Under the Brazilian Sun

by Catherine George

  ‘I’ll pack it for you, if you trust me with it,’ Katherine said promptly.

  ‘Pois e—you’re the expert!’ He stretched cautiously in his chair. ‘I have been thinking,’ he went on.

  ‘About the painting?’

  ‘No. About you, Katherine. I asked you to stay here at the Quinta instead of in Viana do Castelo, but I am sure it must be boring for you.’

  ‘It’s been anything but boring this morning!’ She waved a hand at the sunlit vista outside. ‘And what hotel could possibly offer more than this!’

  ‘The company of other guests, perhaps, also a beach, and shopping in the town.’ His lips twitched. ‘All women like shopping.’

  Spare cash for shopping was in short supply, due to the unromantic need for plumbing repairs back home, so Katherine laughed and shook her head. ‘This one can survive without it, I promise.’ She paused. ‘But I would like to see a little more of the Minho.’

  ‘You would like Jorge to take you on a drive after lunch?’

  He had to be joking! ‘I hoped you would be kind enough to drive me yourself, Roberto Rocha,’ she said challengingly. ‘After all, you’re supposed to be a good driver.’

  To her relief, he threw back his head and laughed. ‘I am not just good, I am brilliant. And I would be most delighted to take you out this afternoon.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I kept the crate for the painting, so if you would now help me pack it, Katherine, we have just enough time before we eat.’

  She sealed the crate out on the veranda, taking great care to make the painting secure for its journey to England. ‘Where it was probably painted some time between 1752 and 1759,’ she told Roberto. ‘Gainsborough was based in a town called Ipswich about then before going off to find fame and fortune in London.’

  He smiled with deep satisfaction. ‘It is so good to talk with someone who shares my interest in such things. Except for my mother, all women I have known were bored with the subject.’

  ‘You obviously spent time with the wrong women,’ said Katherine, grinning—then bit her lip. ‘Sorry. I forgot you’d been married.’

  He shrugged. ‘Mariana had no interest in art. She wanted a home and children and a husband who wanted those things, too. At that time I did not.’

  ‘You must have been very young when you met?’

  ‘Much too young to marry. But Mariana was very pretty and sweet and because I had to leave for Europe to race I married her only a few weeks after we met. She was expecting my child by the time I left. She went back to her family, but soon afterwards she lost the baby. Because I could not get home right away she turned to a childhood friend for consolation. In time, she divorced me and married him.’ His mouth turned down. ‘Mariana’s treatment hurt my pride—though I did not lack attention from other women.’

  ‘So I discovered during my research!’

  ‘Ah, but I did not act on it while I was married,’ he said virtuously.

  Katherine eyed him curiously. ‘I had a vague idea divorce wasn’t legal in Brazil.’

  ‘At one time it was not,’ he agreed, ‘but in the seventies the law was changed, and these days divorce is a very simple matter. I am speaking in legal terms, you understand. To the devout, like my parents, marriage is for life.’ He shrugged. ‘Their only consolation about my divorce was my freedom to marry again and give them the grandchildren they long for. Our family is unusual in our country. Now Luis is gone, I am the only child.’

  She nodded sadly. ‘I have no siblings either.’

  He looked at her very directly. ‘You would like children, Katherine?’

  She put the finishing touches to the packing case and straightened. ‘Yes. But I would need a husband to father these children first, and I’ve never met anyone I could imagine in the role. And I’ll have to get a move on because I’m already twenty-eight,’ she added.

  ‘So old,’ mocked Roberto. ‘I am years more than that—’

  ‘Which is totally different. A man can go on fathering children for decades longer than Mother Nature allows a woman to be a mother.’ Katherine patted the crate. ‘When is the courier coming to collect him?’

  ‘Later this afternoon, but we need not wait. Jorge will be here to send our young man on his way.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KATHERINE ran back downstairs after lunch to find Jorge hovering in the hall, looking anxious.

  ‘Senhor Roberto must not drive too far, Doutora.’

  ‘I’ll see that he doesn’t,’ promised Katherine. ‘In fact, I could say I prefer you to drive us, if you think he’s not up to it today.’

