Rachel Lindsay - Alien Corn

by Rachel Lindsay

  'No, it doesn't!' With a visible effort Lorna relaxed. 'I keep thinking of all the other women who went before me and wonder whether there'll be any more after me.'

  'What a morbid thing to say! Why, Rafael's crazy about you! For a bride-to-be you certainly look on the black side.'

  'I know, but I can't help myself. I'd prefer not to get married at all than be starry-eyed for a year and disillusioned afterwards.'

  'Well, there's no guarantee about anything, least of all marriage. The trouble with you is that you look too deeply into things. It's not always good to know too much. When I first—' Her breath caught on a strangled note and the colour drained from her face.

  'Amalia! Lorna rushed over. 'What's the matter — are you ill?'

  'A pain in my side.' The girl straightened up. 'It's gone now, thank goodness. It might be better if I go and lie down for a while.'

  'Are you sure you wouldn't like to see the doctor?'

  'Positive, thanks.'

  'Shall I come upstairs with you ?'

  'I don't think so. I'll be all right on my own. Really, Lorna, it's nothing.'

  Amalia walked slowly out of the room and Lorna sat down again on the sofa.

  How quiet and peaceful it was here - too peaceful sometimes. She stood up and moved idly round the room wishing there was something she could do. But there was nothing. The house was spotless, the meals delicious and the servants competent and thorough. Why, she had never even gone as far as the kitchens! Ridiculous to think she was going to be mistress of this house and did not know the whereabouts of one of its main rooms. Mistress in name only. Unbidden the words came into her mind and refused to be ousted. Would she and the Senhora always vie for pride of place, with Rafael neutral in the background? Aimlessly she wandered round the downstairs rooms: into the library where the books were all in Portuguese, to the dining-room - laid only for two — and back to the drawing-room with its trailing plants and polished floors. She looked down at the knitting wools on the sofa. What a good thing Amalia would soon be returning to Brazil. How strange Rafael had not told her of this decision, or did he still object to discussing family matters with her?

  She sighed and walked upstairs to change for dinner. Ruefully she replaced the skirt and frilly blouse and slipped on a simple cotton dress before she walked down the corridor to Amalia's room.

  'You're quick, Lorna. What time is it?'

  'After eight. Will you come down for supper or have it sent up?'

  'I couldn't eat anything, thanks. But you go on down.'

  Lorna was at the door when Amalia called her name. The Portuguese girl was half sitting, half lying on the bed, her eyes dilated with fear.

  'I think the pains have begun, Lorna. I - I - feel quite sick - quite odd. Oh, Lorna, what shall I do?'

  'Call the doctor, of course! There's no need to be afraid, darling, it's perfectly natural. Give me the doctor's number and I'll telephone him.'

  'It's on the pad on the bedside-table.' Amalia's hands clenched and unclenched on the coverlet and she began to cry. 'I wish Manoel were here. I want to see him. I don't know why he isn't back, he promised to be home early.'

  'He'll be here soon, darling. Please don't cry. I'll call the doctor.'

  'I still want Manoel. It's his place to be with me.' She began to cry even harder, her body shaken with sobs that occasionally ended in a moan of pain.

  Trembling, Lorna dialled the doctor's house, the palms of her hands growing damp as she tried to explain what was happening in stumbling Portuguese. The woman at the other end seemed unable to understand and there was silence on the wire. Lorna held on, hoping desperately that she had managed to convey the urgency she felt and breathing a sigh of relief as a man's voice suddenly questioned her in broken English. Briefly Lorna explained again, replacing the receiver with the fervent hope that her message would be relayed.

  For the next hour Lorna stood by Amalia's bedside, talking and joking in an effort to distract her. At ten o'clock the doctor arrived and she went out into the corridor to wait for him. It seemed an eternity before he followed her out, and one look at his face told her something was the matter.

  'I would like to take my patient to the hospital,' he said quietly.

  'Is anything wrong?'

  There are sometimes complications with a first baby. I would feel easier in my mind if the Senhora were in more - more clinical surroundings.'

  'Senhor Rodriguez wanted the child to be born here.'

