Authors: Roumelia Lane
Carol had to admit that she didn't notice the younger girl much. Her gaze was usually with Gray; watching him when he seemed about to smile, or when he strolled about somewhere nearby. With all this outdoor life, after being encased in city suits for so long, his body developed an attractive tan. And the constant round of sporting activities which he had probably never indulged in for years gave him back his old athleticism. His face, prone to dourness through too much concentration on his work, had become mellowed into more relaxed, if not handsome lines.
In the evenings, tremendous in his dinner jacket, the sight of him was enough to make Carol's knees buckle.
If the night was warm with no breeze, he didn't wait for Stephanie to ask if they might dine on the terrace. Casually he allowed the maitre d'hotel to lead them to a table which might afford a glimpse of the silver sea, or to one beside the heady fragrance of the gardens.
Carol wanted to hold on to the days. They were flying by so quickly. Soon Gray's work in Venice would come to an end. Stephanie would be returning to school. And the Albany's clientele would probably be reduced to a few winter guests. Already the hotel stretch of beach had, fewer holidaymakers enjoying the late September sun.
One afternoon when they were down there Gray, his teeth looking white against the turned-up collar of his beach shirt, said idly across the cafe table, 'The hotel are running the last trip of the season tomorrow. It's to Trieste and the caves of Postojnska in Yugoslavia. I can book the seats if anyone's interested.'
Carol's dancing blue gaze was a complete give-away as to how she felt about the idea. But in case there was any doubt she gasped delightedly, 'Oh yes, please!' Then colouring at her eagerness she turned quickly to the young figure beside them down on the sand and asked brightly, 'You'd like to go, wouldn't you, Stephanie?'
'I suppose so,' Stephanie, drawing with her finger in the sand, replied indifferently.
'I'll get the tickets as soon as we get back,' Gray said promptly, as though his niece had jumped at the idea. He rose, obviously thinking that now was as good a time as any. As they started out back to the hotel he told them, 'It will mean going straight to bed after dinner tonight. We'll have to start out early tomorrow and we won't get back until late in the evening.'
Carol walked rapturously at his side, her heart bursting with happy anticipation. What did
she
care what the conditions were? She would willingly get up at four and stay out the clock round just to see Trieste with Gray.
As it happened it was quite a passable hour when they all lined up outside the hotel the next morning. It was one of those sparkling days when the first breath of autumn mingles imperceptibly with the languid air of summer.
Carol, all a-sparkle herself, had put on a lemon sun dress patterned with white flowers, and over her arm she carried a matching jacket for the cool of the evening. Gray was beside her. Her heart took a dive every time she looked at him in his powder blue slacks and royal blue shirt. Stephanie had chosen a dress of the palest green, which made her eyes look large and dark.
Under the supervision of Enrico, their guide for the day, they took the launch to the mainland. The luxury coach was waiting for them as usual on the car park beside the quay.
Carol held her breath as they filed on board, waiting to see where Stephanie would choose to sit. Enrico, a schoolteacher in Padua during term-time, was middle- aged and inclined to be a little abrupt in his manner. It wasn't likely that Stephanie would join him in the guide's seat as she had done the friendly Bianca. And the only other alternative would be for her to sit with her uncle. But no. As this was the last excursion of the season, the coach was only three-quarters full. There were ample spare seats to be had and while Carol and Gray waited up ahead in the bus, Stephanie flopped down in a spare seat beside a window some distance away.
Paying little attention to the bitter light in the look the younger girl shot her, Carol shyly accepted Gray's offer to precede him, and knew a rush of sweet relief when he settled himself in beside her.
Soon they were on their way, the coach cruising through the green countryside and sprawling villages, past familiar landmarks seen on other trips, until they were on the main route towards Trieste. Enrico did a thorough job of pointing out the sights. He had a booming voice, and he made everyone sit up and pay attention to what he had to say.
