Summer Lightning by Jill Tahourdin Page B

Louise is with us,” he said grimly.
    “Will your mother...?”
    “Luckily her room is far enough away in the other wing. She wouldn’t be likely to hear anything. Your room, too. If you like, I’ll show you a way there, so you’ll be in no danger of running into any of that mob.”
    Taking it for granted she didn’t want to meet any of them, he led the way through a small door at the other end of the terrace. They went along several corridors and down short flights of steps. She realized again how enormous Santa Clara must be. She had completely lost all sense of direction by the time he brought her to her own door.
    “Will you go down and see them?” she asked curiously.
    She saw his jaw tighten. “Not for the world.” He looked so horrified at the suggestion that suddenly she found herself laughing helplessly.
    He eyed her with disapproval. Then he began to laugh, too—unwillingly, but irresistibly. For a moment or two the pair of them rocked with laughter.
    “Nibblu’s face,” Chloe gasped.
    “And mine, I expect.”
    “Yes, yours, too.”
    When they had sobered she saw that the tension had gone out of his face.
    “Bless you, Chloe,” he said. “I’d very nearly lost my sense of humor over that little invasion, I’m afraid. I can see you’re going to be good for me. Now, in you go. Good night.”
    “Good night.”
    “Sleep well.”
    He was still smiling as he closed the door on her. As she undressed she said to herself . It’s no use, I adore him, I can’t help myself. It’s absurd. He’s ten years older than me. He isn’t my type at all. He isn’t even attracted by me. So why ?
    But the heart, she knew, has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.
    She lay listening for a while. But no sound of whatever bright fun was going on downstairs reached her. Soon she was fast asleep.
    When Lotta came in with the early tea next morning Chloe saw that she was bursting with talk.
    “I hope the signorina wasn’t disturbed,” she began excitedly. “The signora brought a big party of guests here, late.”
    “Yes, I know. I was up on the terrace. I saw them arrive.”
    “And heard them? Dio mio, what a noise! Car horns, shouts. Nibblu must get up and dress to open the gates. I must get up to prepare food. Nibblu must fetch drinks, ice cubes. They turned the dining room into a dance hall. They rolled up the carpet, and there are rings, signorina, on the beautiful polish of the furniture, where they put down their glasses and spilled the drinks. When I tell the contessa, what will she say? I’m afraid to tell her.”
    She was rattling around the room noisily, dropping things in her agitation.
    “Then don’t tell her,” Chloe advised sensibly. “You and Nibblu and the others can soon put everything right. No need to upset your mistress.”
    Lotta looked sulky. “No—but if it happens again, and again, signorina ?” she argued. “We must have our sleep. We have never had things like this happen at Santa Clara before.”
    Chloe sipped her tea. “Oh, well, don’t worry, Lotta. I expect your master will see that it doesn’t happen too often.”
    “Indeed I hope so, signorina .”
    Lotta’s broad back looked uncompromising as she finished setting things to rights and left the room.
    Chloe watched her go with a little grin. Poor old thing, she was probably going to find that a lot of things were different, once Louise got into her stride.
    For herself, Chloe had made up her mind to try to avoid crossing Louise. Live and let live. She hoped Louise, for her part, would take the same line.
    After she had finished her tea and showered, she stepped out onto the little balcony, to sniff the crystalline air and delight once again in the view.
    It was then that she noticed how eaten by rust, how fragile, was the iron railing around the balcony. Touching it, she felt the metal quiver. She peered over it, then drew back with a little shudder. She had never had much of a head for heights, and it looked a