  Jorge looked horrified. ‘Nao, Doutora! Say nothing, por favor. He has much pride, you understand.’

  ‘I do, perfectly,’ she said, and patted his arm. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t overdo things.’

  ‘Muit’ obrigado.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Lidia is anxious.’

  So was Jorge, thought Katherine with sympathy. She went outside to wait, wondering what car Roberto drove now the Maserati was gone. It was a surprise to see Roberto at the wheel of a gleaming black Range Rover. She ran round to the passenger door, smiling as she hopped up onto the seat.

  ‘I was expecting a sexy sports car,’ she said, breathing in the scent of leather and new car.

  ‘It is a sports car, Katherine. A Range Rover Sport with a V8 supercharged engine,’ Roberto said with relish.

  ‘Of course it is,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘You may laugh at me,’ he said with dignity, ‘but this model is also automatic, which is easier for me right now.’

  ‘And it’s wonderfully comfortable!’ Katherine secured her seat belt and sat back with a sigh of pleasure. ‘Right, let’s hit the road.’

  Instead of driving at top speed as she’d expected, Roberto took her on a leisurely journey along the River Lima, pointing out places of interest as they went. Although, as Katherine told him, everything she saw in this part of the world was interesting to her.

  ‘It’s so green. It’s quite different from how I imagined it,’ she told him as they passed hilly fields edged with stone and greenery on smallholdings where agriculture, Roberto informed her, was sometimes still carried on in the traditional way, with use of oxen rather than machinery.

  ‘You think only of the Algarve, with the cliffs and sandy beaches and Mediterranean climate which make a holiday playground. Here in the Minho, life is different. Slower, some say backward, but I say peaceful and traditional. And it is green here because it rains a lot,’ he added. ‘We shall drive to Viana do Castelo, which has good shops. You will like it.’

  ‘Because I’m a woman and can’t possibly exist without shopping,’ she teased, and Roberto laughed.

  ‘As in most of Portugal, you will find good shoes there, and all women love shoes.’

  Katherine was no exception. ‘I would enjoy some window-shopping,’ she admitted. ‘But you wouldn’t, so I’ll pass.’

  ‘I have the dark glasses, also the hat,’ he pointed out, tilting his straw Stetson over his eyes. ‘And with you at my side no one will look at me, so it is no problem.’ He peered at her over his sunglasses. ‘I would like to window-shop with you, Katherine.’

  ‘Then we will,’ she said, smiling at him.

  ‘If you permit this I can manage without my stick,’ he said, and tucked her arm in his as they left the car later to stroll in the town. He glanced down at her as she sighed. ‘You are not happy to do this?’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘So why do you sigh?’

  ‘Because I know perfectly well I should have gone home as soon as I’d finished work on the painting.’

  ‘Yet you stayed when I asked. Because you pitied me?’ he demanded abruptly.

  ‘Certainly not,’ she retorted, and felt him relax. ‘I feel sympathy, not pity.’ She smiled up at him, winning such a dazzling smile in response her heart contracted.

  ‘As I have said before, you are good for me, Katherine.’

  ‘You
can repay me by acting as tour guide.’

  ‘Sempre as seus ordems,’ he said promptly, and gestured grandly with his free arm. ‘Here we are in the Praca da Republica, with fountain constructed in 1553. You are attending, Doutora?’

  ‘Hanging on every word!’

  ‘Muito bem. The Praca is the hub of daily life here in Viana, where the historian may find many types of architecture to admire.’

  ‘This one’s full of admiration,’ she assured him.

  ‘I am most pleased to hear it. The Renaissance building at the far end, the Misericórdia, has magnificent—’ He stopped, frowning at the arcades supported by female figures. ‘I do not have the word.’

  ‘Caryatids,’ supplied Katherine.

  ‘Obrigado, Doutora Historiadora.’

  ‘Good heavens, is that what I am?’

  ‘Amongst other things, yes, Katherine.’ He grinned down at her.

  ‘Please carry on with the tour, Senhor Guide. Or are you getting tired?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘With your arm in mine, how could I be tired?’ He led her round the square, pointing out the Baroque living in harmony with the Manueline in the architecture styles of the mansions whose wealth, Roberto informed her, had been derived from trade with Brazil as well as the rest of Europe. ‘Enough history,’ he said abruptly. ‘Now we look at shoes.’

