Solitaire. Sara Craven

annoy me. To disrupt the peace I have tried to establish here. To cause me yet more problems, and eventually to prove such a thorn in my flesh that I will willingly send him back to Paris to his mother’s family.’

      ‘And you aren’t prepared to do that?’ Marty ventured.

      ‘No, I am not.’ Luc Dumarais stretched tiredly. He did not volunteer any further explanation and his dark face was so harsh and strained suddenly that Marty did not dare probe further.

      There was a long silence. It was eventually broken by Luc, and Marty had the impression that he was forcing himself back from some bitter journey into the past. She tried to remember what Jean-Paul had said about the household while she was still under the mistaken impression that his remarks referred to Uncle Jim. He had spoken of a divorce, she thought, and also that Bernard’s mother was dead. He had also given her the feeling that Bernard would not welcome her presence. But then, she thought, Bernard would not be welcoming to anyone. Brief though their meeting had been, she had sensed an air of resentment and hostility which seemed to encompass the world at large.

      ‘Now we must decide what must be done with you.’ He sounded resigned.

      ‘That’s easily settled.’ Marty tried to shut out of her mind the chilling realisation of just how much she had staked on this trip and the pitiful amount of money now left to her. ‘I—I shall return to England. There really isn’t any need to concern yourself …’

      ‘Don’t be a fool.’ His voice bit at her. ‘My son was to blame for bringing you here. The responsibility now rests with me. Just how do you propose to return to England? Did you buy a return ticket for the ferry?’

      ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But that’s no problem.’ She tried to sound careless—a seasoned traveller, and saw his eyes narrow speculatively as he looked her over.

      ‘You have travellers’ cheques?’ he asked pleasantly. ‘Or are your resources restricted to those few francs you have in your bag?’

      For a moment she was stunned, then she blazed at him. ‘You dared—you actually dared to look in my bag?’

      ‘Yes, I dared,’ he said calmly. ‘I wished to check your passport and make sure you had a right to the identity you were claiming. Or did you think I would trustingly let any strange waif into my house, merely because she professed kinship with a man no longer alive to support or deny her claim? It seemed to me that you had planned only on a one-way trip.’

      ‘The more fool I,’ she said tightly. ‘But it really isn’t any of your concern. I’m sure if I really had been an actress with an eye on a part in your latest film you would have thrown me out without a second thought. Just because Martina Langton, starlet, doesn’t exist, Martina Langton, secretary, doesn’t require your charity either.’

      ‘There are arrangements you can make? Relatives in England you can cable for money?’

      Marty suppressed a wry smile as she visualised Aunt Mary’s reaction to any such demand.

      ‘No, there’s no one,’ she acknowledged quietly. ‘But I’ll manage. I’m quite capable of working, you know, and Les Sables is a seaside resort. I can get a job at one of the hotels—waiting at tables perhaps, or as a chambermaid.’

      ‘Les Sables is a small resort. Most of the hotels are family businesses and do not make a habit of employing outsiders, especially foreigners. Any casual work available has already been snapped up by students,’ he said unemotionally. ‘What other ideas have you?’

      ‘None,’ she was provoked into admitting. She lifted her chin defiantly and looked at him. ‘But I’ll think of something.’

      ‘I have already thought of something.’ His voice was cool and almost dispassionate. ‘You can remain here.’