by Anne Mather
‘Oh, honestly, David!’ Clare’s expression mirrored her disgust. ‘Must you go into all the gory details? Declan knows the symptoms better than you do!’
Alexandra stood listening in silence. Her own feelings were disturbingly upsetting. The description David had given had not disgusted her, but the thought of Declan going to the village, of putting himself within reach of the deadly virus, did not bear thinking about.
She ran a trembling hand round the back of her neck, under the weight of her hair. If only she knew more about the disease. All she really knew was that Bob Haze had insisted on her being vaccinated against it before leaving England.
Declan had lit his cheroot and was staring thoughtfully down at the floor at his feet. Darkness was enveloping them like a cloak and Alexandra shivered. Suddenly the jungle was a dark and menacing place.
Declan looked up. ‘I’ll have to go,’ he said with decision. ‘How is Juan?’
David shook his head, and Declan nodded. ‘I see.’ He glanced round at all of them, his eyes flickering over Alexandra without emotion. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to have that supper party without me. But I’m sure Consuelo …’
‘I’ll come with you, Declan,’ offered David, stepping forward, but Declan shook his head.
‘I think not, Dave. Thanks anyway. I’ll call at the mission at Vareja. The sisters have all been vaccinated, and as soon as they know …’ He sighed. ‘Now, you’ll excuse me, I’d like a shower and a change of clothes before leaving.’
Alexandra followed him into the living room, but he didn’t stop to speak to her, and besides, Clare and David were close behind her.
‘Well!’ Clare was bitter. ‘You really enjoyed that, didn’t you, David?’
‘Don’t be silly, Clare.’ David looked at Alexandra with appealing candour. ‘I expect you’d like to bathe, too. Perhaps it would be better if Clare and I left—–’
‘No, please—stay!’ Alexandra would never have believed that she would actually ask for Clare’s company. ‘I mean, I’m sure Declan would want you to.’
Clare’s narrowed eyes registered Alexandra’s use of Declan’s given name. Her voice was mocking as she said: ‘I’m sure he would.’
David was not at all devious. ‘All right, thank you, Alexandra. I may call you that, may I not?’
‘Of course.’ Alexandra forced a smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I’ll go and—freshen up. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Have—have a drink.’
Leaving them to it, she went through the door into the dimly lit passage beyond. She hesitated outside Declan’s door. She would have liked to have spoken to him before he left, to ask him to take care, to look after himself, but her fingers would not turn the handle.
She was still standing there when the door opened and Declan appeared, miraculously bathed and changed, his personal cleanliness a distinct contrast to hers. He paused in the doorway, looking down at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Well?’
Alexandra linked and unlinked her fingers. ‘I—I just wanted to say goodbye.’
‘Goodbye.’
‘Oh, Declan—–’ She bent her head. ‘You—you will take care, won’t you?’
‘I’m a doctor, Alexandra. I always take care.’ His voice was cool, impersonal.
She lifted her head. ‘There—there’s nothing I can do, is there? I mean—well, I have studied first aid—–’
‘No, thank you.’
‘I’d like to help you, Declan.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Would you? Then I suggest you have an early supper and go to bed. I shan’t be back tonight.’
‘You won’t?’ Her eyes were wide and questioning. ‘When will you be back?’
‘I hope, tomorrow. If not, have Consuelo dress your shoulder.’
‘I can manage.’ She was hurt by his indifference and unnecessarily abrupt.
‘I said have Consuelo do it.’ He caught her chin in one hand, and turned her face up to his. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I don’t want to hurt you, Alexandra, but if we go on like this, I will.’
She dragged herself away from him. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do.’ He closed his door, and leaned back against it, his hand resting on the handle. ‘All right, I found the conditions you were prepared to suffer in order to see your father unwillingly admirable. But since you came here, you’ve consistently tried my patience.’
‘I think you like humiliating me,’ she mumbled childishly.
‘I don’t. I’m trying to keep a balance between us. I realise it’s difficult for you to adjust to the conditions, but I will not condone promiscuity!’
‘You flatter yourself!’