  Katherine laughed, only too happy to gaze at the tempting wares in the shop windows, but remained steadfast in her refusal to buy anything at all, even the pair of slender-heeled nude beauties which made her mouth water.

  ‘You like those?’ said Roberto.

  ‘I’m just looking,’ she said firmly, and turned away. ‘And now, Senhor Sousa, it’s time we went home, or Jorge will scold me for not looking after you.’

  ‘First we buy the shoes.’

  And, short of causing a disturbance in the Praca da Republica, Katherine had to accompany Roberto into the shop. A few minutes later they emerged with the sandals, which fitted so perfectly and looked so fabulous Katherine had decided to forget about plumbing for once and splurge. But there was a nasty moment when she found that Roberto had already paid for the new shoes while she was resuming her old ones.

  ‘Tell me how much they were and I’ll pay you when we get back,’ she insisted outside, and then eyed him anxiously as his limp became more pronounced. ‘You’re tired. We should have stopped sooner. Do you need a rest before we go back?’

  ‘Nao, ‘brigado,’ he snapped. ‘Let us get back to the car.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid to lean on me,’ she told him, and slid her arm more securely through his, dismayed that he was so offended.

  Once they were in the car on the way back to the Quinta, Roberto obviously more comfortable seated at the wheel, Katherine returned to the subject of shoe payment.

  ‘They are a gift,’ he said flatly.

  ‘I can’t accept them,’ she said, equally flatly.

  ‘Deus me livre, they are not diamonds,’ he growled, and stared straight ahead in smouldering silence for the rest of the journey.

  ‘Roberto, please try to understand,’ she said miserably as they turned in at the gates of the Quinta. ‘You’ve already paid handsomely for my services—’ Damn, that came out all wrong. ‘I mean—’

  ‘I have enough English to know what you mean,’ he snapped, and drove up the sweeping curves of the drive at breakneck speed to bring the car to a stop with panache at the great main door. ‘If you cannot bring yourself to accept such a trifling gift from me, nao importa—throw them away.’

  Before Katherine could reply, Jorge came hurrying to open the car door to help her out, and Roberto drove away round the house at a speed which left Jorge staring after him in consternation.

  ‘He is in pain, Doutora?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Probably.’ Also angry. Roberto Rocha de Sousa, it was plain, didn’t take kindly to opposition.

  ‘You would like tea?’ asked Jorge as they crossed the hall.

  Not if it meant an awkward encounter on the veranda while she drank it. Katherine smiled at him. ‘I thought I’d just go up to my room for a while.’

  ‘Tea will be brought to you,’ he said firmly.

  ‘Was the painting collected?’

  ‘Sim, senhora. It is on its way to London.’

  As she should be, too. Katherine sighed, feeling depressed after her altercation with Roberto. Dinner wouldn’t be much fun tonight.

  Lidia brought the tea up, which added guilt to Katherine’s gloom.

  ‘I should have had this downstairs and saved you the trouble,’ she told the woman in remorse.

  ‘Is no trouble,’ said Lidia, surprised. ‘I come myself because it is Pascoa’s day off. You have nice trip?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I liked Viana do Castelo very much.’

  ‘Muito bem. Now you have rest before dinner.’

  Which was more than Lidia was likely to get without Pascoa’s help. Katherine drank her tea, but concentration on her book proved so difficult she had a long shower instead, and afterwards spent more time than usual on her hair and make-up to boost her morale.

  When Lidia arrived at dinnertime to announce that Senhor Roberto waited on the veranda she handed over the smart carrier bag containing the shoes. ‘Senhor Roberto say you left this in car.’

  Katherine went downstairs with considerable reluctance, wishing she could have eaten in her room. Which was stupid. She would have to face Roberto some time.

  He came to meet her in the hall, a wry twist to his lips when he saw she was wearing the shoes. ‘Desculpe-me, Katherine. I lost my temper.’

  ‘I noticed!’ She smiled. ‘Are we friends again now?’