  The doctor stroked his small, pointed beard and looked back into the room. 'I know how it is with families. There is a tradition about where the child should be born — especially a Rodriguez! But with this one I am afraid — you understand?'

  'Perfectly. You had better make your arrangements.'

  Thank you. I will do so immediately. Do you know where to find the Senhora's husband?'

  'I'm not. sure. He's out at the moment, but I may be able to get in touch with him.'

  'Good. It would be better if he is here.'

  He turned back into the bedroom, and Lorna snatched up a light coat and ran down -the- stairs.

  She arrived at the brightly lit portal of the Casino breathless and dishevelled, to find her way barred by a commissionaire.

  'Your ticket, please.'

  'I haven't got one. I don't want to play. I'm only looking for someone.'

  'You cannot go in without a ticket. It is the rule.'

  'But I don't want to play, I tell you!'

  He shook his head. 'I can let you have a temporary ticket if you like. It is not expensive.'

  She felt in her pocket. 'I haven't any money!'

  The man said nothing and Lorna looked round desperately, wondering if she could rush past him.

  As if guessing her intention he blocked the doorway. 'Why go in if you do not intend to play?'

  'I want to find someone. It's terribly important. Can't you let me in for a minute ?'

  'It's against the rules, senhorita. Who is it?'

  'Senhor Rodriguez, but I —'

  'Why did you not say so in the first place? The Senhor is well known here.' He held open the door courteously. 'You will find him in the restaurant watching the cabaret'

  With a tight-lipped smile Lorna sped across the marble floor. From the gaming rooms at the side came the click, click of the balls and the subdued murmur of voices occasionally punctuated by the firmer tone of the croupier: rVingt-et-un. Faites vos jeux.' Music emanated from the other side and she hurried towards the sound, brought up sharply by an attendant in evening dress.

  'Your ticket, senhorita.' Quietly she explained, and he nodded. 'Senhor Rodriguez's table is at the far end of the floor. You can go in, but stay by the door until the cabaret is finished. It won't be long now.'

  Lorna slipped through and breathed a sigh of. relief. It was the first time she had entered the restaurant and she looked around with an interest tempered by impatience.

  Manoel's table, directly opposite the band, was large and richly decorated with flowers, the men and women sitting round it still applauding the cabaret. She recognized the woman next to Manoel as the one she had seen with him in the car, and her eyes idly scanned the rest of the party, coming to rest incredulouly on a dark-haired man leaning towards, the beautiful girl at his side. Inez and Rafael! What were they doing here? The beat of the music grew loud in her ears as she saw Inez smile directly into Rafael's eyes. Instinctively she turned to run, brought up short by the realization of why she was here. With an effort she turned back and made her way across the room.

  Rafael saw her first and started to his feet. 'Lorna! What are you doing here ?'

  Ignoring him, she looked at Manoel. "You are wanted at home, Senhor Rodriguez. Amalia is ill.'

  Without waiting for a reply she turned on her heel and fled, reaching the exit before Manoel caught up with her.

  'My car's outside,' he called. 'Come along.' Together they ran the last few steps, climbed into the roadster and roared up the hill.

/>   Tell me what happened,' he commanded. 'When did it start?'

  Briefly she told him, and he heard her out in silence.

  'I know what you are thinking,' he said when she had finished, 'and by God you're right! If anything happens to Amalia I'll never forgive myself. Never!'

  'It's rather late in the day for regret.' Lorna could not Stop herself. 'You should have thought of that before.'

  'I know. I deserve everything you say to me and more. If Amalia dies, I'll never be able to remember her without wishing I were dead, too!'

  Lorna did not trust herself to reply to this extravagant outburst. It was time Manoel had a taste of his own medicine: a pity that in punishing him Amalia was the one to suffer!

  They reached the house as the ambulance was drawing away, and reversing the car Manoel followed it to the nursing home 'on the other side of the town.

  Together they kept vigil through the long reaches of the night, sitting on hard benches in the dimly lighted corridor. Nursing sisters glided past with a soft rustle, the rosaries at their waist clinking with the movement of their long white robes. By her side Manoel's lips moved in a continuous murmur of prayer, his face glistening with sweat, his eyes red-rimmed from anxiety and lack of sleep.

