Rachel Lindsay - Alien Corn Read online

Lorna did so, and he looked at her for a long moment before he resumed: 'I have just overheard a most illuminating conversation between you and my cousin. I credited you with more sense, but evidently I was wrong.'

  Her face flushed. 'You weren't meant to hear!'

  'Obviously. But Amalia left your door open and you have a particularly penetrating voice. I heard enough to convince me that you can do my cousin untold harm.'

  'How dare you!' Anger overcame discretion. 'It's you and your ridiculous customs that—'

  'Hardly my custom,' he rapped out. 'You are forgetting yourself, Miss Fairfax. Amalia knew exactly what she was letting herself in for when she married Manoel. He is no better or worse than anyone else, and she must accept it.'

  'She never will.'

  Then no one can help her.' He paused as if to control himself and when he continued his voice was low and more gentle. 'Believe me, Miss Fairfax, I know what I am saying. I should be extremely reluctant to ask you to leave, but I cannot have you interfering in affairs that do not concern you and which you do not understand.'

  'I understand very well,' she retorted. 'And I think it ridiculous for a woman to retire into the background the minute she marries.'

  'Ridiculous or not, you cannot fight the traditions of a country. This "background" you refer to so scathingly is not a condemned cell. Amalia can find plenty to amuse her if she wants to.'

  'Gossiping and hen parties!'

  "Precisely. But women usually find it enough!'

  'Not in England, senhor. This is the twentieth century - not the Victoria era!'

  'Women were as happy then as they are today,' he countered, 'possibly happier.'

  'I doubt it. Nowadays husbands and wives are on equal terms. We wouldn't call a marriage a happy one where the husband goes one way and the wife another.'

  The husband might go his way, Miss Fairfax, but the wife certainly does not go hers. She remains in her proper place - the home.'

  Then you should look for a slave when you marry - sot a woman.'

  His eyebrows lifted. 1 was not aware that I was under discussion.'

  He stood up and came so close that she could smell the faint perfume of shaving lotion and hair cream. 'I have been speaking to you as the head of a Portuguese household,' he said quietly, 'not as a man. My own ideas of marriage happen to be different, but I am not prepared to discuss them with you now.'

  'Meaning that you don't practise what you preach either?' She was glad to be able to hit back at him. 'You once said the same thing to me, senhor.'

  'So I did.' He flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. 'But come, you are hedging. Have I your promise to say nothing more to upset Amalia?'

  'I never have upset her,' Lorna said angrily. 'Can't you understand that? We think alike because we had the same upbringing, but she might have had exactly the same ideas if she'd been brought up here. What shout your sister? Living in Portugal all her life didn't stop her from breaking away.' Abruptly she stopped. 'I'm sorry, that was a dreadful thing to say.'

  "It was.' His face was tired and drained of colour. 'I think you've said enough for one evening. You'd better go before I lose my temper.'

  Cowed, trembling, and fighting back the desire to cry, she ran from the room.

  When she entered the dining-room later that evening Amalia was already seated, her face as pale as the magnolias that patterned the centre of the table. The candles in the gleaming candelabra threw grotesque shadows on the ceiling and Lorna was glad that the semi-darkness hid her burning cheeks. She was still smarting from her interview in the library, and would have given anything never to see the house or its owner again. But she was not a free agent. She had come to stay with Amalia and one look at her friend's dejected face told her it would be impossible to walk out now. Much as she disliked doing so the only alternative was to apologize to Rafael.

  'You're very quiet, Lorna,' Amalia came out of her reverie sufficiently to notice her friend's preoccupation. 'Is anything wrong?'

  'Just a slight headache - I think it's the sun.'

  They continued to eat in silence and as soon as the meal was over took their coffee cups out on the terrace. Reflectively Lorna gazed into the darkness at the fireflies darting among the long grass, her eye suddenly caught by a glow of light at the bottom of the steps. It remained stationary, wavered, then came nearer, and with a start she realized it was the glowing end of a cigarette. Slowly Rafael came up the steps and punctiliously inclined his head.

  'Is it not a little damp for you to be sitting here without a wrap, Amalia?'