‘Do I? As I’m the only unattached male around, it’s only natural that you should try your claws on me.’
Alexandra hunched her shoulders. ‘And I suppose you’re going to tell me that what happened this afternoon was all my fault!’
‘Well, wasn’t it?’ He was ironic. ‘Oh, I admit to having the usual quota of sexual urges, and I also admit that you aroused them, but—–’ he held her startled eyes with his: ‘—but they were never out of control. Any attractive female can do that to a man, or didn’t you know?’
Alexandra turned away. ‘I hate you, Declan O’Rourke!’ she muttered.
‘Good.’ He straightened. ‘Let’s keep it that way, shall we?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT was almost a week before Alexandra saw Declan again.
Two days after his departure, he sent word that he was staying in Maracuja until he had discovered the extent of the epidemic, and that Alexandra should ask the Formans to come and stay with her at the house until he got back. An Indian boy brought the message, and when Alexandra showed it to Consuelo, she lost no time in voicing her disapproval.
‘The senhorita is safe here with Consuelo,’ she protested. ‘What for you need the Formans?’
Alexandra forced a smile. The very last person she needed to see right now was Clare Forman. It was all very well telling herself that she hated Declan, hated his arrogance and superiority over her, that she didn’t care whether or not he came back safely. But deep inside her she was almost sick with anxiety and the last thing she needed was Clare’s mocking insinuations.
‘I think we’ll just disregard that piece of the message, Consuelo,’ she said at last.
Consuelo nodded, well pleased. ‘Sim, senhorita. You and I—we manage, sim?’ She patted the girl’s hand. ‘And now you let Consuelo dress your shoulder again.’
It was a long, uncomfortable week, and not even the news that Alexandra’s father was making satisfactory progress served to lighten her mood. She spent the time pacing about the garden, or playing with the dogs, or helping Consuelo in the kitchen, unable to sit at anything which gave her mind time to think.
Clare did come up a couple of times, uninvited, ostensibly to keep her company, although Alexandra had the feeling that it was Clare who needed someone to talk to. Her husband seemed absorbed in his work and was often away, and she was bound to feel lonely. She spent most of the time describing the life she used to have in Sao Paulo when her father was employed at the Consulate there, and how often she had seen Declan in those days. Alexandra despised herself for listening to her, but she couldn’t help it. She was morbidly interested in anything to do with him.
Five days after Declan’s departure, she had an unexpected visitor. She was sitting on the verandah one morning writing a long-delayed letter to Aunt Liz when the dogs set up their usual barking at the approach of an intruder. Consuelo came bustling out to attend to them, disappearing along the path which led to the gate on to the vine bridge. Alexandra frowned curiously, diverted from her task, and soon Consuelo returned, smiling goodhumouredly. Behind her came a stockily built man of medium height, young and attractive, and clearly European.
‘Ay, ay, senhorita,’ called Consuelo cheerfully. ‘Is someone to visit.’
Alexandra got to her feet, hastily brushin
g down the hem of her short skirt. The stranger was regarding her with evident interest and there was something vaguely familiar about the smile that curved his full lips. He mounted the verandah steps behind Consuelo, and she said: ‘Is—how you say?—primo de Senhor Declan, senhorita.’
‘His cousin,’ put in the man in faultless English, and Alexandra realised why she had thought there was something familiar about him. In appearance he was not a lot like Declan, but the resemblance was there if one looked close enough. ‘Enrico Rubiero, ao seu dispor, senhorita.’
‘How do you do?’ Alexandra gave him a shy smile. ‘But I’m afraid—Declan is not here.’
‘Consuelo tells me so, senhorita. And you are the daughter of Professor Tempest who was staying with my cousin some weeks ago, sim?’
‘That’s right. I’m Alexandra Tempest.’ She linked her fingers together and looked hopefully towards Consuelo. ‘Er—we don’t know when Declan will be back, do we, Consuelo?’
‘Nao, senhorita. Is most unfortunate.’
‘My cousin takes his work very seriously,’ murmured Enrico dryly.
