Dark Awakening Read online

'No, I hired it at the airport. I prefer to drive myself rather than depend on taxis all the time.' He paused to concentrate on overtaking a bus. 'I take it this Gerald is your boy-friend?'

  'Yes.'

  'Is it serious?' he asked casually.

  'No,' Minta denied emphatically, although up until tonight she had thought that she could be quite willing to be serious about Gerald. 'I've just known him for a long time, that's all.'

  'I see.' He turned to flash a smile at her. 'You'll have to be careful; those are the most dangerous kinds of relationships—the ones that you just drift into.'

  His smile really turned her on; Minta felt a thrill of pleasure run through her veins and set out to make him smile again by telling him of a funny incident when Maggie's cat, Fred, had got stuck on a ledge outside her fourth-storey flat and she had called the fire brigade in a panic, forgetting to tell them that it was only a cat on the ledge. They had turned up with sirens blaring, accompanied by an ambulance and several police cars, and just as they all arrived, the cat walked in the window. Maggie had been so appalled that she'd hidden in the flat and not dared come out for hours.

  Dane laughed with genuine amusement. 'Is Maggie staying with you and your father?'

  'No, she has her own flat in Chelsea. She runs her own business and is terribly clever.'

  Perhaps something showed in her voice, because Dane gave her a quick glance. 'Are she and your father engaged?'

  'No.' Minta shook her head and confided, 'He's had quite a few girl-friends since Mummy died; Maggie's just the latest.'

  Again he looked amused. 'You seem very blasé about it. How long do they usually last?'

  She shrugged. 'It varies. Some just a few weeks, others for almost a year. He's been going with Maggie for more than six months now.'

  'And no signs of wanting to make it permanent?'

  'He says not. Because of Mummy, you see; he always says that no one can take her place. Oh, you turn right here, by the way,' she added as they drove past the portico of the old Covent Garden market which had now been turned into shops and restaurants. She gave him some directions until he pulled up opposite the neon flashing sign saying 'De Sade's Cellar'.

  'Is this one of your "in" places?' asked Dane, looking at the sign with a slight frown.

  'I suppose so. A lot of the top groups get here.' Even from where they were sitting in the car they could hear the throb of sound coming through the narrow doorway; it almost made the car shake. 'And you can wear what you like, nobody cares. Some people look really weird.'

  'I can imagine,' he remarked drily, then turned to her. 'I haven't been in a place like that for years. Would you mind if I came in with you to see what it's like?'

  Minta's eyes ran over his well-cut evening suit. 'Er—I don't quite know how to say this, but you'll look a little out of place.'

  Dane grinned. 'Maybe I'll start a new fashion by wearing an old one.'

  But Minta still looked doubtful. 'People can get nasty sometimes. If they think you're making fun of them, they might…' Her voice trailed off.

  'Don't worry,' Dane said gently. 'I can take care of myself, you know.'

  And it was then that Minta recognised another quality in him that she had only sensed before; the touch of steel behind his charm.

  The lights in the Cellar were dim and it took a few minutes for their eyes to get used to it. The room was packed solid with people, and they stood by the steps, close by where the manager, in a blue, chocolate soldier's uniform, was keeping an eye on the place. On the stage a group of girl musicians, their clothes almost as weird as their hair and make-up, were playing their instruments as if there was no tomorrow, putting everything they had into it as they threw themselves wildly about the stage.

  'They gave this place the wrong name,' Dane murmured in her ear as he looked down on the grotesquely dressed, writhing dancers, the coloured lights that swept over them adding to the macabre scene. 'They should have called it Hell's Kitchen.'

  Minta hadn't looked at the place like that before, she'd always just walked in and become a part of it, but now she did see that it was like some old pictures of Hell. She was about to agree with him when someone caught her arm.

  'So you're here at last!' Gerald, his eyes more accustomed to the darkness, was standing below her, an exasperated frown on his face.

  He went to pull her down into the room, but Minta hung back. 'Gerald, this is Dane Fenton.'

  He looked up in surprise, which deepened when his eyes went over Dane's clothes. He himself was wearing riding boots and breeches with a black and gold shirt and several neck chains. 'What's he doing here?' he demanded with only a token attempt to lower his voice.

