by Sheila Burns
She loved him.
‘Before we eat, Luis, could we go for a little drive round the island? A great deal has happened, too much, and I ‒ I’m afraid I am awfully tired.’
She was absurdly near to tears, perhaps because of the exhaustion (Mother always had had the power to exhaust her dreadfully), the mental strain, and the dreadful discovery that Cam had lied to her about the Secret Service, and that the packet had contained heroin.
‘But of course! A drive will do us both good, and make you feel better.’
He turned the car out of the city and did not ask questions. He was a very understanding man who realized how a girl felt, maybe he could read her thoughts. He drove slowly to a small tangerine grove in the direction of Attard. As they travelled they could see the Governor’s summer palace in the beautiful garden of trees. They drew up alongside the tangerine grove, and there was the vigorous scent of orange blossom, and in the shadows the ghostly gleam of the flowers.
‘Now we can talk, my sweet,’ he said very gently, ‘and you can tell me what has happened.’
She spoke very quickly. ‘If I tell you, you must keep faith with me. It has to be a secret.’
Luis looked at her, and in this hour there was something about those very dark eyes of his which held her. ‘For you the world is secret,’ he said softly.
She had the presentiment that she could believe him, and knew now that he was the man whom she loved more than any other in the world. The affair had happened so suddenly. In a few days, almost a few hours, and yet it seemed an eternity since she had seen him watching her at the airport terminal. St Jeremy’s Hospital seemed to be a million miles away from her, and in this new romantic world, where the honeysuckle smelt so sweetly and the eternal sound of music was in the distance, she herself had changed.
Their two selves were all that mattered.
She spoke quickly, and in a low voice. ‘You know, of course, that Cam had something which he was guarding closely?’
For a moment Luis hesitated, then he spoke the truth. ‘Yes, I did know.’
‘Today the package was stolen from him.’
He turned to her quickly. ‘It was Giuseppe?’ he asked.
‘We think probably it is Giuseppe.’
‘Or Jefferies? Do not trust that man. He is suspect; he comes and goes to this island. One never knows when he is coming, or when he is going. He is a very strange fellow.’
‘But caught now.’
‘Yes, but there is an old proverb, no use locking the stable door after the steed is stolen,’ and then he said, ‘I thought your mother’s ankle was badly sprained?’
‘Mother is never so ill that she can’t do what she wants to do,’ Mandy explained. ‘That is perhaps her greatest trouble. Now she wants to fly back tomorrow.’
He went quiet for a moment, then he said, ‘Look here. Max is inside, and for that help I thank heaven. Let Mother fly back with Cam, and you stay on here in the island at my place for a week. I’ll show you the island as it is, and fly you back myself if needs be.’
She began, ‘I’d love to, but …’
‘No buts,’ and he kissed her full on the mouth. ‘In life one has to force the issues, my sweet! It’s no good waiting for something to happen; the thing to do is to force it to happen. I could arrange it so that for one lovely week you saw Gozo, the treasures, everything that you ought to see.’
‘I ‒ I couldn’t do it,’ she said quite faintly.
‘You’re going to do it, and that’s that. I’m the boss now.’ And he laughed.
Perhaps that was when the delirium really began. They drove back to the hotel with the view of French Creek, the harbour lights and the moon over Bighi Bay. She was dizzy with thrill. The dancing was in full stride, the music inviting and sweet, and their supper table ready for them. Passion fruit, Dendeichi salad, a pile of fruit in a swirl of cream and sweetmeats too.
Pausing between the dances, she said, ‘I am sure Cam will hate leaving the island without his packet. It’s important to him; it means money and I gather that he is broke.’
‘You’ve got something there, but it is far better to go without his packet than with it. I can tell you that! He would be arrested at the airport if he got it back and had it with him. Your stepfather has something of a bad name here.’
‘He ‒ he isn’t going to be arrested, and that is why you want to keep me out of it?’ she asked quickly.
‘No. If he leaves now, he will be all right. Every hour he stays makes it more difficult for him. You’d be wise to stay, not that it will be a rest, but you need a holiday, my dear. In my home you would have everything. It would be a joy to give it to you.’
‘You’d spoil me.’
‘I want to spoil you for ever.’
There came the sense of thrill rushing through her and the feeling that she stood on the summit of a mountain with the whole world at her feet. Does he know the truth about Cam, she wondered; does he know that the packet contained heroin, to sell at fancy prices, and that there was a fortune wrapped up in it? She was quite bewildered by the thought of the heroin there could have been in that packet.
He looked at her. ‘Maybe I know more than I say,’ he suggested. ‘Trust me. That is all I ask, and I will never fail you.’
A nightbird hummed in a pepper tree, and they sat down on the verandah with the lights of Bighi the other side of the water.
She said, ‘Tell me about yourself, Luis? I know nothing of you. Tell me.’
If she had hoped to bring down the barrier, she was wrong, for he said, ‘There is so little to tell.’
The thought that he could be deceiving her was sinister. She went on, ‘I know some of it already, for naturally people talk. I so much wish that you would trust me, for I do trust you. There is so much that I want to know, and it would help us both.’
