Cover

Dirk Bogarde

Voices in the Garden

Dedication

For

Charlotte and Jean-Michel Jarre

with my love

When the fire-fly hides its spot,

When the garden voices fail

In the darkness thick and hot,

Shall another voice avail,

That shape be where those are not?

Robert Browning

From ‘A Serenade at the Villa’

Chapter One

The lawn, green and smooth as a length of baize, sloped gently down through tall pines to the far end of the point where it ended in a neat curve, a crumbling stone urn of geraniums, a low stone wall and the end of the land. Beyond the wall, jagged rocks and boulders; shaggy myrtle bushes and a golden broom hung high above the sea.

She walked slowly and deliberately down the middle of the lawn only half aware that her heels were leaving deep holes in the sodden turf and that she had received the full force of one of the sprinklers across the front of her thin silk shirt. It would dry out in a second once she had reached the sunlight at the end of the point, and Archie could grumble as much as he liked about the heel marks. This wasn’t a time to be fussy. They’d disappear in a day or two. Anyway, she didn’t care. Such a minor thing. Minor things faded into the shadows of major things.

Normally she would have walked down the raked gravel path at the side; that was the rule when wearing heels. But this was not a normal day. Her first essential was to get as far away from the house, from the windows, as possible. Just so that she could have a few minutes quiet to herself. A pulling-together time. Air travel always made her feel displaced and odd, almost unsteady. That could be the wine, wine on an empty stomach. Should have had breakfast before leaving. Simply couldn’t eat anything. But it would all be better now that she was home. The last four days would start to fade out in the warmth and peace of the villa.

Wouldn’t they?

She had reached the end of the pine-shaded lawn and the sun almost blinded her as she continued towards the point, screwing up her eyes against the glittering light which bounced off the sea far below. A perfect example of leaving darkness for the light; but only physically. One couldn’t do that mentally. Not yet anyway. Mentally it was all dark.