A Canopy of Rose Leaves

by Isobel Chace

  ‘There’s no need to talk like that! You make me sound like a freak. I can’t help it if I never felt like that about Ian. I didn’t know one could!’

  ‘Exactly, but if you’d ever been my fiancée you’d have found out long since! A cold fish, that brother of mine, and not a particularly likeable one! The Derwents are no good to you, Deborah Day. All they’re likely to do for you is to ruin the little confidence you still have in yourself, and I have no intention of completing the demolition job that Ian began. I can’t help the blood we share, but I don’t have to ally myself with him in any other way.’

  He rolled back the blankets and squatting easily, began to fold them ready to put back on the mattress. Deborah watched him, knowing that she ought to help him, but her muscles were too painful to make it easy for her.

  ‘You’re not at all alike,’ she said. ‘All you share is the same surname. You don’t even look alike.’

  ‘You should know!’

  He turned his head and smiled at her. He was not usually a gentle person, but he could be. She knew that now. Where his heart was given he would protect, make many impossible demands, and always be sure that his way was best for both of them, but he would never wilfully hurt her and he would always be open to reasonable argument.

  ‘How are the feet?’ he asked her.

  She grimaced. ‘Better—I think. I’m not sure I shall ever walk again, but they’re not actually bleeding any longer.’

  His smile grew broader. ‘You do look a bit of a wreck at that,’ he said. ‘Was it that that kept you awake?’

  Deborah wondered what he would say if she told him that it had been he who had done that. She sighed, beginning to think that he was right and that Ian had had a disastrous effect on her confidence. Anyone else—Maxine for example—would have known exactly how to handle Roger Derwent, so why didn’t she?

  ‘Partly,’ she compromised. ‘A hot bath might have helped with the stiffness. The Khan was going to lend me a donkey for today, but I don’t think I could have got up on it. And to think these women walk such distances every day!’

  He stood up and she caught a sudden glimmer in his eyes and she felt shy. It was ridiculous to be so conscious, but she could not have been more aware if he had put his arms round her and kissed her again as he had kissed her the night before. She could almost feel her lips burning beneath his and the wild pounding of her heart was decidedly not her imagination.

  ‘Roger?’ she said uncertainly.

  His mouth tightened. ‘You’ll be able to wash at the King Darius Hotel. My mother will let you have the spare bed in her room, if they’re full up, and you can sleep your fill without anyone disturbing you. Okay?’

  She bit her lip. ‘What will your mother do?’

  ‘I’ll take her to Persepolis—’

  ‘Without me? You’ll do nothing of the sort! I’ve always wanted to see Persepolis! I saw it on the television when they made that film of the celebrations for the twenty-fifth centenary of the Persian monarchy and it was simply beautiful! You couldn’t leave me behind!’

  He put out a hand and touched the collar of her blouse, making it stand up under her chin. ‘But you’re so tired, my girl. Wouldn’t you like to have a good sleep first?’

  ‘Yes, but I want to see Persepolis too!’

  His hand was gentle against her throat. ‘What a child you are! You shouldn’t be so greedy when it comes to experience. You have years before you in which to visit Persepolis and do everything else you want to do.’

  ‘But you can’t be sure of that, can you?’ she said seriously. And the opportunity to see Persepolis with him might well never come again. ‘I want to have lots of memories when I’m old. What’s childish about that?’

  Yet the Khan had told her she was childish too, expecting the world to bow to her when she went by. Inside, she didn’t feel young at all. She felt old and grey, with the constant vision of defeat and loneliness before her, for it was not in her nature to love twice as she loved Roger. Where he was concerned she was the beggar who bowed to him, glad of any roses he threw in her direction. For her there was no one else who would do as her particular ‘minstrel of the night’.

  ‘It’s unexpected—’

  Her eyelashes fluttered, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to challenge him with a look as she wanted to do. ‘I think you feel safer if you can think of me as a child,’ she said.

  ‘Safer?’ His eyes lit with a sudden brilliance. ‘What about you? Do you feel safe with me?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘Then you shouldn’t,’ he advised her. ‘I can only bring you harm!’