The music seemed to recede further away, rather like the music of the sea in the distance. He said, ‘Something hurt me very much, my dear, so that I seldom speak of it. I had a mother who lived my life for me.’
‘I heard that.’
The dark eyes turned to her again. ‘I suppose it was the abbot who told you?’
She ignored it. ‘It was terrible for you losing your wife as you did.’
There was a second’s silence, then he spoke almost tonelessly, as if the life had been actually sucked out of him.
‘She would have been a great invalid if she had lived, and would never have walked again for her spine was hurt, and none of us, whoever we were, or whatever he thought, would have wanted that for her. She was so carefree, so young and so happy. One was dismayed, but it was almost better that it worked out the way it did.’
‘But the child?’ she asked, and knew instantly that he had not realized that she knew of the boy’s existence. It took him by surprise. He murmured something and then went dead quiet. After a second she went on again. ‘Can not something be done for him? These days pressure can be relieved quite often. It is not as it once was. It means danger, of course, great risk, but it would be wise to take that risk.’
She had thawed him, and he told her the dismal story of an eternal pilgrimage from one surgeon to the next in the desperate attempt to find a way out. They had travelled from place to place, from city to city, and in the end had had to be satisfied with the bitter truth that nothing more could be done.
His son was now almost twelve, and could live for another year. He hardly looked ahead, dared not, for the boy lay lifeless for hours at a time. Once he had suffered terribly, but now they had drugs to deal with this.
‘He ‒ he is so like her,’ Luis said gently. ‘He reminds me of her every time, and the awful part is that I can do nothing to save him. Nothing at all.’
‘You have tried Sir Henry Rhodes? Our brain man, someone who will always take risks, and I would have thought that any risk was better than none.’
‘We haven’t tried him, but …’ and he said it in a hushed voice which told her of the utter frustration wh
ich lay behind all this. For Luis there was no future with his son. She hated to see the depths of suffering to which he had come, and had an intense longing to help him. She took his hand. The orange trees smelt sweet, for now the blossom was brought out with the coolness of the night, and everywhere there was the insistence of sweet music which seemed to exist for ever on the island. One could never get out of touch with it.
He turned and laid his arms about her, not caring who saw them. Perhaps at this hour of night, when the first coolness came, it was always a world of lovers, and nobody cared much what happened, for each was so interested in their own love story.
He begged her to stay. ‘You could spend another week in the island,’ he said, ‘and I could arrange it for you. After that exam, and the worries with your mother and your stepfather, it could do so much for you. Trust me, and show that trust by letting me help you to get well.’
She recognized the fact that he had power over her, and that she was perhaps putty in his hands. Surely there had never been anybody else quite like him in her life, and the picture of St Jeremy’s and all that it had meant to her seemed to fade away. ‘Have a good time,’ Richard Tate had suggested, and yet she was afraid of too good a time. It would be dreadful to spend a week with Luis, then have to return home with only one week in her life which had really mattered. For that was what it could be.
‘I want to stay here,’ she confessed, but for the time being the thought of getting Cam out of difficulties and home again, and also keeping Mother quiet was too much.
‘I could arrange the journey for them, for I have influence in this island. Why not let Marina travel with them? She has always wanted to see England, and this is her big chance without a doubt. She’s a good nurse, you say.’
‘Yes, I know,’ and she began to giggle.
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘Because Mother would feel that my services were far cheaper than Marina’s.’
When they stopped laughing he commented, ‘I don’t wonder that your mother is a very rich lady, for she knows how to manage and keep her money. You must do what you feel to be right, but you would never regret spending a happy week at my place; that I can promise you.’
It was true, she knew.
In this sweet hour self-defence seemed to have left her, and she knew that whatever the future had in store for her, she was wholly his. They went back to the ballroom and danced again, but to her none of this was really dancing; it was some exquisite emotion which she felt was much like floating to heaven in his arms. She made no promise about the future, but knew that she wanted to stay on here in the island, for this quiet time more than anything else in the world. Mother loved working other people to death, but was fairly fussy about what she did herself.
Life never offers its great joys twice over, she thought, and if one does not snatch at them when the chance comes, there is always the tendency for the door to slam in the face. Perhaps both of them felt that they would be each other’s, yet saw ahead of them the difficulties of the island, of racial prejudices, and of much that mattered. To her St Jeremy’s faded further into the distance, and once she had the silly impression that somewhere Richard stood waving her goodbye with a smirk. He had always said, ‘Something is sure to happen. Grab at it whilst you have the chance,’ and she had adored him for that.
The music ceased and they talked. She said, ‘Is it true that Max is really in difficulties? You said that he was a prisoner, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know more than you say?’ she ventured.
‘I serve my island,’ and he explained it. ‘Here there is the feeling that the old Maltese families give some service to the island, and I work with espionage.’
‘With spies?’
‘With all sorts.’ Then, seeing her surprise, ‘Surely you are not surprised, my sweet. I had an idea you knew.’
‘But if there is no war, how can there be spies?’
