The House in the Pines

by Margaret Carr

  ‘I insist she be sacked at once,’ Sofia’s steel hard voice demanded. ‘You heard Aunt Maria tell you how it was. She pushed her when Aunt asked for help.’

  Lynn gasped at the pure venom in the woman’s voice. Enrique tried to silence her as Luis paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

  ‘It was an accident, pure and simple,’ Lynn whispered.

  She repeated her story omitting the part about being prodded by the senora’s cane and ended by saying that because the senora was behind her she didn’t know how she had come to fall.

  ‘I’ll see you in the office after dinner,’ Luis said and Lynn stiffened her spine and threw out her chin.

  She had nothing to blame herself for. If they were determined to make something out of this, then let them. She would pack up her bags and go as she should have done when her situation changed from nurse to secretary. She was a buffer to hang the blame on and her thoughts were all the more bitter because for a short while she had believed Luis Falcon when he had said he needed her help with his dreadful family.

  But Sofia wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘Luis, get rid of her. She causes trouble for everyone. She encourages Peter to go against your wishes. My aunt tries to hold him in check and she has this terrible thing happen to her. She knows the family has money. You have money, Luis, so don’t fall for her scheming, sack her.’

  ‘Sofia,’ Enrique cried, and because it was so unexpected from such a quiet, unassuming person it drew everyone’s attention, ‘it is wrong to say these things.’

  Luis’ face was white with suppressed anger.

  ‘Lynn was brought here with the express purpose of helping you and Ana with your duties with Maria. That she could also help keep Peter occupied during his recuperation was an added bonus. You, however, have rejected every offer of help from her and that is why she concentrated on helping Peter, whose ideas for his future, I might add, were made up by himself long before Lynn arrived.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for your help,’ Sofia snarled. ‘You didn’t offer it all the years we were bringing up Peter. You never once showed concern then, but suddenly, when Peter is taking care of himself, I need help.’

  Her mouth twisted and the ugliness that her beauty couldn’t hide was displayed for all to see.

  ‘Come, my dear, you need to rest. It has all been too much for you,’ Enrique said, placing an arm around her shoulders and leading her away.

  As they came towards the door where Lynn was standing Sofia turned to face her.

  ‘Don’t think your little tricks will work,’ she hissed. ‘I know where you are going, but Luis will never look at you. After my cousin, no woman can take her place in his life.’

  The hatred that blazed in the other woman’s eyes was out of all proportion to anything Lynn could have done or said and she was left at a loss to defend herself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After dinner, Lynn made her way to the office, determined to have it out with Luis once and for all. If he refused to believe her then she would be gone directly. There was no-one in when she arrived so she sat down to wait. Five minutes later he strode in and took her breath away with his first words.

  ‘I wish to apologise for Sofia’s attack upon you. You must realise that she, too, has had a terrible shock.’

  ‘You believe me?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  He smiled.

  ‘I doubt very much that you would make a good murderer. It is an understandable accident although why no-one was with her to help her, I do not understand. Normally at that time of day she is lying down. Hopefully all will be cleared up in time.’

  He seated himself on the corner of the desk and leaned forward to look into her face.

  ‘And please, you must realise there is no reason for you to take this opportunity to make plans to leave again.’

  Lynn was sure he would see her swallow. Her dry throat refused to contract.

  ‘I . . . I had no such intention,’ she lied.

  ‘Good.’

  He stood up and took her unresisting into his arms.

  ‘I need you here, Rosalind Raynor.’

  The kiss when it came was warm and firm, no hurried brush of the lips but strong and demanding like the man himself. Lynn answered it with all her heart until she felt her legs begin to give way and her lungs gasped for air. Then it was over and she leaned against his chest listening to the thrum of his heart echoing her own. Laughter barrelled up from his throat.

  ‘If this is what it takes to keep you by my side then I shall enjoy being your gaoler.’

  Lynn pulled away and looked up into his face.

  ‘Are you making fun of me?’

  Lynn was totally unprepared for this sudden show of passion and while she was delighted at his interest she was none-the-less wary of the reasons behind it.

  On her way back to her room, she decided to call in on the senora again even though she knew the doctor had given the old lady a sleeping draught. It was on her way back out of the senora’s bedroom after checking that she was still fast asleep that Lynn saw the painting.

  She checked her step and turned back to look more closely. It was the house in the pines—the one she had visited with Peter! How strange that the senora should have a picture of that very same house, but now she knew where she’d seen it before.

  Next morning she caught Peter making his way through to the kitchen with a large box of rubbish he had cleared out of his room.

  ‘Peter, you remember the house we visited the other day? Well, there’s a picture of that same house in your grandmother’s room.’

  ‘Great,’ he said and disappeared with his burden into the back of the house.

  Lynn ground her teeth and continued her way into the office. Of course it could simply be a coincidence. It did make a pretty picture, for in the frame was a much younger house—a lived-in house, with open shutters and flower bedecked balconies and water in the fountain.

  Peter had reappeared in the doorway.

  ‘Are you sure it is the same house?’

