`Celia's just a child, with a child's strength,' he replied, still keeping a firm hold on her straps, 'and Mario's wife will naturally expect your husband to do all that's necessary,' and so saying, he stripped the costume off her slim body in one deft movement, leaving the totally embarrassed Melanie entirely bare, the wet folds of the swimsuit clinging round her ankles. But she didn't have time to dwell on this fact, mercifully, for the next moment she was swung up into his arms and lowered gently into the water. 'Now you just let the warmth seep back into you,' he said, as he straightened his tall body, his grey eyes meeting hers with a glint of amusement in them. 'If you can manage to cope when you're ready to come out, okay. If not, I'm in the next room. Just call out,' he told her, and left.
`I'll cope,' Melanie muttered after he had left. 'I'll cope if it kills me!'
Not that it mattered now, she thought, her misery now turning to slight hysteria, and it was all she could do to repress the bubble of laughter that threatened to take over. Only the thought that Julian was on the
alert for any sign of abnormality on her part—and
surely, a fit of the giggles would come into that
category at this particular time—helped to sober her.
Slowly the warmth enveloped her body, and Melanie felt the strength returning. There was a strong inclination to be lulled into sleep, but she sternly resisted this, afraid that Julian might consider looking in on her to see if she were ready to come out. This thought alone was enough to give her the impetus to get going under her own steam, and, getting out of the bath, she wrapped herself up in the large towel, grateful for its generosity of material, and presented herself for Julian's critical approval before going to her room. Julian took one look at her totally shrouded appearance and his eyes crinkled in amusement as if to remind her that it was a bit late for prudish proprieties, making Melanie want to hit him. Her colour was high as she swept off to her room to dress.
The sooner she had that talk with him, the better, she thought angrily. She had suffered enough embarrassment for the cause, a cause that was already won, she reminded herself as she slipped on a cool dress and sat at the dressing table to comb her hair. Of course, he would think her pathetic attempt to preserve her dignity was comical, and she supposed it was from his point of view.
It was not so much the fact that he had treated her like a child left in his care for a specific time that hurt so much, it was the plain fact that she was a grown woman, with a woman's feelings, and she had a right to protect those feelings, and what little dignity he had left her. And that wasn't much, she thought angrily, as she recalled the bathroom scene.
She could have managed. Celia could have steadied her until she had got into the bath, couldn't she? But
oh, no, Mr High and Mighty had seized the chance to demonstrate what a little nonentity she was. What did it matter to him if she was embarrassed? She was just a cog in his machinations, a fly to be swatted when it got too adventurous!
She took a deep inward breath. She was tired of being on the receiving end of that swatter. It was time that she did something about it, and there was no time like the present, she told herself, as she took one look at herself in the dressing table mirror and sailed out to meet the enemy, hoping that Celia had gone back to the verandah where she usually spent the mornings lost in her studies.
Melanie had not, however, taken into account the fact that the morning was now early afternoon, and Celia and her father spent the afternoon together, so all her pent-up frustrations had to take a back seat until a more suitable occasion presented itself. Her subdued manner during lunch was put down to the morning's happenings, with neither Celia nor her father making any attempt to draw her into the conversation, on the premise that the sooner that it was forgotten, the better for Melanie.
Now Celia was at it too, Melanie thought crossly. She too was adopting the same attitude as her father, treating her like a child, and anxious not to dwell on anything that might prevent recovery from a traumatic experience.
Had Celia told her father why she had plunged into that boiling sea? Melanie wondered. Or did he think as Celia had first thought—that she had taken leave of her senses? More than likely, she thought dully, as she peeled a peach. What did it matter, anyway? In fact, she hoped Celia hadn't told her father, for with his kind of thinking where she was concerned, he would
have been certain that she had an ulterior motive behind her action, hoping maybe to go up in his estimation.
There was no further mention of the previously arranged picnic on the beach, and Melanie felt piqued about this too. Not that she had arranged to go with them, but she did feel that they could have carried on with the arrangement and left her to her own devices, instead of making her feel that she had upset their plans, although she had to admit that this was not strictly true, and, if she were honest with herself, it was a nice gesture on their part to stay with her.
As it was, she had to fall in with Julian's suggestion that they spend the afternoon by the pool, just taking things easy. Celia could swim if she wanted to, and Melanie could relax in the sun.
It did occur to Melanie that she might be able to have a word with Julian while Celia was in the pool and unable to hear what was said, for she could see no other opportunities occurring in the near future now that he had given his word to Celia that there would be no more business calls taking up his time.
There was no hope of a quiet talk when Celia had gone to bed either. The evenings were spent either watching the television, usually only for the news, then she would settle down for a game of chess with her father, and it was usually around ten when a halt was called, by which time Melanie was ready for bed herself. For appearances' sake, she had had to spend her evenings with them, settled in a corner of the lounge with a book to keep her company, and since her last interview with her employer, most of her time would be spent in going over those harsh accusations of his, no matter how much she tried to forget them and concentrate on the story. As if that weren't
enough, she now had another even more devastating occurrence to add to her memories!
She chose a time when Celia was down at the other end of the pool and set on completing a four-lengths' run, and Julian had settled down with a paperback thriller.
'I want to talk to you,' she said quietly, keeping her eyes on Celia's progress, but she glanced quickly at Julian as she said this, and saw his brows rise a fraction at her low voice. 'I think it would be better in both our interests if I left your employment as soon as possible,' she went on. 'And under the circumstances I hope you won't ask for a month's notice. Two weeks should be ample,' she added firmly.
Melanie now had Julian's full attention, and his eyes narrowed to a slit as he studied her. 'Given up already, Mrs Cridell?' he asked softly.