  She shook her head. ‘Never. Not you. I know you better than that.’ She hesitated. ‘I know I was taking a lot for granted, just as you said, by using you to get myself out of a scrape, but I’m grateful to you for coming all the same. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.’

  Roger let go of her collar. ‘I’m glad to have been of service,’ he said formally.

  ‘And you’re not cross any more?’

  ‘Deborah, are you by any chance flirting with me?’

  Her eyes were wide and innocent. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said slowly. ‘Maxine is the girl for flirting. I’d have to take lessons from her before I started on you. She says that one look from you is enough to turn her mushy inside, and you don’t do that to me, so perhaps I’m not in love with you after all.’

  ‘Very likely not,’ he grunted. ‘How do you feel when I look at you?’

  ‘Warm and happy,’ she answered.

  ‘Deborah!’

  His fingers bit into her shoulders and his mouth took possession of hers with an abruptness that startled her. There was none of the tenderness she had come to expect in the embrace, only the demanding hardness of his lips demanding her surrender in a kiss that deepened and became more passionate as he felt her quivering response and heard the little sob of sheer happiness that escaped her as he left her mouth and ran his lips up her cheek to her eyes and then back to her mouth again.

  The slight sound of a cough behind them brought them back to their senses and they fell apart, Roger as much in control of himself as he always was, even a little amused by Deborah’s hot cheeks and embarrassed expression.

  ‘Good morning, Aga,’ he said coolly. ‘I was just coming to find you before my attention was diverted by other matters.’ He took a step forward, half hiding Deborah from the bright, interested gaze of the Khan. ‘I wanted to thank you for your hospitality—to us both.’

  ‘It was a pleasure,’ the Khan assured him. He threw a quick smile to Deborah. ‘Knome Day was afraid you might not come, but now she can be certain she is well loved, no? Yesterday she was saying you might not love her enough; today she knows better.’ He laughed out loud. ‘Today you are certain, are you not?’

  Deborah’s hand trembled in Roger’s. ‘I should have had more faith, Aga,’ she admitted. ‘When we visited the garden of Hafez an old man there told me that these were the days of roses, jasmine and celebration for me, but I was afraid that Roger would think I’d brought my troubles on my own head and leave me to get out of them as best I could.’

  The Khan looked kindly at her. ‘The Aga is not a man to allow his prize possession to be taken from him, whatever you tell me happens in England. I think he is more than a match for my poor brother.’

  Deborah thought so too. ‘I’m sorry to have made Reza unhappy,’ she said.

  ‘The pain is fleeting. He will soon marry among his own people and my mother will be satisfied. In other circumstances I should have been pleased to welcome you to my family, but you will be happier with your professor. Are you still unafraid of such a man?’ he inquired.

  Deborah could think of no answer to that. She was more than relieved when the two men shook hands and went out together to make the final arrangements for Roger’s and Deborah’s departure.

  It was only as she got into the passenger seat beside him that Roger gave her an ir
onic smile. ‘Did you really doubt that I would come for you?’ he asked.

  She nodded, unable to say a word. His hand covered hers briefly before he slipped the heavy jeep into gear and drove away from the Qashgai encampment.

  ‘You underrate yourself,’ he said.

  The hotel where Mrs. Derwent was staying was only a mile or so away from Persepolis. Deborah caught a glimpse of slender columns rising high into the sky as they made their way across the Marvdasht plain, and she wondered what the city of palaces had been like before Alexander had burned it down. Excitement flared within her as she saw a pair of storks had taken up residence on the top of one of the columns. Storks were lucky, everyone agreed, so perhaps they would be lucky for her.

  ‘Won’t your mother wonder where we were last night?’ she asked Roger as they approached the modern building of the hotel, built, so she found out later, to resemble one of the fabulous palaces of old.

  ‘I doubt she’ll ask you any embarrassing questions,’ he answered, with a swift smile. ‘She won’t consider it to be any of her business.’

  ‘But you’re her son!’

  ‘We cut my leading reins by mutual consent a long, long time ago. We both appreciate our independence too much to interfere with the doings of each other. Even as a child I went my own way and made my own mistakes.’

