. He changed tack. 'I understand he, the deceased, was abusive about your granddaughter? And then your son-in-law hit him.'

'Most of the men wanted to hit him when he was being rude about their women,' Valerie said sharply. 'Alex just happened to be the one to do it.'

'And if I'd been near enough it would have been me,' Bill added. 'She's a child. But the devil had sex on the brain. He made the same sort of insinuations about all the women.'

'Asking for someone,' Libby exclaimed after the policeman had left. 'That's an odd way to describe how Jake was yelling and threatening. But it was an accident! It must have been. I can't think why the police are making so much fuss.'

*

'Bill! And Valerie! You needn't have come to meet me, I could have got a taxi,' Dodie said, kissing her friends. 'It's so good of you to ask me to stay.'

Valerie jumped nervously as a flashbulb went off in her ear. She was contemplating Dodie's costume in some awe. Always prone to floating draperies, Dodie had excelled herself with a profusion of crepe shawls and black veils, which made her look twice her real size. A young man spawning several cameras and associated equipment clearly thought she was well worth photographing, and was busy snapping away from all angles.

'Don't mind Tod,' Dodie said with a faint grin. 'He's my pet paparazzo.'

'But surely you can't want the press around,' Valerie protested, having seen Jylli hovering behind, in the Cliff Bay foyer, seeing to Dodie's luggage.

Dodie shrugged. 'They want it for the series – make a nice finalé,' she said caustically. 'More to the point, I sent for them to come back. I'm paying them to get this splashed over the world's newspapers. Best way to stop a cover-up.'

'Surely the police wouldn't do that?'

'They won't want bad publicity, especially where foreigners are involved. No one does, so don't look so shocked, Valerie.'

'Where are Jylli and Tod staying? I could fit them in if you like,' Valerie said doubtfully.

'Of course you won't. They'll find somewhere, an apartment perhaps. They know they won't get five-star treatment on my pay-roll.'

'Come on, let's get out of here,' Valerie urged.

Bill helped Dodie into the car, and as soon as they were out of sight of the cameras she unpinned her hat and stowed a wicked looking hatpin in her handbag. 'Whew! I'm not used to hats these days. I wonder if I ought to get myself one of those lace mantillas?'

'What do you hope to achieve, Dodie?' Bill asked as they drove the short distance home. 'Don't you really trust the police?'

'I imagine they'll do their job, to satisfy themselves, but I believe they'll work round to deciding it was an accident. Much easier for them. But it wasn't.'

'You can't know that.'

'Valerie, I've had a lot of time to think it through. My son could swim like a fish. Even dead drunk, and I don't think he was as far gone as people seem to imagine. He couldn't have been if he'd walked off the boat. He could carry his drink,' Dodie insisted. 'And the water would have revived him and he could have swum to the boat.'

'Could he have got entangled in those ropes? On the cruise ship? He was caught in them when he was found,' Valerie asked.

'That's unlikely. The boat was already moored and it's a long way to the mole from the Marina, if as Dodie thinks he would have woken up.'

'He wouldn't have swum that way, all the lights are the other direction,' Dodie said. 'And that would have happened even if he was asleep and was tipped over.'

'Not if he hit his head falling, which seems to be a possibility.'

'It's even more of a possibility that someone knocked him out before tipping him overboard,' she said stubbornly. 'The last time he was seen he was asleep on that seat which runs all round the boat.'

'If he wasn't as drunk as he seemed then,' Bill said slowly, 'he might have wandered off the boat and fallen from the quay.'

'But the same applies. He could have swum, unless he was knocked unconscious. It's equally possible he was pushed from the quay, and even a child could have done it, though then any knock would almost certainly have been accidental. It would have needed a bit more strength to tip him off the boat, but those gunwales were very low. I think I could have done it, so a younger woman certainly could.'

'If he was really drunk,' Bill agreed.

'I just don't know how badly sloshed he was. It's hard to judge, it's years since I've seen him. But in the past when Jake was drunk he stayed where he fell! He didn't get up and wander about. So if he was so stoned how else could he have gone overboard? He was chucked in, having been hit first, and I mean to find out who.'

'They were all friends of ours, at that party,' Valerie said, distressed. 'I can't believe one of them is a murderer.'

'Anyone can be a murderer if the provocation's big enough. And my son was a big enough louse to provoke a saint. He couldn't go anywhere without offending people, making enemies. Even amongst your best friends, Valerie.'

'Perhaps you're right.' She sighed. 'I hope it wasn't one of my real friends.'

*

Emma burst into the kitchen to find Bruce staring into space, holding a mug of coffee.

'Bruce, I went to the Cliff Bay, to see Dodie. To, well, to offer my condolences. You'll never guess!'

'Jake has resurrected himself? We can go home?'

Emma poured herself some coffee and sat opposite her husband.

'Bruce, I know you don't want to stay here any more, you want to get to London, but at least you might enjoy some of the fuss. Dodie has recruited a whole pack of press hounds.'

Bruce's lethargy left him and he sat up. 'Ye Gods, that's all we need, the world's press on our tails. I wouldn't have thought Jake was important enough.'

'He isn't, but Dodie's kicking up a fuss.'

'Tell me.'

'I must say she made an entrance. Or perhaps it should be exit. She was leaving the Cliff Bay, going to stay with Valerie, but it was quite an impressive effort.'

'She always did have great style.'

'She was plastered with make-up, bright pink lipstick and blue eyeshadow, far more than she normally wears. She was swamped with a long black skirt and flowing shiny black top, and a cartwheel hat draping acres of veils. She was even sporting ropes of ebony necklaces. And there was someone taking photos.'

'Good for Dodie. But are the press going to ferret out all the nasty little details?'

'I wonder how many press there are? It may be just one if she's sold her story and they're hoping to get an exclusive.'

'We ought to have expected it. Mysterious death of super-star. A bit of cosmic dust, alive. Dead, he's elevated. There'll be lots of them descending on us on the lookout for Jake's friends here, waving cheque books.'

'There's no one who'd be tempted, surely?' Emma asked. 'Who knew him? He stayed at Theo Maclean's hotel. The Thorns knew him, so did Alex, and that old woman he was supposed to be working for. We only saw him at the party. None of us would even speak to the press if we could help it.'

*

Dodie sat drinking her after-dinner coffee on the terrace overlooking the sloping garden which was ablaze with poinsettia. Coral trees and flourishing camellia bushes were scattered around, and there were splashes of Golden Shower gleaming against the dark foliage of the rubber plants. The garden was enclosed by walls which were draped with vivid bougainvillea. She sighed and took a large notebook out of her handbag. She wasn't here to admire the scenery.

'Help me piece together what happened at the party,' she said, turning to the others. 'Several people wanted to thump Jake. Can you remember who, and why, and in what order?'

'You mean on the boat? No one seems to recall him earlier on, up in the house.'

'We had our own little spat here, which plenty of people saw. I suppose on that basis I have to be a suspect too.'

'Dodie, don't be ridiculous!' Bill exclaimed. 'You were his mother.'

'Not a very good one, though,' she said in a low voice. 'There were several women around when it started, but I don't know their names. They melted away. Did anyone else see him before everyone went down to the boat?'

'I think he kept out of my way,' Bill said. 'He hadn't been invited, after all.'

'Gloria brought him, mumbled some apology, but I didn't take much notice. Our friends know they're always welcome to bring their friends,' Valerie said. 'I can't remember seeing him afterwards.'

'But he and Gloria were on good terms then?' Howard asked suddenly.

'Apparently, though he didn't stay with her,' Valerie said.

'Then whatever disagreement he and Gloria had happened after he arrived here but before he came to the boat. Dodie, you and I went down first, everyone else arrived, and then he came pushing on board.'

'He saw Gloria Neville first, I saw and heard what he said,' Valerie offered.

'The fool he'd been living with,' Dodie said calmly.

'Er – yes. She lives a few houses along. Dodie, this must be painful for you.'

'Don't fret, Valerie. I've known for years that when nothing else offered Jake was quite willing to sponge off lonely old women. Don't try to spare my feelings. What exactly did he say? My head was aching and I'm not sure I remembered it all. I was so busy wondering just how to stop him, and like an idiot did nothing.'

'Well, he – he called her an old bag and spat at her.'

'He was taunting her about her age,' Bill said slowly.

'Yes, and she said she'd been home,' Valerie recalled. 'That's right, up at the house she said she'd be cold, and fetched a wrap on her way to the boat. She was wearing a thick shawl.'

Dodie nodded. 'So they'd quarrelled. Before she got to the boat. I wonder if he went to her house with her? But she got to the boat first. Were the diamonds he had in his pockets hers?'

'She says so,' Howard said.

'Then he must have stolen them. She'd only just found out, that was why she was looking so furious. She had a motive. We'll come back to her. Who was next?'

Bill had his eyes closed, remembering. 'Theo grabbed him. I don't know why, but Jake was coarse about both Maria and Isabella. He called them both frigid.'

'I spoke to Maria the following day,' Valerie said. 'He'd been staying at their hotel since late October, until he moved in with Gloria.'

'So he met Isabella. It sounds as if he made a play for her and Theo objected. Who next?'

'Bruce Jellicoe – you've met him, haven't you?'

'Yes, of course. He wasn't looking well, but I seem to recall him stopping Theo. Am I right?'

'Yes,' Howard agreed, 'and then Jake called Emma a whore. He'd never met her, as far as I know.'

'They might have met when she was married to Alex.'

'I doubt it. He and Alex were far from being buddies. Though Emma would know who he was, I doubt if he knew her. I think he was just lashing out at everyone, he was so drunk. Emma was upset, naturally, but she and Theo stopped Bruce from hitting him. He said more or less the same about Libby, and that was when Alex Ross did hit him.'

'And then he went to sleep. Alex hadn't knocked him out, had he?'

Valerie shook her head. 'He was talking afterwards, threatening Alex, but then he seemed just to go to sleep.'

'We left him, watched the fireworks, and soon afterwards people began to leave. I rounded up a couple of friends and we were going to throw him off the boat, but he'd gone. No one saw him.'

'Or they won't admit it. That part of the boat was in shadow anyway,' Bill said.

Dodie looked up from the notes she'd been making. 'So of the people we know Jake offended, Gloria, Theo, Bruce and Alex might have retaliated.'

'I can't believe any of them would have wanted to kill him,' Valerie said unhappily. 'And surely Gloria wouldn't have been strong enough?'

'She might. The side of the boat was low enough. Any of the women might have levered him over it. So we have to add everyone connected with the women he insulted, as well as them. And there might have been other people there who hadn't come to blows with him, but who had a motive.'

'It's pretty impossible to know, isn't it?' Valerie asked.

'So it seems, but don't you see, I have to try? And I'll have a better chance of finding out what Jake had done to offend them all than the police will. People will talk to a grieving mother.'

Valerie nodded unhappily. 'Let's go in. It's getting dark. Are you sure you don't mind being left alone tomorrow night? We promised to go to this British night dinner, but we could easily cancel.'

'Of course not. I shall be busy. First I have to set up some publicity, then I'll work my way down the list. Can I use the phone to call Jylli?'

*

Dodie woke after a restless night. Bill had left early and Libby wasn't up, so she and Valerie had breakfast together on the terrace. Dodie had been pondering all night about who had the best motive for killing Jake. Gloria Neville was the first suspect, since the diamonds found on Jake had proved to be hers. According to Valerie she'd been proclaiming all over the island that her new chauffeur had stolen them when she'd forgotten to put them back in the safe.

'But if she tipped him over the side of the boat, she made no effort to get the diamonds back first,' Dodie pointed out.

'If she knew he had them on him. But she's a small woman.'

'Maybe she was more cunning than we give her credit for. If she knew he had them with him, she could have been pretty certain they'd have been found when his body was.'

'That would have been rather a risk, Dodie. Anyone could have found his body and taken them before they reported it.'

'I expect they're insured. Though she may have told someone about the theft that evening. If she had, leaving them would have been safer than having to explain how she recovered them from a dead man. And if by some chance he did walk off the boat himself, which is possible if not likely, she could have given him a shove off the quay. Do you know when she left?'

'No. After the display everyone began to leave. We didn't see her go, neither did Howard.'

'Some of those companionways or whatever they're called leading onto the boats are very narrow,' Dodie said thoughtfully.

'Not very safe if you're drunk,' Valerie agreed. 'Maybe that's the answer.'

'Valerie, you could help by asking Gloria and some of the other people here, informally, if you would. I could talk to them without them becoming too suspicious.'

'Whatever you want, Dodie. Who do you want to see, apart from Gloria?'

'I'd like to talk to the people who live either side of Gloria's house. Do you know them? Are they English?'

'Both Madeiran, but they all speak good English, and sometimes play bridge with us.'

'Can you invite several people? I can say I don't play, and talk to whoever's dummy.'

Valerie nodded. 'We'll ask other neighbours, have a quiet evening. They'll understand you don't want to be quite alone, but won't find it odd if you don't play. If we have three tables, you and the dummies can pair off quite naturally, and that way you can choose who to talk to.'

'Can we arrange the tables to have one or two of my quarries at each?'

'No problem. Apart from Gloria, who else do you want to talk to? Bruce and Emma? I don't know whether they play bridge.'

'I don't think so, and I can easily find an excuse for speaking to them later. Gloria first.'

***

### Chapter 7

Dodie sat in the drawing room, studying her notebook. Bill and Valerie had gone to lunch with friends, Libby was out somewhere, and she was glad of an hour or two alone to sort out her ideas before Jylli came. What instructions did she have for the girl? Which of the younger people might she be able to talk to? Besides, and she grinned wryly, she didn't think her hosts would totally support the action she planned for the afternoon.

She'd barely decided before the maid showed in Jylli.

'Come in, child? Have you settled in?'

'Yes thanks, we found a very convenient apartment. It's right in the town centre. Look, I've written down the address for you.'

Dodie became brisk and businesslike. 'And this afternoon? It's all arranged?'

'Sure. I've collected the replies to the messages I sent before I came out, and there's a good deal of interest. There ought to be a good turnout. I've prepared a release for the press. If you agree it I'll get copies done in town.'

Dodie glanced at the single sheet and nodded. 'That looks good. We're due at the Marina at four, plenty of time for me to get ready.'

'Great. Tod will meet us there, and I've checked with Howard Thorn, he'll be ready for us. Now, the other thing. Who is it you want me to talk to?'

'I've written a list, with addresses or telephone numbers where I have them. Try David Holmes first. He works for a wine merchant. That's their address, but I don't know where he lives. He may know some of the local gossip, and he was on the boat. He's been going around with Libby. Find out who else she met through him. She, of course, is living here, but I doubt if she'll tell me much. You'll stand a far better chance with her, especially if you get anything from David.'

'I will, don't worry. And I'll rope Tod in, he can do his bit too.'

Dodie smothered a grin. Head girl Jylli to the rescue, she thought. Just like one of those old books she used to love when she was about ten years old and had fantasies about getting away from home, and boarding schools. Well, she'd escaped from home, and fallen into a deeper trap.

She sobered suddenly. This wasn't a game. She meant to discover the truth, to obtain justice for Jake.

'I'll find out when Libby's likely to be going out from here, and you could be ready to walk into town with her. She wants to act, she might be interested in the acting side of your family.'

Jylli laughed. 'But they're all frightfully disreputable.'

'Better still. Tell her a few scandalous stories. She'll love that, she wants so badly to be grown up. You can take it from there.'

'OK. Is that all?'

'No. There's young Isabella Maclean. She works in the hotel but Valerie says she often does the marketing for the family. She was on the boat, with her parents and two brothers. They did the catering and were handing round drinks. The boys are quite a bit older than Isabella, but I don't think either of them is married.'

'So it should be easy for me to get to know them! Gosh, I feel like Mata Hari.'

'You will remember that one of them just might be a murderer? Take care, Jylli. If anything happened to you as well I'd never forgive myself.'

'Do you suspect any of them?' Jylli looked more excited than worried.

Dodie shrugged. 'I don't know. Not really. Not yet, anyway. I can't see any motive. Jake was appallingly rude about both the girls, and I suppose they or their fathers or one of Isabella's brothers might have been mortally offended, but it doesn't seem an adequate reason to me.'

'All the detective books say we have to consider means, motive and opportunity,' Jylli recited, ticking them off on her fingers. 'Everyone had the opportunity, and the means was right there.'

'So that only leaves motive. I have to discover whether anyone had a powerful enough one.'

'From what you told me only that Mrs Neville had a real motive. I think I'd murder anyone who stole those sort of jewels from me. I heard they were worth half a million. Pounds.'

Dodie winced. 'I hope that's an exaggeration. You know what the media's like. Of course you do, you work in it,' she recalled. 'But I'll be talking to her in a few days. And by then we may have uncovered other motives. Now I think you'd better go and get those press releases done, and I'll change. Make sure you're there at the boat well before four.'

*

'My mother wishes us to visit her today,' Maria stated.

'That's out of the question. We have such a lot to do,' Theo protested. He disliked these visits at any time, but he had no desire to renew hostilities on what was to be done about Isabella. He'd made up his mind what he intended to do.

'I would not expect you to pay the same respect to older people as Madeirans do,' Maria snapped, 'but I hope you will not shame me in front of my family by refusing to come.'

Theo sighed. Maria had always been volatile, with a quick explosion of temper whenever she was angry, but normally she recovered her equilibrium just as fast. This time it was a cold, relentless mood, and showed no sign of changing. 'What does she want?' he asked tiredly.

'Can you not guess? It is necessary for someone to decide what is to be done with our daughter and her wickedness.'

'You've kept her locked in her room ever since that damned party. Isn't that enough punishment?'

'She can't stay there for the next six months. We have to send her away. After the child is born and given away we can consider whether she comes home.'

'Whether she's sent away is for me to decide, not your mother. I've always permitted you to discipline Isabella, but I'm beginning to think that this time you've been too harsh. I'm going to change it.'

Maria glared at him. 'We take the advice of older members of the family, especially ones of such a great age as my mother.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'As you did, Maria? You made your own choice when you married me, and I don't believe you've regretted it.'

'Not until this! Now I bitterly regret it, while you will not see reason.'

He'd been shaken by her venom, and tried to placate her by accepting the visit. Despite it all he still loved her. He wouldn't have gone, though, he thought later that afternoon, if he'd suspected what it was going to be like. It was worse than he ever dreamed possible. He felt as though he was twenty again, rather than a man in his mid-fifties, a successful businessman and hotel owner, father of three children, and the principal financial supporter of those confronting him. Remembering that helped him to stay firm. None of them had been prosperous when he met Maria. They'd had small farms and small fishing boats and had scraped adequate livings, but now, with his help given freely over the years, the various members of the family had several thriving businesses. It helped, but not much. He stood alone on one side of the table, facing his seated mother-in-law, an indomitable old woman still vigorous in her eighties, flanked by her three grim-faced sons who stood with clenched fists resting on the tabletop, and his wife Maria who sat slightly apart with her own sons, but unmistakably opposed to him. Isabella, though summoned with the rest of the family, had been ordered to wait in the other room.