As it was a fairly extensive tour they stopped a couple of times during the morning. Once at a little caf£ with an old church set in pleasant gardens at the other side of the road, and again at a village of yellow ochre cottages beyond which could be seen the first glimpses of blue sea. On both occasions Stephanie licked at an ice cream while Carol and Gray sat at an outdoor table with drinks.
Towards lunch time the coach came out on to the coast road leading to Trieste and they were driven along a dramatic stretch where a green-clad cliff climbed high at one side of the road and fell down towards the Adriatic at the other. They seemed to be making straight for a blank wall of grey rock, but at the last moment a tunnel appeared and the coach went cruising through the bowels of the cliff which overhung the roadway.
Carol fell in love with her first views of the outskirts of Trieste. Enrico had at last put his microphone down and there was time to let one's gaze wander at leisure over the scenery. Amongst the greenery rising up on her left, white houses were dotted, and opulent-looking villas. On the sea side Gray leaned in close to point out to her the city, floating hazily in the distance, and Mira- mare Castle, a fairy-tale structure on a nearby promontory.
They stopped for lunch at the Ristorante Alia Marinella, a rambling leafy establishment situated directly at the side of the coast road. At separate tables where vines and small trees showered greenery within the glass enclosure, the party dined on Triestine dishes and local wine.
At their table, which looked out towards the sea, Stephanie chattered to Gray about the coach ride. She had changed her seat several times during the morning. She didn't have much to say to Carol. Not that Carol noticed. In no mood for conversation herself, she was too busy soaking up the dreamy pleasures of the day.
After the meal there was a few minutes to spare for stretching one's legs. Along with other members of the coach party the three of them crossed the road to the narrow ribbon of promenade adjoining. There was no beach, just a lot of craggy rocks on which the odd couple of holidaymakers here and there were catching the last of the summer sun. Stephanie went to the edge to gaze down at the frothy waves swivelling round the rocks, while Carol and Gray strolled near by.
Once everyone was on the coach again and they were cruising towards the city, Enrico told them in his commanding tones that the main tourist attraction was the Capitoline Hill, and castle of San Giusto, and that here the coach party would be spending the first part of the afternoon.As they came into Trieste with its sloping busy streets and tree-shaded squares, where shawled women stood beside flower stalls, the guide pointed out to them a two-hundred-year-old canal running several blocks into the city's market centre. Then he packed away his microphone and belongings, presumably to take a break while his party was sightseeing. The coach drew in at the top of the famed hill for the passengers to alight. Enrico led the way to the main square. After that everyone was left to their own devices for a while.
The place was fairly well populated with tourists. The main focal point on the huge circular terrace where they roamed was a giant sculptured memorial of grappling muscular men with shields. Stephanie, shooting one of her hostile looks at Carol, grabbed Gray's arm on the other side of her and chatted away gaily to him as they moved towards the monument.
Most of the tourists had cameras and were busily snapping their friends against this and that. Carol, watching Gray's profile against their historic surroundings, cursed herself, as she did every time they came out, for leaving her own camera behind in England. The chances she had missed of capturing his likeness! Pictures she could have kept for ever to remind her of this magical summer. The cooling breeze, telling her it was almost at an end, seemed to make itself felt around her heart as they walked.
Beside the memorial Gray stood to study the sculpture, then turning to Carol, he said with his dry smile above Stephanie's non-stop chatter, 'If you're interested, it was done by Attilio Selva in 1934.'
He, took her arm and guided her towards the castle. Stephanie clung on to her uncle at the other side. They passed the cathedral and the weathered columns of a Roman basilica. Carol hadn't a clue what they were, but Gray had his guide book handy. However, he didn't refer to it much as they strolled around the interior of the castle.
Across the drawbridge and into the guardroom he led her to the weapons around the wall, while Stephanie drew his attention to other things, such as the cannons and the old stone archways. Eagerly she beckoned him on with her through the castle museum and the waiting chamber with its carved wooden chests. On the way Gray led Carol to the Venetian room where Flemish hunting-scene tapestries and gilded chests were on display.