  His cousin stood up instantly. 'I'd just finished my coffee and was going in - I'll see you in the morning Lorna.'

  Lorna scrambled out of the hammock. 'Wait for me — I'm coming too.'

  'There's no need for both of you to desert me', It is a beautiful evening, Miss Fairfax. Stay until I've finished my cigarette.'

  Lorna sat on the edge of a chair, one slim leg tapping nervously on the floor. Rafael smoked in complete silence until with an expert flick of his finger the glowing butt rose in an arc and disappeared among the bushes. Immediately she stood up.

  'Where are you going?'

  To my room. You've finished your cigarette.'

  He smiled grimly. 'You needn't take me quite so literally - that was merely an excuse to talk to you.'

  Lorna seized the opportunity. 'I'm surprised you still want to after the rude way I behaved. I'd like to apologize. Not for what I said about Amalia - I still think I'm right there - but because I had no right to bring your sister onto it.'

  Thank you,' his voice was grave. 'I know how hard it is for you to apologize. And now I suggest we forget it and begin again. We have already wasted too much time. Sit down, Miss Fairfax, I won't bite!' He lit another cigarette. 'How are you getting on with your drawing? Have you done any more?'

  'Not since that day in the pavilion.'

  'A pity. I thought my praise might have encouraged you.'

  'Hardly praise. If I remember rightly you advised me to have some lessons!'

  'Because I am a perfectionist.'

  "Nothing is perfect.'

  'I don't agree. You can get a perfect flower or jewel or painting — even a perfect woman, if you're lucky.'

  'I doubt it,' she said dryly. 'I don't think there is such a person. You might be able to find an ideal hausfrau, if that's what you want.'

  'Not at all. I like someone with spirit. That's why I admire English and American women; they are used to Standing on their own feet.'

  'Quite often it's a case of having to.' 'Agreed, but they enjoy it none the less. Don't you?'

  'Whether I do or not makes no difference. I have no choice.' In spite of herself a note of sadness crept in and he was quick to detect it.

  'You are alone in the world?'

  'No, I live with my aunt. But my parents died a few years ago and we had to give up our home.'

  'That is always regrettable. I would never give up mine.'

  'I'm sure you'll never have to,' she said politely, and thought of the estates in Brazil and East Africa, his magnificent house and all the luxury that went with it. She rose to her feet.

  'Now, I really think I'd better go to bed. It's getting late.'

  He stood up with her. 'We must show you something of our country while you are here. There is a market at Cascais which is well worth seeing.'

  'The fish market?'

  'No, there's a much larger one held each month — usually on the twenty-third.'

  'Tomorrow, you mean?' The words were out before she could stop them and she bit her lip in annoyance. 'Goodnight, Senhor Rodriguez,' she said hastily.

  She was at the foot of the stairs when he called after her, a hint of laughter in his voice, 'By the way, I did mean tomorrow, Miss Fairfax. I will meet you in the hall at ten.'

  Eating her crisp rolls and fresh farm butter in the dining-room next morning, Lorna wondered if in the cold clear light of day Rafael would regret his impulsive invitation.


  'You are down early, Miss Fairfax.'

  With a start that spilled her coffee on her dress Lorna. looked up to see Rafael standing in the doorway.

  'I am always down by eight-thirty.' Ineffectually she dabbed at her dress.

  'Here, use my handkerchief.' He proffered a crisp white one, but she shook her head.

  'No, I'll stain it. I'll have to manage.'

  'I am sorry. It was my fault for coming in so quietly.' He leant against the arm of a chair. 'I have been told I have a habit of sneaking up on people, but in your case it was quite unpremeditated.'

  'Meaning that you sneak up on others?'

  'Occasionally!' His teeth flashed in a smile. 'You would be surprised at some of the interesting things I see! But we are wasting time. Run up and change and I'll wait for you in the hall. It's a pity to miss the bustle of the market.'

  Within minutes Lorna was ready and preceded her host down the steps to an open roadster.

  'What a lovely car,' she commented.

  It's too fast for Portugal,' he said as he slipped into the driving seat, The roads are too tortuous for speed. I use it when I travel to Spain or France.'