  'I was curious to see the place,' Dane informed him casually, adding with a steady look, 'Do you mind?'

  Gerald obviously did, but he wilted under Dane's eyes. 'No,' he mumbled, then determinedly pulled Minta on to the floor. 'Let's dance.'

  Immediately the noise of the music closed over them as they were swallowed up among the gyrating dancers. It was terribly noisy; the sound beat against their ears like something solid. Minta looked up at Dane leaning against the wall watching them, but then they were pushed further into the throng and she couldn't see him any more.

  'What the hell did you want to bring him along for?' Gerald demanded angrily.

  'I told you; he gave me a lift and wanted to come in and see what it's like here. I don't suppose he'll stay long.'

  'I should hope not. A great evening this is turning out to be,' Gerald observed sulkily. 'Get rid of him; we don't want him around.'

  It was obvious that he wanted to be placated, for her to apologise profusely again and give him all her attention. Ordinarily Minta probably would have done; she didn't like people to be annoyed with her, and even less did she like scenes, especially in public, but her eyes went to the doorway again and she saw Dane with a glass in his hand, which he raised to her in silent toast, and suddenly she grew impatient with Gerald. 'Oh, for heaven's sake,' she snapped, raising her voice to be heard above the noise, 'I was late and I've apologised. If you're going to sulk like a schoolboy about it all night, then I'm leaving!'

  Which was so unlike her that Gerald gaped at her in amazement. Minta went to move away, and he hastily caught hold of her arm. 'Don't be silly. I'm not sulking. You can't expect me to like you turning up with another man in tow, now can you?' He started dancing again so that Minta had to join in. 'I wanted you all to myself,' he told her, and smiled at her, turning on the charm so obviously that it was blatant.

  Minta looked at him with raised eyebrows. Going off at him like that appeared to have worked wonders; maybe he wasn't used to having his ego pricked by one of his girl-friends. They went on dancing in silence, not touching, just moving to the thudding beat of the music. On the stage the female group were going wild, the singer doing impossible things with the hand-mike that made the men near the stage stop dancing to watch while they howled for more. At last the girl reached the climax of the song and then threw herself exhausted on to the stage, her face bathed in perspiration.

  Gerald tried to keep her by him on the dance floor, but Minta shook her head. 'No, we must find Dane.'

  He was still where they'd left him and he had drinks for them both, which was a miracle at De Sade's.

  'Scotch all right for you?' he asked Gerald as he passed over the glass. 'And I got something longer for you,' he said to Minta, handing her a glass of interesting-looking pale green liquid.

  'Mmm, lovely. How on earth did you manage to fight your way to the bar? It's always so hot and crowded here that you just can't get a drink unless you queue for at least half an hour.'

  Dane shrugged. 'I just told the manager what drinks I wanted and he sent someone to fetch them.'

  Gerald gave a small laugh. 'I'll have to try that next time!'

  Experimentally taking a sip of her drink, Minta found it to her liking. 'What is it?' she asked Dane.

  'Vodka and lime. Okay?'

 
; 'Yes, fine.' She felt rather flattered that he'd got her something out of the ordinary.

  The music started again and Gerald finished his drink at a gulp. He put a possessive hand on Minta's arm. 'Come on, let's dance.'

  'In a minute.' She shook him off and turned to Dane, a mischievous look in her hazel eyes. 'What do you think of the place?' He raised his eyebrows and she repeated the question above the noise.

  He leant forward, putting a casual hand on her waist, and spoke into her ear so that she could hear. 'I can think of lots of places you'd enjoy more.'

  Minta smiled. 'I didn't think it would be your scene.'

  'Why don't you let me take you on to somewhere I know you'd like?'

  She looked at him in surprise. He had made the suggestion quite casually, but there was a distinct challenge in his slightly mocking smile, as if he was daring her to accept. It excited her, made her heart beat a little faster. 'What about Gerald?' she mouthed, turning away from the younger man who stood impatiently by, attempting not to look as if he was trying to listen.

