Rachel Lindsay - Alien Corn

by Rachel Lindsay

  Rafael smiled without taking his eyes from his mother.

  'Well, Mama, I am waiting for you to say something.'

  There is nothing for me to say. You know how I feel.' The old lady's voice was harsh. 'I congratulate Miss Fairfax on captivating you.'

  Lorna felt Rafael's arm tighten, but he spoke smoothly; 'You must call her Lorna now, Mama.'

  'Of course, I was forgetting. I have been so used to thinking of her as Miss Fairfax… Forgive me - er - Lorna, I did not mean to be rude.'

  'I'm sorry it was such a surprise to you, senhora,' Lorna said quickly. 'Rafael wanted to tell you earlier, but I - I - was afraid.'

  'Indeed?' The glance was rapier-sharp. 'What was there for you to be afraid of ?'

  'Lorna was not afraid for herself,' Rafael interposed quickly. 'She only thought it might be - er - unexpected for you.'

  'It is always unexpected when one's son chooses a wife.'

  For an instant the old lady's eyes flickered towards Inez, and as if recognizing the unspoken order Rafael walked over to the girl.

  'And you, Inez? Will you congratulate me?'

  'Naturally. I think Miss Fairfax is an extremely lucky woman.'

  'Why is everyone congratulating Lorna?' Rosalia spoke for the first time. 'Personally I think Rafael's the lucky one! I wouldn't like to be married to him! He's so obstinate - you don't know what you're letting yourself in for, Lorna. I wouldn't marry him for all the sardines in Oporto!'

  The tension eased and it seemed to Lorna that the family pattern, like a kaleidoscope when shaken, subtly changed. At the centre of the new design was the warm red glow of their love, shading into the subtle pinks of Amalia's delight but broken by the green of the Senhora's jealousy and the black of Inez's hate.

  Now that their engagement was formally announced there was no need to resort to subterfuge in order to meet, and Lorna suggested to Rafael that they cancel the following day's excursion.

  'I'm sure you've been neglecting your work lately, darling, and I'll be perfectly all right on my own. In any case, Amalia hasn't seen me for so long I'm beginning to feel guilty.'

  'You should only feel guilty when you are not looking after me! Amalia has enough people at her beck and call.'

  'But if it hadn't been for her we'd never have met'

  'Do you really believe that, my darling?' He came close, so close that she could feel the warmth emanating from him. 'Do you think I wouldn't have found you wherever you'd been hiding? Don't you know it was written in the stars the moment we were born? You are the blossom on my tree, the grass growing out of my earth.'

  Listening to his deep voice murmur words of love Lorna felt her calm logic disintegrate. Unthinkable to imagine herself married to another man, to surrender her lips, her body, to anyone except this tall, dark Portuguese.

  Rafael came down to earth first. 'I'm afraid you're right about my neglecting my work. This excursion will have to be the last for some time. There's a mountain of work to get through before we can take that long honeymoon I dream about.'

  'Do you want a long honeymoon?' she asked demurely.

  'All our life will be a honeymoon, my love.' Gently he bit the lobe of her ear. 'Remember that and nothing can go wrong.'

  At the end of the week Rafael went to Oporto on business, and although dismayed at his departure Lorna was able to relax for the first time since their engagement. She had still not fully recovered from her attack of sunstroke, and his ardent lovemaking of the past week seemed to have drained her of all vitality. His presence in a room set her body trembling and she was shaken by such longing for him that she could not believe herself to be the same carefree, light-hearted girl who had left England such a short time ago. Being engaged was certainly a strain, she' thought half-humorously, and she could almost agree with Amalia that it was. not quite the idyllic time it appeared to be. Remembering her friend, Lorna's satisfaction disappeared, and with a feeling of guilt she hurried downstairs to find her.

  Amalia was lying on the couch in the drawing-room. She had altered considerably in the last few weeks and spent most of her time dreaming of cool winds and the pleasure of being slim again.

  'Do you know, Lorna, I haven't seen my feet for ages, except in a mirror!'

  'Never mind. It'll soon be over, and then think of the relief.'

  'Rather like a lunatic who bangs his head on a brick wall for the pleasure of stopping!'