'She has been foolish, I agree,' he repeated. 'But all girls her age want a little romance. It was her misfortune she met a man without any scruples.'

'She has proved to have none either. When she first tried to jilt Rui you, as head of her family, should have enquired further, discovered what was behind it.'

'She was clearly unhappy about it. She has a right to decide her own future. I would not force her into a hasty marriage which might have made both of them unhappy.'

Maria snorted in disbelief, but Pedro stretched out a hand and rested it on her shoulder, and after a glance at him she subsided.

'She must obey her family,' the older Maria Caritas asserted. 'It is our way, a system you accepted when you chose to live here, and we will not have it otherwise.'

'I hardly chose to spend my life here!' Theo snapped. 'But that is beside the point. Isabella cannot marry Rui now, but she is my daughter, and she will not be forced into anything unwillingly.' He turned to his wife. 'The days are long gone when girls were banished to nunneries against their will.'

'Going to stay with our relatives in Brazil is hardly that. She should be thankful we care enough about her to allow her to escape from her sin, hide her shame,' Carlo growled.

'I won't permit it. She's not a parcel to be sent to strangers at your whim.'

'You will regret it if you try to thwart the family again,' Carlo said softly, but there was no mistaking the menace behind his words. 'You made your bed when you persuaded Maria to run away with you. Your children are Madeiran, not English, and will obey our rules.'

'Don't make threats to me,' Theo said contemptuously. He swung round to the door, but turned with his hand on the knob. 'I might once have given way to you and your knives, but I'm not a youth any more, and I have some influence here if only because of my money. Besides, I don't have to stay here, and neither does Isabella! That is all I have to say to you. I'll thank you to stop interfering in my family affairs.'

The journey home was made in utter silence. At least it was peaceful, Theo thought. He had not been allowed to leave without further furious argument, several of them talking at once, in voices loud enough, he suspected, to be heard all over Santana. When they had finally emerged he'd seen a group of tourists turn hastily away. Had they been admiring the traditional steep-roofed houses for which the village was noted, or listening to the tumult within? He found he no longer cared. His mind had finally been made up. He would take Isabella to England, and they would come back only on his terms.

*

Dodie peered from the taxi window. Good, Jylli was there, waiting to escort her to the _Silicon Lady_. Dodie arranged her deep black mourning clothes, specially bought for the occasion, and was reverently helped from the taxi by an awed driver. She inclined her head, looked round at the small crowd of onlookers who had gathered to see why a dozen or more photographers had appeared, as well as a televison crew, and a posse of men and women waving notebooks and recorders, and rested her hand on Jylli's arm.

They walked slowly along. Dodie silently agreed to pose for the photographers, but refused to answer questions.

'Mrs Fanshaw sincerely hopes she'll be composed enough to give you a few words afterwards,' Jylli announced with due solemnity, though her voice quivered towards the end, and she hastily dragged the black veil she had obtained for herself across her face.

'I hope one of us can see well enough not to fall in and join Jake,' Dodie whispered, and felt Jylli's arm shake.

Fortunately their vision was not much impaired, and Dodie processed in stately but fully sighted fashion towards Howard's boat. He was not visible, having been given strict instructions as to the procedure, but as Dodie reached the gangway of his boat he emerged, trying to look casual, from his cabin.

They exchanged the rehearsed speeches. Howard nodded, and came across to help Dodie clamber into his boat. Dodie winked broadly at him.

'Just Jylli and Tod on the boat, please,' she said, and managed to inject a tearful tremble into her voice which made the thrusting photographers pause sufficiently for Howard to move in and block the gangway.

*

An hour later Dodie was back home, wearing her usual clothes, and having tea with Alex, who had called to see if Libby wanted to walk into town with him. Discovering that his daughter was still out, he'd gladly accepted Dodie's invitation, but after the first few polite remarks he sat gripping his cup in both hands, his expression sombre.

'How well did you know my son?' Dodie asked as she rescued his cup and poured some more tea. She glanced up quickly to see him frown and then smooth his face into blandness. The expression had been so fleeting she almost missed it.

'We were almost never in the same things,' Alex prevaricated. 'We were the same type, in looks. We'd have been too confusing. Luckily they never wanted us as twins. Oh, dear, I didn't mean that as it sounded,' he added apologetically, and gave her a rueful smile. It was so like Jake's own smile when he was caught out in some lie that Dodie was immediately on her guard. It was natural that in the intensely competitive world of theatre and television there would be fierce rivalries, even jealousy, yet Alex had usually been the successful one. Whenever he and Jake had been auditioned for the same part Alex had won. Would one failure cause him to be so bitter? Could it provoke murder? Might the insult to Libby have so aggravated his resentment he'd killed because of it?

She tried not to let her thoughts show. 'Yes, you did. Don't apologize, Alex. I know the worst about poor Jake, and I'd rather you told me the truth. Did you see him much here?'

'Hardly at all. I was spending as much time with Libby as she'd let me. But young girls don't want their elderly fathers cramping their style.'

Dodie chuckled. 'Your studio opens directly onto the lane at the back, doesn't it. Like the one Jake was supposed to be staying in. You must have run across him occasionally.'

Alex shook his head. 'The studio's below the garage. You know how steep the hillside is there. I have to go up some steps in the garden and through the gate. The lane's very quiet, and I've no doubt Jake used the front entrance most of the time. I never saw him out there, at any rate. The front's quite a bit nearer the town centre, as the lane curves round back up the hill. We – that is Bill and Valerie, tend to go out that way only in the car.'

'And you? Which way do you use?'

'Depends where I'm going. The front mainly, I think.'

'Libby uses the front too. So I suppose you didn't see Bruce being mugged. I wonder who did it? That happened in this lane, didn't it?'

'Did it? Yes, I think it did. You know, Dodie, I have my suspicions about that mugging. I don't think it was as bad as Bruce made out. It's difficult to believe, Funchal is normally so peaceful.'

'It is, isn't it.' So were these two events connected, Dodie wondered. At the moment she couldn't see how. Just possibly Jake had hit Bruce, or quarrelled with him, and Bruce had taken his own revenge. She must find out more about this mugging. But something else, a particular tone in Alex's voice, nagged her.

'I didn't see anything, anyway,' Alex added, bringing her wandering thoughts back.

'Were you surprised to see him and Emma here?'

'Of course. Emma and I parted reasonably amicably, but we don't keep in touch a great deal.'

'Who asked for the divorce?'

'It was mutual. She'd met Bruce, of course, but I had – other interests, shall we say – too.'

'But you haven't married again.' Dodie wondered whether he was telling the truth. Was that why he sounded rather constrained when Emma's name was mentioned. Had he wanted to divorce her? Perhaps not. He could have been jealous of Bruce. If he was competitive over his work might he not be over his women? Dodie recalled the sight of Emma sunbathing. She was a very attractive woman.

'Twice is enough for me.' He grinned at her as he put down his cup. 'I don't know how you have the stamina for four marriages.'

'Incurable optimism, and never learning from my mistakes,' Dodie laughed. 'Libby seems to get on well with Emma.'

He smiled, again the sort of charming smile Jake employed when he wanted to divert attention. 'You know, that was probably the worst aspect of our split. Sally was around then, still in England, but it's a lot easier for a girl Libby's age to talk to someone who isn't her mother. I think Libby resented Sally's getting married again, more than she did my remarriage.'

'She's older now. And as Greg is working in Australia, she'll see less of her mother. She still needs a confidante.' And she might have told Emma something useful. Dodie noted down the fact in her mental list of questions to ask.

'Maybe that's it.'

'Who do you think killed Jake?' Dodie asked abruptly.

'I truly hope it was an accident. I didn't like him. We've been rivals for too many parts to be friends, and as you know, he wasn't easy to get on with. Women liked him, though. He could turn on the charm when he wanted to.'

'He got the part you auditioned for, when you went to England, I think?'

Alex looked quickly at her, then shrugged. 'Yes, but perhaps it was his turn. I'd usually been the winner. Poor devil, just as his luck was beginning to turn, this has to happen.'

*

That evening all except Dodie, who had begged to be excused, and Libby who regarded the suggestion with horror, were going to a 'British Night' organized by one of the expatriate groups, held in a room at Reids Hotel.

Valerie, Bill and Howard knew most of the guests, but they hadn't reckoned on the presence and persistence of the ladies and gentlemen of the press. There seemed to be dozens of them hovering in the large foyer, and several had in some mysterious way obtained tickets for the dinner. They were instantly recognizable, Valerie discovered, by their darting, roving eyes as they searched for victims, and intent, almost hypnotic gaze once they had cornered one.

She saw Emma, clearly uneasy, talking to a slim, dark woman in a clinging electric blue gown. Further away Howard was hemmed against a pillar by a tall, weedy looking man and two large ladies, one of them talking eagerly and waving her arms as she did so.

When the aperitifs had been drunk they made their way to the tables. The three of them, with Alex, Bruce and Emma, were to sit together.

Howard was still delayed, and when the dark woman Emma had been talking to, her soignée image marred only by the surprisingly large handbag she carried, and which Valerie cynically assumed to be hiding a tape recorder, smilingly approached, she promptly tipped the chair between herself and Emma up against the table.

'This one's taken, I'm afraid,' she said firmly, and gasped as the woman, with an understanding smile, calmly reached out, took hold of the chair back, and set it upright again.

'Don't let's stand on ceremony,' the journalist said easily, pulling out the chair preparatory to sitting down. 'You're Mrs Thorn, I believe? And Mrs Fanshaw is an old friend and is staying with you? I'm dying to know if what I've been told is true.'

'Then I'm afraid you'll have to ask it some other time,' Howard cut in, and to Valerie's relief and amusement, the normally reticent and ultra-polite Howard slipped in front of the woman and sat firmly in the chair she was holding. 'There are plenty of spaces over there,' he said, pointing to the far side of the room.

The woman, after an angry glance at him, backed away.

'What did they want with you?' Emma asked Howard.

'Mainly what happened when Jake stormed the party, but also any dirt from beforehand,' he added quietly. 'And you?'

'The same. Did I know him, how well, who had he been seen with, who had he quarrelled with. They just wouldn't accept that I'd never even met him, before the party.' She laughed shrilly. 'I'm thankful I didn't.'

'They're hoping it was murder, it makes a better story,' Howard concluded.

'I thought the police had almost decided it was an accident.'

'According to Bill they would prefer that, but Dodie began stirring it up. Wouldn't you try to placate her in their place?'

'She's convinced it was murder, and is hoping to find out who did it herself,' Valerie put in. 'I can't decide which would be better for her in the long run, but it must be agony not knowing.'

Howard grinned. 'She's bearing up wonderfully. She made a sort of royal progress to the Marina this afternoon, dressed in what looked amazingly like the mourning robes of Queen Victoria, accompanied by about ten journalists and twice as many photographers. She wished, in her words, to commune with the briny where her precious son had spent his last moments. She maintained the ether would tell her what had happened to him, and I think she rather expected a ghostly hand to rise out of the harbour and point an accusing finger at his murderer.'

Valerie bit back a laugh. 'She didn't tell me that. Did she come on your boat?'

'How could I refuse? I'd have been depicted as the grossest, most unfeeling monster if I had. It was a wonderful performance, but fortunately she insisted on coming alone, apart from her exclusive press girl and photographer. It's a memory I'll treasure. Dear Dodie. She stood there, wailing, her eyes screwed up tight and arms flung wide while they recorded on film a mother's grief. I understand she hadn't seen him for three years, until they met here. If she hammed it up like that on the stage I'm not surprised she had to find a more dependable way of earning a living,' he added with a chuckle. 'I confess I was tempted to push her over the side myself, but it would have been rather foolish with so many cameras trained on us.'

'How long does she means to stay in Funchal?' Emma asked.

'Until the culprit is hanged, drawn and quartered, I gather. She believes there is capital punishment here.'

*

Early the following morning the telephone rang. Valerie picked it up.

'Hello?'

'Valerie? Theo here. Oh, thank goodness you're there. I need your help, and I couldn't think who else to ask.'

'Theo? How can I help?'

'The police are coming to interview Isabella. Someone told them about the remarks Jakes made – on the boat. About – about me and Isabella, and they want to see her. I keep telling them she's ill, has been in her room since the party apart from visiting her grandmother yesterday. We haven't told her. She doesn't yet know that he's dead, and of course that's made them more suspicious.'

'Ill? Poor child. What's the matter with her?'

Theo ignored the questions. 'Will you come and be with her? I don't – don't know how she'll take it.'

'Take what? Never mind, I'm wasting time. Of course I'll come. Right away?'

'If you can. Valerie, you're a brick.'

'Why can't her mother be with her?' Dodie demanded as they took a taxi the short distance to the hotel.

'I don't know. I didn't think to ask. Maybe she's out. But he sounded desperate.'

'Tell me exactly what he said.'

As Valerie did so Dodie was thinking hard. Perhaps when Jake had insulted Isabella at the party it hadn't been just undirected spite. Perhaps there was some reason. It was odd the child had been ill, and even odder she hadn't been told about Jake's death. It had been the talk of Funchal.

Theo was waiting at the door of his hotel when Valerie and Dodie arrived.

'You don't know how grateful I am,' he sighed. 'We have an hour before the police come.'

'Where's Maria? Why isn't she helping you?' Valerie asked as he took her arm and guided her into a small office.

'She's gone to visit her mother today. Again. We all had to traipse over there yesterday. At least she's out of the way.'

Dodie lifted her eyebrows. Why should he be glad the girl's mother wasn't here? He looked distraught, his normally smooth grey hair was rumpled as though his hands had been constantly combing it, and his tie was crooked, his shirt collar rucked up.

'Sit down, both of you, while I explain.' He almost pushed them into chairs while he perched on the edge of the desk. 'She left before the police phoned to make an appointment. The old woman lives in Santana, she came from there originally and went back when Maria's father died.'

Valerie interrupted. He was rambling, and there were so many questions. 'How is Isabella?'

'She's ill, she's been strange ever since that party. She won't eat, won't talk to us, spends all day staring out of her bedroom window.'

'It sounds like some kind of breakdown. Won't she come downstairs?' Dodie asked quickly.

Theo looked embarrassed. 'Well, it started when Maria locked her in, as a punishment, after the party. We took her to Santana yesterday, to see her grandmother, and the moment we reached home she went to bed, but this time she's bolted the door from inside. I can't get in.'

Dodie started to say something and then caught back the words. It would not help to condemn the mother's behaviour, but how could she punish her daughter so and then just leave the child, who was clearly disturbed?

Valerie spoke. 'Can't you get a doctor to say she's too ill to be told about Jake's death? She was at the party, she knew he'd disappeared, but I don't see how she can help or give the police any information.'

'She refuses to see a doctor,' Theo said wearily. 'Short of breaking down the door we can't get in. Valerie, what can I do? The police will insist on seeing her and she'll be terrified.'

'Let me talk to her,' Dodie said. 'That poor child, she must be feeling so alone.'

'There is something else,' Theo said reluctantly.

'What?'

'I hoped to keep her secret. But Maria discovered it and the family know. That's why she's in disgrace with them. Isabella is expecting Jake's child.'

Dodie gripped her hands tightly together, and Valerie stared at him, aghast. 'Oh no! Oh, the poor girl, she must be frantic! Was she hoping he'd marry her?'

'She managed to see him and told him. He said he'd meet her again, with plans for leaving. She suggested the church, she knew she'd be permitted out to go to confession. Instead he sent a callous note finishing with her. I'm sorry, Dodie, but it's true.'

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. This was worse than anything else. But it provided a very strong motive. 'Don't try to spare me. I know better than anyone else what a devil he was.'

'He laughed at her, denied the child was his. I could have killed him. I didn't, Dodie, don't be afraid you're talking to your son's murderer. I was too cowardly. But you can see how good a motive that gives all her family, and both my sons were on the boat too.'

'What can we tell her? Theo, the police can't question her. It would be inhuman!'

'They insist, Valerie. I called you because I was distraught, I didn't know what to do.'

'Let me think. Why her? Have the police interviewed the rest of the family yet?' Dodie asked.

'No. I assume someone must have seen her and Jake together. You know how easily gossip spreads.'

'If people know she went out with him, we can't hope to keep that quiet. But surely none of the family would tell the police she is pregnant? They will see how dangerous it could be for them.'

'What are we going to do about poor Isabella?' Valerie asked.

'We must tell her he's dead,' Dodie decided, 'and try to persuade her not to say she's pregnant. What were you going to do? Have you had time to make plans?'

'We'll send her away. Maria cannot endure the shame. They – the family – want her to go to some cousins in Brazil, but I mean to take her to England and stay with her.'

'The police may not let you,' Valerie said worriedly.

Theo looked appalled, and then recovered. 'This death, or murder, will surely be solved before she needs to go.'

'Then the sooner we see her the more time she'll have to get over the shock. Take us to her room, Theo.'

*

At first Isabella would not reply to their entreaties to open the door, but when Theo intervened to tell her that her mother was not in the hotel and not expected back for many hours, Isabella drew the bolts and allowed them to enter the room.

Dodie tried not to show the shock she felt. The pretty girl she'd seen on the boat was pale, gaunt, and hollow-eyed. She had clearly neither washed nor brushed her hair. The window was closed, the air fetid. An almost full chamber pot sat in one corner.

'We can't talk in here,' Theo said immediately. 'There's an empty guestroom just along the passage. Come, Isabella, you cannot expect others to endure this.'

She did not seem to understand, but looked blankly from one to another. When Valerie took her hand she permitted herself to be led out of the room and along the corridor. In the more spacious guest room Valerie made her sit on the bed, then sat beside her.

'I'll order some tea,' Theo said briefly, and went to use a house telephone set in a small alcove in the corridor. When he rejoined them he found Dodie talking gently to Isabella, asking her questions about Funchal, and smoothing back the tangled hair which had formerly been so springy and vibrant.

A maid brought a tray with tea and sandwiches, and some bolo de mel. Theo met her at the door and took the tray from her. Between them Dodie and Valerie persuaded Isabella to eat a few sandwiches and drink some tea, and then to wash her hands and face in the adjoining bathroom. Already the girl was looking better, and Dodie had difficulty in suppressing her fury that Maria could have allowed her daughter, however much she was in disgrace, to get into such a state. And Theo, she added silently. How could he have been so weak as to have permitted it?

'Will you have some of the cake?' she asked when Isabella was seated once more on the bed.

Isabella shook her head. 'Thank you, but I am not hungry,' she whispered.

Valerie took her hand. 'Isabella, you must be very brave. I have some bad news for you.'

Isabella looked at her, her eyes devoid of any feeling, either curiosity or apprehension. Valerie took a deep breath and forced herself to continue.

