Tour de Force by Christianna Brand Page A

curious conversation!’
    â€˜Very revealing, don’t you mean?’ said Cecil.
    â€˜Yes, that’s just what I do mean.’ She had climbed up the path in the angle of the land and the rock and now appeared on the terrace, they saw her go up and speak to the group standing watching her there. She pointed down to the beach and they began to move off, down the steep path up which she had come. ‘They’re going to watch from there,’ said Cecil. ‘She’s going to show Mr Rodd a dive that he could do. Let’s go and watch too.’ His face had lost something of the pasty look that terror had brought to it, he was returning to a nervous desire for action, he was longing to talk, to confide, to protest, to exclaim. ‘Where’s Louli? We’ll go and find her .’ They went down the central steps together and joined Helen Rodd and Leo, now standing on the sand looking upwards at the diving board. Vanda Lane had gone out there again and was standing, gently springing, deep in thought. As they watched, she turned sideways to the board’s end, her right arm stiff to her thigh, the left curved upwards over her head: and so sprang high into the air and forced herself up and out and down. But she hit the water rather flatly, surfaced almost at once and, as she scrambled ashore, stood for a moment and gave her head a little, uncertain shake. Leo Rodd ran forward to meet her. ‘You didn’t hurt yourself?’
    â€˜No, but …’ She blew out her breath and patted her diaphragm. ‘I’m winded, that’s all. I came down a bit flat.’ A faint stain of pink was slowly creeping up over her shoulder and arm where she had hit the water, and she raised her knee and hugged it, blowing out her breath again. ‘I say, I do feel bad about this,’ said Leo. ‘You were trying it for me.’
    She protested. ‘No, no, I’m perfectly all right; but the truth is, the board’s too high for experimenting. It was stupid of me.’
    â€˜Yes, well don’t try any more. I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘I do feel guilty.’
    Miss Trapp and Fernando arrived at this moment and Miss Trapp was suddenly galvanized into womanly concern. She thought Miss Lane looked not at all well, she thought Miss Lane should lie down for an hour or two, she thought Miss Lane should take a drop of brandy or some aspirin at least.…
    A civil wrangle followed between two schools of thought, those who considered that Miss Lane should certainly take brandy and lie down, and those who could clearly see that she had had the wind knocked out of her for a moment but was already practically restored to normal health. Miss Trapp, however, was adamant, threatening to march Miss Lane back to the hotel herself, tuck her up with a couple of aspirin and mount guard over her to see that she didn’t get up. Vanda, quite obviously horrified by this well-meant offer, finally consented to change out of her wet things and perhaps have a rest on her bed. Cockie, looking on with a lacklustre eye, suspected that she was not entirely sorry to be forced to give in. She toiled back up the little path to the top of the rock and paused there for a moment, apparently to speak to Louli Barker; for Louli, a couple of minutes later, came flying down the path, looking rather white, but loud with exaggerated accounts of the hideous time she had had cowering in one of the huts while they all nattered outside, holding together the split in her already not very adequate bathing suit. However, she said, in a rather forced, high voice, fortunately that clever Miss Lane had had the brilliant suggestion of tying it up with a handkerchief, which was not frightfully safe but on the whole doing quite well …
    â€˜In one of the bathing huts?’ faltered Miss Trapp.
    Louli gave her a wink which considerably imperilled the safety of one set of the preposterous eyelashes; but Cockie