by Anne Mather
However, when Ben did come home he was so full of excitement over his day at Cyprus Lake that Julie’s experiences were not mentioned. He told them all about the house, and the lake which gave it its name.
“It’s a marvellous place,” he enthused. “One of those hacienda-type houses with huge rooms and every amenity. The furniture isn’t particularly modern, lots of satinwood and rosewood, but beautiful, and obviously expensive. Great armchairs, big enough for three, and marvellous paintings by Goya and Renoir. I’m sure they’re originals; one couldn’t imagine Manuel Cortez owning anything else. But nothing flashy. No jarring tones. The decorations are perfect, and Manuel himself… he told me to call him that, by the way… he was charming.” He frowned. “He knows quite a lot about painting, too. He seems a decent chap to me. Certainly he’s no indiscriminate collector of objets d’art.”
He had also met Pilar Cortez.
“What a girl!” he exclaimed, in mock-amazement. “Samantha, why aren’t you a curvaceous brunette?”
Samantha threw a cushion at him. “Why? Is she a vamp?”
“Good lord, no! She’s too young for that. Besides, her boy-friends outnumber her girl-friends, I’m sure. No, it’s simply that she wears these terribly short skirts, and as she’s such a dish, one couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by her.” He laughed. “She went swimming while we were on the terrace, having a drink after lunch, and the bikini she wore would have shocked even you, Sam. Manuel just ignored her, though. Maybe he feels she deserves some freedom. I believe she had rather a tough time of it when she was with her mother.”
“Did Manuel tell you that?” asked Julie, speaking for the first time.
“Well, no… actually it was Dolores Arriviera,” replied Ben reluctantly. “She was there, too. Apparently she and Manuel have been working together, and she’s staying at the house for a few days.”
“Oh.” Julie felt frozen suddenly.
Ben hastened on. “She seems quite a charming person,” he offered awkwardly. “I know I’m only a man… but their relationship seems less than loverlike.”
Julie shivered. “It’s nothing to do with me, Ben,” she said chokily, wondering why it was that despite her knowledge that he was not a man to like or trust so far as women were concerned, her heart would simply not accept it.
CHAPTER NINE
JULIE made friends with Teresa, the young Italian girl at the hospital. Although Teresa’s English was not very grand she could make herself understood, and she liked to talk to someone who had perhaps a little more experience of life than the good Sisters of the Faith. Julie got into the habit of having her lunch with her, and gaining the child’s confidence heard all about her home and various brothers and sisters, all of whom seemed to be younger than Teresa herself. Julie brought her magazines and fruit and generally took it upon herself to provide the welcome visitor, for without her intervention Teresa had no contact with the outside world.
In the open ward where Julie had first spoken to Voletski, she became quite well-known. She knew some of the men by name now, and also what was wrong with most of them. She turned a blind eye when she caught them playing cards behind Sister’s back, but when she found evidencies of alcohol she had to report them, and took their cajoling remonstrances in good part.
She thought it was a pity that there was no television for the men, but Felipe said that when the new building was completed all modern amenities would be provided. As well as a substantial grant from the government, they had received generous help from an outside source which would enable them to give a fully operated service.
One morning Julie arrived late at the hospital. She had slept in and hadn’t somehow been able to shake off the headache which she had woken up with all morning. In addition to which everything seemed to be going wrong, from overturning her water bucket in the corridor, to trapping her fingers in the dispensary door. By lunch-time she was feeling considerably the worse for wear, and was wishing she could just go home, take a couple of aspirins and lie down for a while.
She went to the kitchens as usual at lunchtime, after providing her ward with their midday meal, to collect the tray for herself and Teresa. Her hair seemed to be damp with perspiration and she slicked it back behind her ears, wiping her forehead wearily.
“You get away directly after this, mind,” said the cook, looking anxiously at her. “You’ll be knocking yourself out, and then you’ll be no help to nobody!”
Julie smiled tiredly. “I’m okay. But I shall go home soon. I’ve a splitting headache, and it won’t budge.”
“That’s right,” the cook replied kindly. “And don’t turn in tomorrow if you’re no better. There’s no use a pretty girl like you killing yourself for them thankless brutes!”
Julie lifted the tray on which the cook had placed two bowls of an appetizing meat stew and two plates of apple dumpling and custard. She would return later for two steaming mugs of tea.
The corridor had never seemed so long, nor her feet so heavy. Julie reached Teresa’s room with relief, and pushing open the door with her foot walked in slowly.
A man was standing by Teresa’s bed, leaning over her, talking to her, and Teresa was laughing as Julie had never heard her laughing before.
“Why, Felipe…” began Julie, subconsciously wishing she had had time to run a comb through her hair, and then the tray dropped nervelessly from her fingers, spraying hot stew over her feet, as she said, disbelievingly:
“Manuel!”
“Julie!”
Manuel stared at her momentarily, and then with a muffled oath he went down on his haunches beside her, mopping the drops of liquid from her feet which as yet were too numb to feel the pain.
“What in damnation is Felipe doing, allowing you to work here like some blasted drudge?” he swore angrily. He kicked the tray to one side and taking her by the shoulders shook her vigorously. “Are you all right? Are you burned?”