  It sounded rather a chilling creed to Deborah. ‘There’s a difference between loving interest and interference,’ she said.

  ‘Tell that to my mother. It will give you something to talk to her about.’

  Deborah smiled. ‘I’d rather she didn’t write me off as one of those modern, impertinent young women who have no respect for their elders, so I’ll hold my tongue. I daresay she had a different way of showing her love to my mother, who fussed unceasingly over me from the day I was born.’

  ‘I expect you were a more lovable child,’ Roger acknowledged. ‘I was always in trouble with my elders and betters, whereas I’m sure you were a well-mannered infant who knew exactly how to twist the most awkward adult around your little finger.’

  ‘Don’t sneer,’ she replied. ‘I didn’t always get my own way. And you don’t do so badly yourself in that field, do you? I wouldn’t take you on once you’d made up your mind to something!’

  He laughed. ‘I thought you had courage enough for anything?’

  Deborah thought about that. ‘I’d have to be sure you wanted it too,’ she amended her claim. ‘Absolutely sure.’

  A fountain was playing outside the entrance to the hotel. Deborah stood in its lee while Roger parked the jeep out of the way, enjoying the cool drops of water against her face. She tried to pretend to herself that she wasn’t nervous at the thought of meeting Mrs. Derwent. She rather hoped that she was less formidable than Roger, but everything she had ever heard about her hardly backed up that hope. When Roger joined her he smiled at her strained face.

  ‘She won’t eat you, Debbie.’

  ‘I want her to like me,’ she said. ‘She might not. I don’t think anyone at home was very kind to her.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ he said. ‘Mother doesn’t bear grudges, little one. That sort of thing doesn’t matter to her as much as it does to most women. Don’t expect too much, will you?’

  She would try not to, but she knew that Mrs. Derwent was her most likely ally.

  ‘Why does it matter so much?’ Roger queried, laughing a little as he held the door open for her to enter in front of him.

  She smiled and laughed a little herself, but she didn’t answer. She thought he knew very well why it was important to her.

  But whatever she had been expecting, Mrs. Derwent came as a surprise to her. She was a tall woman with awkward, angular movements, and a bony, intelligent face which she dusted with a powder that was several shades too light for her skin. Her hair was caught back in a would-be bun at the back of her neck, held in place by a few dangerous-looking pins that scattered wherever she went, allowing a lock here and there to escape, giving her a wild look that was accentuated by her habit of running her blunt fingers through the front wave whenever she got excited.

  ‘So this is Deborah Day,’ she said, rising from the chair she had been seated on. ‘How do you do?’

  Her eyes were very like Roger’s. They crinkled at the corners and they had the same piercing, all-seeing expression. Deborah’s heart bumped within her, but she managed a rather nervous smile and returned the greeting.

  ‘Whatever have you been doing with yourself?’ Mrs. Derwent asked. ‘You look as though you’ve been pulled through a bush backwards, but if Roger had anything to do with it, you very likely were. I’ve never travelled comfortably with him anywhere yet.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault this time,’ Deborah replied. ‘It was he who came to my rescue, and very grateful I am to him too.’

  Mrs. Derwent’s eyebrows rose. ’It’s more than I am.’ She turned to her son. ‘What was I supposed to do with that extraordinary little woman who came to see you? Iran’s gift to Women’s Lib went straight back to Shiraz, leaving her stranded. As I was in the same state, I said she’d have to wait until you turned up again, but she wasn’t very happy about it. I couldn’t persuade her to sleep in a bed like a Christian, so she slept on the floor and snored her head off. I do not intend to share my room with her again tonight.’

  ‘No,’ Roger agreed. ‘You’ll be sharing it with Deborah.’

  ‘What?’

  Deborah put a hand on Roger’s sleeve. ‘Is Toobi really still here? Please may I see her? I want to thank her myself, only will you please translate for me, because I want her to know that I’ll never be able to repay her. Do you think I should give her something?’

  Mrs. Derwent looked inquiringly at her son too, a gleam of mockery at the back of her eyes. ‘I suggest a box of chocolates. I can tell you for a fact that she has a very sweet tooth. When she was not snoring on the floor last night, she was chumping her way through every lump of sugar I could lay my hands on. Fortunately, I always keep an emergency supply in my bag. They never give me enough where I work.’