  She looked at him curiously. "You are the first big business man I've met! What does it feel like to be so important?'

  "You cannot draw me on that question, Miss Fairfax. I might give the sort of answer you would hold against me one day.' He leant forward, switched on the radio and gay music filled the air. He hummed an accompaniment in a deep baritone and after a moment she joined in, catching the tune with ease.

  'What is it?' she asked at the end.

  "A fado. A sort of folk-song with a story. They are handed down from generation to generation and quite often get heavily embroidered on the way. But why have you stopped singing? This is the first time I've seen you looking pleased with life.'

  By this time they were driving along the coast road and with a wave of his hand Rafael pointed out the home of two ex-kings. Within minutes the little square of Gascais was in sight and Lorna stared at the animated scene in front of her as the car drew to a standstill. Never had Lorna seen so much colour or confusion, and laughing, they got out of the car and pushed their way through the crowds, Rafael's hand hard on her arm.

  Everything a countryman could want was on sale. Baskets, rag-rugs, blankets made from local wool, beans, rice, oil and the most delightful glazed pottery in brilliant yellow, blue or green.

  'I must get some of those for my aunt,' Lorna said eagerly. 'Are they expensive?'

  'A few escudos. An old man I know has a stall higher up. We can go to him.'

  'Do you know everybody here?'

  He grinned. 'No, but this fellow worked for us until his son gave him a stall to look after. I honestly think he was happier on the land.'

  'Why doesn't he come back to you, then?'

  'He's too proud. We Portuguese are.'

  He guided her to a stall at the edge of the square, and as they approached, an old man hurried forward and caught Rafael's hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. Embarrassed, Lorna turned away and began to examine the pottery, picking out three bowls in different colours. To her disgust Rafael refused to let her pay.

  'I wouldn't have mentioned them at all if I'd known,' she said indignantly.

  "Nonsense.' He placed the package in her hand and bent his head so that their eyes were almost on a level. 'You should learn to accept a present more gracefully, Miss| Fairfax. It doesn't become you to argue.'

  It was late when they returned home, lunch had long been finished and Amalia had left a message that she had gone to her room for a rest.

  'Oh, dear, I hope she isn't annoyed that I was away so long.'

  'You are a companion, not a slave!' Rafael came back across the hall. 'I've asked them to lay the table on the terrace. It is cooler to eat there.'

  'Are you staying for lunch?'

  'I have kept the whole day free.'

  Unaccountably Lorna was pleased, and during their meal found herself answering his questions about her life with a candour and frankness equalling his own. He listened sympathetically as she told him of her desire to escape from the routine of a commercial office and the closed circle of a surburban life.

  'Not that there's anything wrong with a man who catches the five to nine every morning,' she added. 'But I wanted to see a bit more of the world and meet different people before I settle down.'

  He glanced at her hand. 'You are engaged?'

  'Oh no. At least, I could be, but I can't make up my mind.'

  'Then you are not in love. If you were there would be no hesitation. You remind me of the princess in the fairy Story waiting for the kiss that will wake her from sleep.'

  'I've waited a long time, then,' Lorna said with a smile.

  'I am glad.'

  His voice was low and though he did not come near her it was as if she were imprisoned in his arms. She was stifled by a desire to escape, a longing to run away and remain inviolate.

  'Hullo, you two. I hope I'm not interrupting.' Poised and beautiful, Inez sauntered out on the terrace and with a sigh of relief Lorna sank back in her chair. The Portuguese girl spoke to Rafael in an undertone and he raised his eyebrows slightly, replying in a flood of language that Lorna found unintelligible.

  Inez shrugged and turned away. 'I'm sure Miss Fairfax would have understood if you had explained that you were in a hurry.' She looked directly at Lorna. 'Rafael is such an excellent guide he couldn't bear to lose an opportunity of airing his knowledge. But my father is opening the International Jewel Fair in Lisbon and we have promised to be there.'

  'I'm sorry,' Lorna murmured. 'I didn't know.'