  The first pale streaks of dawn were ushering in a new day when Doctor Zaldor came up to them, his white coat crumpled, the rubber gloves still on his hands.

  'You wife is well, senhor,' he said slowly, 'and you have a son to be proud of. I will let you see them both for a moment.'

  Left" alone, Lorna cried quietly and thankfully: not only for her friend's happiness but for the death of her own. She leant her head against the window and looked at the lemon fingers olf light that streaked the grey sky, dispersing clouds that lingered on the horizon. The immortal words of Browning came into her mind. 'God's in His heaven, All's right with the world.'

  Yet her world, was shattered. Difficult to believe that happiness for one person could bring disaster and disillusionment for another.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Returning home, Lorna went to her room and almost immediately fell into an exhausted sleep. The sun was high in the sky when she awoke and she lay in bed gazing at the light that penetrated the shutters and lay in ribs along the ceiling. She was reluctant to get up and face the problems ahead, but she resolutely dabbed cold water on her face and combed her hair back into a careless roll. As she moved her arm her engagement ring twisted round, and she took it off and held it rumina'tively in her hand. The beautiful jewel had been a symbol of her future with Rafael. Now there was nothing, and with a sigh she slipped it into her pocket and went downstairs.

  Laughter was coming from the library, and bracing herself she opened the door and went in. All the family, including Inez, were in the act of toasting Manoel.

  'Ah, Lorna, you've come down just in time.' Rafael Came forward with a brimming glass and she took it without looking directly at him. 'I did not want to disturb you earlier,' he murmured, 'but I'm glad you woke up in time to celebrate!'

  Still she said nothing, and with a searching look he moved to the centre of the room and proposed a toast to his cousin.

  Manoel responded with his usual gallantry and after extolling the beauty of the new arrival, concluded: 'Amalia and I have already decided on the name of our son.' He grinned and waved his arm. 'My son — how strange that sounds - but I'll get used to it, I suppose - my - son is to be called Francisco Pedro Rafael Fairfax Rodriguez.'

  All eyes turned to Lorna and she swallowed hard. Thank you, Manoel. I - I never expected Amalia to in- dude my family name. It was a lovely thought. Please tell her for me.'

  'I will.' The dark eyes were grave. 'If it had been a girl we would have called her Lorna.'

  'Oh no, you're embarrassing me. I did nothing.'

  'But the nothing you did, you did so well!'

  Everyone laughed and even the Senhora's face softened into the semblance of a smile. The English coolness of thought has much to commend it,' she said calmly.

  'I wouldn't call the English cool,' Rosalia interposed. 'I think they build up a barrier so they can hide behind it! Isn't that so, Lorna ?'

  Lorna's reply was cut short by Inez. 'Sometimes a barrier is built to hide nothing.'

  Rafael straightened, only the set of his mouth showing his displeasure. 'This teasing is not in good taste. Lorna was up most of the night and she is too tired for smart repartee. I suggest we finish our drinks and then sit down to lunch.'

  Under cover of the general exodus he came to his fiancee's side. 'There are storm clouds in your eyes, my dearest. What does it presage?'

  'Nothing,' Lorna said calmly. 'The storm has finished and the sea is calm.'

  The breath hissed sharply between his teeth. 'You have a nasty habit of hitting below the belt.'

  'Let go my arm : you're hurting me!'

  'Good. That's what you are doing to me by your inability to see further than your stupid, turned-up nose.' Smiling as tenderly as if he had been whispering sweet nothings, he seated her at the dining-room table and then turned solicitously towards his mother. 'How does it feel to be a great-aunt, Mama?'

  'Wonderful. We need a baby in the house. A pity it will be for such a short time, though. Must Amalia go back to Brazil so soon?'

  'Yes. It is all arranged.'

  ALIEN QORN

  'But surely—'

  'No, Mother, everything is settled.'

  The Senhora's face grew mutinous and her son put his hand on the thin shoulder. "Don't worry, cara, there will soon be babies of mine to bring laughter here! Is that not so, Lorna?'

  A red tide of colour swept into Lorna's face and she bent silently over her plate. Rafael gazed at her for an instant, his eyes mocking, before he turned back to his food.

