by Jan Andersen
She grinned. ‘Did you do that at the hospital?’
‘I’m afraid so. It’s one of my many weaknesses. When I get upset I also get angry. Come on, where’s that coffee? The wind has made my throat ache.’
He walked to the window and looked out. ‘We’re in for a change in the weather. I’m afraid. Temperature’s dropping and it could be a nasty storm. If you’re going back this morning, I suggest you go straight after breakfast. The lift is working.’
‘Do ... do you want me to go?’
‘No, of course I don’t, but you’re going. I want you to be on your own to think and decide. There’ll be no dithering between us, Jess, no secrets. If you come to me you must come with your whole heart and with no looking back.’
‘I know,’ she said, and thought of the way she had been holding back with Rafael.
They parted soon after breakfast, clinging to each other for a moment, before she stepped into the cable car. As the car moved off very slowly he was smiling at her, but there was a strange expression in those eyes, sombre again, as if she might never come back once he had let her go.
Everyone at the hotel knew about the cable car and the manager came to commiserate, spreading his hands helplessly in his Spanish way. ‘There was nothing we could do to help, senorita, but this evening, we trust you will drink a little champagne with the management. Oh, and senorita, Senor Gomez rang and wished to speak to you. I had to tell him you were not here, but stranded up the mountain. I did assure him that if you did not walk down you would be sure to find shelter. Carlo would have seen to that.’
She smiled her thanks, but inwardly she wondered what possible complexion Rafael would put on that. Where could an English girl turn to on top of a mountain top except an Englishman? Inwardly she raged at this turn of fate. Already she was in a turmoil as to how to tell Rafael—what to tell him. This was going to make matters even worse if he jumped to all the wrong conclusions.
Well, she decided, as she walked to her room, she could only hope that by the weekend any annoyance Rafael might have felt would have cooled and she would be clear in her own mind what to do. She only knew one thing—that she should have told Richard last night the real truth of why she was here. Already she had left it far too long.
During the rest of the morning she gathered together the bulk of her travel notes and looked for any gaps she might have to fill in. Because she was failing Oliver on the main issue she determined to make a good job on the Montserrat feature. And if it were possible she would like to tie up all the loose ends today. There would be three whole days then which she could give to Richard—if he wanted her.
When she went out again she hesitated near the manager’s office, wondering whether she should telephone Rafael. She decided against it, leaving instead a vague message that she would be going out for the rest of the day to finish her work, and probably would not be back until dinner.
With one half of her mind Jess tried to make up the rest of her notes, wandering round the gardens of the monastery, talking to one of the lay workers who had been assigned to help her, then into the cathedral again and to some of the buildings she had missed before. But all the time she was listening and writing there was a part of her mind cut off from her work, confused and uncertain—not of her feelings which were now quite, quite clear, but what she should actually do. She was bound to hurt Rafael, although subconsciously she realized that it would be his pride to suffer the most damage, and, much worse, she could also hurt Richard.
As the day wore on she began to find the atmosphere of the great buildings oppressive and decided that for the rest of the day she would follow up the monk’s suggestion and try to trace part of the original pilgrims’ route up the mountain. She bought some fruit and chocolate, and armed with her map—which by now was almost covered in arrows and scribbles—she set off down the road.
She became so absorbed later finding her way back that she lost count of time and somehow forgot most of her problems.
But every now and then she thought of Richard and her new found love for him and a glow spread over her. It was strange how contrary life was. With her heart she had wanted to fall in love with Rafael, but something had held her back right at the brink. She was in love with the idea of Rafael—perhaps she had been deluding herself all along. She would never know.
With Richard everything had been opposite. She had come here with the idea of disliking him, certainly disapproving of him, and even when she listened to him telling her about the tragedy and she had believed him, nothing could have been further from her mind than falling in love. Yet she was convinced now that there was no other man in the world for her but Richard Kendall, whatever the future might hold.
It was dusk by the time she returned to the hotel and she was hot and dusty, but much more serene in her mind. Perhaps when she had had a bath and a cool drink she would phone Rafael after all. Perhaps Richard would be there waiting for her. Her steps quickened. She had decided that now she would not go up to him, but would wait for him to come to her.
She climbed the steps towards her room and met the little chambermaid who looked after her. The girl greeted her and in her rather difficult to understand Spanish said, ‘There is a gentleman waiting in the senorita’s room. The manager asked me to take him there. I think he is a little impatient.’
‘Thank you.’ Jess’s tired feet were suddenly on wings as she raced up the remaining stairs. There were no problems. It was enough that Richard was here and she loved him.
She burst into her room, her face alight with love and welcome. She had not stopped to think why he should have asked to wait for her in her room.
Jess never had been a good actress and she could not begin now. As she opened the door the smile died on her face.
‘So it’s true,’ Rafael said.
‘What ... what do you mean?’
‘You and that Englishman.’
For the first time Jess noticed that Rafael was not alone. Ana was sitting at the desk, watching the two of them, her dark eyes full of malice.