  'You won't feel like that when you hold your baby in your arms. And you'll take the second and third in your stride!'

  'Heaven forbid! One is quite enough.'

  Lorna shook her head. 'It's horrible to be an only child.'

  I was, and it never bothered me. Although perhaps that was because I lived with my mother's family and there were about eighteen cousins under one roof!'

  The only time you'd get so many relations together in England would be at Christmas!' Lorna grimaced. 'I'd go mad if I had to put up with the family all the year round.'

  "You'll have to change your views when you marry. You don't think the Senhora's going to pack up, do you? This is her house, and she'll stay here till she dies.'

  Lorna stared. 'I never thought of that. I took it for granted she'd move out when Rafael and I married.'

  'Well, she won't, and Rafael won't ask her to either. Why, he'd be horrified at the idea.'

  Too well Lorna knew Amalia was speaking the truth. In the short time of her engagement she had learned enough of Rafael to know he would brook no opposition from his wife when it came to any family matter.

  'But surely he knows his mother isn't pleased at our engagement?' she said at last. 'I'd think he'd want her out of the house for that reason alone.'

  'He's probably hoping that once you're his wife she'll climb down. Anyway, there won't be much she can do.'

  Lorna let this pass. 'And what about Rosalia? Will she be here, too?'

  'Naturally. This is her home until she marries again.'

  'Lord! I can't see Rafael and me having a life of our own for the next ten years!'

  'If you were thinking of dinner a deux you can think again! Rosalia's sweet, but she hasn't much tact, and the Senhora'll be watching you like a hawk. She's not bad as an aunt, but I can't say I'd fancy her as a mother-in-law.' She yawned. 'Still, I wouldn't worry too much about it. You'll have Rafael on your side for the first few years at least, and if you want to make any drastic changes do them in the first flush of love, if you wait too long you've had it.' She shifted her position again. 'Be a dear and pass me the stool, I'll put my feet up for a bit.' Lorna complied, and Amalia stretched her arms above her head and closed her eyes.

  The sun beat down mercilessly, but they were shaded by the terrace, the gloom intensified by the brilliant light outside. Lorna was sitting in the hammock, her legs curled beneath her. In a white cotton sun-dress, her shoulders bare, her hair swinging loosely, she looked younger and infinitely prettier than when she had arrived in Portugal.

  'When are you going to buy your trousseau, Lorna?' Amalia opened her eyes. 'And your wedding dress — will it be white?'

  'I haven't thought about it. I'll have to go home to buy my things anyway — I've got no money here.'

  'Rafael will give you what you need. If I know him he's already made up his mind what he wants you to wear!'

  'That's one thing he won't get away with. The wedding dress is my secret.'

  'Will your aunt come over for the wedding?'

  'I hope so.'

  Then there's no point in your going back. You might as well take the money from Rafael.'

  Lorna's chin lifted. 'He might pay for my things in future, but I've no intention of allowing him to do so yet.'

  'What won't you allow ?'

  They both turned in surprise as Senhora Rodriguez walked out on to the terrace. In the inevitable black crepe, tide at the wrist and high at the throat, she made no concession to the heat.

  'What won't you allow my son to do?' she reiterated. 'I presume, you were referr
ing to Rafael.'

  Lorna flushed. 'My trousseau and wedding dress — I said I wouldn't let him buy it for me.'

  'I see.' The Senhora sat down, placing her black malacca stick with its silver handle against the back of her chair- 'Strange that you should be reluctant to take money from him. I should have thought you would be exactly the opposite.'

  Lorna stopped swinging the hammock. 'What do you mean by that?'

  'Why, nothing, my dear.'

  'I think you did. I'd rather you fold me straight out, senhora. It's not like you to be afraid.'

  A flush rose in the papery cheeks. 'I am not afraid, Miss — er - Lorna! I was merely surprised that you should show scruples at taking money from my son. To my mind it is one of your prime reasons for marrying him.'

  Lorna stood up angrily. To know what Rafael's mother thought was one thing, to hear her say it so crudely was another. 'I think you've gone too far this time, senhora. I've no intention of staying here to be insulted!'

  'Then you should go. While we are under the same roof there can be no armistice.'

