James Hadley Chase
The Soft Centre
Chapter One
Valerie Burnett lay in the bath, her head against the padded head-rest, her eyes closed.
Through the half-open window came the sound of distant voices from the terrace below. It was a cheerful sound, and Valerie was glad to listen to it. She was glad too that they had come to this hotel in Spanish Bay: it was everything that had been said about it. It really was, she thought, the nicest hotel she had ever been to, and she had been to so many, she couldn’t try to enumerate them.
She opened her eyes and looked down at her long beautifully formed body. Her full breasts and a small strip of flesh across her hips were startlingly white against the rest of her golden tan.
They had been in Spanish Bay for only a week, but the sun had been excitingly hot and she had tanned quickly and without burning.
She lifted a wet hand and picked up the gold and platinum watch that Chris had given to her for a wedding present. She saw it was twenty minutes to twelve. She would have time to dress leisurely and then go down to the terrace for an ice-cold martini. She still hadn’t quite adjusted herself to drinking martinis when Chris now only drank tomato juice. In some odd way, it made her feel guilty that he could no longer drink alcohol, but the doctor had warned her that she must continue to act and live normally as it would be bad for Chris to know that, because of him, she was altering her previous way of life.
As she put the watch back on the table by the bath, the telephone bell rang. She dried her hand on a towel and lifted the receiver.
“There’s a call from New York,” the operator told her. “Will you take it, Mrs. Burnett?”
No one but her father knew they were at the Spanish Bay hotel, so it must be her father calling, Val thought.
“Yes,” she said, and her brows moved into a small crease of worry and irritation. She had asked her father to leave them alone. Well, all right, he had done so for a week. It was her fault he should be calling. She hadn’t written to him, and she should have done, knowing how anxious he always was about her.
Her father’s voice came over the line. He had a deep, impressive voice. She often thought when listening to him talk that if he hadn’t become a tycoon, he would have made a magnificent Shakespearian actor.
“Val? You there?”
“Why, hello, Daddy. It’s nice...”
“Val! I’ve been waiting to hear from you!”
“I’m sorry. You know how it is. The sun has been wonderful. I know I should...”
“Never mind that. How is Chris?”
“Oh... well, he’s fine. We were only talking about you last night and he...”
“I want to know how he is. Look, Val. I have a meeting in five minutes. Don’t waste time. How is he?”
She moved her long legs in the water impatiently.
“Darling, I’ve just told you. He’s fine.”
“I think it was a mistake for you to be down there alone with him. He’s still a sick man, Val. Tell me: has he still got that goddamn tick around his mouth?”
Val closed her eyes. The water seemed to be getting very cold or perhaps it was her body was turning cold.
“It is much better,” she said. “Really...”
“But he’s still got it?”
“Well, yes, but it’s...”
“Does he sit around still like a Zombie?”
Aware that tears were filling her eyes, Val said, “He... he still likes to sit and do nothing but I know it will be all right. I know he is much better.”
“What does Dr. Gustave say about him?”
Val reached forward and twisted the knob to release the water in the bath.
“He said Chris is improving, but it would take time.”
“Time! Well, for God’s sake, he has been acting like a Zombie now for eighteen months!”
“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Daddy. I know how long it has been, but it really isn’t so long considering what...”
“It’s too long. Look, Valerie, you’re twenty-five with all the instincts of a normal, healthy woman. You can’t go on living like this. It isn’t fair to you. I worry about you. You can’t be tied to a man who...”
“Daddy!” Her voice suddenly became sharp. “I love Chris! I’m his wife! I won’t listen to this kind of talk! I mean that! It’s not your business! It’s mine!”
There was a pause, then her father said in a more gentle tone, “I love you too, Val. I can’t help worrying. All right. I understand. I won’t make it harder for you, but I must know — what is going on. I rely on you to tell me, and remember if there is anything I can do. I want to do it... anything.”
“Thanks, Daddy, yes, of course, but I can really and truly handle this thing.” She pulled the towel over her as she lay in the empty bath. “I’m getting cold, darling. I’m in my bath.”
“What’s Chris doing?”
“He’s on the terrace, reading Oliver Twist,” Val said. “He’s discovered Charles Dickens. He’s bought the whole set and he’s reading right the way through.”
“Well...” There was a pause, then Val heard a murmur of Voices over the line, then her father said, “I have to go. Val. You are sure you can handle this?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t forget... if you want me, call me. I’ll be back at the office around five o’clock. You can’t reach me before as I’ll be moving around, but...”
“Why should I want you, darling?”
“Just remember. My love, Val... bye.”
She hung up and got out of the bath, aware she was very cold. She briskly towelled herself, and then slipping into a blue and white polka dot wrap, she walked quickly into the big bedroom and out on to the balcony that overlooked the beautiful bay with its coves, its miles of sands and its sun umbrellas. She looked down at the terrace where Chris had been sitting.
The lounging chair was empty. The blue covered copy of Oliver Twist lay open on the green paving of the terrace.
With sudden fear gripping her heart, she looked frantically up and down the length of the terrace at the groups of people drinking and talking and the white-coated waiters who moved to the various tables, carrying drinks, to the big doorman standing in the sun in his white tropical uniform, and beyond him to the gently moving sea and the almost deserted sands, but she could see no sign of Chris.
Spanish Bay hotel was one of the most expensive and luxurious hotels in Florida. It catered only for fifty guests, but offered them a service that more than justified the cost so high that only the extremely wealthy could afford to stay there.
Charles Travers, Val’s father, had chosen the hotel. As the doctors had said that Chris needed quiet, relaxation and pampering, Travers said this was the obvious hotel for them to stay at. He had arranged everything. The bill was to be sent to him, and he even had given them a Mercedes convertible for a run-about during their stay.
Val would have preferred to have gone to a less luxurious hotel as she knew her father was by now irritated that Chris could no longer support his wife in the way a multi-millionaire’s daughter should be supported. However the hotel was so perfect that she quickly forgot her scruples, and was glad her father had insisted on them going there.
Their first week’s stay had been without incident. She had come to accept the fact that Chris had lost all his initiative, that he appeared completely happy just to sit in the sun, to read and to talk to her in a vague way about anything that wasn’t personal to themselves. That they had separate bedrooms, and he never showed any desire to touch her, gave her a hollow feeling of frustration, but this was something she could and did cope with. When they first arrived, she kept a close watch on him. This wasn’t difficult as the hotel was so situated that you could see for miles across the sands, and there was no way of reaching the nearest town unless by car. She kept the ignition key of the car always in her bag, and out of Chris’s reach.