Rafael turned to her suddenly. ‘I think you’d better go downstairs and wait for me there, Ana. I don’t suppose we’ll be long. But I shall want Jess to pack before we leave. I expect she would like you to give her a hand.’
When she had gone, Jess shook her head to clear her brain. But Rafael was still looking like thunder. ‘I was right from the beginning, Jess, you should never have come her alone. Now you understand why the Spanish way of life is best. A woman should be where her husband or fiancé is, not where she can run loose with any stranger she happens to meet.’
Jess found her voice at last. ‘Is that really what you think of me, Rafael, that I’m a loose woman because I become friendly with an Englishman who| has been kind to me?’
‘You can’t fool me,’ he said bitterly. ‘I saw your face when you came into this room. It was not me you were expecting to find in your room, but him. You will never be able to deny that. I would like to think we will be able to forget all this has happened once we return home. If you would like to pack your cases, Jess, then I will settle the bill downstairs. I will send Ana up to help you. I would not like my mother to hear of this.’
‘That’s all you think of—what your mother will say!’ Jess cried in a burst of violence. Then more calmly, but still clear and strong, ‘And I don’t want Ana up here either, because if anyone has tried to cause trouble between us, she has. You prefer to take her word rather than mine. In any case, I’m not returning to Barcelona tonight.’
‘Do you deny that you spent the night with this man, that he has been your reason for returning here so eagerly?’
‘Certainly I spent the night up in his cabin,’ she returned coldly. ‘I imagine the manager explained why I was caught up there. If you choose to see something dirty in that, well, that’s your affair. I suppose you would have preferred I walked the three kilometres down in the dark.’
He ignored what she said and pointed to her suitcase.
‘Are you coming back with me, Jess, or not?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Rafael, I’m staying here to the end of the week.’
‘I’ve given you a lot of rope, but this time I mean what I say. If you do not come back with me, there will be no marriage.’
‘I know that,’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps, for all the wrong reasons, it’s the best thing. You want me to be the girl of your imagination, someone you can bend to your will. I can’t be like that. I can only be myself. I think I realized it the day of the banquet. I would never come up to what you hoped of me in a wife.’
‘But I loved you, Jess.’ Already, she noticed, he was speaking in the past.
‘In England, yes, I think you did,’ she said sadly, ‘but here you loved what you wanted me to be, what your mother wanted. At least she’ll be happy. And you know, Rafael, Ana will make you far happier than I ever would.’
He was staring at her unbelieving. ‘You mean it, Jess, you honestly mean it. But I can give you the world. I can see that you need never want for anything again.’
‘You can give me everything but inner happiness. For me, although I didn’t realize it, that’s what has been missing all the way along. That’s why I couldn’t give you my final answer, but I’ve only just realized it.’
He was very still as he moved to the door. ‘Then I suppose it’s goodbye, Jess. I’ll see that your things are sent on from the house.’
‘Thank you.’ They touched hands like polite strangers, and then he was gone.
She looked out of the window and a few minutes later saw him emerge with Ana. At least Jess was glad not to see her face. Her triumph was much harder to stomach than that of Senora Gomes.
While she was still standing there, feeling strangely adrift, the house phone rang by her bed. There was a gentleman waiting downstairs to see her.
It could only be Richard, but this time she would show caution. Anyway she was still as hot and dusty as when she came in. ‘Tell him I’ll be about fifteen minutes, will you?’
She paused in the doorway of the little bar and saw him sitting at one of the tables, a few moments before he realized she was there. His sombre face was very dear to her. Yes, she loved him. Nothing could change that.
As he sensed her presence his whole face was alight and he came to meet her. Like hers and Rafael’s, their hands only touched, but she could feel the tingle right through her body. She was thankful she had not had to tell Rafael about him. His pride had been hurt enough.
He led her to the table and ordered her a drink. ‘You look different, Jess, as though something’s happened, something’s changed.’
‘I went out today,’ she said in a low voice, ‘to try to finish my notes. When I came back Rafael was waiting. He ... he phoned last night late when I was with you.’
‘Oh.’ Then after a long silence: ‘Were you able to convince him?’
‘I didn’t really try. He said if I didn’t pack and come back to Barcelona with him tonight, then our marriage was off. I suppose deep down it was never really on. But I didn’t want to hurt him. It was more that we saw things so differently. He could never have changed. Perhaps I couldn’t either.’
He was smiling again, but still wary, as though she might change her mind yet. ‘You’re throwing away a world that most girls would give their eye teeth for.’
‘Money, you mean? Oh, money’s very nice, but Rafael’s family is wading in it. I think I would have finally suffocated. It couldn’t make up for not loving him enough.’
They had a quiet dinner, not talking very much, but intensely aware of each other, as though they wanted to hold this precious new-found love in a bowl of time. But Jess was tired and her head was beginning to ache, and she guessed that the strain of the last day was telling on her.