  'I see.' Lorna's breath was a sigh. 'Now we're really coming into the open. You'd like me to go, wouldn't you? It's what you've been hoping for ever since you saw Rafael was falling in love with me. Well, you won't prevent our marriage, however hard you try.'

  'I've no intention of trying. I leave that to you.'

  'What do you mean ?'

  'That I've been aware of your indecision for weeks.'

  'That's not true! There's been no indecision. But why am I bothering to explain to you? You're determined to believe I'm marrying your son because of his money and you'll twist everything I say. I love Rafael, and whether you believe it or not I'd marry him if he didn't have a penny. I'd prefer it, in fact! You can't understand that, can you? Can't understand that I'd rather he were poor than rich. You've built your life up around your money and you think it can buy you everything you want. Well, it can't! It can't buy you love or affection, nor prevent it, either. You're trying to make me believe you've got Rafael's interest at heart when all you want to do is keep him for yourself. You're a jealous, spiteful old woman and—'

  'What if I am? I have a right to be jealous of my son! It was my body that suffered when he was born, my love that grew With his first words, his first tottering steps. My life went into the making of him, and I did not bring him up to marry someone who will destroy him!'

  'Why should I destroy him?' Lorna said hotly. 'We love each other.'

  'At the moment. But what of the years to come? How can your love grow and deepen when there are no roots to strengthen it? You might think you know what's best for him, but you don't!' She stood up and reached for her stick. 'You won't be happy living here, my child. In a few months, a year, you will make Rafael unsure of everything he has always taken for granted. You might think you have won, but it will be a bitter victory. Ties of blood are stronger than anything you can weave around him, and in the end he will come back here! I might concede that you love him in your own way, but you will never understand him — never!' She turned and walked into the drawing-room, the sound of her stick echoing on the parquet floor.

  Lorna wiped her forehead. It was wet, like her hands.

  'I'm sorry you had to listen to all this, Amalia. It must have been horrible for you.'

  'It was worse for you!' Amalia came over and sat next to Lorna on the hammock. 'I knew my aunt didn't like you, but I never guessed how much. I wouldn't take what she said too seriously, though. She was only being spiteful.'

  Lorna shuddered and rested against the canvas back. 'If only I could believe that! But she wasn't lying, Amalia! She believes she was speaking the truth!'

  'She's not a prophet.'

  'But she knows her son.'

  'So do you. And what's more you know yourself and how you'll act She was only guessing. I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be perfectly happy living here if you want to.'

  'If you want to.' The words had a familiar ring. But did she want to? Lorna sighed and stood up. If only she knew the real answer to that question her way would be clear.

  At dinner that night the Senhora was her usual self and Lorna had to admire the self-control which enabled her to sit at the head of the table and act as if nothing had happened. Manoel was working late in Lisbon and Amalia went to her room immediately after coffee. One of the maids had taught her to crochet and she whiled away the time by making a shawl, the white wool grubby from being wound and unwound repeatedly.

  As soon as she could Lorna stood up. 'If you'll excuse me, senhora, I'll take a stroll along the promenade.'

  'Portuguese women do not go out alone so late, Lorna.'

  'I'm not a Portuguese woman,' Lorna said quietly.

  'Even so, you should learn to accept our customs.-'

  'I'll go with you,' Rosalia interposed. 'If you'll wait a moment, I'll get my coat.'

  Soon the two girls were walking along the dark promenade. The lights were strung intermittently and only the cafes under the arcades were open, the tables for the most part deserted. It was late in the season and in another few weeks the tourists would depart. How would she feel living in a town where there would be no English-speaking voices? She sighed and looked at Rosalia.

  'You seem sad, Lorna.' Rosalia's light voice was troubled. 'Is anything wrong?'

  'I was just wondering how you felt now you're home again.'

  'As if I'd never been away. Sometimes it's even difficult to remember I was married.' She sighed. 'I'm lucky things ended the way they did.'

  'Do you feel bitter? About your husband, I mean.'

  'I try not to. I didn't love him when he died, you know. I haven't told the others, but I can talk more easily to you; Perhaps it's because you're both English.'

  'I thought he came from Australia.'

  'He was born in London, but he worked for an uncle on a sheep farm in New South Wales.'

  'What made you marry him?'