'It's about Jake,' she said gently, and winced as Isabella tensed and clutched at her, ragged nails cutting into her own hand.

'Jake? They found him? Is he coming for me? I knew he would!' Isabella said breathlessly. 'I knew he didn't mean what he said. I must get ready, he'll be in a hurry to take me away. Where is he?'

'No, darling, he's not coming for you, it's bad news. Jake had an accident.'

A glimmer of fear crossed Isabella's face and Theo, who had been standing behind them, near the window, moved swiftly to her side.

'You must be brave, my darling,' he said huskily. 'Jake can't come for you.'

'He can! He will! It's you keeping him away, making him say such horrid things to me, making him go away. He loves me, I know he does, and he'd come for me if you let him.'

'Isabella, dear, stop it,' Valerie said urgently. 'Jake can't come, he had an accident. He fell off the boat at the party. No one knows how. Darling, I'm so sorry, but Jake died. He was drowned.'

Isabella stared at her, apparently uncomprehending, and Valerie wondered whether she would have the strength to repeat the dreadful news. Then Isabella gulped, opened her mouth, and began to scream hysterically as she tore herself from Valerie's hold and threw herself down with complete abandon onto the floor.

***

### Chapter 8

Two hours later, Dodie sat in the little office with Theo, sipping brandy. Valerie had gone home, Isabella was in bed, sedated, and the police had just left.

'At least they couldn't question her,' Theo said at last.

When Isabella's hysteria had shown no signs of abating, Theo had called the doctor. While they waited, trying to calm Isabella, he and Dodie consulted swiftly. Isabella, they realized, was beyond understanding what they said.

'If we tell them she and Jake planned to marry and she is distraught because he is dead, they may leave her alone,' Theo suggested optimistically. 'He can't deny it.'

'And that was what he clearly made her believe,' Dodie agreed angrily.

'But they'll think she might know who he was looking for.'

'Have you realized that if they discover about the baby they may get suspicious, and think it gives you all a reason for wanting revenge on Jake? That would be dangerous for you.'

'But how else can we explain her frenzy?'

It had proved easier than they expected, even to deflect questions about Jake's reason for going to the yacht.

'Isabella had been unwell the previous few days and stayed at home.' That was true enough, Theo reflected, she'd hardly stirred out of the house since she'd received that shattering note before Christmas. 'She hadn't seen him, so she couldn't have known.'

They had asked him many questions, but seemed satisfied, accepting the doctor's refusal to allow them to question Isabella for several days.

'We should have the case solved by then, so there will be no need to trouble her,' they said as they departed.

'I must make sure Maria and the boys tell the same story,' Theo said worriedly.

'What are you going to do? Have you relatives you can go to in England?'

He turned and faced her. 'I'll take her to my sister, and stay with her while she has the baby. Then I'll decide what to do. I don't know if I can ever come back.'

'Poor Theo, I'm so sorry.' There seemed nothing else to say. He certainly had cause to kill Jake, but Dodie found it difficult to believe he might have done so. The rest of the family, though, even Maria from how implacable she sounded, could be guilty.

'Dodie, it was your son killed, yet you've helped me enormously today, you and Valerie. I couldn't have carried it off alone.'

'Who knows about Isabella's baby?' Dodie asked slowly.

'The entire family, but so far no one else, I hope.'

Dodie nodded. She couldn't believe that Theo, the gentle, concerned father, would have killed Jake, whatever anger he felt towards him. Maria was a different matter, she was fiery and impulsive. She'd have been strong enough to tip a drunken, comatose Jake overboard. Dodie recalled Maria's grim expression at the party, and if they were like their mother it sounded as though Isabella's brothers would have been quite capable of disposing of Jake. The entire family had a strong motive, and revenging family dishonour meant far more to the Latins than to the British. At least this was a more credible motive than Jake's rudeness about Libby and Emma.

*

The next morning Dodie took a taxi to Emma's house. She and Bruce were waiting for her, having just finished breakfast.

'Coffee?' Emma asked, leading the way into the big kitchen. The day was overcast, cooler than she'd become used to, but the kitchen glowed with copper utensils, wicker chairs from Camacha, and bowls heaped with varieties of fruit and vegetables. 'Do you mind it in here? How can we help?'

'I've been trying to reconstruct the party on the boat,' she told them. 'We've worked out the order things happened in, we think, but I wanted to have someone else's recollections too. I hoped that, as you were still feeling groggy, Bruce, and I think were sitting down a lot of the time, you might have been watching more than most of the others.'

'You did sit down pretty soon after we got there,' Emma said to Bruce. 'I wish you hadn't gone at all,' she added, stretching out and stroking his face.

'Can't miss New Year in Funchal, can we? It's probably the only time we'll be here,' he said, capturing her hand and holding it against his cheek. 'Darling Emma, you are too good for me.'

She laughed, gave Dodie an embarrassed glance, and pulled her hand away.

'I was OK, just a sore head,' Bruce went on, turning to Dodie. 'Yep, I'd had enough of standing about, I did sit down soon after we got there. Let me think. Would it help if I drew a sort of plan of where I think everyone was?'

'Why don't we do what they do in detective stories, and make a list?' Emma suggested. 'Better still, we could use things, pepper mills and so on, to represent people and move them about.' She began to clear the table of all but their coffee cups.

Bruce grinned. 'We'd get horribly confused. We'll use bits of paper with names on.'

For half an hour they argued, moving around the scraps of paper Emma produced, and by the end Dodie had a clearer idea of where some of the main people had been. 'You sat down almost at once, after speaking to a few people. That was fairly near the gangplank?'

'Yes, so when Jake pushed his way onto the boat we got up, partly to get out of his way. Then there was that fracas,' Bruce said. 'Dodie, I've wanted an opportunity to apologize, that I wanted to hit Jake.'

'You weren't the only one,' Emma cut in.

'And after what he said to you, I'm not at all surprised Bruce felt like that,' Dodie said. 'Why on earth did he say such a thing?'

'Search me. I knew who he was, of course, but I don't think I set eyes on him until that night, when I saw him up at Valerie's,' Emma said. 'Had you seen him before, Bruce?'

'No, and I didn't even recognize him. I never watched the soaps he was in.'

'He was drunk, sounding off at everyone who got in his way, and I was there.' Emma sighed. 'And the exertion made you feel ill again, darling, so you sat down further along until the fireworks started.'

They could not remember much else. Once the fireworks started they had moved to stand with the rest of the crowd, and been so enchanted with the display they hadn't paid any attention to any of the guests.

'And we left soon afterwards. I wanted to get Bruce home. Howard was talking about looking for him, but we didn't hear until the next day that he'd been missing.'

Dodie had a great deal to think about as she went home. Emma seemed to care very much about Bruce. She'd been very suspicious, when they'd found Emma employing binoculars and clearly upset, that she was jealous of Bruce. Perhaps she found his fame, greater than Alex's, difficult to cope with. Whatever the trouble had been Emma seemed secure enough now. Yet was their demonstrative affection a trifle overdone? She couldn't decide. And they claimed they hadn't known Jake before the party. If they had, she could understand why they needed to lie, but it could have been pure undirected spite that made Jake lash out at her.

*

'I've arranged the bridge party for tomorrow night,' Valerie said at lunch.

'Do I have to be there?' Libby pouted. 'I hate bridge.'

'Of course you don't. Weren't you going to meet David this afternoon?' Valerie asked.

'OK, you want to be rid of me so that you can play Miss Marple,' Libby grinned at them. 'I'll sunbathe for half an hour, I don't need to go yet.'

Dodie glanced at her. There was something she had to do. Libby. Walking into town. Then she remembered, and excused herself. She blessed Valerie's provision of telephone extensions in every bedroom, and was soon talking to Jylli.

'I'll be there in ten minutes,' Jylli promised. 'Do I come in, or try to get into conversation outside?'

'Come in, and you can be introduced.'

'Right, boss.'

Dodie smiled faintly and went back to the drawing room where Bill and Valerie were drinking coffee. Valerie handed her a cup, and she sipped in silence. She'd almost forgotten Gloria Neville in her absorption with Isabella. It was just remotely possible that Jake wasn't the father and Isabella, afraid, thought to protect a lover they knew nothing about by casting the blame on a dead man. But no, that didn't wash. She'd told Theo when Jake was alive. And her distress on hearing of his death was genuine. She must have loved the man. Poor deluded kid.

'I wonder if she'll keep the baby?' she asked.

'Baby? Oh, yes. I hadn't thought of that, I'm only just beginning to take it in,' Valerie said. 'It will be your grandchild, Dodie.'

Dodie blinked. How could she have overlooked that fact? 'And he'll never know his father, any more than Jake did. Let's hope he turns out better.'

Bill coughed. 'Dodie,' he began hesitantly, and coughed again. 'I hadn't intended telling you this, but you ought to know. It's quite possible Jake had told someone else and they might tell the police.'

He stopped and the two women looked at him curiously. His face was redder than normal and he was blinking rapidly.

'Well,' Dodie demanded, 'spit it out.'

'It's damned embarrassing. Jake came up to me one day, and he, well, he accused me of being his father.'

Dodie stared at him incredulously, then burst into laughter. 'Bill! What on earth did you say?'

Bill grinned, a little shamefaced. 'I told him I was thankful there could be no chance of that. I meant, I didn't mean that in other circumstances, you know, if we hadn't already been married, that is, I mean Valerie and I, that you and I – oh hell, I can't say what I mean!'

Dodie was still chuckling. 'I know what you mean. You might have fancied me, if there'd been no Valerie, but the very thought of a closer connection with Jake was too terrible to contemplate.'

'Yes,' he said gratefully.

'He'd been asking me who his father was when I first came out here. He's never bothered before. I wonder why?'

Valerie was chuckling. 'You and Bill and all the other army chaps used to know one another around the right time. It's OK, Dodie, I'm neither jealous nor probing, and I know you've never told anyone the truth. Did he ask you for money?' she asked Bill.

He nodded, unhappily. 'I was disgusted. I gave him very short shrift, but it occurs to me Howard was around at the same time. We ought to ask him if Jake approached him too.'

'And that makes all three of us suspects.'

'Valerie! I wouldn't suspect any of you for a second,' Dodie protested.

'The police might.'

'Then they're even greater idiots than I thought. Do they think I'd be staying here, open to all sorts of attempts at poison or being smothered during the night, if I had the slightest doubts?'

At that moment Jylli was announced. She'd just popped up to give Dodie a couple of messages, requests for interviews, she said. When Libby stuck her head in at the door to say she was off now, Dodie called her in, introduced them, and admired Jylli's aplomb when she said she must be going back, and if Libby was going her way could they walk together.

*

Dodie was sitting on the terrace an hour later when Bruce Jellicoe arrived. He stopped and asked how she was feeling.

'Puzzled,' she said briskly. 'Did you want to see Bill? I'm afraid he's out and Valerie has popped along to see how Gloria is.'

'It wasn't important. I just happened to be passing, and wondered how the police were getting on. I gather they've been interviewing the Macleans.'

'Have they?' How rapidly news spread. Dodie hoped Isabella's secret hadn't become common knowledge, or the girl would be in even greater distress.

'I suppose they wanted gossip about the party. No doubt they'll be wanting to see everyone else, and probing why we all wanted to thump the man. Oh, sorry, Dodie, I keep forgetting he was your son. You just don't look old enough to have had a son my age.'

'I was very young,' she said quietly.

Bruce sighed, and looked morosely at the view of the harbour down the hill from them. 'Are you staying on for long? I wish it could all be over, I have interviews set up in London, for my last book when it's published there.'

'You don't like being away from the big city? I hope you've completely recovered from that mugging. It must have been a tremendous wallop. Did you see anyone?'

Bruce shook his head. 'No. It was dusk when I came back to the car. I'd left it in the lane which goes along the backs of these houses, while I collected some photos.'

'Were you unconscious?'

'Shaken, and I think I blacked out for a few seconds. I came to sitting on the ground, and saw someone running away round the corner.'

'Did they steal your wallet?'

'No. That's the odd thing. They stole nothing.'

'And you have no idea who it could have been.'

Bruce hesitated. 'There was something, I don't know what. Just an impression of red hair, but that may have been blurred vision! I had a faint feeling that the chap was familiar, but I may have been dreaming. I can't be at all sure.'

Dodie nodded sympathetically. 'It would be difficult to be sure if you'd been knocked out. Did you see a doctor?'

'Emma insisted I had a check at the hospital. It wasn't necessary. I hate being the centre of a fuss. Well, if Bill's out I'd better go.'

He left, and Dodie watched him. Was he telling the truth, or had he known his attacker? It had happened near Jake's studio. Did he suspect, or know, that it had been Jake? Had he taken his revenge on the boat? The insults to Emma might have pushed him over the edge, or he might just have wanted to give Jake a ducking. He needn't have intended him to die. In fact, she realized, no one need have intended that, and if Jake had hit his head it was a joke gone horribly wrong.

*

Dodie sat pondering the facts she already knew for so long, in a sun which was hotter than she'd expected, that she felt the onset of another migraine as soon as she stood up. She retreated to bed and when Jylli came that evening, eager to report on her investigations, Valerie sent her away saying that Dodie wouldn't be fit to talk until the following day. It was afternoon before Dodie's migraine attack subsided and she felt well enough to get up.

'Jylli's coming later on,' Valerie said. 'Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?'

'I'll live on my fat for the rest of today, thanks,' Dodie said, shuddering at the thought of food. 'Plenty of that to spare. Did she say whether she'd discovered anything?'

'She was excited, but she didn't give me any details. She's enjoying playing sleuth. To her I'm just as likely a suspect as anyone else. But don't you want to rest before the bridge party, not start puzzling about it again for a few more hours?'

Dodie shook her head. 'I need to sort out what we discovered yesterday. Bruce was mugged, and it might have been Jake. I'm sure that's what Bruce thinks, whatever he says.'

'So that gives Bruce a motive – retaliation. Emma too, I suppose.'

Dodie shook her head. 'I'm not happy about that couple. They seem very edgy. I've seen the symptoms before. A marriage that's not as smooth as it seems. I must try and talk to Emma on her own.'

'But it doesn't account for Jake, unless perhaps Emma was seeing him, and there's been no hint of that. I don't think either of them knew him.'

Dodie's shoulders slumped. 'No. But it's turned out that Jake wasn't just talking off the top of his head when he mentioned Isabella, so perhaps he knows something about Emma too.'

When Jylli came back Valerie said she had some sewing to do and left them alone. Jylli looked relieved.

'I don't think I wanted to tell Libby's grandmother what she told me,' she said candidly.

'Did you ask her the questions I gave you?'

'Of course I did, Mrs Fanshaw. And I had my tape running, so you can listen to what she said,' Jylli replied.

'You're sure she didn't suspect?'

'She knows I'm a journalist, but I made it seem casual. I asked if Alex Ross was her father, and she seemed flattered and wanted to talk about him and the stage, so we went to have a coffee, and within five minutes she was pouring it all out. Did you know she'd been seeing a lot of Jake?'

Dodie sat up sharply. 'What? Libby too?

'She met him in the lane, one day when she was mad about something, and of course she knew who he was. She went out to a disco with him. She saw him several times after that. Apparently she said she was seeing some boy her grandmother thought suitable, and that must have been David. I managed to see him afterwards – you know he was away somewhere before, and I hadn't managed to contact him? – and he confirmed it. He was peeved. I think he's smitten.'

'Libby's an enterprising young lady. No wonder her grandmother's worried about her.'

'The interesting part is that she went to the Casino with him. Then she clammed up, wouldn't tell me any more. Began to talk about wanting to go to drama school. But she let slip something about a ransom to pay the fees.'

'The Casino? And a ransom? Jylli, I feel faint.' Jylli giggled. 'That's the first I've heard about that. Is that it?'

'Yes, but she agreed to meet me again, tomorrow. I laid it on thick about having decent publicity photos, and said Tod wanted to practise portraits instead of news shots, so she's coming into Funchal tomorrow.'

'I must have a long talk with that girl.'

Jylli hesitated. 'Perhaps, but, well, it may be too early. She's very young, doesn't trust grown ups. Let me see her again first.'

'Give me that tape and I'll phone you before tomorrow morning, when I've listened to it, and suggest what else you can ask her. Thanks, Jylli, you've done a great job.'

Jylli smiled. 'I'd like to be an investigative journalist.'

*

Valerie had frequent bridge parties, and when it was explained to the guests that Dodie preferred to sit quietly and just watch they nodded in quiet sympathy. Valerie had arranged for three tables, so that Dodie and the three dummies could pair off quite naturally, and Dodie could choose who to talk to. She'd also arranged the tables to have one or two of Dodie's quarries at each.

Once they had expressed their condolences to Dodie, the players quietly got on with their games, and the ploy worked admirably. Gloria was the first dummy, and although she eyed Dodie warily, she soon began to talk.

'Yes, I threw him out,' she confirmed when Dodie had humbly apologized for her son's theft of the diamonds. 'I suspect he planned it, because when we were getting ready to come here that night, he suddenly said I'd look better in my sapphires. He hustled me, and I forgot to lock the diamonds away. I know I'm a foolish old woman,' she said bitterly, and Dodie patted her hand in sympathy, 'but he could be charming.'

'I know. His father was just the same. It was his undoing. When did you find out?'

'It was chilly. I went home to get a wrap, and remembered the diamonds. I was going to lock them away but they'd gone. I don't know whether Jake took them before we left or went back for them. Anyway, I stormed up to the studio where he was living and he was there. He denied it, of course, but I told him to go.'

'He didn't have any luggage when he came to the boat.'

'No. He just laughed at me, and walked out. I – well, I was so mad I just tossed all his clothes out of the window. There was a lipstick on the dressing table. Even when – well, you know how it was – he was having some other woman there.' She laughed unsteadily. 'The police had quite a job picking them up the next day.'

So it seemed Isabella had been there, Dodie noted. When she had a chance to talk to the girl she'd have to ask about that.

'Do the police know whose lipstick it was?'

'It could have belonged to half the women on the island, I imagine.'

'But you still came to the party on the boat. Didn't you think to tell the police about the diamonds straight away? Jake might have left Madeira at once.'

'On New Year's Eve? I doubt if there'd have been anyone there. And he wouldn't have been able to get a plane seat, flights are booked solid at this time of year. I meant to report him to the police on the following day but I overslept, and by the time I got up his body had been found, and Howard had identified him.'

Dodie sympathized, but she discovered nothing more.

The next dummy, one of Gloria's neighbours, spoke heavily accented English but that did not reduce her volubility.

'I heard the row, terrible, it was, I think everyone for many houses around heard it,' she said, her eyes gleaming. 'He stormed out of the studio, and I heard him shouting as he went through to the front of the house. I saw him driving off in a taxi.'

'What time was this?'