‘Tomorrow,’ she promised as they said goodnight, ‘I’ll be myself again and we can start with a clean slate, no feelings of guilt, nothing but our love for each other.’ He nodded, kissing her again. ‘Then come up when you’re ready, or send a message for me to come down. You look tired and there’s a nasty flush in your cheeks I don’t like. I think if you haven’t come up by midday tomorrow, then I’ll come down anyway. This mountain air sometimes has strange effects on people.’
Fortunately she slept, but when she woke in the morning, she knew this was no ordinary tiredness. Her head was still throbbing and her body burned. She was hardly aware when Richard leant over her at some time during the day, took her temperature and forced down a couple of pills. She thought he said ‘flu, but she didn’t really care, she felt so ill.
The fever burned for forty-eight hours, then she woke to feel weak but fairly normal, and when hot soup was brought her by the little maid, she drank it gratefully.
Later that day, after she had eaten and slept again, she got up to have a bath, and when she returned her bed was being changed, so she sat down at the desk.
At first her eyes did not seem to be focussing properly, then she noticed that some of her things were in the wrong order.
Rather sharply she said to the maid, ‘Have you moved anything on my desk?’
‘Oh, no, senorita, you told me when you came that I must touch nothing there, so I do not even dust.’
‘Of course, I’m sorry.’ But it wasn’t the movement that would be caused by someone dusting. The file on Richard Kendall, which had been under her maps, was suddenly on top. And she knew she had not put it there. She had stowed it away both mentally and physically a few days ago.
And when she looked at it more closely one or two of the pages were out of order. Without doubt someone had been looking at it. It could only be Richard himself. She clenched her fists into two tight balls. Oh, no, please God, don’t let Richard have seen it.
CHAPTER XI
When the maid had gone Jess stared again at the file, hoping against hope that she had been imagining things. But the facts were there to see quite plainly. Without doubt someone had been curious enough to open it and then read further.
Still feeling a little shaky, she tried to put her jumbled thoughts in order. She loved Richard, but she did not really know him very well, yet she would have staked her life that he was not the kind of man to pry into private papers. And this kind of prying would have had to be done deliberately. The only work actually open on her desk were her guide books on Monserrat, her notebook, map and some of her typed pages. Anyone could have looked at those by accident, but not the other.
Suddenly her head jerked up. Rafael and Ana had been in this room two days ago. And waiting for her for a long time. Of course, why hadn’t she thought of them before? Again, it would hardly be Rafael’s way to pry—but it would be Ana’s.
Oh yes, it was Ana, Jess now had no doubt of that at all. The chances were that Ana had been alone in the room while Rafael possibly telephoned or made other enquiries. In fact it would be like Ana to seize such a chance for herself. She had probably opened all the doors and cupboards too, looking for incriminating evidence.
Jess slumped back on the bed. That was two days ago. What mischief could she have done by now? She would almost certainly have mentioned something casually to Rafael, but now he would be uninterested that she had been working on something other than she had told him. Just another black mark against her already blackened character, Jess thought wryly.
If Ana really wanted to make mischief she would tell Richard, although she would hardly realize that Jess had not already told him exactly who she was. In any case there was no phone up at the cabin, so Ana could hardly have done any damage yet. It became all the more important that Jess herself should speak to Richard as soon as possible. By tomorrow she should be recovered enough to go up there.
That evening she made herself go down to dinner. Casually she asked at the desk if there were any messages for her. Had Mr. Armstrong been again?
No, she was told, but Carlo the cable car engineer had conveyed a message to him that she had almost recovered. She smiled her thanks
, certain that now he knew she was up he would come down tonight to see her.
She postponed her dinner, and then decided he might not in fact come until afterwards.
While she ate, just a little clear soup and some fish, she was aware that there were new guests in the hotel. Surprisingly there were two men in the corner talking English. They did not look like tourists, more like businessmen.
Again afterwards she lingered over her coffee, but then her head began to droop and she realized she was not completely well yet. It was best to have a good night’s sleep to get up her strength for tomorrow.
As she made her way to her room she passed the two Englishmen who wished her goodnight. As she responded, she hesitated just a second, almost certain she had seen one of them somewhere at home. But to stop now would have meant possibly to be asked to join them for a drink and she simply did not have the energy. Tomorrow would be time enough.
She slept twelve hours and went downstairs to find herself the last for breakfast. As she drank her coffee she resolved not to wait for Richard to come, but to go up to him and show that she was quite well again.
On her way out she paused at the desk, asking casually who the two Englishmen were. The porter shrugged and pushed the register across to her. One was called Winter, the other Finch. The names were common enough, and yet...
The porter volunteered suddenly, ‘They are friends of Mr. Armstrong also?’
‘Friends?’ she repeated. ‘Why?’
‘They said they had come to see him. I told them where to get the cable car. Do not look so worried, senorita, Carlo will have helped them.’
Jess did not stop to answer, but turned and ran out of the hotel, her heart pumping heavily.
