They were climbing now, and Greer could see that this area was far superior to where Uncle Randall had his flat. How Holly, had she been well enough to look around, would have delighted in this avenue of fiery flamboyant trees with its leisurely, withdrawn bungalows hedged in massed wisteria and bougainvillea. She wondered ... and hoped for Holly... that they were going to one of these charming houses. But the taxi kept on and up.
Then it was stopping, the driver was getting out to open the door. So the man had deceived her, Greer thought, looking up; it was a hospital after all. She stared
at the huge edifice with its white columns and its hanging baskets of fern. She noted the gardens of rioting cannas, sweet peas and snapdragons. She saw golden-hung mango trees brighter still . . . as well as shrill ... with coloured birds. She glimpsed a terrace paved in flagstones, tubs of yellow roses against a lavish lattice work. The breath of oranges accosted her, and she knew that somewhere behind the building there was a small grove. She heard a fountain play and a cascade fall.
All of this . . . still staring up . . . approached from the street below by a lordly flight of stone steps.
`You said it wouldn't be a hospital,' she murmured, her eyes still on the large place. And what a hospital, she thought nervously, it would cost—
'It is not.'
`A convalescent home.' Impatiently. 'Oh, it's very beautiful, but undoubtedly expensive to match.'
`And that,' he commented coldly, 'would matter a great deal to you.'
`It would.' Then she saw his trend. He was suggesting that she would resent such money spent on her sister. Well, if he wanted to think like that, let him.
'It would mean too much,' she agreed flatly. 'Holly will have to go somewhere else.'
`She is stopping here.' He said it in as flat a voice as she had used.
'I will decide on that.'
`And how? She is of age, I should say, for all her young frail look.'
He took a lot of notice of Holly. Greer thought this as she reached within her for place-putting words, for this individual certainly needed putting in his place. Ordinarily she would have been pleased for someone to have been touched by Holly, dear appealing little Holly, but not this man.
`Yes, she is twenty-one, but still in need of someone. I am that someone.'
`So speaks twenty-two,' he taunted. 'I have gathered
you are the older sister.'
`Actually twenty-three,' she said coldly. Now can we stop this nonsense? We can't afford this place. Can you suggest somewhere else?'
For answers he put the tips of his fingers, and they were cold, firm fingertips, under her elbow and guided her up the lordly steps. Although guiding was the word, as before Greer had a sensation of being almost pushed. Anyway, forced.
`Sir, Greer tried to object. `Mr—' She was not aware that she put an inquiry in her voice until he answered her. He said 'Martinez.'
`Martinez.' She pondered on it for a moment. But only a moment. 'Mr. Martinez, I will make my own arrangements for Holly.'
`Holly? But that is surely a flower – a Christmas one. A charming name, but that child is no sprig of holly. A yellow rose, perhaps. A temple blossom – you call it frangipanni. But never holly. You are the holly. Dark, green-eyed, red-cheeked.'
`You really mean spiky,' she inserted. 'But this is wasting time. I refuse to go any further.'
`Even with your sister in the place?'
`I'll wait until the doctor releases her, pay him what's owing, then .. . then . . . Oh, please, Mr. Martinez, don't start that again!' For the cool fingertips were under her elbow once more. She was being impelled up.
`Listen,' he said, and temporarily stopped. 'It is not a hospital, not a convalescent home, it is a house.'
`A house of this size!' As she said it incredulously she saw from the corner of her eye an eye regarding her from the edge of an ornamental shrub. A dark young orb, with all the jewel qualities of Indian eyes.
`Chandra, she said. For the little bit of face she could also see was the face of this morning's princeling. So the man beside her, Mr. Martinez, was right. It was a house, not a hospital. Though he had said 'My house'. Scornfully she thought to herself that he had meant his em-
ployer's house, the house of the parent of the princeling. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the man was correcting idly, No, not Chandra, Subhas.'
`That little boy?'
`Yes.'
`But surely they're very alike.'
