I had a girlish impulse to get out and run, but I wouldn’t have got far in the satin mules I had put on for the journey, and the gravel would have cut my feet to shreds. I dutifully fixed on the yashmak.
‘I’ll leave the gates open in case we want to exit quickly,’ said Duncan with a laugh. He drove us through more trees to a mansion constructed in Bath stone almost covered in some kind of creeper. I was shivering.
‘Better leave the coat behind,’ suggested Duncan as I got out.
I also took off the mules.
There was a bell, but Duncan didn’t use it. He tried the handle. The door opened. He knew it would. At that moment I was certain he had tricked me. There was nobody inside.
I said, ‘We can’t walk in like this.’
‘Why not? He knows we’re coming.’ He pressed his hand against my back and firmly guided me inside. I felt it linger and I must have tensed, for he withdrew it.
The interior was dazzling, decorated like a Moorish palace: a carved wooden screen, illuminated windows, carpets of deepest red and gold, bejewelled scimitars and daggers ranged along one wall and tapestries along another.
But nobody came out to us.
‘Duncan, what is this about?’
He winked. ‘Come upstairs. You’ll see.’
‘No.’
‘All right. Wait here. Give me the record.’
I passed it to him, still wondering whether to turn and run, but how, and where to, dressed like this? I comforted myself with the thought that if this was an elaborate plot to get me into bed, it was shaping up as more of a seduction than a rape. I still didn’t fancy Duncan.
From upstairs came the strains of An Arabian Night.
‘It’s all right,’ called Duncan’s voice. ‘He’s here and waiting for you.’ He was looking over the banisters.
‘Upstairs?’
‘Come on up.’
‘No. You come down.’
‘Very well.’ He joined me in the hall. ‘I don’t believe you trust me. I’ll tell you what. You go up and do your dance. I’ll stay downstairs. There’s a swimming pool round the back — you can see it from the window. I’ll be there. Call down if you want me.’
For the first time since I had entered the house, I considered the possibility that the secret bidder might actually be there. ‘Why does it have to be upstairs?’
‘That’s where the hi-fi is. He’s bedridden, poor fellow. Go and give him his treat. He’s really looking forward to it.’
I suppose it was the familiarity of the music that finally drew me up those stairs. I was quivering inside. Out of the corner of an eye I watched Duncan cross the hall and go outside. He was not the seducer I had taken him for.
Halfway up the stairs was a niche containing an open box. Laid across it was a necklace of lapis lazuli. I was sure it was from ancient Egypt. I moved on.
The music was coming from behind the first door on the landing. It was ajar. I considered whether to knock. It seemed inappropriate. I sidled to the door, paused, took a breath and moved inside, gyrating gently to the music.
It was a large, panelled room, dominated by a single bed with the headboard outlined in the tulip shape so beloved of Eastern craftsmen. There was a small figure sitting in its centre like a bee, an old man in a gold quilted smoking jacket, white-haired, bright-eyed and smiling. He was waving his hands, keeping the music’s beat.
I warmed to him. I danced.
I had hardly started when the rhythm broke. I hesitated. Then I saw the reason. The deck for the hi-fi was beside the old man’s bed. He had lifted the playing arm and set the stylus back towards the beginning of the disc.
I gave him a roguish look. He beckoned with his hand and patted the bed beside him. I glanced out of the window. Duncan was lying by the pool below. He had stripped to a pair of trunks.
I perched myself on the edge of the bed.
‘What’s he doing?’ asked the old man in a surprisingly silky voice.
‘Sunbathing.’
He smiled. ‘I’m not supposed to talk to you. The money was only for the dance.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘I like your dancing. I used to watch the Cairo belly dancers years ago, before the war. I was in the Embassy. Had most of my career out there. I often watched the belly dancing.’
‘Better than mine, I’m sure. I’m an impostor.’
‘A very acceptable one, my dear. Lovely to watch. Just a little at a time, though. Blood pressure. Lost my tablets a week ago. Can’t find the pesky things however hard I look.’
‘Can’t you get some more?’
‘I’ve got some coming. As a matter of fact, my housekeeper — she looks after me — is picking up the prescription this afternoon. Duncan promised, but I rather think he must have forgotton it.’
‘I see.’
‘Duncan’s a brick, bringing you here like this. I’m his Uncle Norman, as I expect he told you.’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t he? He’s absent-minded sometimes. Still, he’s the only family I have. He takes a lot of interest. He’ll inherit all this when I go, of course. How’s the needle going?’
I stretched across to move it back. Uncle Norman watched me and went visibly more pink.
He said, ‘What a state I’m in. Wish I could find those wretched tablets.’
‘Shall I look for them?’
‘No use, my dear. Duncan searched the room from top to bottom the afternoon they disappeared. I’ll be all right as long as I don’t get too excited. Doctor’s orders. Tablets keep the pressure down, you see. Duncan says I can take the dancing in my stride, but I know my ticker better than he does.’
I heard all this with mounting horror. I could have killed Uncle Norman with the belly dance. He knew it and I was damned sure Duncan knew it.
I got up.
‘Where are you going, my dear? Don’t go yet.’
‘I’d like to find the bathroom.’
‘Oh. Along the passage. Last door facing you. Come back, won’t you?’
I ran downstairs. Through the open door I glimpsed a second car beside our own. The housekeeper’s, I presumed. It didn’t matter. I was incensed. I was going to have this out with Duncan. I could see it alclass="underline" the old man forever reminiscing about his Cairo belly dancers; Duncan spying on me at the keep fit; the fair; the auction; the missing tablets. It was tantamount to murder. And Duncan would inherit this enormous house and all its treasures and marry Angela. For all her reservations about men, she’d have him at the altar like a shot.
He was still lying on his stomach.
‘Duncan.’
He turned and sat up. ‘Something wrong?’ He didn’t look too concerned.
I said, ‘Is that what you expected?’
He stood up.
I said, ‘You bastard. You tried to kill him.’
Duncan said, ‘What happened? Is he having an attack? We’re in this together. You’d better tell me.’
‘He’s your uncle. You’re his heir. You didn’t tell me.’
‘So what? I didn’t tell Angela either. It’s my business.’
‘You fixed the auction.’
Duncan grabbed my wrist. ‘I’ve had enough of this. You and I are going upstairs to see what’s happened.’
‘No!’
He started pulling me along.
‘Leave me alone!’
‘If he’s alive, you can damned well do your belly dance until you drop or he does. Move yourself!’ He slapped me hard across the face.
We had reached the house. I screamed. He dragged me across the hall, twisting my arm behind me. Stair by stair he forced me upwards, his bare legs thrusting against mine.
‘Let me go!’ I screamed. ‘Duncan, for God’s sake, let me go!’
At the top of the stairs, I grabbed the rail and tried to kick him.
Suddenly he released me and gave an appalling shriek. What I saw then amazed me. His chest was spurting blood. There was a dagger in it, one of those ornamental daggers from the hall with vicious curved blades.