'About eleven in the evening. We were just getting ready to go to our own party.'

'Did he have a case?'

'No, he had no luggage. So naturally I thought it was a, how do you say, a storm in a coffee cup, and he would be returning. You can imagine how odd a sensation it gave me when I heard that his body had been found the next day. Such a handsome young man too, and so pleasant when we happened to meet.'

'Quite curious, the neighbours,' Dodie said with a grin after the guests had all left. 'One of them told me he saw Jake and you having a row, Bill.'

'When he tried to blackmail me? Did they hear what it was about?'

'She said not.'

'Thank goodness.'

'I don't know why he had this sudden fixation with discovering who his father was,' Dodie said. 'He's never asked before.'

'He saw an opportunity, that's all,' Bill said easily.

'Yes, he could snap up opportunities. But he never used his talents except to make mischief.' She wiped away a tear. 'Look, I'm getting maudlin.'

'Don't worry, we understand. It's natural you should grieve, even if he was a disappointment. It's such a shame it had to happen just as he got this new part. That could have changed his life,' Valerie said.

Dodie snorted. 'Don't believe it. It wouldn't have changed him, any more than the love of a good woman, as Ma believes.' She told them of her mother's comparison of Jake with Romeo, and laughter mingled with the tears.

'Does your mother know it was Isabella? Might she tell anyone?' Valerie suddenly asked.

'No, thank God! I just pray she doesn't take it into her head to come out here and try to help me!'

*

Two days later Dodie was no further on in her detection. She decided she needed a break and strolled into the town. She was watching the flower-sellers by the Cathedral, admiring the skirts, stripes of red and orange and black, with embroidered blouses and coloured waistcoats, and the small black cap with its rigid stalk, and recalled the dolls on the brinquinho. Dolls in this costume filled the windows of some souvenir shops, and Dodie determined to buy one. She'd heard that it wasn't a genuine national costume, just something imposed by a tourist-minded government in the thirties, based on the skirts peasant women once wore, but it was attractive, something good to take home from Madeira, something to dispel her memories of the bad things.

Impulsively she turned into a narrow street behind the Cathedral, searching for the biggest doll available. Soon she found a shop and was looking at the window when she heard her name called softly. Dodie turned round.

'Isabella! I thought – ' she stopped, embarrassed.

'You thought I was locked in,' Isabella said tonelessly. 'I was, but now – my father insisted I was released.'

At least Theo was beginning to assert some authority, Dodie thought, but her satisfaction was tempered by the misery in Isabella's eyes. 'You look dreadful,' she said with concern. 'Come and have a coffee with me? One of the open-air cafés down here.'

She took Isabella's arm and led her, unresisting, to find a table screened by large rubber plants where they could be relatively private. Isabella tried to smile, but the effort made her lips tremble, and Dodie hastily patted her hand.

'It's all right, love, don't talk. Not yet. We'll have coffee first.'

As they sipped their coffees Isabella seemed to relax. She took a deep breath and began to speak, so quietly that Dodie had to lean forward and strain to hear her.

'The doctor has given me tablets, to calm me, they said,' she explained, her voice expressionless. They seemed to have done the job effectively in one sense, Dodie thought. 'I'm so worried. I need to talk to someone.'

The girl looked terrible, hollow-eyed and desperately thin and gaunt. She'll never withstand questions by the police, Dodie thought as she ordered more coffee and urged the girl to drink. If they even saw Isabella in this state and knew she had been with Jake they would be merciless.

'What is it, child?' she asked gently when Isabella made no attempt to speak. Isabella looked at her, straightened her shoulders, and sighed. 'I'm afraid,' she said quietly.

'Tell me why. Is it having the baby?'

'No! I want Jake's child. It's not that. I'm just afraid, about who killed him,' she added in a whisper. 'You see, it could have been my father or my brothers.'

'They were mad at him, of course,' Dodie said quickly, 'but so were other people. My son got up a lot of people's noses.'

To her dismay Isabella's unnatural restraint collapsed, and the girl burst into floods of tears. Dodie moved swiftly to sit beside her, trying to offer comfort while she shielded her from the curious gaze of the tourists walking past. When the storm of weeping showed no signs of abating she looked round and saw an elderly waiter hovering anxiously.

'She's ill. Bring the bill, and find me a taxi, please,' she said, and the bill was slipped discreetly under her hand.

'There's a taxi just setting down some people by the Cathedral, I'll ask him to wait. Can you manage?' the man asked. 'Wait, I will return when I've spoken to the taxi driver.'

She soon had Isabella in the taxi, but she knew it wouldn't do to take her to Valerie's, since Bill had a business colleague with him that morning, and it was unthinkable to take her home to face Maria while she was in such a state. The girl needed a quiet place where she could recover gradually. Funchal, though, was so tightly packed that although it had many gardens they were small and always full of people. There were no quiet and secluded spots. Even the extensive Botanical Gardens, high up on the hills, were not provided with many hidden nooks. Then she recalled the Quinta do Palheiro, one of the places she'd been to before Christmas, when she had nothing more on her mind than sightseeing.

She directed the taxi there, thankful it was morning and there was still some time before the gardens closed. In the sprawling acres of what was one of the biggest gardens in Madeira there were many private places where they could sit undisturbed. Or they could walk, and the peaceful beauty, she hoped, would calm Isabella's spirit.

By the time the taxi drove in through the unobtrusive gateway and along the narrow drive Isabella had recovered a little and was no longer weeping with such abandon.

'Will you wait for us?' Dodie asked, and the driver nodded, glancing sympathetically at Isabella.

'It's a peaceful car park, unlike some. I sleep until you come back,' he said cheerfully.

They walked along broad terraces and through woodland paths. Dodie admired the immense variety of vegetation, huge trees and colourful shrubs, and everywhere a profusion of bright flowers, luxuriant camellias predominating. She didn't attempt to speak, and it was Isabella who broke the silence.

'The Blandys are English,' she said suddenly. 'They settled in Madeira and built up many businesses. This is just one of their houses. They own hotels, and wine and shipping companies. My father might have become like them, if it weren't for me.'

'What do you mean?'

'If he didn't have to go home with me, so that I can hide the shame of my baby from my mother and her family!' Isabella said bitterly.

'But he wants to go,' Dodie tried to reassure her.

'He can't want to leave all he's achieved here. He's not an old man, he has time to do a great deal more, and my brothers can carry on afterwards, and one day our family would have been as great as the Blandys. That was my mother's dream, and I've ruined it all.'

'Nonsense! You and your baby, and it's my grandchild, remember, are more important than that. Now you are not to worry, we'll take care of everything.'

Isabella made an effort to smile. 'You are so good to me. I'm sorry I was so uncontrolled. My mother is always being angry with me for being so impetuous, unable to control my emotions.'

'Your mother isn't noted for her placidity,' Dodie said sharply.

'She says if I had learned to do so with small things, like keeping my temper, I would not have – done what I did with Jake. But she didn't believe I loved him. I knew what I was doing, truly I did, and I wanted it as much as he. I'm so guilty that because of me he was killed, and either my father or one of my brothers has that sin on his conscience.'

'You're guessing. There's no proof.'

'They swore they'd kill him.'

'Who did? Your father?'

'Not exactly. But Pedro said he would, and my mother agreed.' she broke down again, sobbing, and Dodie led her to a bench and held her tightly until she'd regained control.

'You can't know anything for certain.'

Isabella nodded swiftly. 'It was this morning, at breakfast. Pedro had been looking for him for days before the party, and he implied he'd had a fight with him. Today he was gloating, preening himself as though he'd done something clever, like he used to be when he won prizes at school. He and Luis kept looking at one another, as if they had a secret – and oh, Mrs Fanshaw, I'm so afraid!'

***

### Chapter 9

Libby had gone out with her father and the others were sitting in the big drawing room enjoying the pale Sercial, the driest of the Madeira wines, when Jylli arrived. She accepted a glass from Bill and sank wearily into a deep armchair.

'I'm out of condition,' she announced. 'First I spend all day yesterday walking round Funchal to find suitable backgrounds for Libby to have her photo taken, and all today scuba diving with Pedro.'

'Wasn't it cold?' Bill asked.

'Yes, freezing! But I do have a little information as a reward. Not much, I'm afraid, and maybe you already know it.' She took another sip at the wine, then sat up, taking her notebook out of a large bag. 'I couldn't use a tape again, it was too complicated, so I made notes the minute I got away.'

'Good girl.'

'Pedro was still very angry about Jake. He said he'd got what he deserved, but he didn't seem at all guilty or afraid,' Jylli went on quietly. 'I not sure he meant it, though, he was just talking to be tough in front of me.'

That hadn't been Dodie's impression, from what she'd heard, but she hadn't met Pedro apart from on the boat. 'Do you think he and Jake had a fight earlier?'

Jylli sighed. 'Hard to tell. He wanted me to think it was possible, but he wouldn't confirm it. He may just have been talking tough.'

Jylli was right about the rest of her information which they already had, but it was useful to have it confirmed.

'What about Libby?' Dodie asked after a pause during which Bill refilled their glasses.

Jylli glanced apologetically at Valerie, then shrugged. 'That was far more informative. She really opened up, though she still didn't tell me many names. There was so much. Where shall I start?'

'The visit to the Casino?' Dodie suggested. 'It's all right, I've told Bill and Valerie, and sworn them to secrecy for the moment. Libby won't know you've told us.'

'Right. Jake got her in on a false passport, she hadn't a clue where it came from. Then he wanted her to go back to the house with him, and she got frightened, and began to struggle. This was outside, afterwards. That was when she clammed up, but I gather there was a fight. Somebody else intervened, but she wouldn't say who. I'm sure she knew him, though. Then she got away and went home.'

'I suppose that could have been anyone she's met here, and no one has mentioned it,' Bill said.

'Someone who either wanted to protect Libby, or who doesn't want it to be known he's had a fight with Jake. That could have been Pedro. Or it could have been a complete stranger. That opens it up.' She thought for a moment. 'There must be a doorman at the Casino?'

'Yes, there will be.'

'I went and asked him, last night, but he said he didn't know, and anyway might not have been on duty, and I didn't know exactly which day it was,' Jylly said with regret.

'So that gives us another unknown,' Dodie fretted. 'What else? The ransom?'

'She won't say any more about that, just that it was a crazy scheme to force her father to give her the money for drama school. And she knew something about Emma,' Jylli said quietly. 'She saw Emma coming out of an hotel. Libby said she looked furtive.'

'That could have been Libby's imagination. There are all sorts of innocent reasons why Emma might have been at an hotel,' Bill said.

'Emma could have been meeting Jake there, I suppose,' Valerie said doubtfully.

'She said it was a sleazy place, not the kind of hotel she'd have expected Emma to be seen dead in.'

Dodie heaved a great sigh. 'Ye Gods! It gets more complicated every day!'

'Does it get us any further?' Bill asked when Jylli had gone. 'Who's the main suspect?'

Dodie groaned. 'Almost everyone,' she said despondently. 'I can't narrow it down, because practically everyone had the opportunity, and it looks as though practically everyone had good reason to hate the man.'

'Poor Dodie,' Valerie sympathized.

'Let's make a list of all the people we know Jake had met.'

Bill fetched a pad and Dodie scribbled for a moment.

'It gets worse,' she sighed after a while. 'There's both of you, for a start.' Dodie laughed. 'Oh, I'm not serious, but he did try and blackmail Bill, and either of you might have been so angry, or afraid, that you took the opportunity so neatly presented.'

'We didn't, though.'

'I know.'

'Who next?'

'Bruce?' Valerie asked tentatively. 'If he thought it was Jake who mugged him?'

'It's possible, but I just don't know. He or Emma.'

'What about Theo?'

'The Macleans and Caritas have the best motives, and while I can see any of the other men killing Jake, even Maria in a fit of temper, I don't believe Theo would have.'

'Could the boys have tipped him over for a prank?' Valerie asked hesitantly. 'They might have thought it would serve him right to get a ducking, without intending any harm.'

'We keep calling them boys, but they're grown men in their late twenties. There was quite a gap before Isabella was born,' Bill pointed out. 'And he hit his head on the boat? It's possible.'

'I suppose that could have been anyone's motive, rather than murder,' Bill agreed.

'And now, they're afraid to admit it,' Valerie said eagerly. 'You know, I can believe that more easily than I can see anyone deliberately killing him.'

'Gloria had a pretty powerful motive,' Bill suggested.

'But I don't think she'd be strong enough to tip him over the side. He was a big man, and she's not very tall, as well as being old and skinny. I think if she'd managed it she'd have been showing her aches and pains for weeks afterwards.'

'She didn't go out much for several days,' Bill said.

'Too ashamed to think everyone knew what games she'd been up to. As if we hadn't guessed long before she took up with Jake,' Valerie almost snorted.

'He could have woken up and wandered off the boat, though I don't think it likely if he was as sloshed as everyone says. Of course, it might have been the punch that sent him to sleep, and he soon recovered from that. It might even have sobered him. Then I'd be prepared to believe Gloria just shoved him off a convenient gangplank.'

'Alex could have tried to finish off what had been started. Jake had insulted Libby.'

'And Libby had been playing hooky with Jake.'

'You're not suggesting she might have done it?' Valerie asked, horrified.

'If they quarrelled, it gives her a motive, and she's much stronger than Gloria. I'm sure it would have been no more than the intention of ducking him, and she'd be afraid to confess, but she isn't acting as though she has anything on her conscience.'

'And there's always Isabella,' Dodie said heavily.

*

'I can't get any closer,' Howard said the following morning. In response to a telephone call he had come to see Dodie, who was resting on a lounger on Valerie's patio.

'I'm grateful for what you are doing,' she reassured him.

He smiled wanly, and took off his glasses. He was quite good looking in a quiet way, Dodie thought with surprise.

'Look, I've drawn diagrams of every time I can remember, of where people were on the boat. But it doesn't narrow it down. Jake was asleep before the fireworks started, and no one had left before then. People felt uncomfortable, and went soon after they ended, earlier than they might have. I think some of them, especially the older ones, were afraid he'd wake up and begin to make a fuss again.'

'Do you mind if we go through it again, as much as you remember, what he did and said? I can't help thinking something new will come out every time I go over it.'

'But you were there. You saw.'

'I didn't see everything. We've tried to reconstruct it, but I hoped you could help me again. I'm determined to get to the bottom of it.'

'OK. I didn't see all of this, but it's the best I can do from what I've been told. Jake pushed his way onto the boat. He was looking for someone, but he didn't say who. He saw Gloria Neville, and – '

'Yes, I saw that. She'd thrown him out earlier that evening, accusing him of stealing her jewels.'

'Which he had, probably between leaving the house and coming down to the boat. Did anyone see when he left Bill's, by the way?'

'I never thought to ask that,' Dodie said. 'I've been concentrating on the boat. Does it matter?'

'Probably not, unless he got into some other sort of trouble between Bill's and Gloria's.'

'And at the rate he was making enemies while he was here, that wouldn't surprise me one little bit!' Dodie said bitterly. 'It's like those wicker sleds they have, coming down from Monte on the cobbles, going faster and faster. Jake was heading for disaster.'

'Yes, well, Theo went up to him, with Maria, and they had a bit of a tussle. Jake fell back onto the bench and it was then he called Isabella frigid – I'm sorry, Dodie.'

'Don't worry, I know worse of my dear son. And that was when Theo tried to hit him, isn't it?'

'Wait a minute. Theo pushed him back onto the bench first. I think that was when he moved further away from the gangplank. Bruce grabbed Theo. Then Emma came up and they took him, Theo, away. That was when Alex came on the scene, and I didn't hear what was said, but it was something about Libby and the casting couch.'

'The blasted man was obsessed with sex! If it wasn't his own damned women it was my affairs. Do you think not having a father could have turned him into such a monster, Howard?'

Howard patted her hand awkwardly. 'Of course not. Dodie, I haven't a clue who his father was, and I don't care, but you were only sixteen. It's clear either he couldn't or wouldn't marry you, or, knowing you, you didn't want him to. You did what was best for Jake, letting your mother bring him up. She's not a bad old stick.'

Dodie's eyes were moist. 'I know. Her bark's terrible, but she wouldn't turn away a stray dog. Oh, hell, I'm mixing metaphors.'

'And your father was alive. He didn't die until Jake was twenty, did he? And he was one of the old school.'

Dodie giggled suddenly. 'He loathed my being on the wicked stage, and couldn't hide his satisfaction that his predictions had come true, I'd become a fallen woman. It was odds on he'd tell me never to darken his door again, but Ma persuaded him Christian charity was a virtue, and told him I'd have to turn to prostitution if he threw me out. Perhaps Jake thinks I did, even though I married the rest of them,' she added, suddenly serious.

'Dodie, don't! We're all in control of our own actions. I don't believe in this psychological stuff about infant traumas turning us into moral or other sorts of wrecks.'

'You're as nice as Bill, Howard, and you'd better look out. I swore I'd never marry again, but if you keep protecting me against myself I might reconsider.'

'But you could never live on a boat.'

'True. Well, back at least to the party on the boat. What came next?'

'Alex punched him and he fell back on the seat. He seemed to go to sleep, and everyone steered clear. After the fireworks, when we looked for him he wasn't there.'

'He was rude about Libby. Alex would have resented that.'

'And Jake had just won a TV part from under Alex's nose. I've just realized, we don't know what sort of rows he had up at the house. It would be just like him to be crowing about that. It would have been natural, wouldn't it?'

'Giving Alex another reason for punching him.' Dodie sighed. She wasn't getting very far. It was what she'd discovered before, there was nothing new. She'd have to see the people concerned again, but she doubted whether they'd be able to help any more.

*

'Valerie, where's Libby?' Dodie asked after dinner.

'Emma took her out for dinner, but she promised to bring her back early. Why?'

'I've been meaning to see her and force her to tell me the truth.'

'Will she tell us anything, do you think?'

'We don't know who it was helped her escape from Jake outside the Casino, nor do we know enough about this mysterious ransom. I don't believe she concocted such a plan on her own.'

'Do you think she'd tell you more if we weren't here?' Bill asked abruptly.

Dodie grinned at him. 'Of course she would. Do you mind?'

'We'll find some excuse and disappear as soon as she comes home.'

Since Libby was later than they'd expected this wasn't difficult, they merely told her to keep Dodie company, for they wanted an early night.

Libby looked startled, but answered Dodie's questions about her evening happily enough. When she began to show signs of wanting to get away Dodie changed tack.

'Not yet, child, we need to talk.'

'I'm tired, I mustn't be late to bed,' Libby began to protest.

'Then the sooner you tell me what I want to know, the sooner you'll get there. Who was it rowed with Jake outside the Casino?'

Libby maintained a stubborn silence.

'Come on, child, either you tell me here, or I'll ask your father to persuade you to tell the truth.'