`That' . . . a little sigh . . . 'is the trouble.'
`Where is the child's father? I would like to speak with him.' At last she would get somewhere then.
`That, sadly, is impossible.'
`Then the mother.'
`That, too.'
`But – but there must be someone I can speak with. I must explain to the owner of this beautiful house—'
`No need to wait then. I am the owner, and I know what you have to say. But until we hear what the doctor has to report on your sister, please to say nothing.'
`You the owner! But this morning—'
`Yes, it was a prank. Very naughty of Chandra, very indulgent of me. But children will be children and the minders of them often not much more. I was no more. Please to pardon.' They had reached the top step now and he bowed to her, half in apology, half as a signal for her to go in.
`I don't understand,' she murmured.
`But you surely understand that you are needed at your sister's side,' he reproved.
Flushed and resentful, she moved forward and inward, finding the interior a complete surprise, for, apart from some lacquer and bamboo, an Indian tribute, she guessed, the hall furnishings were strictly Western, elegantly so as well as very old. There was much muted silk, much glowing mahogany, a touch of Baroque and a hint of fleur-de-lys.
'On your right,' the man said.
Greer went into the room and saw that Holly was lying on a divan. The doctor sat by her side and he held the slender wrist in his hand. As she came up to the couch he
said, 'It is all right, we can talk, I have administered a sedative. Presently, when a nurse arrives, she can go to bed.'
`I can do that. I mean' . . . hurriedly... 'when I get Holly to – to wherever I can take her.'
`But she can't, of course, be moved.' The doctor's pleasant blue eyes refused politely.
`But she can't stay here. Well, actually she could, but I can't, and I can't leave Holly.'
`I think,' the doctor smiled, and his smile, Greer saw, was directed to someone behind her, 'the palacio can run to that.'
Palacio! What was this? Who was this? Not the pleasant doctor, obviously he was English, what he looked and sounded in spite of that previous foreign interchange, but the person behind her, the man who had said `my' house.
`Oh, yes,' Mr. Martinez drawled, 'there is room enough.'
Doctor—' As she had put an inquiry, though unconsciously, in her voice to Mr. Martinez, now Greer consciously queried the medico.
`Terry Holliday,' the young man complied.
`For the benefit of the young lady,' came in Mr. Martinez, 'in spite of that happy name, for holiday is pleasant to the English world, is it not, an extremely serious and knowledgeable man of medicine.'
`Now, Vasco,' objected Terry Holliday, but Greer was only thinking `Vasco'! Vasco?
At that moment Holly gave a little sigh and fluttered her lids, only the faintest gleam of shadowed blue eyes, and the glance fell first on the doctor ... then stopped there. A little quiveringly she smiled.
`That's the girl,' the doctor said.
Now Mr. Martinez was moving forward and encouraging Holly as well. A little dumbfounded at her own exclusion, Greer stood uncertain a moment, and in that moment someone else arrived, a neat, slender, white-
capped Indian nurse. In another moment again Greer found herself outside of the room.
She felt like going back . . . Mr. Martinez, who had come out, too, had left her . . . but she knew it would not be ethical, for in th
ere was now the doctor's and the nurse's domain. However, the way everything was being taken out of her hands infuriated her. She must find this Vasco Martinez at once, have an understanding. Just because he owned the house . . . or said he did . . .
By this she had emerged to the brilliant sunlight again, but this time by a side door. Her anger still on her, she stopped in surprise at the picture that met her of a small court paved with granite and marble, surrounded on three sides by cloisters of lacelike design, and set in the middle of the courtyard, like a gem, a small but very beautiful turquoise pool.
Sitting by the pool were two little Indian boys in minute trunks. They were paddling their brown feet and sailing boats. They were so alike she had to look at each several times to mark which was this morning's princeling and which the recent eye-peeper.
`Chandra — Subhas,' she proclaimed triumphantly at last, and the two went into hysterics of mirth
`Wrong, wrong!' they proclaimed in joy.
`But surely you are Chandra?'