Melanie's cheeks flamed at the innuendo. 'If that's the way you want to see it, then yes !' she got out furiously. 'Aren't you relieved?' she demanded pithily. `All my well-laid plans have come to nothing, I'm throwing in the towel.'
`You'll do no such thing!' Julian replied harshly. `You signed an agreement, remember? You go when I say you go, and not before.' His voice took on a silky note. 'Besides, I'm quite content with things as they are,' and he shot a quick assessing look at the fuming Melanie. 'I'm also a little disappointed in you. I didn't expect you to give up so easily,' he added.
Melanie stared straight ahead of her. Her cheeks had turned from red to blanched white with shock. She felt like shaking her head. She must be imagining all this. He was actually implying—she swallowed. She wouldn't think about that, she decided. She'd probably got it wrong anyway; he was playing with
her. 'Oh, I know when I'm beaten,' she managed to get out. Two could play at that game, she thought.
`And you think you've earned your money ?' he asked icily.
Melanie's small hands clenched into fists. She wished she could hit him. He really did punch low, didn't he?
`I've saved enough from my wages to tide me over,' she replied through clenched teeth. 'You can keep the rest,' she flung at him, and felt a rush of relief as she said this. She hadn't wanted his money anyway; she would cope somehow.
`Temper, temper,' he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice, as if calming an hysterical child. `Why don't you have a rethink about the whole matter when you're calmer?' he suggested.
Celia was on her last lap of the pool, and Melanie knew it was now or never. 'I don't need to rethink,' she said angrily. 'I'm giving a fortnight's notice.'
`And I meant what I said,' replied Julian with maddening calm. 'For Celia's sake, I advise you to accept my decision. She's had enough to put up with from her mother's tempestuous nature, and I've no intention of putting her through anything like that again. She's very fond of you, as I'm sure you know. Just let things take their course,' he added. 'It will all work out in time.'
Melanie felt she hadn't got that time! If he was only worried about Celia—but then Celia was beside them, receiving her father's congratulations on her fast timing. 'We'll have you swimming for England at this rate,' he said teasingly.
Celia accepted this tribute with wide grin. 'Haven't time for the Olympics,' she said, slightly breathlessly, as she flung herself down beside Melanie.
After dinner that evening, Melanie excused herself on the plea of tiredness, and left Celia and her father to their own devices. She couldn't possibly sit calmly in her corner of the lounge pretending to read a book, not after that talk with Julian, and certainly not with the sort of searching, speculating way he watched her now.
Her decision for an early night was accepted without question, by Celia at least, but Julian had shot her a quick, assessing look that annoyed her, and she was sure that if it hadn't been for the morning's events, he would have insisted on her presence.
He must think that she was a wax doll with no feelings at all, she fumed as she made her way to her room, thankfully closing the door firmly behind her. After what he had hinted, she was inclined to place a strong chair against it, as there was no lock to ensure safety.
She stopped suddenly in the middle of the room. What on earth was the matter with her? She was in no danger of being molested by Julian Cridell, now or at any time. She shook her head. This wasn't like her. Where was her normally calm outlook? Julian Cridell had happened, that's what! she told herself. She had let him get to her, just as he had mesmerised all those other women.
Her soft lips tightened, it was so easy for him, with those good looks of his, to turn a woman's head, but not this one, she vowed silently. She had better get a hold on herself right here and now before any of that kind of nonsense crept in.
Melanie walked over to her bed and sat down on it. She had been right in one thing. He had decided to keep her on just as she had suspected he would, simply for convenience's sake. He was not the kind of man
who would worry about his jet set friends' reactions to the swift ending of his 'marriage', and that was including the bogus pregnancy! All he need say was `false alarm', and the rest was history. The only thing that would surprise them, Melanie thought sceptically, would be the longevity of the marriage.
This was what was worrying Melanie. Why should he seek an annulment when he was content with things as they were? He had company for Celia and a shield against women like Mrs Dalton, not to mention Podge's mother, and a few others she could think of.
There was also the bald fact that his first marriage had soured his whole outlook on connubial bliss and, as he had so adamantly stated, he had no intention of repeating the experience.
Melanie took a deep breath. It was no use getting worked up about it. All she could do at this time was to take Julian Cridell's advice. She had stated her wishes in the matter, and if it had done nothing else, it had shown him that she had a mind of her own, and she was certainly not going to put up with any more chauvinistic displays on his part. He could have had a discreet word with Celia, who did know the score, and she could have helped her in the bathroom, thus saving Melanie from the most embarrassing experience of her life.
From now on, she vowed, she would keep her distance from Julian Cridell, and hope that the holiday didn't last longer than a fortnight, for it would be easier for her to detach herself from his company once they were back home, when he would take up his commercial life again; then, with any luck, there would only be the weekends to cope with.
As Melanie had come to a decision, so had Julian,
and it was exactly the opposite of Melanie's, for at breakfast the following morning he calmly stated that he intended to teach Melanie to swim.
Melanie was furious. If anyone was going to teach her to swim, it would be Celia, that was if she decided to learn! Her belligerent glare at Julian expressed her feelings in no uncertain way. `I'm not sure that I want to learn,' she said angrily.
`Oh, but you must!' said Celia quickly. 'If Dad hadn't arrived in time yesterday, you'd have drowned, you know,' she added seriously.
Melanie silently noted that Julian had not attempted to alter her decision on this. He didn't believe in wasting his breath. He had decided that she was going to learn to swim, and that was that. She would learn to swim! It was like coming up against a brick wall, she thought, and the sooner she stopped banging her head against it, the better for everyone. It was just a case of if you couldn't beat them, you joined them ! However, Melanie had her own reasons for dissociating herself from the ménage, brick wall or no brick wall. 'I really feel I've had enough of the water to last me for quite some time,' she said firmly, and applied herself to her breakfast in a manner that suggested that that was the end of the conversation.