  ‘I’ll see her,’ Roger sighed. ‘A box of chocolates? Perhaps the shop sells confectionery—’

  Deborah pulled harder at his sleeve. ‘Yes, but I haven’t much money with me,’ she told him. ‘I can’t pay you back for the hotel until we get back to Shiraz. And your mother wouldn’t have stayed here two nights if it hadn’t been for me, would she? Can’t we all go back to Shiraz and take Toobi with us?’

  ‘No. You’re going to have a bath and bed and Toobi can stay on here and look after you.’ He smiled faintly. ‘She’ll prefer to be with you rather than earning her keep in Shiraz.’

  Deborah looked at him quickly. ‘Thank you,’ she said with unusual meekness. ‘You’re being very kind.’

  Mrs. Derwent watched her son walk across the foyer away from them. ‘Shall we have some coffee?’ she suggested. ‘Or would you prefer tea? The coffee comes in little packets, unless you have it Turkish style, but the tea is excellent.’

  ‘I’d like some tea,’ Deborah agreed. She stopped and retrieved one of Mrs. Derwent’s scattered pins, returning it to her with a smile. ‘If you can put up with me looking like this?’ she added.

  Mrs. Derwent merely shrugged. ‘I was expecting you to be an exotic flower without a brain in your head. You make a refreshing change, whatever you look like.’

  ‘It’s possible I can look a bit better than this—’

  ‘I’m sure you can!’ Mrs. Derwent said with unusual warmth. ‘I didn’t mean to put your back up. I always put my foot in it sooner or later, and I meant to be so tactful for once!’

  Deborah laughed. ‘I think we’re in the same boat,’ she confessed.

  Mrs. Derwent opened her eyes wide. ‘I liked your mother too. She told me not to build a wall between myself and Roger because I was unhappy myself. I’m afraid I didn’t take her advice.’

  ‘I’m glad someone was nice to you,’ said Deborah.

  ‘If they
weren’t, it was my own fault. I was bored out of my mind being a wife and mother and I took it out on everyone all round me. It was the best thing I ever did to retire in favour of Ian’s mother.’

  ‘For Roger too?’ Deborah asked gently.

  ‘Yes, I think it was. It wasn’t that that hurt him.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘How is your mother?’

  Deborah regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Did you know I was engaged to Ian but that he was married to someone else? My parents were rather upset about that, but my mother will love to hear that I’ve met you. Why don’t you visit her some time?’

  Mrs. Derwent ran a hand wildly through her hair. ‘Oh, I couldn’t! She wouldn’t want to see me! I wouldn’t have stayed to meet you if I hadn’t been stranded here without any choice in the matter. I’m not too good with people.’

  ‘I can’t believe that,’ Deborah maintained.

  The older woman turned a mottled red. ‘You’re in love with Roger,’ she stated as a fact. ‘Didn’t he tell you that I don’t interfere with his affairs? You don’t have to get on the right side of me. Roger lives his own life.’

  Deborah accepted a cup of tea from the waiter. ‘You’re attractive,’ she said. ‘Did you never think of marrying again?’

  ‘Don’t believe in it,’ Mrs. Derwent told her. ‘As far as I’m concerned I am married.’ She changed the subject abruptly. ‘Tell me about you and Roger. Are you going to marry him?’

  Deborah shook her head. ‘He doesn’t think love lasts.’

  Mrs. Derwent looked her straight in the eyes. ‘And you blame me for that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Deborah. ‘Should I?’

  ‘Possibly. It was nothing to do with his father. It was much later, when Roger was well on in his teens. I fell very much in love with someone.’ She hesitated. ‘After a year or two he went back to his wife. It was what I’d told him to do all along, but without much conviction because I didn’t care if anyone else got hurt. It was my turn to be the winner. It was my fault that he went. One can’t change one’s convictions and I knew that what we were doing was wrong, but I suffered terribly when he had gone. I shut everyone out, Roger included. I told myself he didn’t need me and that I didn’t need him.’