`No, Subhas. The memsahib' . . . the little boy salaamed politely . 'must not be vexed, everyone mistakes us, even the grandparents who wish so much to know which is their grandson cannot tell.' He spoke, as Chandra had earlier, in good English.
Grandparents! Greer brightened. Perhaps at last she could speak with someone. Someone, anyway, who was not Vasco Martinez.
`Where are these grandparents?'
`Many miles from here. They do not live in Bombay. They have left us with Senhor Martinez, but we call him Uncle Vasco, for him to say which, Uncle Vasco having been at school with our father, or the father of one of us.
Do you understand?' This time, Greer decided, it was Chandra speaking.
No, she didn't understand, but at least she did understand that `Senhor' if not the Uncle Vasco. For Vasco Martinez was no uncle of these little boys, she thought. He was not Indian, even though his deep olive skin was barely lighter, he was—
'Sim, senhorita, Portuguese,' the man who had come silently out to the pool said it for her, said in disconcerting knowledge of her thoughts. 'Also not the real uncle, as you are thinking, but something even closer. I am the godfather of one of these small boys.'
`One—?'
`It is a story you must hear. Yes' – as Greer tried to look indifferent – 'I have decided on that. But surely you knew my nationality before this, surely when the doctor addressed me as Vasco you would know. For Vasco da Gama, our country's valiant fifteenth-century navigator, was, after all, not so far from your own country. Perhaps had he decided against discovering the sea route to India and ventured further south, instead of British, Australia would now be Portuguese.' A little laugh. 'However, no worry. The British and the Portuguese are old friends and Australia is British. So' – a smile and a shrug – 'we two are old friends.' He looked closely at her, then amended, `Perhaps?'
`Perhaps.' That was all Greer would admit.
`Holly—' she asked next.
`Soon Doctor Holliday will have words to say to you. Until then the words I have to say must wait.'
`More criticism, senhor?' she dared.
`I spoke out of turn before,' he actually admitted gravely. 'When I saw from my car two unaccompanied young women in this back lane of Bombay I was very infuriated.'
`For Holly.' – Now why had she said that?
For both young women,' he corrected coldly. 'Do not mistake me, please. Bombay is no better and no worse
than any large city. But for young persons to go there alone—'
`Nothing happened.'
`And probably would not have happened.'
`Then why are you fussing and fuming?'
`Because it is not done.'
`In Portugal, perhaps, but in Australia—'
`This is India, and you are very modern and too forthright,' he stated.
`Is that bad?'
`I could find it undesirable.'
`Could?' she picked up.
`If I did not find the two of you quite the opposite to that,' he amended stiffly. 'It is a strange thing.' He had taken out a cheroot and was lighting it. 'It is a strange thing,' he repeated, 'how one sets out with a thought in one's mind only to have that thought altered.'
`You mean,' deduced Greer shrewdly, 'that you set out to the ship this morning with a very adverse opinion of the pair you were to meet, though for the life of me, senhor, I can't see why we had to be met – by you.'
`We'll come to that later, please. Continue with your deductions. Almost would I say, senhorita, that you read my mind as I read yours.'
`Really . . .' stuttered Greer in annoyance.
He merely said, 'Continue, please.'
`You came with resentment, then you met my sister.' She looked challengingly at him.
`Quite right. I met your sister.' He looked unwaveringly back.
`Since when you do not find one of us undesirable.'
`Quite right again.' He actually laughed at her. As she did not speak, by this being beyond speech, he drawled, `But kindly not to venture unaccompanied in such streets again.'
`Your order or your advice?' She had found words now and flashed them angrily.
`Order,' he returned coolly. 'And why not?' Another
infuriating smile at her angry face. 'Why not — when you will be under my roof?'
`I. Under your roof?'
`It is quite a large roof.'
`It is the roof of a palacio,' she flung, 'and no doubt you are its king, but I will not be there.'
`You will be parted from your sister, then?
`Holly will not be here, either.'