His action brought Julie to her senses, and she shook him away from her, and bending down, began to gather the broken pieces of crockery together, her fingers trembling now. Manuel hoisted her unceremoniously to her feet.
“Leave it!” he commanded furiously, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets and glaring at her. “I couldn’t believe it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “When Felipe told me there was a certain Julie Kennedy working at the hospital, I couldn’t believe it was you!”
“We… well, don’t get any mistaken idea that I’m following you,” said Julie swiftly, her voice betraying a faint tremor.
Manuel hunched his shoulders. “I never said that.”
“No, but you implied it.”
“I did no such thing!” Manuel turned away, and became aware of Teresa’s interested eyes. “My God, why are you here anyway? And I don’t mean on the west coast, I mean here, in Felipe’s hospital. Dammit, you don’t get paid, do you?”
“No. But I enjoy the work.”
“Incredible! Anyway, come, let’s find this brother of mine and get something for you. You look shot to pieces.” He turned to Teresa. “I will come and see you again, little one.” The change in his tone was remarkable.
“The mess!” began Julie helplessly.
“Someone else can deal with it. You are not!” His voice brooked no argument, and for once Julie was too tired to argue.
Julie followed him more slowly as he strode angrily away down the corridor towards Sister Moran’s office. He obviously knew his way around and she wondered whether he visited the hospital very often to see Teresa. Could he be the man?… but no, this didn’t fit in at all with her ideas of Manuel Cortez. His actions towards her in the side ward they had just left were much more Manuel’s way of acting, the angry setting-down of herself, and the evidence of the violence which lay just below the surface.
Manuel glanced behind him as they neared the office, and said;
“Come, Julie. Let us hope Felipe has something alcoholic in this abstemious establishment. You could use some. You look te
rrible!”
Julie could have told him that most of her pallor sprang from the unheralded shock of seeing him, for his arrival had aroused all her earlier emotions, and she had not forgotten that Dolores Arriviera was staying with him and might conceivably be with him. She prayed that this was not so.
Felipe was surprised to see his brother, and even more surprised to hear him calling his assistant “Julie”. Julie did not bother to explain just then; she felt too wobbly. Sister Moran was very understanding when she heard what had occurred from Manuel, and disappeared at once to arrange the mopping-up operation, and another meal for Teresa, leaving Julie alone with the two men.
Felipe produced a bottle of Scotch and provided Julie with quite an enormous amount in a tumbler, and after several sips and the help of a cigarette which Manuel handed to her, already lit, she began to feel more normal.
“I gather you know Julie,” Felipe said, looking thoughtfully at his brother. “You didn’t say anything last evening when I mentioned her name.”
“I wasn’t sure it was her last evening,” replied Manuel, pacing about the room like a caged tiger. “Does it matter?”
Felipe shrugged. “That rather depends on Julie. Did you know Manuel was my brother when you started working here?”
“No,” said Julie, truthfully if a little wearily. “I didn’t even know you were here, did I?”
“No, of course not,” Felipe smiled.
“Besides, Manuel and I hardly know one another,” went on Julie determinedly. “We only met a couple of times in London, that’s all. I suppose you could say I know you better than I know your brother.”
“I see,” Felipe nodded, but Manuel stopped his pacing to glare at her.
“Have you finished that?” He nodded to the glass in her hand.
“As much as I want. Why?”
Manuel glanced at his watch. “It’s half after twelve. You’re leaving with me!”
“I don’t think so,” said Julie unsteadily.
“I know so,” said Manuel, looking at Felipe as though daring him to defy him. “You don’t mind, do you, Felipe? I think she’s had enough for one day.” He glanced at his watch again. “I’ll see her home.”
Felipe hesitated, and Julie looked at him, almost imploringly. “Felipe, I’m all right, really I am. Don’t make me leave!”
“Well, maybe for today it would be best,” said Felipe thoughtfully. “After all, you’re looking tired, and the shock of dropping the tray seems to have disturbed you very much.”
Julie could have told him that her emotional upheaval had nothing to do with dropping the tray. Even the several specks of hot liquid that had stung her foot bothered her not at all. But it seemed she was to have no choice in the matter and she rose wearily.
Manuel’s mouth twisted savagely. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”
Julie placed her glass meticulously on a side table, collected her handbag and followed Manuel out of the hospital into the sunlit street beyond. Today he was driving an open tourer Cadillac, similar to Felipe’s except that it was a pale blue, with lots of chrome, and leather in a brilliant shade of orange.
Julie allowed him to put her into the car, and then watched him walk round the bonnet to slide in beside her. Dressed today in a lightweight navy blue suit and a creamy-coloured shirt and dark tie, he looked lean and masculine, the close-fitting trousers revealing the muscular line of his legs. Julie noticed everything about him – the familiar gold watch on his wrist; the smooth rippling of expensive material across his shoulders as he slid into the car; the thick black length of his lashes; the lean, tanned hardness of his hands gripping the wheel. Her heart missed a beat.