Libby gave her a furious look, but after a moment shrugged. 'I don't know who it was. It was a stranger.'

'Come off it! That I don't believe.'

'But if everyone knows it could make the police think that was the man Jake had it in for at the party. When he came pushing onto the boat!'

'Then he was no stranger, if he was on Howard's boat. It's someone you care about and want to protect, isn't it?'

She sighed. 'I would want to protect anyone from Jake in that mood.'

'I know that adolescents believe only their own concerns are important,' Dodie said reflectively, 'but Jake had offended practically everyone he'd met here. Why should he have been looking for your father in particular?'

'How did you know?' Libby gasped, and then bit her lip. 'That wasn't fair! You tricked me!'

'You'll have to learn to avoid such tricks if you want to grow up,' Dodie said unsympathetically. 'It was your father then, who rescued you outside the Casino?'

'Yes. But no one else knows.'

'How did he know you were there?'

'He didn't, it was pure chance. He was on his way in. You won't tell anyone, will you?'

'I won't tell if you tell me about this ransom.'

'How did you know about that? Did that Jylli person tell you?'

'Never mind how I know. You were trying to extort money, and that's a criminal offence.'

'It wasn't my idea,' she said sulkily. 'Anyway, it was from Dad, and Gramps, and was for me, not Jake!'

'I'd take lessons in conspiracy before you try anything else,' Dodie suggested. 'So it was Jake's idea, was it?'

Libby, thoroughly demoralized, submitted and told Dodie of the plan she and Jake had concocted. 'He was doing it to help me, because he knew how much I want to go to drama school,' she insisted. 'He wasn't going to have any of the money, and as it was from my family, I thought it was fair.'

'You have a strange idea of fairness,' Dodie murmured. 'And I'd sooner believe wasps didn't have stings than trust my son with anyone else's money.'

'Well, after he stole Mrs Neville's jewels perhaps you're right,' Libby conceded. 'You know, it was while I was hiding in his studio – oh, it's all right, he was in the house then, Gloria was away – '

'Surveying her jewels and other portable valuables, no doubt. Sorry, Libby, go on.'

'I stayed in his studio, and one day Isabella came. I overheard them in the garden, and he was horrid to her! That's when I heard her say she was pregnant, and I decided he wasn't a nice person, so I got out and went home.'

'Does anyone else know about the ransom, or who was behind it?'

'No. I swear not.'

*

It was too late to see Alex that night. She trusted that Libby would be her normal self and stay late in bed in the morning before she could reveal what Dodie knew.

With Alex, Dodie found the first person she was unable to persuade, bully, or trick into revelations. He stonewalled all her questions, with perfect politeness but a slight sneer on his face which, she told Valerie afterwards, came close to making her lose her temper.

'He denied everything, even things other people had told me!' she raged to Valerie. 'Everything apart from slugging Jake on the boat, and he looked pleased to admit that.'

'He didn't even confirm Libby's account about the Casino episode?'

'No, claimed he knew nothing about it, and when I said Libby had told me he had the confounded cheek to say I must have bullied her into saying whatever she thought I'd believe.'

Bill chuckled. 'He clearly knows your third degree methods.'

Dodie, never for long in a bad mood, laughed.

'So what have we now?' Valerie asked. 'Are there any more suspects?'

Dodie groaned. 'They're sprouting like dandelions.' She began to count on her fingers. 'Isabella, Theo, Maria, the brothers, all with the same motive, Isabella's baby. That's five to start with! I'll count you two and Howard to make the number as large as possible. Then there's Gloria, who's my favourite apart from her size. Then Alex, for a mixture of reasons, jealousy, and the way he treated Libby, and he could have known about the ransom. Libby might not have been telling the truth about that. And Libby herself, for revenge, though she's young and slight, so I don't think it's likely. There, that's almost a dozen, and I've more than run out of fingers. But I'm not supple enough these days to begin on my toes.'

'Have a double gin,' Bill recommended.

'Darling man. You always knew what a girl needed. I'll knock you off my list.' Dodie took a long drink of her gin and tonic. 'Lovely!'

'Is it everyone?'

'Everyone else who was on the boat, including Bruce and Emma, David Holmes, and any of Libby's new friends she might have confided in. I can't think of anyone else unless there's someone we don't know about. It's quite likely Jake made several more enemies while he was here.'

'Let's forget it. I was going to suggest we went out for dinner tonight. Would you like that?' Valerie suggested.

'I'm past sorting out anything except food. I make all kinds of good intentions about skipping meals to lose weight, but when I do it just makes me hungrier in the end, and I eat more than I would have done!' Dodie complained.

*

Dodie decided she wasn't going to discover anything else about what had happened on the boat. Indeed, she had found very little more than she had observed herself. And she had found up to a dozen suspects – or if she were to be realistic, for she could not include her hosts, or Howard or even Libby – half that number. The Macleans had a motive, probably the most powerful one. But so did Gloria, though she'd almost certainly have had to push him off the quay, and she could find no one who'd seen Jake leave the boat. Bill, Howard and Valerie had, between them, by now questioned all the other guests and acquired no extra snippet of information. Jylli and Tod had managed to see many of the younger people. That left Alex, and Dodie didn't want to think he was her son's murderer, despite his curt refusal to admit to things she already knew. Call it instinct, but she was sure she hadn't yet suspected the right person. Perhaps it all stemmed from something else, some feud which had nothing to do with the circle of people she knew about. It could have been one of the other guests, who was lying, but there had been so many of them she'd never be able to sort out what was what. It might be a job for Howard's computer, but her heart sank at the idea of pestering all these people and digging into their petty little secrets. She'd try once more, asking about Jake's connections before the party, perhaps before she arrived in Madeira.

She was on the verge of setting out to call on Gloria when Jylli arrived. 'Is there anything else I can do, Mrs Fanshaw?' the girl asked.

'Are you bored? Want to go home?'

'No, of course not. But we don't seem to be getting anywhere, do we?'

'Go and talk to David Holmes again. He's the only one I don't know very well. I'll try to talk to Isabella myself. Have you received the press cuttings yet?'

'The agency promised to send them out on today's plane. Tod's going to pick them up. I'll bring them up tonight, if you like.'

Dodie nodded. 'Thanks.'

Jylli departed and Dodie watched her youthful step, admiring her undiminished enthusiasm. She supposed she'd have to take an interest. She didn't care what the world's press said. The only reason for enlisting their interest had been to push the local police into taking more trouble over their own investigation, but like hers it seemed to have ground to a halt. She'd had no contact with the police for several days. They were trusting, no doubt, that she'd get tired and go home, and then they could declare it an accident. They'd be thankful to see the back of her.

She straightened her back. She'd be damned if she'd give in. With a more determined step she went along to Gloria Neville's house and rapped firmly on the door.

An elderly maid admitted her.

'Senora Neville is resting, but I will ask if she will see you,' she said in heavily accented English when Dodie explained that it was urgent for her to see Gloria.

Gloria was sitting in an enormous sofa, her feet up, almost lost amidst the deep cushions. A half-empty bottle of Malmsey, uncorked, stood on the table beside her. If she'd drunk all that, the heaviest of the local wines, she'd be squiffy, Dodie thought in dismay. Gloria, however, was still alert enough to recognize her visitor although her speech was slow and her enunciation ultra-precise.

'Dodie, dear. Have you come to commiserate with a poor foolish old woman?' she asked, and waved the bottle. 'Take some comfort?' she added, and just in time Dodie realized she was being offered a drink.

'Thank you, I will,' she said. 'Let me pour.'

Gloria surrendered the bottle, Dodie found another glass on a well-stocked bar in the corner, and poured herself a small amount. It wasn't ten in the morning yet, and here she was swigging a heavy, fruity wine which was more like an after-dinner drink than a morning aperitif, with her son's mistress. She bit her lip. She mustn't let herself think of them in bed together. She really mustn't.

'I came to ask you if you knew of any people Jake knew while he lived here,' she asked hurriedly.

Gloria was too deeply sunk in her woes to care about tact or subtlety. 'Women?' she asked. 'Dodie, I'm a crazy old fool! I ought to have learned after that slimy Alfredo ran away with my credit cards, and ran up a couple of thousand pounds before I knew it. Why don't I learn?'

'Jake could be charming when he wanted to,' Dodie said sympathetically. Suddenly she saw Gloria, not as a figure of fun, someone to mock and sneer at for her desperate attempts to pretend she was still young, but a sad, lonely old woman, who thought she could buy attention if she failed to acquire love.

'There were other women,' Gloria said suddenly. 'Even while I was here. I saw him, when he was supposed to be doing an errand for me one evening, talking to a blonde. She was at the party.'

A blonde? Could that have been Emma? Suddenly all Dodie's senses were alert. Maybe, just maybe, this was a link. 'Where did you see them?' she asked.

'Behind the house. I went to his cottage, you know the one in my garden. I knew he ought to have been back, but there wasn't a light on, and I went out into the lane. He was further along.' She paused. 'But he wasn't, for just at that minute he came up behind me and put his arms round me.'

Dodie let out her breath in a whoosh. She'd really thought this was important. But if Gloria had been mistaken about Jake the blonde couldn't have been Emma.

She tried to jog Gloria's memory, but to no avail. Vague mentions of other women were, she decided, no more than pitiful ramblings. One or two of the names Dodie thought belonged to women Jake had known in other parts of the world. No men were mentioned, apart from Alex Ross. Gloria didn't think she'd ever heard Jake talk about any other men, but he'd been full of his triumph over Alex at the audition. Rather to Dodie's surprise Gloria seemed to have no knowledge of Isabella. Perhaps the girl had been cautious for her own sake, and Jake would have had the sense not to have boasted of that conquest, for fear of Gloria's revenge, even if he'd told her of previous amours.

Refusing another glass of Malmsey she left. That visit had got her precisely nowhere.

*

By now Jylli knew the likely places to find Libby. When she tried to talk to David, and discovered he was spending the day going round the island visiting vineyards to see the pruning process, she went to the cafés near the Cathedral where tourists sat outside, and where Libby had told her she had met a few other young people. She smiled in satisfaction when she saw Libby, rather disconsolate, alone at one of the tables.

Libby seemed glad of company. Jylli didn't want to scare her away, so she chatted about the theatre, and later suggested they wandered down to the Marina, to have lunch at one of the many small restaurants in the area. Libby wanted to visit the tourist shop on the way.

'Are you buying souvenirs?' Jylli asked.

'No, but I want to see the embroidery. Dad took me out the other day, he hired a car and we drove to the other side of the island to see the houses in Santana. They're thatched, so small. Like doll's houses. But we began to talk to an old lady sitting outside one of them and she was doing some embroidery. She said girls here often spend a year or more embroidering their wedding dresses.'

'Doesn't Isabella's grandmother live there?' Jylli asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral. She'd make a respectable actress herself, she thought with an inward thrill. She supposed detectives, and investigative journalists, had to have some acting talent.

Libby nodded, but didn't speak again until they'd been through the shop, and were going down the steps to the harbour. 'How on earth could Isabella have loved Jake?' she demanded.

'I found him very attractive,' Jylli said. 'Until I knew the awful things he did, of course. Will this place do? I had a wonderful fried tunny the other day.'

'Well, he was good looking, and he had a nice smile, I suppose,' Libby said judiciously. 'He was much too old for me, though. And Isabella's only two years older than me. Wasn't he too old for you?'

'I'm not that ancient,' Jylli laughed. 'But I agree it's odd she would throw over a young Madeiran for him. Her brother said she seemed quite content with her engagement before Jake appeared. Love's an odd thing.'

Libby frowned. 'I don't think it was love. I think it was his glamour. And surely a girl brought up by nuns, who'd never left the island, would be bowled over by meeting a celebrity? She wouldn't know he was only a very unimportant actor, really, when she'd seen him on tele even here.'

'True. It must have been exciting. Perhaps she's tired of celebrities by now.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, the island is rather full of them, and all somehow involved with Jake. There's his mother, your father, and Bruce Jellicoe. Though he's a writer, not an actor.'

'I used to think Emma was great, when she was married to my father. But she and Bruce must be very much in love, even if they don't seem to be always.'

'Why do you say that? Surely all couples have rows occasionally?'

Libby looked ferociously at the fish which had just been placed before her. She waited until the waiter was out of earshot, and then leaned across to hiss into Jylli's ear.

'I went up there one day. Quite early one morning. She'd told me where they were staying, and it was quite easy to find. Never mind why, I just wanted to see Emma. I caught a bus. They have a patio, outside the kitchen window, and I thought I heard voices so I went round that way. It was like one of those bodice rippers.'

'What? You mean – those books where the heroine's always getting her clothes ripped off her?'

'That's exactly it! I was so embarrassed, but surely it means they have to be madly in love, unable to wait, doesn't it?'

'I can't wait to hear,' Jylli said truthfully. 'Come on, Libby, you can't say that much and leave me in suspense,' she added after a minute of silence.

Libby filled her mouth again and chewed slowly. Jylli told herself to be patient, not to blow it. Her restraint was rewarded when Libby put down her fork and leant across again. 'He was using a big carving knife,' she said.

'What?' Jylli yelped.

'He was cutting her clothes from her. Then he put down the knife and they – she – began to unzip his trousers. He had on a suit, and there was an airline bag and some duty free bags on the floor. It was the day he came back from New York, I think. He must have just arrived, and they couldn't wait to get into bed.'

Jylli was staring at her in consternation. Libby had a dreamy smile on her lips. 'What did you do?' she asked, but Libby didn't hear.

'It's like those soldiers in history, coming home from battle, and not even being able to wait until they took their boots off. I read about it somewhere, that they "pleasured their ladies" before doing anything else. I wonder if they used their swords to tear off the chastity belts?' she giggled.

'What did you do?' Jylli asked again, in a stronger voice.

Libby grinned. 'Actually I was so embarrassed I ran away. There were clothes all over the floor. In the kitchen! I just saw him carry her out. Do you think every husband feels like that when he's been separated from his wife?'

'A bit expensive in clothes,' Jylli chuckled.

'I was a lot younger then, of course, but I can't remember my father doing that to her,' Libby said thoughtfully. 'And he was often away. I think that was why she got fed up with him.'

***

### Chapter 10

Dodie returned home to find Jylli had left her a sealed envelope. Inside was a message that she had to see her at once, it might be important, but she didn't want to risk Libby seeing her at the house. Dodie telephoned Jylli and suggested they met for tea at Reids. 'That's the last place Libby would want to go, she thinks it's stuffy,' she said, wondering what on earth Jylli could have discovered.

Wearily she ordered another taxi, and set off again. When she reached the hotel she went through the lounge and out onto a narrow terrace overlooking the bay. Jylli was already there, looking both apprehensive and fascinated. She jumped up in relief to greet Dodie. 'I thought I'd made a mistake. Isn't this just fab?' she demanded. 'It's got such a wonderful view, and the gardens, all down this cliff, are fantastic. The hotel seems to be built into the side of the cliff, there's acres of it stretching down from here.'

'Sit down. You're nervous,' Dodie said. 'Is it the surroundings, or what you've discovered?'

'Both, I think. And this menu, look. I've never even heard of some of these.'

Dodie grinned. There was a whole page of different teas.

'Never mind.' She turned to order from the head waiter, then dropped a lacy stole over her feet and eased off her shoes. 'Whew, that's better. I've been on my feet so much the past week.'

'David was out for the day, but I saw Libby. We had coffee, and then lunch together.'

'And? Come on, lass, you're full of it. Don't keep me in suspense.'

Jylli took a deep breath and then had to pause as the waiter handed round a dainty plate of sandwiches. She took one and crammed it into her mouth. When she could speak again she looked round nervously before bending close to Dodie.

'Libby saw Bruce and Emma making love.'

Dodie, after a startled look, let out a loud laugh, and the waiter, who had approached with more sandwiches, looked disapprovingly at her, then smiled ingratiatingly.

'They are married,' Dodie said, smiling.

'No, it wasn't like that. I don't think Libby knew any better, she's been reading these bodice-rippers. She thought it was romantic passion. But I'd bet it wasn't,' Jylli added darkly.

'Go on.'

'She'd gone to visit, and happened to look through the kitchen window. Do you know the house?'

'Yes. The kitchen overlooks a patio.'

'What Libby thought she saw was Bruce cutting off Emma's clothes with a carving knife, but – '

'What?' Dodie was staring at her in amazement.

'People don't do that in real life, do they, Mrs Fanshaw?' Jylli asked.

'None of my husbands did, at any rate. Damned expensive in clothes.'

'That was what I said,' Jylli nodded. 'I tried to get as many details as I could, but she thought I was just being – you know. Apparently he put the knife down and she started undressing him. He carried her out of the room. I suspect they'd been arguing, Libby said she heard voices, but she wouldn't say if they'd been shouting. She just clammed up on me, and I thought I'd better let you know straight away.'

Dodie considered this information, and absentmindedly took several cakes from the plate the waiter held before her. 'I'll have to ask Libby,' she decided. 'I'm sorry, Jylli, but she'll have to know you told me.'

'I don't mind. She knows I'm helping you, anyway.'

'She won't tell you any more, but I'll threaten her with recommending a dreadful school to her father if she holds out on me. Now, more of this tea? I can't go yet, it'll take ages before I can get my shoes back on.'

Dodie didn't have to employ strong arm tactics with Libby. After a brief spurt of defiance, Libby crumbled.

'I can't stand it any more,' she said, swallowing a sob. 'I used to like Emma, but she's two-faced. It seemed as though she was crazy about Bruce, and yet – '

'Yet what?'

Libby pondered. 'When Dad knocked Jake down, outside the Casino, he was threatening all sorts of things, sending me to some prison, at the least, and I told him that if he did I'd tell about him and Emma.'

Dodie was puzzled. 'What about him and Emma?'

'I think they were having an affair. I saw them both at some potty little hotel, where neither of them would be seen dead normally, and that had to be the reason, didn't it?'

'Not necessarily,' Dodie said slowly. 'There could have been all sorts of reasons.'

'I can't think of any. But can you have an affair with a divorced husband? I wondered – '

'You wondered what?'

'Well, why they ever got divorced if they were still in love. But then I saw Bruce and Emma, and she can't be in love with both of them, can she? I don't understand.'

'Life can be very complicated,' Dodie agreed, deciding this was not the best time for a philosophical discussion.

'If Mom and Dad can't get back together, and as she's married again I don't suppose it's likely, I wish Emma would come back. I liked her. And I thought if Dad does too – but she must love Bruce.'

'Libby, I don't see how it can be connected with Jake, but was Emma jealous of your father when they were married?'

Libby looked puzzled. 'They had rows. I didn't hear much, but once or twice I think I heard a woman's name mentioned. Oh, I've remembered something. I'd completely forgotten until now.'

'It can happen. But what is it?'