  Lynn looked up from her work.

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘I will ask my grandmother. Ana says she is much better this morning.’

  He marched off across the courtyard and Lynn smiled to herself for it seemed to her that Peter had grown into a man overnight. Perhaps it was the air of extra confidence he carried. Now he had faced up to his family and won.

  He came back to the office just before lunch.

  ‘Grandmother denies all knowledge of the house we saw in the mountains. She says the picture is no more than just a pretty picture.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Lynn sighed. ‘It was only a thought that perhaps she knew something about the people who had lived there.’

  ‘I didn’t believe her,’ Peter stated.

  Lynn was quite shocked to hear him speak of his grandmother like that. He had always seemed quite fond of her until their row the previous evening.

  ‘Why don’t you believe her?’

  ‘I told her everything—how we found the old house and how we looked around it and met the caretaker, even told her the story he told us. At times, she looked as though she was going to tell me something, but then changed her mind. In the end she just said she didn’t know what I was talking about.’

  ‘But you think she did?’

  ‘I know she was going to talk before she changed her mind. But what she was going to say . . . ’

  He spread his arms in a significant gesture.

  When Ana came in with her coffee midmorning Lynn asked after the patient and was told in a begrudging way that the senora, apart from severe and painful bruising, was recovering, with no thanks to you, she might as well have said by the look on her face.

  When five o’clock arrived and Lynn was finished for the day she decided to take a walk. She had already visited most of the tourist attractions like the Santa Catalina Park and the sixteenth-century fortress of La Luz. She’d sunbathed on the s
oft white sands of Canteras beach and visited numerous museums, the house of Christopher Columbus and the Cathedral of Santa Ana. The list of things to see was endless but tonight she just wanted to walk, to amble through the old town and give herself time to think.

  She was not homesick, far from it, although after a hot summer she thought with a smile she might even yearn for a spot of that cool English rain. No, she was convinced that she could live here quite happily for a long time. Finding somewhere she could be comfortable and do as she liked was the problem. She recognised the nesting syndrome, the need to gather and trim a place of her own.

  She’d worked hard as a student, accepted help gracefully from older parents, and played the field in her early twenties but next year she would be thirty—the age Peter considered ancient—and life was moving on.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lynn was on her way back through the narrow, cobbled streets of the old town when a small van drew up alongside her and a man leaned out of the window and called to her in Spanish. She signalled to him that she did not understand the language. He climbed out of the vehicle and came towards her, still speaking rapid Spanish.

  Lynn glanced around for someone to interpret for them and noticed for the first time that the street was deserted. She turned to awalk way waving a hand at him to refrain him from following her. Then the man, shorter than herself but broad and dark, made a lunge and caught hold of her arm in a crushing grip.

  The hand clamped tight over her mouth was broad and fleshy and she bit down hard on the base of his second finger. There was a stinging blow to the side of her head and all was blackness.

  When she woke with an aching head and blurred vision her first recognition was that she was bound hand and foot by tight, sticky tape. As her vision cleared and she tried to move, a bolt of lightning sliced through her head. She became aware of a variety of aches and pains in various part of her body as she lay on her side on the floor of the van being bumped and jostled over rough ground.

  Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the dark. The cab of the van was blocked off from the rear by a solid partition but there were two small windows in the back doors. Pale moonlight drifted through these to show her that the space around her was empty but for a large box behind the dividing partition. She wriggled painfully towards it without knowing why, simply following her instincts for survival. The box was locked. She fought the tears that trickled across her face and into her hair, and began to shuffle forward towards the back doors.

  Once there, she lay still and gathered her thoughts. She could kick out one of the windows and try to get close enough to cut the bonds on her wrists. The window shot out on only the second kick but it flew out in one whole piece leaving no jagged edge to work on. Now what, she thought, chewing on her lower lip.

  If only her hands were not behind her back. And how much time did she have before they reached wherever they were taking her? Her head spun with questions. What could they possibly want with her. Had they mistaken her for someone else?

  In and out, round and round went ideas, hope and fear, until she was nearly sick. With a sudden rush of anger she lashed out at the doors with her feet. The doors burst open. There was a rush of ground and a rattle of stones then she closed her eyes and rolled over the edge. The unsurfaced road robbed her of breath and bit painfully into her shoulder and hip when she hit the ground where she teetered on the edge of blackness once more. The warning of danger climbed up through the fog of pain and fear urging her into movement. She pushed herself with slow rolls into a ditch on the edge of a group of trees and lay still.

  Hoping that the darkness would protect her, she allowed her eyes to close in an exhausted sleep. The stiffness had increased when she woke but she was still alone. Now she was aware of the trouble she was in. She must somehow find a tool to help free her from her bonds. Gently she began to feel around her immediate vicinity as far as she could reach.

  There was nothing, then she remembered the window she’d kicked out. It must have shattered, but it would be at least a mile or two down the road. She had struggled to her knees before she was faced with the hopelessness of the task ahead of her. She couldn’t hop a hundred yards let alone a mile, even if she could get to her feet.