‘His work is serious,’ declared Alexandra, unable to prevent the defensive retort, and Enrico raised knowing eyebrows.
‘Of course.’ He glanced at Consuelo. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Are you not going to offer me some of your most excellent coffee, meu velha?’
Consuelo responded to his flattery with a chuckle. ‘Of course, senhor. You will stay to lunch?’
Enrico looked towards Alexandra. ‘If Senhorita Tempest will permit me,’ he agreed.
Alexandra shrugged. ‘Oh, of course.’ She glanced round. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
‘Obrigado, senhorita.’
Enrico took the cane chair beside hers and Consuelo left them to prepare the coffee. After she had gone Alexandra folded her writing pad and put the top on her pen. Enrico was watching her questioningly and she realised it was up to her to make some conversation. But she didn’t know what to say!
At last, he said: ‘I have interrupted you, senhorita. You were writing to your father, perhaps?’
‘No. No, to my aunt, actually. As a matter of fact my father doesn’t know I’m here.’
‘No?’ Enrico looked surprised. ‘But did you not inform him of your imminent arrival?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Alexandra fidgeted with her pen. ‘I—I wanted to surprise him, you see, and then when I got here I discovered he was in hospital in Bogota.’
‘I see. How unfortunate!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And my cousin permitted you to stay with him until your father’s return?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It was—most fortunate that Declan was here, was it not?’
‘Most fortunate.’ Alexandra forced a smile. ‘He—he has been very kind.’ She put down her pen. ‘And you, senhor? What brings you to Paradiablo? You do not live here?’
‘Oh, no.’ Enrico shook his head. ‘My home is in Sao Paulo, senhorita. But I have business matters to discuss with my cousin. You understand it is not always easy to get in touch with him.’
Alexandra nodded. ‘He is remote.’
‘In more ways than one, senhorita,’ remarked Enrico dryly. ‘Ah, here is Consuelo with our coffee. Hmm, it smells delicioso!’
When Consuelo had departed again and the coffee was poured, Enrico asked her about her life in England. ‘You have a career, senhorita?’ he suggested, adding sugar to his cup.
Alexandra shook her head. ‘I’m still at school, senhor.’
‘At school?’ Enrico was evidently surprised. ‘But you do not behave like a schoolgirl, senhorita.’
‘Thank you,’ Alexandra smiled. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Actually, I shall be leaving school in four months. My father expects me to go on to university, but I don’t want to.’
‘University? Ah, yes. My father wished this for me also. But fortunately there was a family business for me to enter, and this is what I did. I have not regretted it. Are you not interested in bugs, senhorita?’
‘Bugs?’ Alexandra was confused.
‘But yes. Is not your father interested in such things?’
‘Oh, I see. Well, yes, I suppose he is. But no, I’m no good at biology—any of the sciences.’
Enrico nodded. ‘I do not blame you. Such work is not becoming to a woman. Myself, I could not show enthusiam for disease in any form.’
‘I don’t think anyone is enthusiastic about disease, senhor.’
‘No, of course not.’ Enrico spread his hands. ‘I express myself poorly. What I mean to say is—I could not do a job such as your father does. Or Declan either, for that matter.’
‘But surely you must agree that someone has to do this work?’
‘Y-e-s.’ Enrico looked down at his immaculately manicured fingernails. ‘But I could not go to these Indian villages as Declan does. I could not treat their diseases, minister to them!’ There was distaste in the way he said it. ‘Could you, senhorita?’
Alexandra hesitated, remembering almost shamefully her own distaste several days ago when the women at the Indian village had tried to be friendly with her. ‘I—I don’t know.’
‘It is easier for some than for others,’ he remarked complacently. ‘And naturally Declan finds it easier than most.’
Alexandra caught his eyes on her, and she didn’t altogether care for their speculative gleam. She realised that he expected her to ask why. But she knew, or at least she thought she did. He was referring to Declan’s Indian ancestry.
Changing the subject entirely, she said: ‘Did you come up to Paradiablo by air?’
Enrico did not immediately reply, but at last he said: ‘Yes, indeed. How else?’