  ‘Of course.’ He ushered her out onto the softly lit veranda, filled two wine glasses and took the chair opposite, eyeing her challengingly. ‘I thought perhaps you would not dine with me tonight.’

  ‘No danger of that,’ she assured him.

  ‘Because you forgave my bad temper?’

  She shook her head, grinning. ‘Because I’m hungry.’

  He grinned back, looking suddenly younger. ‘You tease me! And I like it very much.’ He sobered. ‘I shall miss you so much when you leave, Katherine.’

  ‘Won’t you be going home to Brazil soon?’ She smiled as Jorge appeared with a dish of bolinhas. ‘Yummy! I love these.’

  Roberto laughed. ‘It is good to see a woman eat with such appetite.’

  ‘I suppose the ladies in your past all existed on carrot sticks and fresh air!’

  ‘It is possible they did in my absence,’ he said cynically, ‘but in my company they chose the most expensive dishes on the menu.’

  ‘How did they get on with Lidia’s cooking?’

  Roberto shook his head. ‘None of them came here. The Quinta is my retreat. I kept an apartamento in Lisboa while racing in Europe, and the rest of the season I was competing too far away to think of anything but the next race. I have always had complaints from women, starting with Mariana, that my concentration on my sport was so intense I had no emotion to spare for relationships.’

  ‘You miss racing?’

  ‘Very much. But as you told me, Doctor, I have much to be grateful for. Including,’ he added, as Jorge came in with a tray, ‘Lidia’s wonderful cooking.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ said Katherine reverently.

  They kept to less emotive subjects over the meal, Katherine gratified by Roberto’s interest in her work at the gallery. They were so absorbed in her account of one of James’s major discoveries they looked up in consternation when Jorge rushed in looking worried and, with a word of apology to Katherine, spoke to Roberto in Portuguese as he handed him a letter.

  Roberto studied it, his face grim. ‘Jorge found this taped outside one of the sala windows,’ he told Katherine. ‘He did not find it until now when he was checking that all was secure for the night, as usual. I must look for myself; I will not be long.’

  As he hurried off with Jorge, Katherine collected the dishes a
nd carried the tray across the hall to the kitchen.

  Lidia relieved her of it in dismay. ‘Doutora—I take that.’

  ‘Jorge was busy with Senhor Roberto, so I made myself useful. May I look round?’

  ‘Pois e.’

  Katherine followed her into a large kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances living in harmony with an old cooking range which had obviously been left in place for its aesthetic qualities. ‘What a marvellous room,’ she exclaimed, and Lidia did her best to smile as she loaded the dishwasher.

  ‘I feel much guilt because letter came when Jorge take me shopping.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ soothed Katherine, and gave Lidia something to keep her busy. ‘Could I possibly have some tea—and coffee for Senhor Roberto?’

  The woman instantly sprang into action, then exclaimed in dismay as she loaded the tray. ‘I did not serve sobremesa. I made pudim de arroz—rice pudding.’

  ‘We’ll have it later.’

  Katherine took one look at Roberto’s face when he rejoined her, and poured coffee for him. ‘Did you find anything else?’’

  ‘No.’ He discarded his stick and sat down, accepting the coffee gratefully. He showed her the note, which was written in large printed capitals. ‘It threatens harm to me, my house and all who live in it if I do not pay the money.’

  Katherine frowned. ‘The person who delivered it must have seen Jorge and Lidia leave to go shopping. You think Elena is involved?’

  He shrugged. ‘I hope that no one else is after my blood.’ He drained the coffee and stood up as the bell rang. ‘It will be the Guarda Nacional. I rang them to report this.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  KATHERINE waited uneasily as Roberto went into the hall, wishing she could understand the rapid interchange as he made his report to the police. The wait seemed endless before she heard goodnights exchanged and the bolts rammed home on the great main door.

  When Roberto rejoined her he apologised for the long wait. ‘They wished to question Lidia and Jorge, also to inspect the sala and the window where the note was left. They have taken the note with them.’ He sighed wearily. ‘I need a drink. Join me in a brandy, Katherine. We must talk. Will you be too cold on the varanda?’