  She cried out as something dug into her leg and ripped her trousers as she tried to stand. Unable to get her hands down far enough to see what it was, she tipped backwards and the sharp instrument sliced into the bindings around her ankles. Carefully she pushed her ankles harder against the obstacle and there was a sticky, tearing sound as her legs came free.

  With a gasp of relief she twisted her body and climbed to her feet. The moon was high now and she bent down to inspect the object that had torn her bonds. It was a sharp piece of tin. After judging as accurately as she could how it lay, she turned her back to it and bent down close to where she believed it to be. There was a sharp nick to her thumb as she guided her hands over it, then it sliced through the plastic, leaving a long tear on her arm. Now she was free, she mopped her battle scars and stared into the darkness around her.

  The moon shone down on the hillside as Lynn, having no idea where she was, moved out from the cover of the trees. All around her, mountain tops were silhouetted against the skyline, sharp, jagged and barren. They pierced the night sky like the serrated edges of a gigantic knife.

  It wasn’t until she stumbled into a large, rough-edged rock and grazed her hands, that she saw the lights below her like twin needles along the valley floor. Was it the van? Were they looking for her? She crouched low behind the rock watching the lights grow as they bumped and twisted on to the mountainside and around sharp bends.

  It was pointless to run. All she could do was hide and hope they would pass her in the dark. Something ran over her foot in a flurry of dust and it took all her powers of self control not to scream. Afraid to look down she moved on, hurrying from shadow to shadow, trying as much as possible to stay out of the moonlight.

  If she could reach the ridge ahead of her she would be safe. As the lights sliced over the bare terrain, Lynn dropped down behind the ridge with a groan of relief. She recognised the sound of the van’s engine as it rattled by below. The lights disappeared into the distance and everywhere was plunged into silence. Now she was really alone.

  * * *

  Dawn was creeping up the mountainsides when Lynn caught the first signs of human habitation, a small square of whitewashed buildings with a rooster crowing from the top of a brokendown shed. With a rush of self pity she forced herself to hurry down the hillside towards the house.

  The plump, middle-aged woman who answered Lynn’s knocking filled the doorway.

  ‘Si, senorita?’

  ‘Please, will you help me? I’m lost.’

  The woman frowned without understanding and spread her hands.

  Lynn tried to mime her need, but still the woman shook her head. Lynn was desperate when the man of the house came out to join his wife. Curiosity had brought him to the door and he had a little English.

  ‘Help me.’ Lynn pointed to herself. ‘Help me get to Las Palmas, please. I,’ she said, pointing to herself again, ‘am lost.’

  ‘Si, si,’ he said. ‘I help.’

  He turned to his wife and together they entered the house, both speaking at the same time. Several minutes later he returned to lead Lynn gently into a battered truck where he helped her into the cab before climbing in. After two or three attempts, he started the engine.

  Lynn bit down hard to stop herself from crying out as the truck bumped and jarred along the track. She had no idea how far away the city was and prayed that it wasn’t too far. What she didn’t expect was the truck pulling up after ten or fifteen minutes and the driver jumping out.

  ‘I get help,’ he told her.

  Terrified that in some mysterious way the man she thought of as her rescuer was in fact in league with the men who had captured her gave her the energy to scramble out of the truck and stagger a few yards across the gravel.
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br />   Only when she lifted her head to look around her did she recognise her surroundings. She was standing in front of the house in the pines that she had visited with Peter only days before.

  They found her lying in a heap on the gravel only yards from the open door of the truck. Carefully, they lifted her up and carried her into the house.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was well into the second day of her absence from the house of Luis Falcon that Lynn woke. She was lying in a small, four-poster bed with white cotton drapes tied back against the posts. A tall window shuttered at the bottom let in a ray of bright sunlight that bounced around the white walls to sparkle off the gold figure nailed to the wooden cross on the wall opposite the bed.

  Lynn watched the small figure for a long time then closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. Manuel Carrara stepped into the room at that moment and caught her sigh.

  ‘At last! We were worried about you.’

  Lynn eased up on her elbow and smiled.

  ‘How long have I been here?’

  ‘Two days.’

  ‘What?’

  She lay back with a groan. Her headache had gone and the aches and pains in her body were much improved, but her stomach growled hungrily.

  ‘I have made you something to eat now and Juanita will help make you comfortable.’

  Juanita turned out to be the wife of the truck driver. She helped Lynn to an ancient bathroom then handed over Lynn’s clothes all nicely washed and mended.

  Lynn tried to thank her but Juanita only smiled and nodded.

  When she was ready, Lynn left Juanita stripping the small bed and made her way down to the kitchen. Here Manuel was writing a note which he gave to Juanita’s husband, Pedro.

  He climbed stiffly to his feet as Lynn arrived and flapped his hand at the other man who immediately took his leave.

  ‘I have sent word to your employer to let him know that you are safe. The truck broke down yesterday. Pedro worked on it all day but it will take time to find a new part so today he will walk to the village and ask Juan in the café to phone the Senor Falcon.’