‘There are always spies in this hard world. Always those undesirables, and they visit our island; maybe it is a good kicking-off ground, but they come, and they go. You must know this.’
She did not know why she asked this particular question in a voice which was so low that she hardly heard it herself. ‘Is Cam included in that category?’ she asked.
‘He was included,’ he said after a moment. Then suddenly his tone became more urgent. It was as if he had shaken off that mood and become vigorously alive. ‘Take my advice, dearest one, and get your mother to fly him home now. Tomorrow. Immediately. The mills of God grind slow, but they grind exceeding small, when it comes to it. Get him away.’
She did not know what his voice suggested, but felt that he was avidly anxious that she should do this. ‘Or?’ she asked.
‘Or,’ he agreed.
She knew that he was using everything that he had in his power to speed her up, and that he wanted to help her. She wondered how much Cam knew of this, and if he knew how Luis felt, and that the island was against him. She did not want to hurry him lest it brought on another attack, but something ought to be done now, and quickly.
‘What is happening?’ she asked.
He did not look at her, but purposely away from her. ‘Max was caught today. It seems that his arrest must lead to others; this always happens. Max was in a ring; for some time now dangerous drugs have poured into the island. We believe that our fingers are on the person in command, which means others would be involved. Badly involved. Within but a few hours we shall know all, and I want your mother to be clear.’
‘The ‒ the person who is head of it?’ she asked.
‘It is someone whom you would never suspect.’
She did not know why she realized that he was thinking of the Contessa Lucinda, that strange, rather flamboyant personality. She was said to own over half the island, yet the retired admiral whom she had married had not been rich; he had had to live on in Malta for income tax purposes. Could it be drug trafficking which had made Lucinda so fabulously wealthy? Mandy thought of the people who lay sick in hospital, some from using drugs, and she squirmed. The strange thing about money was that those with it always wanted more. Greed is an illness, a germ which propagates its own species, and perhaps this was what lay behind the whole trouble.
‘Let’s dance again,’ he said.
They went into the ballroom. ‘I’m so worried about everything that is happening. It all seems to be quite horrible!’
‘Then don’t think of it,’ he said as they moved together. ‘This is our night of love. You and I have everything tonight, and nothing else matters. It’s going to be wonderful.’
She would never know how long they danced, for to her it was an entirely changed world. They drove away after, the air exquisitely cool now, and the stars in festoons of bright gold in the sky above them. It was an unreal but a divine world, and she wished that this could go on for ever.
They turned into the narrow street where the flat was. Even though it was so late, advanced well into the new day, men and women sat on their doorsteps fanning themselves with those wicker hatchets they always used. There they would talk till the dawn came, and with the dawn, the heat again.
They stopped at the flats.
‘Tomorrow is another day,’ he said.
‘Another day,’ she promised. ‘I will try to fix things up and get Mother back.’
‘It is very important that you should do this.’ Gently he kissed her hand.
She lingered for a moment, and he reached towards her and touched her mouth with his own. She had the feeling for one trembling minute the whole world stood still. Then she turned, and went into the flat, very quietly indeed.
Chapter Eleven
The moment that she opened the main door Mandy got the feeling that something was very wrong. There was a cold grim horror about the place, and although she tried to throw it aside, it struck her again and again. On tip-toe she went to her mother’s room. As she opened the door, she heard the sound of sobbing, a
nd knew that it was her mother.
‘Mother, whatever is it?’
Her mother, still dressed, had been sprawled on the bed, her shoes kicked off. Now she sprang up. She was dishevelled, her hair untidy and her face blotchy with tears. ‘He’s gone,’ she sobbed.
‘Gone? Gone where?’
‘They came for him. The police …’
‘Oh no, not that!’
‘I kept telling them how ill he was, and how rotten, and it was no good. They didn’t believe me. I did not know what to do, for I did not know where you were. You had no right to go out and leave me like that. You had no right …’ and she burst into hysterical tears.
‘But where is he?’
Her mother made a frantic effort to pull herself together. ‘They got him to the car, and I kept telling them that he had done nothing, nothing at all. I had made them get an ambulance, because to drive in the car was impossible for him, and then … then he had an awful attack …’ She hid her face in her hands, and at this moment Mandy was terribly sorry for her.
‘Mother, try not to hurt yourself too much! Try not to be too upset!’
‘He ‒ he died there, and they drove him away. I knew that he was dead. I saw it happen, and now I feel that I shall die myself.’
In an agony of horror Mandy took her into her arms. The terrible thing was that there was nothing that she could do. Somehow she realized that by dying Cam had cut short the chance of worse happening; she felt that Luis had known this could be coming, and had advised her to get away because of it. Now it was too late. All along she had known that any small crisis could do this, and that Cam would not survive another bad attack. I shouldn’t have left them, she thought. Then she remembered how easy it was to look back and recognize mistakes, then blame yourself.
‘Let me help you,’ she said softly.
She got the clothes off her mother and put her into a cool nightdress. It seemed that now the night had become very hot again, and that would make sleep difficult. She mixed her a sedative and gave it to her.
‘I want you to take this, Mother. You’ve got to get some sleep,’ she said.