  Dane's left eyebrow rose. 'He would come too, of course.'

  'I don't know. I…'

  But Gerald interrupted her by saying to Dane. 'I expect you're bored, old boy. Don't think you have to stay here to see Minta home, I'll take care of her.' Then he determinedly made her dance with him again.

  But Dane didn't take the hint, he was still there when the music ended, and Minta insisted on rejoining him. He looked at her steadily when she came up, the mocking challenge plain in his eyes.

  Minta found it quite irresistible. Impulsively she turned to Gerald and said, 'This place is just too crowded and noisy. And it's getting boring. Let's go on somewhere else.'

  He was inclined to be indignant, having discovered De Sade's himself. 'You've always liked it before.'

  'Well, now I don't,' Minta told him impatiently. 'It's always the same here.' He argued for several minutes until she said, 'Okay, if you like it so much, then you stay, but Dane and I are going.' So then Gerald had no choice but to leave with them.

  Dane had taken no part in the argument but gave her a glance of approval that made her feel warm all over as they left. He led the way towards his car, but Gerald hung back.

  'I've got my own car here. Minta can come with me and you can follow us. I know several places we can go on to.'

  But Dane had already unlocked his car door and was holding it open for her. Without a second's hesitation Minta walked across and got in. 'Dane knows of a good place. You can follow us,' she said to Gerald. He didn't think much of that, but grimly went to collect his car, hooting imperiously to let them know when he came up behind them.

  This time Dane knew the way and didn't have to ask for directions. It was after midnight and the streets were emptier and darker now, all the theatre and cinema audiences having gone home, and most of the shops having turned out the lights in their windows. There were only private cars, a few late buses and some taxis cruising round looking for a fare. Dane drove efficiently, not taking advantage of the empty streets to speed along, but it only took them ten minutes or so before he pulled up outside a club in a street near the river with the discreet sign 'Purdey's' over the door. They got out and waited for Gerald to join them.

  Inside it wasn't a terribly large place, just a biggish room with galleries on two sides, set out with tables and chairs facing a small stage which at the moment had the curtains drawn. Nearly all the tables were full, the customers chatting over their drinks or listening to a four-piece band who played background music in a corner. A smiling waiter led them down the stairs into the main room and showed them to a table. Minta looked round her interestedly; she hadn't known the place existed before. There seemed to be an expectant air in the place; everyone kept looking towards the stage, and she wondered just what kind of a show Dane had brought them to see.

  A waiter came to take their order and Dane asked for champagne.

  'Just what is this place?' Gerald demanded morosely. 'A strip club?' Most of the people were in evening dress and he felt completely out of place in his riding breeches.

  'Sorry to disappoint you,' Dane answered lightly. 'You'll see in a minute.'

  The waiter brought their drinks, and after a few minutes Minta noticed that all the waiters had gone up to the gallery level and were gathered on a small balcony near the doorway. The band finished its number and the musicians disappeared into some back room. Immediately an expectant hush filled the room and everyone turned their chairs so that they could get their best view of the stage. The lights dimmed until it was almost dark except for a strong spotlight directed at the centre of the stage. The heavy curtains parted, but to Minta's surprise there was no stage setting, just another black curtain a few feet behind the other. Then a white-gloved hand parted the curtain. A collective sigh of pleasure ran through the audience.

  It was a mime show given by four mummers wearing jet black costumes that blended into the black curtain, only their faces, with chalk white make-up, and their white-gloved hands showing. But what they did was brilliant. Minta sat entranced as she watched the hands become birds, then snapping dogs or purring cats, and the white faces told silent stories, so sad that she wanted to cry, and sometimes so funny that the whole audience burst into spontaneous laughter and she laughed so much that tears came to her eyes anyway.

  She groped for her bag to find a handkerchief, but found one put into her hand. 'Enjoying it?' Dane asked softly.

  'It's marvellous.' She dabbed at her eyes and gave the handkerchief back, found him looking at her with a strange, almost contemplative look in his eyes, which quickly changed to a smile. Then she turned to watch the stage again, but it was a few minutes before she was wholly absorbed.