  The high spirits of the family continued through lunch. Conversation was mainly in Portuguese which Lorna only followed with difficulty, and she was aware that in this moment of rejoicing she stood outside the family circle. Everyone teased Manoel as if he were the only person who had produced little Francisco, and she found it difficult to restrain herself when he was toasted for the third time. In his grey suit he looked, she thought, like a pouter pigeon, puffing out his chest as if it were his plumage!

  'I expect you find our customs strange.' Inez spoke to Lorna, her voice pitched low so that no one else could hear. 'No doubt you are thinking Amalia should come into this somewhere.'

  'As a matter of fact I was,' Lorna said frankly. 'The woman's part seems to be taken too much for granted.'

  'It is — but Portuguese women do not mind. I can see that for you it would be difficult'

  'You see too much, Miss Castro. It is not always a good thing.'

  'Neither is it a good thing not to see enough. You have a proverb which says there is none so blind as those who will not see.' Inez smoothed her hair and deliberately changed the conversation. 'Your arrival at the Casino last night was a little unexpected.'

  'I'm sorry I disturbed you.'

  'Ca ne fait rien. I only hope you were not jealous to find me with Rafael.'

  Lorna's hand tightened on her fork and she knew a mad impulse to throw it at the smiling girl next to her. 'Why should I be jealous? After all, one evening is so litde compared with a lifetime!'

  There was no reply, and Lorna turned back to her dessert, conscious of having won a bitter victory.

  They were sipping coffee in the drawing-room when Rafael broke the news that a man would be coming for dinner that evening. The manner in which he spoke implied that this was no chance visitor, and Lorna followed his glance to where it rested on Rosalia. Enlightenment dawned; Rafael obviously thought it was time to find his sister a suitable husband!

  'Who is he?' Rosalia was on the alert. 'Do I know him?'

  'No, he is from Oporto, but I have known him since his marriage.'

  The girl relaxed. 'He's married, then?' 'He is a widower.'

  'Oh! You're not—'

  'And you are a widow.' Forestal
ling further argument, he stood up. 'How about a drive - all of you ? We could do with some fresh air.'

  'I'd rather rest in the garden,' Lorna said quickly. 'But you go by all means.'

  'I've no intention of going without you. A drive will do you good.'

  She stood up and moved past him. "You recommend it as the panacea of all ills. I don't know what you'd do if you didn't have a car.'

  'Use an aeroplane! Now don't argue with me, Lorna. I'm never at a loss for words, you should know that by now.'

  Setting her lips, Lorna went upstairs, slipped on a coat and defiantly refusing to make herself look more presentable, went down to the car. Inez and Rosalia were already inside and she slipped into the seat beside Rafael.

  ' "Once more into the breach, dear friends",' she quoted softly. 'Where are we going this time?'

  'I've a good mind not to tell you.' His voice was polite, but his knuckles gleamed white on the wheel. 'You're the most infuriating woman I know. One day I will teach you a lesson.'

  She did not reply and he went on: 'We're going to Nazare. It's one of the loveliest places in Europe and its inhabitants are supposed to be descendants of the original Phoenicians.'

  'You sound like a guide book.'

  'I thought you'd prefer it to my talking like a lover!'

  'Talking means nothing. If you acted like one it would be more appropriate.'

  'And what am I supposed to gauge from that?'

  'What you like. I don't care.'

  He set his jaw, and Lorna stared fixedly out of the window.

  As if sensing the discord between them Inez kept leaning forward to talk to Rafael, her mouth almost touching his ear, her breath warm on his cheek. Lorna could smell the perfume she wore, see the fine pores of the skin and the golden flecks in her eyes, and she turned her head away and stared moodily out of the window.

  They were approaching Nazare and everywhere were great splashes of colour. The little village was given over to fishing and the gaily dressed population thronged the broad beach and the promenade behind it. Women sat beside rush mats covered with salt fish drying in the sun, their full skirts spread out around them, gold earrings flashing as they chattered. Children ran over the sand; the older boys were busy mending fishing nets and oxen slept or ruminated between the brightly painted boats which were as picturesque as the people, with long prows terminating in high, sharp points.