'Just a few words. When I was at Emma's I heard voices, that's why I thought they might be out on the patio and went round that way. All I could distinguish didn't make sense at the time, but perhaps it does now. I heard Emma, she was talking loudly, she might have been angry. She said something about Tanya's bed. It would make sense if she was accusing Bruce of having it off with someone else. But in that case, why would he want to take her to bed himself?'

Dodie was recalling Emma's red-rimmed eyes that day, and her concentration on something in the distance. A suspicion Bruce was meeting someone else could account for that. And like Jylli, she discounted the bodice-ripping theory. Libby was speaking again, in such a low voice Dodie had to ask her to repeat herself.

'I sneaked back,' she admitted, shamefaced. 'I didn't tell Jylli. But all their clothes, his as well as hers, were scattered all over the kitchen floor, and I could see a trail of them along the passage. I got out fast, and hoped they weren't watching out of the windows. But I don't think they could have been, could they?'

Dodie solemnly agreed that they would probably have been too preoccupied with other things to stand gazing out of the window, but as soon as Libby vanished so did her desire to laugh. Had the child imagined the knife? Or was something going on that could be connected with Jake's murder?

Try as she would, however, she could find no explanation. All she came up with were further questions.

*

On the following morning Bill was playing in a golf tournament, and left the house early. Dodie called on Howard and ask whether Jake had tried to blackmail him, and they were sitting on the deck of his boat when the telephone rang. Howard listened grimly, then turned to Dodie.

'That was Valerie. She needs us at Maria's hotel.'

'What's happened?' Dodie demanded, immediately apprehensive.

They were hurrying from the boat. 'Isabella seems to have flipped again, and you're about the only person who can get through to her. The police questioned Pedro and Luis and then released them, but an hour ago they arrested Theo.'

'Theo! But he'd never have murdered Jake. He's far too gentle. I don't believe it.'

'The police know Isabella's pregnant, so Theo has the best motive of all, better than her brothers. The boys must have let it slip.'

'Come on. We might find a taxi.'

They were fortunate, but there was a great deal of traffic, one of the islands jammed solid by an accident, and it seemed hours before they reached the Macleans' hotel. Valerie was waiting anxiously on the forecourt and ushered them swiftly inside.

'Thank goodness you've come. I can't get hold of Bill, he's out on the course, and it's a long way to Santo da Serra! Even when he gets my message he can't be back for ages. Maria says she doesn't want her family.'

'Steady on, Valerie, this isn't like you to be in a flap. Where's Maria? And how's Isabella?'

'The child calmed down, she's resting in her room, but now Maria's in a dreadful state, alternately blaming Theo – I can't make out half the time what for, but it's not connected to Jake from what I do understand – and her brothers. She's in the office, drinking as fast as she can pour wine into the glass. Pedro's trying to calm her down but she's taking absolutely no notice of him.'

'When did the police take Theo away?' Dodie asked as Valerie turned to go into the office.

'Just after I got here, an hour ago. As soon as I could sort out what had happened I called Howard.'

Maria was slumped in the desk chair, her eyes closed, the glass she'd been using lying on the carpet beneath her hand.

'I do believe she's asleep,' Valerie said in surprise, and at that second Maria snored and confirmed it.

'That will save us some trouble,' Howard said with satisfaction. 'We can put her to bed while she sleeps it off. Pedro, give me a hand carrying her?'

'Of course, if Mrs Fanshaw would open the door.'

Dodie turned to do so. She was just in time to see Isabella, wearing a distinctive blue and white head scarf, creeping out of the front door.

'Isabella! Come back! Where are you going?' she demanded, and walked rapidly after the girl.

Isabella cast a hunted look over her shoulder and began to run. She sped out into the street, Dodie puffing in pursuit, and sprinted along until she reached a taxi waiting on the corner. As the taxi pulled away Dodie turned back into the hotel.

'Howard, come quickly, Isabella's driven off!' she gasped.

Howard and Pedro unceremoniously deposited Maria on a settee in the foyer.

'Where?' Howard asked as they ran out into the road, ignoring Pedro's plaintive demands to be told what was going on.

'Taxi. It went up the hill towards the Via Rapida junction.'

She was hailing another taxi as she spoke, and giving rapid instructions as she clambered in, followed by Pedro and Howard. The driver grinned and was in gear before Howard had closed the door, so that it was some moments before they sorted themselves out and could pay attention to where they were.

It was the lunchtime rush hour, and they soon met congested traffic queuing to get onto the fast motorway. Dodie could see several yellow taxis on the road above them. Suddenly she clutched Howard's arm and pointed.

'See the one turning onto the eastbound entrance? I'm sure that's Isabella's scarf I can see through the window. Where on earth can she be going?'

*

'Where can she be going?' Dodie repeated as their own taxi, following Isabella's, turned onto the wide road leading round the outskirts of Funchal. 'The airport?'

'But why?' Pedro asked.

'Does she have a passport? Your father has relatives in England, could she be going to one of them?'

'She has no passport, she has never been to England, does not know those relatives. But we have an uncle, in Lisbon. She could go there. But he is my mothers's brother.'

And therefore unlikely to support Isabella, Dodie thought.

'You want me to catch the young lady?' the driver interrupted, glancing over his shoulder as he drew out into the outside lane when a slow lorry gave him a few inches of space in the crowded road.

'Yes,' Dodie replied sharply, and he grinned, his teeth white against his very dark skin.

Briefly, to distract herself from worry about Isabella, and the way the driver was overtaking buses and hooting at cars which got in his way, she thought of the many racial influences that made up Madeira. The natives ranged from blue-eyed blonds to those dark-skinned enough to have come from Africa. To begin with the island had been colonised by Portuguese and Spanish, with some African and Moorish immigrants, especially slaves to build the levadas, and since the British made it one of their own special places in the eighteenth century the Anglo-Saxon strain had been strong.

Isabella's taxi was going more slowly than theirs, but the traffic was heavier than usual, and then they came to some road works and had to filter into a single lane. Dodie sat fuming as they saw their quarry slip in front of a whole procession of tourist coaches. She recalled seeing one of the large cruise ships in the harbour earlier that morning, and assumed they were doing the usual east of the island tour.

There were at least ten vehicles between them and their quarry, and as the road bent round it was difficult to keep sight of Isabella's taxi. Pedro cursed.

'Can you still see Isabella's taxi?' Dodie asked as Pedro leant out of the window.

He shook his head. They had entered a tunnel, still in a single line as the roadworks continued, and the girl's taxi was out of sight.

After several frustrating minutes the roadworks ended and their taxi pulled out into the fast lane.

'I will catch the other taxi soon,' the driver said. 'I think the coaches will be going to the Jardim Botanico. It's a very well-known Jardim. Or perhaps they go to Camacha, where they grow the willows and make cane furniture and the souvenirs the tourists like to take back home. Everyone goes there when they visit Madeira.'

'Cut the tourist talk,' Pedro muttered, but not loud enough for the driver to hear. If he took offence he would make less effort to catch Isabella.

'I wish I knew where Isabella was going,' Dodie muttered.

'Could she be going to a friend?' Howard asked. 'Pedro, does she have any girl friends living in this direction? It's possible she's gone to them for help, or comfort.'

'Maybe, but the only one I know in this direction lives at the far end of Madeira, near Canical.'

'I hope this chap won't get difficult if he realizes that!' Howard muttered.

'It's so odd of her to go when Theo was being suspected of murder.'

'Rui!' Howard exclaimed. 'I'm sure someone told me his family have a place out this way.'

'No, his family live at the west end of the island, near Porto Moniz,' Pedro said. 'In any case, she would not have the impudence to go to him, after what's happened. No man would help her after being shamed as he has been.'

'How has it been between them? Since he discovered the situation, I mean. Have you any idea?' Howard asked.

'I think he still loves her,' Pedro said slowly. 'I do not understand him, for if a girl betrayed me in such a fashion I would have no more to do with her. How could they marry now, even if he was prepared to forgive her?'

'So she isn't going to see him. It must be the airport,' Howard said.

'But she wouldn't be going away while her father's been arrested. That's what I can't understand,' Dodie said. 'Unless she is going for help, but Maria's brother is not likely to want to help Theo. Wasn't he one of the brothers who forced Theo to come back to Madeira?'

'Yes,' Pedro said, 'but my father is part of the family, and if he is accused of murder it affects the family honour.'

They had left Funchal behind and were out in the country, crossing deep ravines and going through tunnels under the mountains. There were occasional glimpses back towards Funchal and the harbour, where two enormous cruise ships were moored, and on the other side a few small settlements where little farmhouses were scattered amongst the crops. Tiny terraces lined the hillsides where it was less precipitous.

A couple of the tourist coaches had turned off. Occasionally in front of them Dodie could see the taxi which bore Isabella, now in the inside lane, and was thankful to see it was also trapped behind a coach and a couple of lorries, unable to overtake because of the cars on the left. The traffic in the outside lane was not travelling a great deal faster, due to two big lorries ahead. Gradually, however, their own taxi was drawing nearer, and she wondered what would be the right tactics. They could scarcely try to force it to halt. Unlike England, there were no real hard shoulders, and to try and push it over would risk it being sent into the wall of a tunnel or over the barrier and down into one of the ravines.

'Stop it!' she muttered to herself. A vivid imagination and speculating on impossible scenarios had always been one of her failings. They would have to carry on until the other taxi stopped, and then reason with the girl, find out what she was doing, and take her back home.

To her relief there seemed to be no other taxis on the road, apart from a couple behind them, no doubt on their way to the airport, so they should be able to keep Isabella in sight. In fact she was certain she'd caught a glimpse of the blue and white scarf once or twice.

The driver had seen it too. 'When we get past this Garajau turning we will soon catch them,' he said confidently, as one of the coaches in front slowed down to negotiate it.

'The way this chap's driving we'll have caught Isabella up long before she gets to the airport,' Howard said, sitting back with a sigh of relief.

*

Libby opened the door to Bruce.

'Is your father in?' he asked abruptly.

'Sorry, everyone's out but me. Is there – oh blast, there's the phone. Come in a minute.'

He stood just inside the front door, and as Libby picked up the receiver she glanced at him curiously. He was casually but smartly dressed in a lightweight suit. She turned her attention to the telephone.

'Gran? What is it? Where are you?' She listened, looking puzzled. 'No, neither of them have come back. I'll tell them as soon as they do. I don't know where Dad is.'

She listened again, then covered the mouthpiece. 'Gran's at Maria's hotel, and she sounds frantic. She says she needs someone. I don't understand what's going on.'

'I'll speak to her,' he said and she handed him the receiver.

'Valerie? Bruce here. I'd just called here. Is there anything I can do?'

He listened intently. 'I'll come straight down. Be with you soon.'

'What's happening?' Libby demanded.

'Theo's been arrested, apparently, and that idiot girl took the opportunity to dash from the hotel. Howard and Dodie have gone haring after her. Maria's in hysterics, and poor Valerie is trying to cope on her own. She needs support and I seem to be the only one around. Tell your father I called, and I hope I'll be able to talk to him tomorrow.'

For a moment Libby was tempted to suggest she went with him, but the thought of Maria in hysterics was awe-inspiring, and despite her intense curiosity about what had happened she could not face that. She nodded, watched him walk down through the garden, and leave a minute later in his car.

Slowly she walked back inside and flung herself down on her bed. Surely the police could not really suspect Theo? Of course he had an excellent motive, but there was no way she could see him killing anyone. He was always calm and good tempered. She could imagine his sons, though, who had looked like simmering, tamped-down volcanoes at Howard's party, becoming violent.

And now Isabella was behaving strangely. Libby heaved a sigh and reached for her book. It was hopeless trying to study for exams on her own, but even the campaigns of Napoleon were preferable to the odd behaviour going on around her.

*

Valerie greeted Bruce thankfully. It was for men to take control of such situations, and while Bill was still on his way back from the golf course and Howard had inexplicably dashed off after the wretched Isabella, Bruce was more than welcome to see whether he was able to calm Maria down or find someone who could.

'Thank goodness you're here!' she exclaimed, drawing him into Maria's office.

'Tell me what's happened,' he said soothingly. 'We didn't have time on the phone.'

Rapidly she explained all she knew. 'Maria's doctor came and persuaded her to have a sedative, but it seems to be having very little effect, though she did agree to lie down. Luis might know something about what's going on, since he was with the police earlier, but he's been summoned to their grandmother's house in Santana. The old lady's a real tartar and I truly believe only Maria has the guts to stand up to her. She's made at least a dozen phone calls, but first of all Maria slammed it down on her, and since the third call has refused to answer, or speak to her if someone else picks up the phone.'

'What about Theo?'

'It's totally unbelievable, and so I shall have Bill tell the police when he gets here. I think Luis told them about Isabella's pregnancy – you know about that, I assume?'

Bruce nodded. 'Someone told Emma.'

'It comes of not letting girls have a real life of their own and trying to marry them off whether they want to or not. Where was I?'

'Luis told the police. So that makes the police think Theo has a powerful motive?'

'Of course, even though I could tell them that Theo isn't Portuguese and doesn't think like them about the importance of their daughters' chastity.'

'Where has Isabella gone? You said something about Howard following her.'

'That's another thing! He and Dodie were coming to help me here, and what should happen but that girl takes it into her head to sneak out of the hotel. They followed, and Pedro with them, and I ran out and saw them all disappearing in a taxi. You'd have thought one of them would have come back to help me, or let me know where they are. I was at my wit's end. That's when I tried to see if Alex was at home. He might have been able to help.'

Just then there was a timid knock on the door.

'Come in,' Valerie said after a pause.

One of the maids came in, glancing nervously from one to the other.

'I'm sorry, Mrs Thorn, but Senora Maclean is asleep, and I can't wake her.'

'Thank God for that!' Valerie exclaimed. 'She has to try and keep quiet,' she added hastily as the maid looked shocked.

'But I promised to give her these. It is time. Miss Isabella asked me to be sure and give them to her mother at three o'clock, after lunch.'

'Lunch? Who's thinking about food?' Valerie held out her hand and the girl thankfully placed the envelopes in it and began to back out of the room.

'Wait a minute, this one is addressed to her father. Did she know her father was – with the police when she gave it to you?'

The girl nodded. 'She said her mother would know what to do with it.'

'Thank you. You may go. What ought we to do?' she asked as the girl vanished.

'I could take it to the police station,' Bruce said doubtfully. 'Do you think they'd let him have it?'

'Even if they did it might be days before we know, or the police tell us, and she probably says where she's gone.'

'Should we wake Maria? Get her to open it?'

'You wouldn't suggest that if you'd had to cope with her as I have! Let her rest while she can. Bruce, there's only one thing for it, we'll have to open the letter and see whether there's anything here that will help us find the wretched child!'

*

Suddenly Dodie lost sight of Isabella's taxi, and to her horror realized it had turned off onto the road signposting Garajau. The large coach just in front of them, which they were in the process of overtaking, signalled he was going to turn too. Beyond him, on the curving exit road, she saw Isabella's taxi and the bright scarf.

'Quick, she'd gone down there!' she exclaimed, and the driver cast her a reproachful glance. 'I saw the scarf,' she said breathlessly. 'Why is she coming here? Is she perhaps coming to see Emma?'

'We'll have to go on to the next junction,' the driver said. 'It's a famous _miradouro,_ viewpoint, and the _Christo Rei_ statue, the one that is a copy of the statue in Brazil, is there,' the driver pointed out.

'She could be going anywhere! We've lost her!'

'We will soon be back, it's only three kilometres to the next junction, and we can follow to see if she is in Garajau,' the driver said, and put his foot down.

The road was now clearer. Several of the coaches had turned off, and the faster cars had by now spread out after the end of the roadworks. The taxi sped on, through tunnels, but Dodie was not looking at the scenery. She clutched at the seat belt when the taxi swung over to the inside lane, causing a truck driver to lean on the horn. They screeched round into the exit road, and she had barely recovered her balance when they had swung round several bends and were once more on the motorway, going in the opposite direction.

'But she must have seen this place hundreds of times. Could she have arranged to meet someone here?' Howard wondered. 'Or she has a friend here?'

'Perhaps she's asked a friend to meet her here?' Pedro suggested.

'We'll soon find out if she's there,' Dodie said grimly.

She sat impatiently on the edge of the seat as once more they left the motorway, and began to descend a steep, twisting road that soon emerged into the main street. Dodie looked about her in despair. To her left were dozens of high apartment blocks, and on the right a long, sand-coloured series of blocks which Pedro said was the Dom Pedro Hotel.

'We'll never be able to find her if she's visiting or meeting someone here!' Dodie said. 'It can't be Emma, it's the wrong road.'

'Look in the cafés, there are several on the left,' Howard said, and Dodie craned to see past the parked cars.

'If she has any sense she'll be inside, not at one of the pavement tables,' Pedro said, then he grinned. 'All is not lost, there is a taxi ahead, and I caught a glimpse of blue in the window.'

Dodie could see several coaches, and a taxi sandwiched between two of them, but she saw no hint of blue. She prayed Pedro was right.

The coaches halted outside the hotel entrance, and after waiting for a garbage truck to empty several large bins from the other side of the road, Isabella's taxi was able to pass. They squeezed after her, drawing a couple of outraged hoots on car horns from drivers coming the other way.

The main road swung round to the left but Isabella's taxi went straight on, down a steep slope. Dodie saw a sign pointing to _Christo Rei_. So it was here she was going, presumably to meet a friend. They dropped steadily, round several bends, having to wait while a big tourist coach coming the other way blocked one corner. At last they reached a paved parking area. Just three cars were parked, and a taxi was coming towards them. Unless Isabella was crouched down between the seats it was empty. The three of them spilled out, looking anxiously around.

'We'll come back as soon as we can, OK?' Howard said to the driver.

'You go back to Funchal?'

'I don't intend to stay here all night! We'll find the girl, and we may bring her back with us. We won't be long.'

'OK. Take a good look while you're here. It's a beautiful view, you can see Funchal.'

They nodded, and Dodie, who had been looking at the paved, curving pathway leading away from the parking area, grabbed Howard's arm.

'There she is! I saw her scarf. Behind that bank of red spiky flowers.'

'Sword aloes,' Pedro said. 'Come on.'

It wasn't a very steep slope, and as they went on Dodie could see the head of the statue, with arms outstretched, looming above them. She was puffing as they came level with a crescent-shaped area on one side, rough earth steps leading to what was presumably a special viewpoint, protected by wooden rails.

'Can you see Isabella?'

'No, she must have hurried to the top. '

They went on, and found a few people gazing up at the huge statue. But there was no Isabella. Beyond the railings the ground sloped away to another sharp outcrop of land, and below they could see the ground dropping towards the dark, shadowed sea, lightened only by the few flecks of foam visible on the crests of the larger waves, and one brightly painted fishing boat near the shore, a bird-like speck from such an awesome height.