`I must correct you. She cannot leave. I have had a few words with the doctor and presently he will have a few words with you.'
`This is abominable!'
`Before you admired my place.'
`Not as my own background, senhor.'
`Then,' he shrugged . . . that Continental shrug again that had previously puzzled her . . . 'it can be your sister's; you can find a background elsewhere.'
`I can't do that. I'm Holly's watch-girl.'
`Her what?'
`I'm called Greer. Greer means the Watch-Woman?
`Another misnomer,' he regretted. 'Holly for a temple blossom, Greer for someone who has only ever watched herself.'
`What senhor?'
`I am sorry,' he said at once, 'I did not mean that, undoubtedly you are fond of the child in your own way, but when one is strong one is apt to overlook delicacy.'
Greer bristled. Never had she overlooked Holly's delicacy. Astringently she asked, 'Is it such a sin then to be well and fit?'
`No, it is a wonderful advantage, and one, in you, I intend to avail myself of, or I should say use for the benefit of my two charges.'
`How do you mean?' She looked at him in amazement.
`That must come later after the doctor has said his piece. Here he comes now. Please to remain in the garden, it is very pleasant at this time of day and more conducive
to talk. I will have tea sent down. Meanwhile you two boys' . . . raising his voice to Chandra and Subhas 'can change into your clothes. Bathing is finished until tomorrow.'
Their little faces clouded but they obeyed the man at once. That didn't surprise Greer. He was a person who would demand obedience.
But she was surprised when Doctor Holliday joined her that the medico turned and watched the three, the tall Portuguese and the little boys, enter the house, the little boys on either side of him, their hands in his.
`Vasco the soft-hearted,' he laughed.
`That man!'
`That man. Oh, I know it mightn't look like it from where you stand, but—'
`My sister.' Greer guided Doctor Holliday firmly away from the subject of the Portuguese.
`Yes,' nodded the doctor. 'Your sister.' He had found a stone bench under a spreading mango tree. A cacophony of birds stopped as they sat down and the doctor smiled, `We've put them off.'
Greer did not comment and the doctor did not speak again until
a servant had brought over a netted tray and placed it on a convenient stone table.
Removing the net and pouring the Indian brew over thin slivers of lime, putting, on the doctor's direction, a sugar cube in his cup, none in her own, passing small sweet biscuits, Greer waited wonderingly for her companion to begin.
`Your sister is barely over a serious virus.' He made a statement of it, not a question.
`Yes, Doctor Holliday.'
`I think it was a form of myasthenia,' he said soberly, 'a rather rare neurological disease, and one which, if not successfully treated, entails a lifetime of attention and costly drugs.'
`Holly 'fortunately did not get as far as the paralysis of the jaw and throat muscles,' nodded Greer, very impressed, for the Sydney doctors had not experienced a case like Holly's before, yet this young doctor . . .
`I had met it previously in Manila,' he hastened to admit, 'I was working there in the Santa Tomas Hospital. Having seen it I can assure you that your sister is a very lucky girl.'
They drank and nibbled, then the doctor said cautiously, 'Before this disease—?'
`Holly was frail.'
`She is the fragile build, but that does not necessarily mean—' His voice trailed off. He watched a coloured bird leap from a mango bough to take up a crumb. 'Can you tell me more?' he asked.
She told him how Holly was her stepsister, how when she had come, she, Greer, had been appointed watch-girl, since the child was so frail. Unlike the Senhor, he did not sneer.
`And she accepted you as that?'
`Why, yes,' ' a little surprised. 'Holly has always known and resigned herself to her frailty.'
`A case of Handle With Care.' His voice was a trifle dry now. She looked at him curiously. What was in his mind?
Whatever it was, he did not tell her. He began talking of his own career. Besides tropical diseases and viruses, he had a deep interest in psychology. 'It is entwined so inevitably with health,' he said gravely.
She wondered what he meant by that as regarded Holly. As he did not tell her, she did not ask. She did ask, however, the present position.
The Pool of Pink Lilies Page 3