Alexandra nodded, raising her coffee cup to her lips. ‘It’s a very narrow air-strip, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so.’ Enrico didn’t seem too happy about this turn of the conversation. ‘An experienced pilot can negotiate it without difficulty.’
‘Do you fly, senhor?’
‘Not personally, no.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Tell me, senhorita, has Declan taken you to see the old prospecting site yet?’
Alexandra’s nails curled into her palms. ‘No. No, he hasn’t. He hasn’t actually had the time.’
‘Of course not.’ Enrico was suave. ‘His work, I know. And now this outbreak of yellow fever.’
‘You know about that?’
‘I was informed at the airport that my cousin had sent for further supplies of vaccine, senhorita.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Alexandra put down her cup. ‘Would you like some more coffee?’
‘Obrigado, senhorita.’ He pushed his cup towards her. ‘And are you not finding it rather lonely here in this isolated outpost?’
‘I—not lonely, no.’ Alexandra suspected he would like her to express dissatisfaction with the situation, although why she suspected this she could not have said. ‘There’s Consuelo—oh, and Mrs. Forman. Do you know her, senhor?’
‘Clare? But of course.’ Enrico smiled his thanks for the second cup of coffee. ‘I had forgotten her. I expect she is glad of your companionship, too.’
Alexandra smiled. She could not honestly have said that she and Clare shared a companionship either.
‘I expect she has told you that she used to live in Sao Paulo, senhorita?’ Enrico nodded at Alexandra’s reluctant affirmation. ‘She and my cousin were—great friends.’
‘Were they?’ Alexandra drained her cup and poured herself another. ‘Are you married, senhor?’
‘Me?’ Enrico seemed surprised. ‘Not yet, senhorita.’ He sighed. ‘My mother despairs of me. But I enjoy my freedom. As you do, senhorita.’
Alexandra looked down into her empty cup. She wished that Consuelo would come back and then she could excuse herself and go to her room. She didn’t care for this question and answer session. She decided she didn’t altogether care for Enrico Rubiero either.
Much to her relief, Consuelo did put in an appearance a few minutes later. She had come to
take away the tray and while Enrico was practising his charm on her, complimenting her on the coffee and asking her what delights she had in store for lunch, Alexandra slipped away to her room. It was a relief to flop down on her bed and relax completely. She supposed she ought to feel grateful that for a few minutes at least Enrico’s presence had banished her anxieties about Declan, but his attitude was too much like Clare’s for her to feel comfortable with him.
At lunch she was relieved to find that he seemed to have exhausted his questions and instead they talked about general things like art and literature in which Alexandra was quite well versed. She had always enjoyed reading and it was interesting to discover that there were Brazilian authors following the styles of Hemingway and Scott Fitzgerald.
Towards the end of the meal, she said: ‘Will you be flying back to Sao Paulo tonight, senhor?’
Enrico reached for a luscious peach and began to peel it. ‘I do not know, senhorita. Actually, I have been discussing this with Consuelo in your absence, and she has suggested that I might stay until Declan’s return.’
Alexandra felt a rising surge of indignation. How dared Consuelo suggest such a thing without first discussing it with her?
‘I see.’
Enrico was perceptive. ‘I have offended you, senhorita?’
Alexandra sighed. ‘No, not offended, senhor. But surely you realise that while your cousin is away, neither Consuelo nor I can offer his hospitality to anyone without his permission.’
‘I am his cousin, senhorita,’ Enrico pointed out.
‘I know that, but …’ She moved her shoulders helplessly. ‘We don’t even know when Declan will return.’
‘I am sure it will not be long, senhorita. I will send a message to him.’
Alexandra felt as though he had driven her into a corner. ‘Very well, senhor.’
‘Oh, come!’ Enrico was contrite. ‘Naturally, I will not stay if you do not wish me to do so.’
‘Enrico!’ Clare’s surprised exclamation interrupted their conversation, and Alexandra looked up in dismay as the other girl walked into the room. ‘Enrico, you dog, why didn’t you let us know you were here?’