She was about to take a second sandwich when it occurred to her that she hadn't really liked the first one. She had thought it was crab, but it must have been some kind of pâté; whatever it was, it wasn't to her liking.
Seeing her frown at the plate, Celia, who had settled for a large red apple, asked, 'Anything wrong?'
Melanie pushed the plate of sandwiches away and poured herself some coffee. 'It's some kind of pâté, I think,' she replied. didn't like it.'
Celia leant over and inspected the sandwiches, pushing one open with an exploratory finger. 'It's crab,' she said. 'I thought you liked crab?'
`I do,' replied Melanie. 'Perhaps they've added something to it. Anyway, it didn't taste right, and I shouldn't have any if I were you,' she advised Celia.
`This will do for me,' Celia replied, contentedly munching her large rosy apple. 'Oh, look, Melanie,' she pointed out to the bay, 'that's the opposition of those canoeists we were talking to yesterday, and they're getting in some crafty practice by the look of
things,' she added with a grin.
They arrived back at the hotel just as dusk was beginning to fall, and one hour before dinner would be served. Melanie had begun to feel queasy as the hotel lights came into sight, although she couldn't be sure if it was a case of nerves on her part, for she wasn't looking forward to another confrontation with Zara, and dinner was an occasion that she would be certain to attend.
Nerves or not, by the time she had changed into her evening wear, Melanie knew she couldn't go down to dinner. It was all she had been able to do to stay and talk to Julian on their arrival back at the hotel when he had enquired if they had enjoyed their day out, and Celia had satisfied him on this count, before declaring herself tired out, and ready for bed. 'All that sea air and sunshine,' she had remarked with a yawn, and added that Podge would have to find someone else to keep her company in the teenage social club that evening.
Melanie left them to it and made straight for her room, obstinately refusing to give in to what she was sure was only nerves, made an effort to dress for dinner, and, having accomplished this task, found that that was as far as she was going to get. She stood in the middle of the room and closed her eyes, while she waited for the dizzy spell that had suddenly overtaken her to pass over.
She felt awful. She had been sick once, but felt that any moment now she would have to make another rush to the bathroom. Luckily Celia, true to her word, was out to the world.
When she emerged white and shaken from another spell of retching, she went to find Julian, who sat waiting to take her down to dinner, dressed immacu-
lately in his white tuxedo, and told him she couldn't possibly go down to dinner.
That much should have been obvious, she thought afterwards, as she staggered back to her room. He had not looked over-sympathetic, and seemed to think she had no right to go down with anything at this particular time, but he did say that he would get the hotel doctor to have a look at her, and that it was probably a touch of the sun; she had obviously not, he had said irritably, taken precautions about protecting herself.
It was small wonder that he was put out, Melanie thought wretchedly as she crawled into bed, and really she couldn't have chosen a worse time to go down sick. It meant that he would have to sit alone at their table, and from what she had seen of Zara Tobin, there was no doubt that she would seize the opportunity of occupying the vacant chair.
Not long afterwards, there was a discreet tap on her bedroom door, and a short, rotund, merry-looking man entered her room carrying a case; he introduced himself as the hotel doctor and asked her what the trouble was.
Melanie gave her symptoms, believing Julian's diagnosis had been the correct one, and the nice doctor said it could be that, or something she had eaten, and gave her medicine to quell the queasiness in her stomach which acted as a sedative, too. Within ten minutes of his leaving, Melanie was asleep.
The next morning she woke with a heavy, heady feeling after her drug-induced sleep. She still felt far from well, and to her annoyance found that she was still on the queasy side. She had some tablets that the doctor had left her, but if they had the same effect on her as they had had the previous evening, then the
only thing was to stay put.
When Celia saw her, she endorsed this thought. 'It must have been those sandwiches, Melanie!' she exclaimed. 'You said they tasted funny, didn't you? It must have been the heat that sent them off. Thank goodness you only had one of them! You stay put; don't worry, I'll tell Dad you're not so good.'
`You'll go out, won't you?' Melanie asked anxiously, not wanting to get herself any more black marks from Julian. He hadn't been too pleased last night when he had had to go down to dinner alone, and if they had to hang around the hotel all day because of her, he would be even less pleased.
`Are you sure you'll be okay?' Celia queried. 'I expect Dad has some plan to entertain us.'
After Melanie assured her that she would be fine, and that she would be taking one of the tablets that the doctor had left her, Celia went to find her father to give him the news.
To Melanie's intense embarrassment, Julian called in to see her shortly after Celia's departure, and stood for a moment surveying her before he asked how she was, giving her the nasty suspicion that he hadn't believed Celia's news that she wasn't well, and that he thought it was just a ploy to keep out of his way, which was not at all surprising when one considered what had happened the last time she had spent the evening with him.
Melanie felt almost certain that those were his thoughts on the matter. In other words, she was ducking out from under. Well, it was true that she herself had at first suspected that it was nerves that were causing the queasiness, for she had certainly not looked forward to the evening, and even less to what might ensue should he re-enact the part of besotted
lover for his ex-wife's benefit!
The very idea made Melanie's stomach start to churn again, and although Julian had said something about having a light breakfast tray sent up to her before he had left, she very much doubted her ability to swallow anything at all, except perhaps a cup of tea.
After a brief visit to the bathroom, she returned to the bedroom, determined now to take a tablet. It would be better to feel doped than to have to put up with this inconvenience, she told herself, and when she heard a tap on her door, she thought it must be the breakfast tray and the welcome cup of tea. She was disappointed on hearing a woman's voice call out before the door was opened, 'It's only me. I heard you weren't too well, and wondered if there was anything that I could do for you?'
Lydia Hounslow Holmes lowered her great bulk down on the bedside chair and stared sympathetically at Melanie's white features. 'No,' she said, summing up her findings. 'You're not too good, are you?'