  It is not important, merely irritating.' Inez smiled up at the man. 'If we had thought of it earlier, darling, we could have taken Miss Fairfax with us.'

  'It is still not too late.'

  'Please don't bother about me,' Lorna said quickly. I'm perfectly all right on my own.'

  'Then everybody is happy,' Inez said tartly, and slipped her arm through Rafael's.

  Together they walked along the terrace and Lorna watched them disappear, wishing crossly that they had not used her as a bone of contention. Her position was difficult enough without Inez making it worse. Yet the Portuguese girl's arrival had broken up a dangerous moment, a moment when she had almost been swept away by the proximity of a virile, powerful man.

  The afternoon stretched ahead with no one to talk to, and after a moment's hesitation she hunted out her. drawing pad and made her way down to the pavilion. She was half way up the shallow steps before she realized Rafael's mother was inside.

  'I'm sorry, senhora,' she apologized, 'I'd no idea you were there.'

  'That is quite all right, you are not disturbing me.' The greying head nodded to a wicker chair within the portico and Lorna sat down. It was cool inside the pavilion, the depth of green that surrounded it excluding the fierce rays of the sun.

  'I hear you went to the market this morning. Did you enjoy it?'

  'Very much.'

  'Good.' The woman shifted her position so that she could look at Lorna more closely. 'I get little chance to talk to you on your own. How are you settling down here - are you happy with us?'

  'Of course.'

  'But eager to get back, I suppose. Perhaps you have a young man in England? Over here no woman would rest if she were as old as you and still single.'

  Lorna strove to hide a smile. 'In England I'm considered quite young. How old was your daughter when she married?'

  'My daughter? Who told you about my daughter?'

  For the second time Lorna wished the ground would open and swallow her. 'Forgive me,' she stammered, 'I shouldn't have mentioned it.'

  'No matter, no matter,' the old lady said sharply. 'It is no secret that I had two children. But I am not used to people talking about Rosalia - since she ran away we do not mention her name.'

  'Why?' Lorna said impetuously. There's nothing so terrible in what she did. Lots of girl
s elope.'

  'In England perhaps. But over here we have our own traditions and beliefs, and as long as you stay with us you must respect them.'

  'I do, I do! But it is difficult to respect something you don't understand.' She flung out her hands. 'I can't really believe you've cut your daughter out of your life. That you don't want to know if she's happy and well.'

  'You have got to believe it!' The answer was sharp, staccato. 'I never want to see her again. She must never come back — never! Rafael would kill her!'

  'Because she chose to live her own life?' There 'tyas no answer. Lorna shook her head. The whole thing seems too mysterious. I can't understand it.'

  'There is no mystery,' the old lady said loudly, 'no mystery at all.' The blue-veined hands clenched on the arms of her chair and then relaxed as she. sank back.

  'Now if you will excuse me - I am tired. I would like to rest a little.'

  Walking upstairs to see Amalia, Lorna pondered the feelings of a mother who refused to see her daughter merely because she had eloped, trying to excuse the Senhora on the grounds of hurt pride.

  Amalia was lying on the bed reading a magazine when Lorna entered her room.

  'You were late getting back,' she accused. 'I waited lunch until the omelette was flat. Where's Rafael? I thought he might have kept you out all the afternoon.'

  'He's gone with Miss' Castro to the opening of a Jewel Fair.'

  'Of course, I was forgetting it began to-day. All the leading Portuguese families are displaying their heirlooms and the Rodriguez pearls will be on show.' She walked heavily over to the dressing-table and returned with a pearl and diamond brooch. 'Manoel gave me this when we were married.'

  Lorna exclaimed at the intricate setting and workman- ship, and Amalia nodded casually.

  'This is nothing, Manoel's only a cousin of the family. You should see what Rafael's bride will get I must ask him to show you one day.'

  'No, thanks.'

  'Why not? He's very proud of them. Some of the pearls are as large as halfpennies and there are two pear-shaped drops that are priceless.'

  'Does he only collect pearls?'

  'Mainly. Each family collects one kind of jewel; it's a sort of convention over here. Inez's family are renowned for their emeralds - but then theirs are nothing compared to the Diniz collection.'