Suddenly Roma struggled to her feet and hurried out after her cousin, almost running from the terrace. The eyes of Ambrose and Ivo met but neither spoke, inhibited perhaps by the presence of Sir George. He walked to the end of the terrace, his back to them, coffee cup in hand. He seemed to be counting the minutes. Then he glanced at his watch, replaced his cup on the table and made for the french windows. Looking round, foot on the step, he asked:
'What time does the curtain rise, Gorringe?'
'At three thirty.'
'And we change before then?'
'That's what Clarissa expects. There won't be time afterwards, anyway. Supper is at seven thirty.' Sir George nodded and was gone. Ivo said:
'Clarissa organizes her helots with the brutal precision of a military commander. Ten minutes before you need report for duty, Cordelia. Time surely for a second cup of coffee.'
When Cordelia unlocked her bedroom and went through the communicating door, Sir George was with his wife standing by the window looking out over the sea. The round silver tea-tray with its single cup and saucer, its elegant matching pot, was on the bedside chest as yet untouched. Clarissa, still in her Bermuda shorts and shirt, was pacing up and down, her colour high.
'She asked me for twenty-five thousand, came out with it, red-faced, as if she were a child asking for an increase in pocket money. And now of all times! She couldn't even wait until after the performance. Talk about crass stupidity! Is she deliberately trying to upset me or something?'
Sir George spoke without turning.
'Important to her, I expect. Couldn't bear the suspense of waiting. Had to know. It's not easy to get you alone.'
'She never had any sense of timing, even as a child. If there was a wrong moment for anything, trust Roma to pick it. Part of her general insensitivity. By God, she's chosen the wrong moment now!'
The voice from the window said quietly:
'Would there have been a right one?'
Clarissa seemed not to have heard.
'I told her that I wasn't prepared to hand over capital to support a lover who hadn't even the guts or decency to come and ask for it himself. I gave her some advice. If you have to buy yourself a man, he's not worth having. And if you can't get sex without buying it, buy cheaper. She's madly in love with him, of course. That's what this shop of theirs is all about, a ploy to get him away from his wife. Roma in love! I could almost feel sorry for him if he wasn't such a fool. When a plain virgin of forty-five falls in love for the first time and gets her first taste of sex, God help the man.'
'My dear, is that our concern?'
She said sharply:
'The money's my concern. Apart from anything else, they haven't a chance of making a go of it. No capital, no experience, no sense. Why should I throw good money after bad?'
She turned to Cordelia:
'You'd better go and get yourself dressed. Then lock your room and come out this way. I don't want you fussing about next door while I'm resting. I suppose you'll be wearing that Indian thing again. It shouldn't take long to get into that.'
Cordelia said:
'None of my clothes takes long to get into.'
'Nor to get out of, no doubt.'
Sir George swung round, his voice low:
'Clarissa!'
She smiled, gratified, and going up to him gently tapped his cheek.
'Dear George. Always so gallant.'
She might have been patting a dog. Cordelia said:
'I wondered whether you'd like me to stay next door while you rest. The communicating door could be open or locked as you like. I wouldn't make any noise.'
'I've told you! I don't want you next door, or anywhere near me for that matter. I might want to speak some of the verse and I can't do that when I know someone's listening. With the three doors locked and no telephone in the room I suppose I can hope to be left in peace.' Suddenly she called out:
'Tolly!'
Tolly came out of the bathroom, dark-clad, expressionless as ever. Cordelia wondered how much if anything she had heard. Without being asked she went to the wardrobe and brought out Clarissa's satin robe and folded it over her arm. Then she went and waited silently beside her mistress. Clarissa unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall. Tolly made no move to pick it up but unhooked the back of Clarissa's brassiere. That too fell away and was plucked off by Clarissa, held out and let drop. Lastly Clarissa unbuttoned the front of her shorts and eased them off together with her pants letting them fall together over her knees to the floor. She stood there for a moment immobile, her pale body dappled in the sunlight; the full, almost heavy breasts, the narrow waist, the jutting angular hips and smudge of corn-gold hair. Without haste Tolly unfolded the dressing-gown and held it out for Clarissa's waiting arms. Then she knelt, collected the bundle of discarded clothes and returned to the bathroom. Cordelia thought that it had been a ritualistic display of almost innocent sensuality, less vulgar than she would have expected, narcissistic rather than provocative. A conviction came to her as certain as it was irrational, that this was the image of Clarissa that she would remember all her life. And, whatever its motive, Clarissa's moment of frank exultation in her beauty seemed to have calmed her. She said:
'Don't take any notice of me, darlings. You know what it is before a performance.' She turned to Cordelia:
'Just get anything you want from your room and let me have both the keys. I'll set the alarm for two forty-five so come up about then and I'll let you know if there's anything I want you to do during the performance. And don't rely on being able to watch up front. I may want you backstage.'
Cordelia left them still together and went into her room by the communicating door. As she substituted her long cotton dress for shirt and jeans, she thought about Roma's extraordinary request. Why hadn't she done the obvious thing and waited until after the performance when she might have hoped to catch her cousin in the euphoria of success? But perhaps she had seen this as the most propitious, perhaps the only possible time. If the performance were a fiasco Clarissa would be unapproachable; it was possible that she might even leave the island without waiting for a celebratory party. But surely Roma must have known her cousin well enough to see that whatever moment she chose, hers was a hopeless cause. What was she hoping for; that Clarissa would once again indulge in the grand generous gesture as she obviously had with Simon Lessing, that she wouldn't be able to resist the insidiously gratifying role of patron and deliverer? Cordelia thought that two things were certain. Roma must be in desperate need of the money; and Roma, for one, wasn't betting on Clarissa's success.
She brushed her hair vigorously, gave a final look at herself in the glass without enthusiasm, and locked her bedroom door leaving the key in the lock. Then she knocked at the communicating door and went through. The key to that door was in the lock on Clarissa's side. Sir George and Tolly had left and Clarissa was seated at the dressing-table brushing her hair with long firm strokes. Without looking round she said:
'What have you done with your key?'
'Turned it and left it in the lock. Shall I lock the communicating door now?'
'No. I'll see to it. I want to check that you've locked your outside door.' Cordelia said:
'I'll stay within call. If you want me I'll be at the end of the corridor. I can perfectly well get a chair from my room and sit there with a book.'
Clarissa's anger flared:
'Can't you understand English? What are you trying to do, spy on me? I've told you! I don't want you next door and I don't want you pussyfooting up and down the corridor. I don't want you, or anyone, near me. What I want now is to be left in peace!' The note of hysteria was new and unmistakable. Cordelia said: 'Then will you roll up one of your towels tightly and wedge it against the door? I don't want any notes delivered to you by hand.'
Clarissa's voice was sharp.
'What do you mean? Nothing has happened since I arrived, nothing!'