  The show lasted for over an hour, which went by like minutes, and ended to thunderous applause and repeated calls for more, but after they had taken their eighth bow the curtain came down on the mummers and staged firmly closed.

  'That was absolutely brilliant!' Minta gave a sigh of pleasure and turned to Dane, her eyes warm. 'Thank you so much for bringing us here. How on earth did you find it when you live so far away? I've never heard of the place before.'

  'I come over to London quite a lot on business. Someone brought me here on a previous visit.'

  'It was great. And you were right; I did enjoy it— much more.' Dane smiled and lifted his glass to clink it against hers.

  'Much more than what?' Gerald interrupted brusquely.

  'What? Oh, just something we were talking about earlier.'

  'I see.' Gerald looked at them both sourly, quite rightly thinking that he was gradually being excluded.

  Dane turned to him and courteously asked him about himself; what he did, that kind of thing.

  'I help my father to run his estates,' Gerald answered shortly. 'That and his other business interests.' Adding, in the hope of putting Dane down, 'Running a large estate is quite a responsibility, you know.'

  'Yes,' Dane agreed casually. 'So I found when I inherited mine.'

  There was a loud silence which Minta broke by asking, 'Was that in the Canary Islands?'

  'Yes, mostly in Gran Canaria. My grandmother, you see, came from the Canary Islands and brought a lot of land there into the family, but my grandfather's side of the family have always lived in Warwickshire.'

  Minta was about to ask him why he didn't live in Warwickshire now, but then remembered that he had mentioned an older brother; presumably he had inherited the main property in England and Dane had been left with that in the Canary Islands.

  'Does—does your wife mind living there?' Minta asked hesitantly.

  He didn't smile or look amused, but answered steadily, 'I'm not married.'

  Gerald stood up. 'Everyone's leaving and it's time I took Minta home.'

  Looking round, Minta saw that the audience had gradually broken up, drifting away in twos and fours. She glanced at her watch, saw that it was gone two and gave an exclamation of surprise. 'Good heavens, I'd no
idea it was so late. The time has just flown by.'

  'Do you really want to go home?' Dane asked her. 'Or would you like to go on to Tramps for supper?'

  Again there was that challenge in his grey eyes and this time she didn't even bother to think about it. 'Oh, yes, please. I'd love that.'

  'Good.' He put a hand under her elbow and helped her to her feet. 'Coming, Gerald?'

  'Minta ought to go home,' Gerald protested. 'Her father doesn't like her to be out too late.'

  'Oh, Gerald, don't be so stuffy! You know I often stay out later than this.'

  His mouth set into a mutinous line and as soon as they got outside he took hold of her arm and pulled her unwillingly towards his car. 'We'll go in mine,' he said forcefully.

  'All right, you don't have to hurt me,' Minta complained, trying to drag her arm away.

  They set off following Dane's car, but Gerald let it get ahead and then turned off in a different direction.

  'Hey! This isn't the way. Where are you going?'

  'I'm taking you home,' Gerald muttered. 'I've had quite enough tonight.'

  'But I want to go to Tramps.'

  'Too bad,' he replied rudely.

  'Will you please turn this car round and take me to Tramps?'

  'No, I darn well won't.'

  'All right. Then as soon as we get back to my place I'll get üi my car and drive there myself!'

  'Just because you want to join Fenton, I suppose?'

  'And why not—he's my father's guest?'

  'Well, he darn well isn't mine. Who the hell does he think he is, pushing his way into our date like that? And just who is it you want to be with—him or me?' Gerald demanded, really angry now.

  Minta hadn't thought about that before and she didn't think about it now as she answered hotly, 'Him, if you must know. You're getting to be a real bore, Gerald. And pompous, too. You should have heard yourself when you said that "running an estate is quite a responsibility, you know",' she said, mimicking his voice and looking down her nose.

  Gerald's face suffused with colour. He stamped on the brakes, then turned the car round and headed back fast in the direction in which they'd come. 'All right,' he said furiously. 'If that's the way you feel you can go ahead and throw yourself at some stranger who's going to laugh himself silly when he goes back to his precious Canary Islands. And don't try and make it up with me when he leaves you high and dry!'