`It was something that I ate, Mrs Hounslow Holmes,' said Melanie, wishing the woman would take her leave, for she didn't think it was kindness that had made her make the call on her. A notorious old gossip, she must have been disappointed at their absence the previous day when, no doubt, all the guests were agog to watch what they thought was going to be a very entertaining sideshow put on courtesy of the ex-Mrs Cridell ; Mrs Hounslow Holmes liked to be the first with the news.
`I'm not up to entertaining, I'm afraid,' said Melanie meaningly, hoping her unwelcome visitor would take the hint and go.
`Of course you're not,' soothed the old woman, `so if there's nothing I can do for you, I'll leave you in peace.
Did the doctor leave you something?' she asked.
Melanie felt relief flow from her as she watched the woman heave herself off the chair, which also gave a whisper of relief as its springs were freed from their load. `Oh, yes,' she replied quickly. 'I'm taking a tablet with my tea. I won't be able to keep anything down otherwise,' she added, managing to give a weak smile.
`I don't believe in these new-fangled ideas,' Mrs Hounslow Holmes snorted. 'It was taken for granted in my day.'
When the door had closed behind her and the rattle of the numerous bangles the old woman still wore in spite of the early hour of the morning had dwindled away, Melanie wondered if she actually slept with her fortune on her person. She wouldn't have been at all surprised to hear that she did. And what on earth had she meant by that odd remark of hers that she didn't believe in new-fangled ideas? However, the arrival of her breakfast tray at that point put all this out of her mind.
For the rest of that day Melanie dozed, and by the early evening she felt capable of taking a light tea. In between her wakeful sessions, which seemed extremely brief to her, she recalled Celia popping in to see her, and had a vague recollection of Julian's presence in the room at one time, but whether this was so she couldn't be sure. When she awoke fully she was dismayed to realise that they had done precisely what she hadn't wanted them to do, and stayed in the hotel all day. Goodness knew what misery that would have brought on Celia's head, with her mother determined to make her presence felt, and her father equally determined to keep them apart.
A fat lot of good she was, she thought miserably,
and Julian Cridell must have wondered what evil genius had been at work to make him settle on her as a likely candidate to act as a buffer between the two warring factions. There was little doubt, she thought pithily, that the hotel guests would have got their money's worth at some time during the day, as she recalled Celia's words about her mother revelling in big scenes.
The least she could do was to give in her notice, she thought wretchedly, and give Julian Cridell the opportunity of taking another candidate for the job. However, a few sober recollections soon quashed this grand gesture. Zara Cridell had actually met her as his wife, and to introduce another Mrs Cridell would be a little beyond the realm of credulity. Melanie shook her head; she was obviously not thinking straight yet, but she was certainly not looking forward to seeing either Celia or her father after the mess she had made of things!
When she heard Celia's voice call out cheerfully, `Are you compos mends yet?' she had a cowardly urge to feign sleep, but then Celia was in the room and it was too late for any such pretence.
`I say, you'll never guess,' Celia chattered brightly. `It was the funniest thing I've seen for ages. Can you imagine it? Mother's cleared off in a whiff of perfume, absolutely routed ! This time it's really over!' she declared with shining eyes.
Melanie sat and stared at her. 'Was there an awful scene?' she enquired worriedly, thinking of Julian's coming fury that was about to land on her head at any moment.
Celia shook her blonde mane. 'Honestly, it was hilarious!' She frowned slightly. 'Although Dad didn't look all that pleased, which was odd, really, because it
worked, you see, better than anything else could have done.'
Melanie felt like shaking her head. 'What are you talking about?' she asked. 'What worked?'
Celia's black eyes danced mischievously as she regarded Melanie. 'I tried to keep you informed,' she said, 'but you kept nodding off, so I don't suppose anything got through to you. You had a visit from the Duchess, didn't you?'
Melanie thought back, then recalled the visit. 'Yes; I can't think why. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do for me,' she added with a frown.
Celia chuckled. 'Well, that's it, you see. The nosey old so-and-so put two and two together and came up with five!'
Again Melanie had lost her place in the script, and she looked blankly at Celia.
`Oh,dear,' the girl said, patting her arm with an almost maternal gesture. see I shall have to spell it out for you. Mrs Hounslow Holmes thinks you're pregnant, and has told everybody else,' and at Melanie's horrified look upon this news, she burst out laughing. 'If you could see your face !' she said merrily. `But it's done the trick, don't you see? She couldn't wait to tell Mother—she hates her, you know, because she once told her she looked like a walking Christmas tree, and she's never forgiven her!'
Melanie closed her eyes. Would Julian ever forgive her? she wondered. No wonder he hadn't looked pleased! He must want to strangle her!
`Look, it's all right,' Celia insisted. 'Of course, it was a bit of a shock to Dad, but he'll be so pleased that she's gone for good that he'll soon see the funny side of it. Oh, if you'd only been there! Mother walked right up to us in the dining-room and declared outright that
there were some things that one couldn't contend with, and this was one of them. She tried to make a tragedy out of it by wishing Dad happiness and she hoped that it was a boy, and said that she would never forget Dad.' Celia chuckled. 'It was like a stage play, and I'm sure she hoped Dad was going to stop her before she reached the door, and a big reconciliation scene would take place, but he was so stunned by what she had said, and I couldn't work it out either, that he didn't say a word. But as soon as the rest of the guests started congratulating him, I caught on.'
Melanie wished she could somehow sink through the bed and the floorboards too. It was getting worse by the minute. 'It's not funny, Celia,' she managed to get out, but the enormity of the situation was closing in on her. 'We'll have to leave,' she said, almost babbling in her anxiety, and flinging the clothes aside, leapt out of bed.