Pedro pointed to a few steps at the side, leading down past the statue and the area around it. 'I don't know where these go, but I'll go and see. Go back, she may have hidden behind all those sword aloe bushes, some of them are big enough.'

Dodie and Howard hurried back, scanning what they could see of the car park, in case Isabella had doubled back. They were catching up with a couple carrying large back packs, just by the other viewpoint, when the woman pointed excitedly. Then she screamed and Dodie went cold with horror.

Isabella, her head sporting a valiant, bright blue and white scarf, was standing on the very edge of a large rock, right on the edge of the cliff, overlooking a sheer drop to the small beach hundreds of feet below.

***

### Chapter 11

Bruce hesitated, then regretfully laid the sealed envelope on the desk in Maria's office.

'It's addressed to the police.'

'Then we certainly can't open that one,' Bill Thorn said decisively. 'I must say I'm a little surprised you opened the one addressed to Theo.'

'If you'd been here instead of on the golf course you could have taken charge!' Valerie snapped.

'The chances are the police would not have allowed him to have it, and we needed to know whether there's anything we can do,' Bruce protested angrily.

Bill ignored him and answered his wife. 'Well, I am here now, and I'm going to take that one to the police.'

He'd arrived just as Bruce and Valerie were reading the letter addressed to Theo. After considerable thought they'd concluded they had to see what it contained.

'Read it, Bill,' Bruce said, after Valerie rapidly explained what had happened.

Bill, with a grimace of distaste, took the single sheet of paper and scanned it swiftly. Written in English, it was short and puzzling.

'Dear Papa, I cannot bear the guilt any longer. Please don't open this letter, just give it to the police. I am going to where I can be happy. I'm sorry to have been a disappointment to you. All my love to Mama and the boys, and tell them to forget me as soon as they can. I love you always, Isabella.'

'Has she gone to England?' Valerie demanded.

'That we may soon discover. Is Maria still asleep?'

'Please God! You don't know what a dreadful day I've had with her. And where are Howard and Dodie? Why haven't they come back, or at least phoned? It's most inconsiderate.'

'They'll turn up soon, no doubt. I'll take both letters to the police, and see what I can do to persuade them to release Theo.'

'But this is a confession,' Bruce said. 'If the police see it they'll arrest Isabella.'

'If she did kill him it exonerates Theo.'

'Theo would do anything to protect her,' Valerie said slowly. 'He'd even take the blame himself.'

Bruce shrugged. 'OK. Take it to the police, and let them sort it out.'

'I intend to. I'll also tell them Isabella has vanished.'

*

Some time later Maria walked into the office. She looked dazed, her eyes cloudy with sleep, her hair unbrushed. She was wearing an old dressing gown over her underwear, and odd shoes, one beige, one white. Bruce, who had been pacing up and down the small room, turned towards the door eagerly as it opened, then his shoulders slumped as he saw who it was.

Valerie was sipping from a cup of tea, but she set it down noisily in the saucer, jumped to her feet and went to guide Maria into a chair.

'Have some tea,' she urged. 'It's freshly made, and there's a spare cup. Bruce won't have any,' she added with a shrug.

'What has happened? Where is my child?' Maria asked, waving away the tea Valerie had poured.

'We don't know,' Bruce replied. 'Is there anyone she could have intended to visit? A friend? A relative?'

'Why should she? She has her family – or some of it! – here, why should she want friends at a time like this?'

'I'd have thought it perfectly obvious, the way you've all been behaving towards the poor lass,' Valerie said curtly.

'Bill took her note to the police,' Bruce said.

'Note? What note? She left a note to say where she had gone?' Maria suddenly looked more her normal alert self. She sat up straighter in the chair and glared round. 'Why wasn't I told? What has it to do with the police? Why didn't you set off after her?' she demanded, glaring at Bruce. 'I am all alone, bereft of friends, my family far away, and there is no one to help me!'

Bruce heaved a disgusted sigh. 'The note was addressed to the police. It was with one she'd written to Theo.'

'Theo? Why not to me, her mother? And why does she write to the police? What has my child to do with the police?'

'She just said she was going away, and apologized for causing you all disappointment,' he said shortly.

'How do you know? Is Theo back? Why hasn't he been to see me, to comfort me?'

'He isn't back. I can't think what's keeping Bill,' Valerie said fretfully.

'Then how do you know what Isabella said to him?'

'We opened the note. We had to,' Valerie said hastily as Maria took a deep breath. 'We thought the police might not let him have it, and she might have said where she'd gone.'

'I want a drink. No, not that!' she declared as Valerie again proffered the tea.

Bruce poured a glass of Malmsey. 'This should send her to sleep again soon,' he muttered to Valerie as Maria gulped it down in one long swallow.

It served to revive Maria. She questioned them closely about the precise wording of the note, and after several minutes of this Bruce seized a sheet of paper and a pen.

'Look, I'll write it down as much as I can recall,' he offered, and began to write. He had just handed the sheet to Maria when the door opened and Theo walked in, followed closely by Bill. He looked desolate, his eyes spiritless, and he walked like an old man. Bruce jumped up hastily to go and take his arm and help him to a chair.

'Theo! What's happened? What is it?'

Theo sank into the chair and leaned his arms onto the desk. He stared round at them, but didn't seem to see anyone. Then he dropped his head onto his arms, and his shoulders shook.

'Isabella's note to the police. She confessed to killing Jake,' Bill said heavily.

*

The wind, which until now Dodie hadn't noticed, suddenly gusted into her face. She felt drops of water, and for one wild moment thought it was spray from the churning waves below. Of course not, she told herself, it was far too high for spray to be carried up to them. It was raining. The wind made a moaning sound in the trees, and slapped against the cliff. Swiftly Dodie estimated the distance to reach Isabella. The gusting sighs of the wind would help to cover any noise she might make.

The man with the backpack went onto the viewpoint and began, in halting Portugese, to talk to Isabella, who glanced down at him and shrugged.

'Are you English?' Dodie demanded urgently.

'Yes, but what's that–'

'She speaks English. Distract her, keep her attention away from me, while I go the other side.' Dodie said and went further down the path, behind where Isabella stood.

As she went she could hear the man, his voice gentle and soothing, asking Isabella questions. She saw Isabella turn her head towards him and took the opportunity to clamber over the low railings at the side of the path. As quietly as she could she moved up the slope towards Isabella, wincing as she stubbed her toes against the small protruding rocks beneath her, then crouched down when she was came close and waited. Dare she try and grab Isabella, or would that send her over the edge?

This wasn't the highest cliff in Madeira, she knew. Cabo Girao was probably twice as high, for that was the second highest cliff in the world, but this one, whatever the height, was far too high for comfort. It was a long time since she'd stood at the top of Niagara. Compared with this it was a shallow drop, cushioned all the way down with hundreds of gallons of water, not sharp, lethal outcrops of granite. Or, and she shivered again, something equally unpleasant. Soft sandstone would hurt as one hurtled down, and break even tough bodies into battered pieces of mincemeat long before they reached the sea.

Stop this, Dodie told herself firmly. It wasn't the time to be asking irrelevant questions or imagining gruesome deaths. She peeped upwards, and saw that Isabella was looking back towards the man talking to her. Dodie rose to her knees an waited for an opportunity.

If she grabbed at her, could Dodie hold on to her until more help came? She was young, lithe, quick and strong. And she was desperate. Her pregnancy, Jake's defection, and then the shock of his murder and her father's arrest must have sent her temporarily insane.

Dodie paused. And then, as she watched, the wind blew Isabella's scarf across her face and Dodie moved.

Isabella swayed and leant back slightly as she tried to scrape the scarf away from her face, and was unbalanced as Dodie grabbed at her skirts.

'Got you!' Dodie gasped, dragging at Isabella's skirt and pulling the girl backwards.

Isabella gave a howl of anguish and began to fight to free herself, but Dodie, summoning up a reserve of strength, yanked as hard as she could, and they both collapsed onto the rough, hard ground behind the rock and rolled helplessly back towards the path. Dodie lost both shoes and braced her feet against some rocky surface and clasped both arms round the girl, who was lying partly on top of her. Dodie managed to fling one leg across Isabella's legs, pinning her to the ground.

They lay there for a moment, both breathless, and then Isabella began to struggle, trying to rise and crying convulsively. Dodie hung on grimly, not daring to look to see whether the onlookers were coming to her aid.

'Let me go!' Isabella wailed.

'Don't struggle, my love,' she gasped. 'I'm a sight heavier than you are, and though I'm going to regret all these gymnastics tomorrow, I'm not letting you go.'

'Let me go!' Isabella pleaded again. 'You've no right to stop me! It's none of your business!'

'What happens to my grandchild is very much my business,' Dodie replied, flinching as Isabella freed one arm and her elbow dug into Dodie's ribs.

Then Dodie heard shouts behind her, and Howard and the man with the back pack came alongside.

'We've got her,' Howard said calmly. 'You can let go, Dodie.'

*

To everyone's relief, after a brief interview the police departed, permitting Isabella to remain at home.

'They accept her letter as the frantic attempt it was to exonerate Theo,' Howard reported to Dodie.

'Do they still suspect Theo?' Dodie asked. She was sitting in one of the hotel guest rooms, swathed in a borrowed dressing gown, rubbing ointment into her bruised and lacerated feet.

'Maria insists he was with her all the time during the party, and she demanded that the boys be questioned again, saying they were all together all the time.'

'Which provides a group alibi, if it's true.'

'It doesn't clear anyone,' Howard agreed. 'Maria sent me to ask if you wanted dinner up here, or to join the family in their private rooms.'

Dodie shuddered slightly. 'I think I've had enough of dramatics,' she said. 'Yet it's kind of her to ask. They must be feeling shattered too, and I ought to try and talk with them. If your mother has come back with some respectable clothes for me, tell Maria I'd be honoured to join them.'

An hour later, wearing clean clothes and some pink fluffy mules Maria provided, since Dodie found it impossible to get any of her own shoes on, she was sitting with Maria and Theo, Bill and Valerie, in a small dining room furnished with heavy mahogany pieces. Bruce had left as soon as Dodie returned, Howard had excused himself, and Maria had sent her sons to the public dining room.

'We are sorry for you, as a mother,' Maria said quietly to Dodie after the maid left the room, having served the main course of salted cod cooked in a casserole with potatoes, onions, and black olives, garnished with hard boiled eggs. 'I admit that we were angry with your son for the way he dishonoured our daughter, but you saved her for us, and we will always be grateful. I do love her, even in her disgrace.'

'I'm angry with Jake as well,' Dodie said quietly. 'But it takes two. And we can never quite thrust away the children we've borne, can we?'

Maria was not listening. 'My brothers, and my sons, they are impetuous. We are a hot-blooded people. They made threats but they would not have killed him, even if they were drunk. I hope you believe me?'

'If it wasn't an accident who do you think killed him?' Dodie asked.

Maria shrugged. 'If I had to choose, either of the Englishmen. One of them was attacking him.'

'Which one?' Dodie asked.

'I don't remember. I only saw them from the back, one was punching your son. These tall dark-haired men all look alike in evening dress.'

'Tell me what happened,' Dodie invited, but that was too much for Maria.

'He came on the boat, insulted everyone who spoke to him, and then, after this man punched him, went to sleep. That was the last any of us saw of him.'

'Do you believe her?' Valerie said after they reached home.

Dodie was flexing and rubbing her feet. 'Not that they were all together all the time,' she said slowly. 'Ouch. I'm getting stiff. People on the boat were moving round and the Macleans were serving food and drinks.'

'Too true,' Valerie sighed. 'I'm even beginning to doubt that account we constructed, about that evening. Now I can't recall the order I did things, or who was there when, or who was still left when we came home.'

'I went down again to see the boat,' Dodie said. 'You'd think with a big open deck, and just a small cabin it would be clear, but there are all sorts of nooks and crannies where people could hide, behind piles of ropes, in the wheelhouse, even in the cabin. Everyone was out on deck. The place where Jake was lying was in shadow, and during all the fuss he'd been pushed quite a way from the gangway. We'd all got our backs to him while we watched the fireworks. I'm sure, after the scenes he'd created, most people would have steered clear of him. It wouldn't have been difficult for someone to creep up on him.'

'And we didn't have to go past there to get off the boat. No one would have noticed when he – when he was gone, so knowing who was left on the boat isn't going to be much help anyway,' Bill pointed out.

Dodie sighed. 'That's the conclusion the police have come to, I suspect. They've already asked all these questions. They can only go on who could have had a motive, and hope someone will confess. Even then, proving it would be difficult. They'll go back to the accident theory if I don't make more progress.'

*

The next day Dodie took a taxi to Maclean's hotel, and asked to see Maria.

'I came to ask how Isabella is,' she said when Maria, welcoming her profusely, had ushered her into the office and sent for wine.

'Your poor feet! How are they?'

'Valerie had to go and buy me some roomy sandals. They are swollen, but they'll recover. So will all my other aches and bruises. But Isabella?'

'She is calmer, now the police have decided that none of our family is guilty of murder. When you saved our foolish daughter from that terrible death, I could not have borne to have you think one of us had killed your son.'

'Of course not,' Dodie said, non-committal. She thought Maria was probably right, but she hadn't convinced herself one hundred percent. 'I get the impression they are now saying it must have been an accident. One of their senior men telephoned me this morning.'

'It was terrible. But better it was an accident than the other, whoever it might have been.'

Dodie shook her head. 'Maria, I'm still not totally certain. I can't believe that anyone in your family, or Libby's, or Gloria Neville, did it. I was wondering whether you knew of anyone else, someone Jake knew, before I came out here, who might have had some quarrel with him?'

Maria was instantly defensive. 'Why should I know?'

'He stayed here for several weeks. I don't want to stir painful memories for Isabella, but is there anyone else who might know? Your sons, perhaps? Is Isabella friendly with any of the other girls who work for you? If they had any suspicion Jake was interested in her they might have noticed other things about him. Or the girls might have done anyway, he was attractive, and they might have seen him on television.'

'You would be asking them to cast suspicion on themselves, or their families, if he treated one of the other girls the same as he did Isabella.'

'I know, I'm clutching at straws. I don't know what else to try.'

Maria suddenly smiled. 'I know, as a mother I understand. Let me ask them. I will let you know if I discover anything.'

Dodie had to be content. She didn't feel able to confront Isabella, and while she doubted whether Maria would persuade any of her maids to confide in her, it was the best she could do.

*

She went back home and soaked her feet, and by evening felt more human. She cheered up enormously when she discovered she could squeeze into her oldest shoes.

'So what have we got that's new?' Bill asked at dinner. 'We haven't re-capped with all the excitement.'

'Gloria saw a blonde talking to a man she thought was Jake but wasn't.'

'Not much help,' Valerie said. 'But typical of Gloria, especially if she's drinking as heavily as you suspect.'

'Maria rang this afternoon to say one of the maids claims Jake made a pass at her when he first went to Maclean's. A pass she very virtuously rejected, of course. Otherwise, she has discovered nothing more about his activities those first few weeks, so that's no help either.'

'Is Jylli going to try and see David again? Though I really think our delightful granddaughter has told everything this time,' Valerie said. 'Bodice-rippers, indeed! At least she doesn't read science fiction books and believe in visitors from outer space.'

'Jylli's taking Tod to the Casino again tonight, and they're going to ask some of the employees there if they remember him, but that's a very long shot. I hope they don't get distracted into losing a fortune. That won't go on their expenses!' Dodie said. 'But this odd thing about Bruce using a knife. I can't get it out of my head.'

'I don't expect it was anything like what Libby imagined.' Valerie said. 'He could have been using it to cut some string, especially if he'd just come home from America, and maybe had a present for Emma. And they haven't been married for very long. There were times,' she added with a grin, 'when I'd have thought it romantic to have my clothes stripped off in the kitchen.'

'But I don't see how it could possibly be connected with Jake.'

They were relaxing with brandies when the phone rang. Bill picked it up and after a short while handed it to Dodie. 'It's for you, from England, I think.'

Dodie suppressed a groan. 'It must be Ma, complaining.' She took the receiver. 'Hello? Dodie Fanshaw here.'

'Is that Dorothy Jackson?' a strange voice demanded.

'Well, that used to be my name a long time ago. I've had several since then. Who is it, please?'

'You won't know me, dearie, but I live next ter yer ma.'

'Is she OK? What's happened?'

'She didn't want me ter phone yer, but I says to 'er, I says, it's me duty, and it's Dorothy's right ter know. She's yer only chick, after all, I told 'er. What?'

'Are you still there?' Dodie demanded as the voice faded, and cast her eyes up to heaven. 'Hello, Mrs whatever your name is, are you there?'

'Just 'avin' a word with yer ma, Dorothy. She's sayin' I'm not ter worry yer, but I says, what are daughters for if they can't be depended on ter look after us when we needs 'em?'

'Who's paying for this call?' Dodie asked briskly. 'If it's on Ma's line, and she expects me to pay for it, tell her I won't, and you can.'

'Ooh, what 'eartlessness!'

'She hasn't been kidnapped, has she?' Dodie asked hopefully. 'If she has, you won't get any ransom money out of me!'

'Oooh, 'ow can yer be so 'eartless? Ere's yer poor ma, tied ter bed, and you, wi' all yer millions, fussin' about a mingy little phone bill!'

'If you don't tell me what's the matter I'll put the phone down on you. If Ma's there, let me speak to her, do you hear?'

Mrs Jackson, after a slight altercation at the other end, won. 'Dorothy? It's Mrs Simkins, she's a right old worry-guts. It's nothing ter make you come back. I shall be quite all right, I suppose, with the district nurse and 'ome helps, if they can find any. Last time I heard the Council had sacked 'em all. Where was I?'

'Trying to make me feel guilty as usual, Ma, and say I'd come home to look after you. Why do you need a nurse or home helps? Has your giddy lifestyle caught up with you at last?'

'It's only a little sprain, I think. The doctor makes too much fuss, putting it in plaster and saying I might have broken several bones in me foot. And telling me to keep off it, as if I would. I've never been one ter be idle and sit on me backside all day, lolling about in the sun like some I could mention.'

She sniffed, and Dodie sighed. 'I'll arrange for a full-time private nurse, and someone to do the housekeeping,' she said wearily. 'No doubt the officious Mrs Simkins will be on hand to look after you tonight, or get you sent back to hospital. If you'd rather be in a private nursing home, just arrange it and send the bills to me.'

'I knew it! You've been wanting ter get me into one o' them 'omes fer years! No, I'll stay 'ere even if I have to crawl round, you'll not put me away while I've any strength left!'

'Ma! Shut up, will you? I'll fly home just as soon as I can get a seat on a plane. I'll swim home if necessary. Just get help in meanwhile.'

She slammed down the phone and turned to find Bill and Valerie eyeing her in some amusement.

'I remember your mother from the old days,' Bill said with a grin. 'She doesn't seem to have changed much.'

'What's happened?' Valerie asked.