  'I don't know. Looking back I'd say it was the novelty of meeting someone who didn't treat me as if I were a piece of porcelain.' She smiled wryly. 'I soon realized how much nicer it was not to be looked on as an equal! We didn't think the same about anything. He expected me to be able to do all the things the Australian women did, and when he found I couldn't, we quarrelled.'

  'But what did they do that you couldn't?'

  'Everything. Keep house, shop, cook.'

  There's nothing difficult in that. If you'd wanted to learn…'

  'Ah, but I didn't. That was the trouble.' Rosalia tightened her scarf and threw Lorna a half smile. 'You mustn't blame me altogether. Don't forget I was brought up to do nothing. I never even turned on the water for my bath!'

  'No wonder you quarrelled! Didn't you even try to make an effort in the beginning?'

  'Naturally. But everything was twice as hard for me.' She shrugged. 'Environment makes you what you are, Lorna, and you can't fight against it.'

  Fingers of doubt stirred in Lorna's mind at this echo of the Senhora's words. It was like a conspiracy - another doubt, another hint. Desperately she tried again.

  'But didn't your love for Frank make you try to be what he wanted? What would have happened if he hadn't been killed?'

  'I often ask myself that,' Rosalia's gay face sobered. 'It's easy enough to fall in love, but to go on loving when you're both pulling different ways… You've got to be a saint to do that.'

  'How about Juan? Would you consider him again?'

  'With a wife and two children?'

  Lorna smiled. 'Sorry, that was a bad guess on my part!

  Never mind, though, you're pretty enough to marry again soon.'

  'I've no doubt,' Rosalia said dryly. 'Rafael will find someone as soon as he can.'

  Lorna stared in bewilderment. 'Wouldn't you like to choose your husband yourself?'

  'Why should I ? Look at the mess I made before.'

  'But even so… I wouldn't let anyone tell me whom to marry.'

  'It's the c
ustom in Portugal.

  'Custom! Custom! Must everything be done because it's the custom? No wonder you're a hundred years behind the times!'

  'Better not let Rafael hear you say that. He loves his country and he'll expect you to feel the same.' She caught Lorna's arm. 'Look at the view, isn't it wonderful? See how the water shimmers in the moonlight and the little fortress on the cliff. Oh, it's good to be home again!'

  They began to retrace their steps, walking towards the station. On their right a low wall separated them from the railway line, on their left loomed the distant bulk of the Casino and the twinkling lights of the Palace hotel. The wide road was deserted except for an occasional car and they seemed to be the only couple abroad.

  'Let's go back another way,' Rosalia said as they crossed the road. 'We can walk along the gardens and turn off higher up. It will bring us to the back of the house and we can slip in through the kitchen.'

  They set off briskly and Lorna pulled her coat tight around her. Although it had been unbearably hot during the day the usual wind had sprung up the moment the sun had set, and it whipped round them now with true Atlantic force. Breathlessly they climbed until Rosalia stopped.

  'Porra! I've got a stone in my shoe. I wish they'd do something about these roads.' She hobbled over to a bench and sat down. 'A piece of gravel's worked its way inside my stocking.' Grumbling, she bent to dislodge it, and Lorna walked slowly up the steep path. Twenty yards ahead a black car was parked and as she came abreast she stared into it curiously. With a gasp she drew back into the shadows. Manoel was in the front seat with a woman in his arms! Without thinking she turned and ran down the way she had come.

  'Let's go back the other way, Rosalia! It's dark and I'm frightened.'

  'Whatever for? Gracious, Lorna, you're as pale as a ghost..'

  'I know. I thought I saw someone hiding in the shadows. Please, Rosalia, let's go the other way.'

  'Very well, I don't mind.' The Portuguese girl stood up. 'Come on, give me your hand and we'll run.'

  Arm in arm they sped down the hill and along the promenade.

  It was not until she reached the quiet of. her room that Lorna's anger at Manoel returned with a force that left her shaken. What would Rafael say when she told him of this latest development? Surely even he would not condone an illicit love affair, for love affair it undoubtedly was: she knew Manoel too well to believe he would stop at kisses. The more she thought about it the more contemptuous she became, and she could hardly restrain herself until Rafael returned from Oporto and she was able to tell him the news.