He looked at her for a moment, before setting the car in motion, and she felt self-consciously aware of the limitations of her dark blue pants and white sleeveless sweater, a thicker cardigan slung about her shoulders. Her hair, originally caught up in a knot, was escaping in tendrils minute by minute, and she felt she must look an absolute mess!
He drove up the precipitous climb out of the town and then turned south towards Ben’s house and the Monterey peninsula. Leaving the main highway, he drove inland through country Julie had never seen before but which she was prevented from enjoying by the teeming activity in her stomach which seemed to be getting more sickening every minute. She could not enjoy the fabulous views spread out before her, or hear the gentle ripple of the waterfalls below them.
Manuel drew the car into the park of a small roadhouse, and turned to Julie. “We’ll have lunch here. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t remember you asking me whether I wanted to have lunch with you,” she said stiffly, not looking at him.
“Don’t ride me,” he muttered, in a violent tone. “Out!”
As it happened, after a glass of deliciously cold Martini, Julie enjoyed her lunch. They had steaks and french frieds, which Julie would have called chips, and mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick sauce. She found she was very hungry, after all, and the red Californian wine Manuel ordered with the meal was tangy and refreshing and as good as anything Julie had tasted at home. They finished the meal with melon cocktails and more of the coffee that Julie liked so much.
When it was cleared away, Manuel handed her a cigarette, and said:
“There. That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”
Julie’s face broke into a smile. “I only hope no one knows you around here. I must look a terrible fright, and I feel as though I’ve eaten like a horse.”
Manuel shrugged. “I like to see people enjoy their food. It’s important.” He drew on his cigarette. “Well, how do you like this country?”
“I think it’s marvellous,” confessed Julie, sighing. “I feel quite at home here already. The people are all so friendly!”
“Especially Felipe,” remarked Manuel dryly.
Julie shrugged. “I like Felipe, and I think he likes me,” she replied defensively.
“I’m sure he does,” said Manuel coolly. “Do you want any more coffee? Shall we go, then?”
Julie climbed back into the big car whose upholstery was as comfortable as a feather bed, and lay back sleepily. She felt content, and she didn’t much care where they went. She expected Manuel to ask where she was staying, but he didn’t, he merely turned back towards the coast again, and let the car have its head.
He took her to a quiet beach where the only occupants were a young couple with several children playing at the water’s edge. It was a beautiful afternoon, and he hoisted some towels from the back of the car before saying: “Do you feel like the beach?”
Julie looked across at him. “Do you?”
“Hmm,” Manuel nodded. “It’s quiet here. Let’s go down.”
The towels provided lounging covers on the sands, and Manuel shed his jacket and his shirt unselfconsciously, revealing that his skin was darkly tanned beneath. He lifted a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of his jacket and lay back lazily. “Relax,” he said, sensing her tension.
Julie hesitated and then stretched out beside him, and as the warmth of the sun spread its fingers over her bare arms she relaxed a little. She did not understand Manuel. Why should he trouble to entertain her now? Why had he been so nice to her since they left the hospital? What was behind it all? And most important, where did Dolores Arriviera fit into things? Was he taking time out from entertaining her to amuse himself with Julie as a change? Such thoughts were distasteful to her, and the muscles of her stomach tightened as he rolled on his side and studied her, his eyes amused.
“Oh, Julie,” he said softly, “you’re such a frightened little thing underneath, aren’t you? You act like the man who has hold of the tail of the tiger and daren’t let go. I won’t embarrass you by attempting to make love to you on a public beach! Shame on you, Julie!”
Julie’s lips parted in an involuntary smile. When he reduced things to such practical terms she did seem stupid. “How… how is your daughter?”
Manuel frowned. “Pilar is fine, thank you.”
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Julie moved her shoulders. “Tell me about your family. Your brothers and sisters; what do they do?”
“In my family there are two doctors, a lawyer, two technical experts, and two building manufacturers. They are my brothers,” he said, reeling them off laconically. “My sisters are all married, including Tina who is the youngest and only fifteen years old.”
Suddenly he reached out and pulled the hairpins out of her hair, allowing it to tumble in confusion about her face.
“That’s better. I don’t like it up,” he said softly. “You have beautiful hair, soft and silky and so thick!” He wound a handful round his fingers and for a moment her eyes were drawn to his. She felt her whole body pulsing with a vibrant emotion, and with a jerky movement she sat up, wincing as his fingers pulled at her hair before releasing her.
“Will you take me home?” she asked quietly.
Manuel sat up too, putting his arms round his drawn-up knees, and staring broodingly out across the wide expanse of ocean ahead of them. “ ‘Like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes he stared at the Pacific – and all his women gazed at each other with a wild surmise – ’ “ he glanced sardonically at her, and she felt her cheeks burning.
“I believe the actual quotation is ‘all his men’,” said Julie stiffly.
Manuel’s eyes darkened. “I would have thought the way I said it was more in keeping with your opinion of me!”
“You haven’t answered my question,” replied Julie, trying to retain her composure. “I want to go home!”
He uttered an expletive. “You are a menace, do you know that?” he muttered softly, in a voice so incensed that she turned to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said politely, and inadequately.
Manuel rose to his feet, and looked down on her as he slung on his shirt over his lean shoulders and buttoned it, shrugging.