'Some broken bones in her foot, I think. I'll have to go back. She knows I will, the old devil!'

'There might not be a plane seat for a day or two. Can you ring an agency and arrange help for her?'

'Yes, I carry the number in my head. This has happened more than once, though she didn't go as far as breaking bones before.'

'And Jake?'

Dodie sighed. 'I'm getting nowhere, so I might as well admit it. The police want to believe it was an accident, so I'd better agree with them. Even if I told them everything I know, I don't suppose it would do any good.'

'They wouldn't be able to make any more sense out of it,' Bill agreed.

'Especially as so much of it is only what we've been told or assumed, not hard evidence that could be used in court. I'll ring the agency now, and in the morning see about a flight.'

***

### Chapter 12

The planes were full for the next two days, with people returning to England after spending Christmas and the New Year in the sunshine. Dodie, having been reassured by the nursing agency that her mother was being looked after, and was her normal complaining self, booked a seat for the first flight available, and decided to spend the day shopping in Funchal. She'd seen some wonderful shoes earlier, but hadn't had time to buy them. Though her ribs and legs still ached, her feet were back to normal. And she'd visit the market, a place which she'd glimpsed once and meant to spend some time in, just absorbing the sight of so much luscious fruit and gorgeous vegetables. She'd send her mother some flowers, the strelitzias which bloomed everywhere, like weeds, but which were so exotic and lasted for weeks.

She was standing beside the flower stalls, inhaling the powerful scents, when someone hesitantly touched her arm.

'Mrs Fanshaw? I'm so glad to see you again before you go home.'

'Isabella! You look better, child.'

'My father has been so wonderful to me. We are going to England in a couple of days. He arranged a passport for me earlier. He will stay with me until my baby is born. I hope you will allow me to visit you there, just once or twice.'

'I shall be very annoyed if you don't keep in touch more often than that. I want to know my grandchild. He'll be all I have left of Jake. I wasn't a very good mother, but I promise I'll be a better grandma. And Isabella, I want your solemn promise, that if ever you need money you'll come to me? That's something I've got plenty of, so you're never to go short.'

'You are so kind. People, my father, even Rui, are so good to me.' Not her mother, Dodie noted. But Isabella was speaking again, shyly. 'When do you go home?'

'The day after tomorrow.'

'Good! Oh, I do not mean to presume, but, if you are not doing anything else, I have a favour to ask.'

'What can I do?'

'Rui wants to see me. I think – he won't want the baby, but he said, if I wished, in a year or two, to come back to Madeira, we might still be able to get married.'

It hit Dodie with a jolt that she had never put Rui in her list of suspects. He hadn't been at Howard's party, and she had never seen him since he lived at the furthest end of the island, but how could she have forgotten him? He of all of them was the worst affected, losing his promised bride in such a shameful manner. He would have just as much cause to kill Jake as Isabella's family, from revenge on, or jealousy of a successful rival. Young males were very territorial, and if he still loved Isabella enough to imply he might after all marry her, might he not have killed for her?

'You're going to see Rui?' she said weakly. 'In Porto Moniz?'

Isabella nodded. 'My father is taking me. And he suggested Libby might wish to come. I think he believes she will take my mind off a difficult meeting. I wondered if you would like to come too? It would give me confidence, support, if you could. I know I have no right to ask you, and you must have many friends you wish to see, but – '

'I'd love to come,' Dodie said briskly. 'It's quite a long way, isn't it? What time do we start?'

'At nine, if that is not too early? We may then be ahead of all the tourist coaches. It's a favourite drive for them.' She shivered, and Dodie wondered why she looked pale. 'The new road's quite safe, even for the large coaches, now they have widened it and built tunnels. We will come for you and Libby, then?'

The explanation of Isabella's sudden ashen look came when she told Valerie of the conversation.

'She must have been reminded of Cabo Girao. That old north coast road is midway down an almost sheer cliff,' Valerie explained. 'It's like a very narrow step chopped out. There's a low wall between you and a long drop to the Atlantic, but now most of it is closed off, thank heavens. I used to be terrified.'

'Tell me about Rui. Do you know, I never thought of him. Could he have killed Jake?'

'He might well have been in Funchal – lots of the islanders come in for the fireworks, and he has cousins here, I think. He could have looked for Jake.'

'Had he ever seen him?'

'Not to my knowledge. I suppose his cousins might have known Jake, they could well have made sure they did.'

'So they might just have seen him by chance, in the crowd, and followed him to the boat,' Dodie said. 'In the darkness Rui could have crept on after him, and seen his opportunity. No one would have paid any attention to him, unless he was seen by someone who knew him, and knew he wasn't meant to be there.'

'Like Maria? But surely she would have said, when the police were suspecting Theo or her brothers?'

'He could have kept in the shadows, made sure no one saw him. His family, what are they like?'

'Rich, by native Madeiran standards, at least, like the Caritas. They own a few fishing boats, and a hotel, or maybe it's a restaurant, besides being farmers.'

'Well, it will be interesting to meet him. I hope I can find a chance to talk alone with him.'

*

On the following day Isabella was very silent until they had passed the turning to Cabo Girao. Once they were through Ribeira Brava though, leaving the southern coast road to climb across the central mountains, she became quite animated and talked about the island and its history. Libby, after a rather frightened look at Dodie, relaxed and began to ask questions.

They stopped for coffee at Sao Vicente where the road joined the north coast, and had a quick look at the tiny chapel carved into a rock. Then Theo drove along the winding coast road and Isabella grew silent again. Not so Libby.

'Golly!' she exclaimed. 'I don't believe the road can go round there! It's incredible. Please, may we stop for me to take some photos?'

'Wait, it becomes even more spectacular,' Theo promised. 'Look, see those waterfalls in the ravines in the side of the cliff? There are some which fall onto the old road. We used to drive through them. People didn't bring open-topped cars along there.'

'Won't you miss this wonderful scenery?' Dodie asked quietly.

'Sometimes. But I will come back, if only for visits. I'll have to see what happens. Libby,' he went on,'we're going to go through a tunnel just round the next bend, and soon I'll stop for photos.'

They were early in Porto Moniz, and had time to walk along the sea wall, gazing out over an expanse of volcanic rock which formed a jumble of reefs, the razor-sharp rocks causing the sea to pour through narrow gaps in a maelstrom of angry foam.

'We can swim here in the summer,' Isabella was telling Libby.

'But the sea's so rough! I'd hate to have to clamber out over those rocks.'

'You couldn't. They would cut your feet to ribbons,' Theo said. 'Look, further up, the rocks are not so crowded together, and special pools have been made between them. We can walk out on the paths beside them for quite a long way.'

'To where those people are painting?' Libby asked, nodding towards a couple of artists sitting before their easels. 'I see. Yes, the water is much calmer here. And the gaps have been filled in with concrete. Clever.'

They walked back along the shore to the restaurant where Theo had booked lunch, and where Rui was to join them. Dodie looked at the young man who came, hands outstretched, to meet them, and wondered anew what possible attraction Jake had had for Isabella compared with this pleasant lad. He was tall and slender, handsome in a severe way. His profile would become hawk-like as he aged, but his smile, at first uncertain, became wide and open as Isabella shyly took his hand.

'Thank you for coming,' he said huskily. 'Mr Maclean, thank you!'

Dodie and Libby were introduced, without revealing that Dodie was Jake's mother. They had earlier decided it could be an embarrassment for him to let Rui know that.

Was he Jake's killer? Dodie wondered. It was possible. He looked tough enough, and strong. But his gaze was too direct, his smile too friendly. No, she chided herself. You could never go by looks.

They had a small table in a corner beside the window in one of the sea-front restaurants, which was soon filled by the tourists from a couple of coaches which had arrived. The waiters bustled round, and the noise level increased so that the conversation in the corner was completely private. Though anyone might have heard, it was so innocuous, Dodie thought with an inward chuckle as she listened to Rui's stilted remarks, and Isabella's shy responses. Libby, for once, seemed to have nothing to say, and Theo was abstracted. Dodie concentrated on the food, espada with a tasty sauce, which despite the crowded restaurant and hasty service, tasted delicious.

By the time it was eaten even Rui and Isabella seemed to have no more polite nothings to contribute, and Isabella fell silent. She looked out of the window beside her, and suddenly her gaze sharpened.

'Libby, you didn't say your father was coming here today? Isn't that him standing by the sea wall with Emma?'

'Dad? And Emma? He isn't – let me see. No, that's Bruce,' Libby said with a distinctly relieved tone.

'Yes, I can tell now he's turned round. Mrs Fanshaw, did you know they were coming here today?'

Dodie didn't reply. Her brain had gone into overdrive, and she could almost feel the cogs and gears slotting into place.

*

The only empty table in the restaurant was a small one next to theirs, and it seemed natural, once the two parties had exclaimed about the coincidence of meeting one another, that they should put the tables together.

'Why don't you two go for a walk?' Dodie suggested to Isabella and Rui, before he could be introduced. 'As for me, I'd prefer to sit a little longer.'

She held firmly onto Libby's hand beneath the table, and Libby gave her a slight smile, and shook her head. The wink which accompanied it said that she knew better than to play gooseberry when Rui and Isabella seemed to be getting on well, but needed time alone.

'I hear the police have officially dropped the case,' Emma said to Dodie. 'It must have been a terrible accident after all.'

'At least I can get as far as London tomorrow,' Bruce said. 'I'll be just in time before my book's published in England.'

'You'll probably be on the same plane as me,' Dodie said. 'Annoying, wasn't it, to have to wait? I could have gone yesterday. Have you many publicity functions to attend?'

'Yes, and my publishers were not best pleased that the police here refused to let us leave.'

'You'll have all the time in the world,' Emma said cheerfully. 'We've had enough of lotus eating.'

'You're going back to New York afterwards? Be careful you don't get mugged there, Bruce. It's a dangerous place.'

He laughed. 'I think I'll be safe, now. I hope you are satisfied the police did all they could to solve Jake's death?'

Dodie looked at him. 'Yes. I think they did all they could. But they didn't have my advantage of knowing my son.'

With a slight smile she excused herself and squeezed past the other tables into the open air. She had to think. Was it possible, the theory that had come to her in the restaurant? She went across to sit on the wall beyond the coaches, and stared down at the small pools where the sea surged in through gaps, lashed furiously at the sharply pointed black rocks, and then with equal ferocity plunged out again, leaving only a churning, shallow residue. Her mind felt like that, chock full of swirling facts one moment, empty and bewildered the next.

'There you are!'

Dodie jumped, and looked up at Bruce. He was flexing his arms, stretching and breathing in the salt-laden air.

'It's invigorating on this coast, isn't it?' she said, getting to her feet. 'Have the others finished?'

'The girls wanted coffee and Theo went off somewhere. Did I understand your cryptic remark to mean you think you know who killed Jake?'

She looked at him, frowning slightly. 'Oh, yes, I know. But it was all rather pointless, wasn't it, Bruce? You see, Jake and Emma never had an affair.' Over his shoulder she could see Theo walking towards them. 'Quick, come this way. I'd rather Theo didn't overhear.'

She moved so that the coaches hid them from Theo and the people in the restaurants. The only noise was the fermenting of the water in the pools and the plaintive cry of seabirds.

'We can go down here,' Bruce suggested suddenly, and before Dodie could evade him he took her arm and thrust her into a narrow tunnel amongst the rocks which she hadn't noticed before. She stumbled on some steps, inwardly cursing her carelessness in not expecting Bruce to attack her. She'd expected scornful denials, not an action which admitted guilt. He forced her down the steps until they were on a narrow platform at the end of the short tunnel, which opened out into one of the cone-shaped pools. As she took a deep breath the sea heaved in from above the level of their heads, and the water within rose almost to the foot of the platform before subsiding in an swirling, angry vortex.

'Now I think you can explain what you mean,' Bruce said curtly.

Dodie shrugged, summoning up all her acting ability to pretend she wasn't terrified. She leaned back against the wall of the tunnel. Her jacket might be ruined, but she would try to edge along the wall so that she was above Bruce, away from that perilous edge where there was only a low wall to protect against the drop. She had to keep him talking. Maybe someone would come. Please, let anybody come!

'Anyone on the boat could have killed Jake,' she said calmly. 'It was a question of why, motive. But almost everyone there had a motive.'

'Isabella, her family, and Gloria for starters. Why pick on me?'

'I didn't, for a long time. When I first saw you I thought you resembled Jake.'

'Well, thanks a million!' Bruce exclaimed. 'I looked like that haggard, superannuated gigolo?'

'It was more a matter of height and figure, plus dark hair. I soon forgot it. But you, and Jake, and Alex are all superficially the same type. Indeed, Alex Ross and Jake often auditioned for the same parts, but I hadn't appreciated quite how alike they were until I met Alex.'

'What on earth has all this to do with who killed your precious son?'

'It was when Isabella mistook you for Alex that I began to remember other occasions when there might have been confusion. I think you once saw Emma with Alex, and mistook him, from the back, for Jake. During one of your rows she probably admitted to an affair, but was too scared of your temper to say who. After all, you did once threaten her with a knife, didn't you?'

'You have a fertile imagination,' he sneered. 'You should have used it for fiction, not constructing unlikely theories about me.'

'What happened between you and Emma isn't important. She probably thought the hotel was too public, so she and Alex occasionally met at his studio. But she didn't know you would be nearby that day you were fetching photographs.'

'Then?'

'Then I think they saw you and Alex cracked you over the head to give them, particularly Emma, chance to get away.'

'He is prone to use his fists,' Bruce said. 'And Emma did seem a bit breathless when I got home. I put it down to loving concern for my injuries.'

Dodie went on remorselessly. She had managed to slide quite a way round the wall, and Bruce was silhouetted against the sky which was framed by the rock doorway. 'You saw him running away, mistook him for Jake, drew your conclusions about Emma, right in substance but with the wrong lover, and took your revenge by tipping Jake off the boat. I don't know if you meant to kill him, but I wouldn't be surprised.'

'You can't prove a thing.'

'Only if you attack me.'

He laughed, and the sound echoed round the rocks. 'Are you proposing a deal? Your silence for your life?'

'Would that be so terrible?' Dodie slid her hand inside her handbag.

'It would be stupid! I'd never be able to trust you, and everyone knows how avaricious you are, with your poor rich fools of husbands. You'd bleed me dry! No, you'll have a sad, lonely accident in this pool. No one will ever know if you fell, or decided life without dear Jake was no longer supportable.'

He lunged suddenly for her, but Dodie whipped out of her handbag a six-inch long hatpin. She'd once had to learn fencing for a role as a highwayman's gal, and ignoring her aching muscles she evaded Bruce's grab at her arm, feinted across his body, and as he twisted slipped her hand beneath his arm and jabbed at his face.

Startled, he jerked his head back, and that was enough for Dodie to be able to hook her foot round his ankle and unbalance him further. He stumbled, and clutched at her. She pressed back, sliding further towards the steps and comparative safety. Bruce slipped on the wet rock, and tried to grab at the overhanging shards as he toppled over the low wall. They were like rows and rows of saw blades, honed individually into wicked points which sliced to the bones of his seeking hands.

He moaned faintly as he fell, and at that moment the water, which had been fermenting in the cauldron behind them, boiled over in an ecstasy of wrath. Dodie leaned cautiously forwards. She thought he called for help, but the noise was so frenzied she could never be sure. His body was tossed aside, flung time after time against the rocks, and within seconds looked no more than a bundle of tattered rags. The water momentarily gleamed red, until the surging waves once more emptied the cavity to make way for a fresh onslaught. No one could have saved him from that ferocious agitation. She hadn't intended this, but it had been Bruce or her.

'Don't worry,' she said softly. 'I won't let Emma know she was married to a murderer.'

Then she opened her mouth and screamed for help.

### ###

### THE END

Marina Oliver has written over 75 novels, all are available as ebooks.

For the latest information please see Marina's web site:

http://www.marina-oliver.net.

### Other Dodie Fanshaw mysteries by Marina:

### A CUT ABOVE THE REST

Which characters dared to write the author out of the script?

When Dodie Fanshaw went to stay with her daughter, Elena, in Markenlea, she had been expecting a peaceful, sedate village on the banks of the River Thames. But then a mermaid clambers out of the river and into Elena's garden.

Well, not a mermaid exactly – a mysterious, sopping-wet girl. Bizarre and intriguing though she is, it's only when Dodie and Elena call on Elena's neighbour, best-selling novelist Rick Wilbraham, that the real story unfolds. There they find Anna, Rick's girlfriend, hysterically clinging on to Rick's lifeless body.

Soon Rick's pleasant riverside garden fills up with his neighbours, ex-lovers, his publisher and agent, and Dodie can't help herself getting involved in this close-knit village.

A literary puzzle, but what genre is the motive? It could be Romance, might be Financial Thriller. And the mermaid? Well, that's just pure Fantasy . . .

*

### Riding for a Fall

When Dodie Fanshaw goes to stay with her old friend Christine, she soon realises there are tensions, both in the family living at the Manor and the one where Elena is organising daughter Rebecca's wedding.

John, the young brother of Robert, who owns the Manor, hates his Uncle Michael, Robert's Trustee, and because he wants to be a detective, gains a reputation as a snooper.

Then there is a tragic death, but was it the right victim?

Plenty of people have both motive and opportunity, and Dodie is determined to discover the truth.

*

### Some other Mysteries by Marina:

### Veiled Destiny

The twisting roads through the Chiltern Hills are lonely at night. When Sophie Stone realises the car behind is deliberately following her, she is angry, then afraid – the ordinary drunken yob doesn't carry a machete.

Desperately, she uses her local knowledge to evade her pursuer, just as handsome, enigmatic Luke Despard intervenes. Grateful to him, Sophie is convinced it was a purely random attack. Why should anyone want to kill her?

Her business partner, Pru Bailey, counsels caution. What do they know of Luke? A sequence of threatening events follows, and Sophie begins to suspect they are deliberate. Yet the only people who could benefit from her death are Pru, and Sophie's own half-brothers and sisters. Sophie's father was rich, but she cannot believe any of them would harm her...until there is a sudden violent death. Could it have been murder?

She turns to Luke, outside the family. With him she'll be safe, hidden from whoever is persecuting her. But then she almost dies. Now, Sophie cannot trust anyone but herself. Alone, she must confront the dangers shadowing her every move, and track down the killer – before she becomes the next victim.

*

### The Knot Garden

When Mr Greenslade, owner of Green Valley Garden Centre, falls from his wheelchair one night and is rushed into hospital, his daughter Tansy, talented interior designer, gives up the chance of a prestigious commission to go home to the Cotswolds and take charge.

Things have been going wrong at the Garden Centre, small irritating mistakes, petty vandalism, and what increasingly seems like major sabotage.

Is the incompetent manager responsible, or the charismatic Karl, whose company is trying to buy the centre?

***