Stephanie took her uncle's hand and tugged him towards a narrow staircase. It led out on the bastions, and at once they were met with an incomparable panorama of Trieste. As Carol melted at the scenery, Gray dropped an arm lightly across her shoulders to point out, 'See, there are the hills of Carso, and the gulf. We've a clear view from Grado to Istria.'
From the castle they went down a twisting path to see the Roman amphitheatre. Stephanie wanted to roam about the tiers of stone-faced seats, but Carol felt giddy looking down towards the rectangular stage. She had come to the conclusion that she just didn't have a head for heights. Anyway, Gray didn't lose his patience with her as she thought he might. He guided her away from the scene and suggested that they call that it as far as the sightseeing was concerned and go and look for some refreshments.
He found them an outdoor table on another part of the castle called the Fiorito Bastion, the flowered bastion, which had the most impressive hanging gardens. While they sipped their drinks and gazed at the views, Stephanie watched Carol and said, 'This is high up. How is it you're not frightened up here?'
'I don't know. I suppose it's because the drop appears to be more gradual,' Carol smiled. She hadn't missed the cattiness in the younger girl's tones, but she paid no attention to it.
She had reason to be reminded of it later, though, when they were making their way back to the coach.
She knew by the way Stephanie was hurrying ahead that she intended to get the seat next to her uncle. There was no doubt that she would have succeeded if it hadn't been for Enrico's tidy mind.
To keep one jump ahead Stephanie went barging in the front way, but the guide was there talking to the driver, and in his booming schoolmaster tones he told her, 'The other door on.
Grazie.'
By this time Carol was halfway down the coach. She took the seat she had sat in previously. Gray casually settled himself in beside her. While everyone was ambling aboard and prattling on about the sights they had seen, Stephanie slid into one of the vacant seats and stared morosely out of the window.
As they started out again there was a ripple of excitement amongst the passengers in the coach, for they were now on their way to the Yugoslav border. The high spot of the crossing was the sight of the shops and kiosks selling hand-made goods of the country, and the uniformed Customs men gathering up the passports. They were dour, formidable-looking individuals with penetrating stares, and Carol was glad she had Gray's protective bulk between her and them.
Posonjnska—an unpronounceable name as far as Carol was concerned—where the caves were, was about twenty-five miles inside Yugoslavia. After cruising for some time through countryside not so different from that of Italy, except for the crops growing in the fields and the peasants pushing the ploughs, the coach arrived at their destination. Skirting the town, it drew in at a spot where lots of other coaches were parked, and tourists gathered in an open space flanked by cafes and gay umbrellaed tables.
Carol saw the mouth of the caves, a great yawning black entrance in the hillside, as soon as she stepped down from the coach. She hoped she wasn't going to get an attack of nerves like she had done at the Roman amphitheatre. She knew nothing about caves, and Enrico's information, which he trotted out as he led his party across the space, didn't exactly help her morale. According to him, the grottoes were the second largest in Europe and a colossal number of feet underground.
Inside the entrance, along with the other guides, he turned his group over to the cave attendants and left them to their fate. Much excited laughter arose when it was discovered that cloaks with hoods were being handed out. Apparently it was quite cold below, which to Carol seemed rather ominous.
She took the cloak an attendant tossed her, a rough woollen garment, and put it on feeling like something out of the eighteenth century, Gray looked even more dramatic in his—rather like Doctor Hyde, a character in one of her brother Clive's books, she thought with a twinkle.
Stephanie had rapidly fastened the button at her throat and was already flapping ahead. Carol soon saw why. On rails leading into the tunnel a sort of open train, rows of double seats drawn by a little green engine, was waiting for them. Obviously determined to sit next to her uncle this time, she hovered about, blocking Carol's way until he had chosen a seat, then promptly she dropped in beside him.
The seat was vacant in front of them, so Carol took this one. She felt a little apprehensive at having to sit on her own. She could feel the cold air wafting around her from the tunnel, and as the train started to move towards the craggy opening she had to resist an urge to jump off. Another thing that frightened her horribly was the feeling that they were making straight for the pitted wall which was lit up ahead of them, then at the last moment they swung away from it and continued in another direction.