by Anne Mather
CHAPTER EIGHT
RACHEL was awakened by someone bouncing mercilessly on the end of the bed, and she couldn’t imagine for a moment who it could be. She felt an unusual desire to remain where she was and she opened her eyes reluctantly. But even as she recognised Maria’s mischievous little face peeping at her from the bottom of the bed realisation of the previous night’s events came to her, and she rolled swiftly over to look at the other side of the bed. Apart from the imprint of a head on the pillows there was no evidence of André’s occupation, and a mixture of relief and despair swept through her.
Maria slid off the bed and came along to her wrinkling her nose. ‘Mummy said I might wake you up,’ she said. ‘It’s very late!’
Rachel pressed a hand to her temples, and struggled into a sitting position, holding the silk sheets close about her body. Blinking, she tried to focus on the travelling clock on the bedside table, and her eyes widened when she saw the time. It was after ten-thirty, and she fell back on her pillows disbelievingly. Had she really slept so long? And where was André now? Had he left as planned, or was he waiting for her downstairs? Even before she formulated the question, she knew the answer. He was a man of his word.
Looking at Maria through glazed eyes, she said: ‘Er—Uncle André has gone?’ as casually as she could.
Maria frowned. ‘Oh yes, hours ago,’ she nodded. ‘Why? Did you want to say goodbye?’
Rachel swallowed hard, and bit her lips. ‘Oh—oh no,’ she denied, swiftly. ‘Er—I must have overslept. Off you go now, Maria, and I’ll get dressed. Tell Mummy I’m sorry to be so late.’
Maria frowned. ‘Will you really get up?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘I mean—now that Uncle André’s gone you won’t be so busy, will you?’
Rachel managed a faint smile. ‘No, I won’t be so busy,’ she reassured her. ‘Now off you go! I must get dressed.’
Maria went out closing the door behind her, and Rachel waited until the child’s footsteps died away down the corridor before turning her head and burying it in the pillow where André’s head had rested….
But of course, she had to get up, and eventually she dried her eyes and slid out of bed, noticing with pained eyes how the garments she had worn the night before were strewn carelessly about the floor. In the bathroom she took a long, refreshing shower and then dressed in a tunic of tangerine cotton. All the while she attended to her toilette, she tried unsuccessfully not to think about the events of the night before and their implications for her. But it was impossible to ignore the lethargy of her limbs and the painful yet delicious recollection of André’s lovemaking. At least it had proved that she still attracted him, but that was all. At no time had he led her to believe that he needed her in any other capacity. And he had continued with his plans to leave this morning, almost as though nothing had happened of any consequence.
Her hand trembled as she applied some lipstick. She was the fool as usual. She had allowed him to make love to her knowing that to him it could mean nothing but a sexual experience.
And why had she allowed it to happen? How had he succeeded? Had he taken advantage of her? No! She had been a willing victim to his charm, to the enchantment of the night. And it had been enchanted, of that there was no doubt.
She compressed her lips and stared blindly at her reflection. Somehow she had to put last night out of her mind, but how she was to achieve such a thing she had no idea.
Downstairs, Olivia was in the lounge taking morning coffee and she smiled welcomingly when she saw Rachel.
‘So there you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘I had to let Maria come up to you. She’s been agitating to see you since about eight-fifteen. You must have been tired.’
Rachel coloured delicately. ‘Yes,’ she said non-committally. ‘How—how are you this morning? Marcus told me you weren’t too well last evening.’
Olivia shrugged. ‘Oh, you know,’ she said lightly. ‘Just the usual nausea that accompanies my condition. How anyone can ever call it an interesting condition, I’ll never know. So far as I am concerned, it’s very uninteresting!’
Rachel helped herself to some coffee and lit a cigarette, refusing Olivia’s offer of obtaining breakfast for her. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she explained smilingly. ‘Besides, it’s too near lunch time.’
Olivia looked down at the sewing in her lap. She was smocking a dress for Maria, her small, neat stitches a delight to the eye. ‘Tell me,’ she said quietly, ‘did you say goodbye to André?’
Rachel drew on her cigarette. ‘I guess so,’ she replied awkwardly. ‘We—I suppose you could say we said our goodbyes yesterday.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Olivia nodded. ‘I thought he seemed rather annoyed about something last night, didn’t you?’ She sighed. ‘This morning he left without hardly saying a word, and he didn’t want any breakfast either. Did you have a row or something?’ Then she bit her lip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m doing exactly what Marcus said I mustn’t do—being inquisitive!’
Rachel shook her head. ‘It’s all right, Olivia.’ she said. ‘And no—we didn’t have a row exactly, although I said some pretty hateful things to him!’
‘I wonder why he stayed so long?’ Olivia mused curiously. ‘I mean—he didn’t have to take you out with him, did he? If you ask me, I think he still feels responsible for you.’
Rachel gave a short mirthless laugh. ‘Yes,’ she said unsteadily, ‘I suppose you could say he feels responsible for me. It’s part of the Sanchez family tradition, didn’t you know?’ She clenched her fists in her lap. ‘Even though André has every intention of marrying Leonie, he still can’t accept that I expect real freedom. He seems to imagine himself some kind of eastern potentate who can take more than one wife and therefore continue to control both their destinies.’ Her voice was harsh at the end, and Olivia uttered an exclamation.
‘But, Rachel,’ she cried, ‘don’t you think you’re being a little irresponsible yourself? I mean’—she hastened on—‘I mean obviously you need André’s help and guidance now that your father is dead. You have no one else, no other relatives. Why shouldn’t he help you—–’
‘Everyone seems to imagine I’m incapable of looking after myself,’ Rachel exclaimed impatiently. ‘Your life may have been cushioned, Olivia, but before I married André I had been used to looking after my father, too. And during the past five years, I guess I’ve grown accustomed to being alone.’
Olivia shrugged her shoulders. ‘All right, Rachel,’ she said quietly, ‘don’t get angry with me! I only want what’s best for you. I’ve grown very fond of you since you’ve been staying here, but I just wish you’d put all ideas of returning to England out of your mind and remain here with us.’
Rachel gave a rueful gesture. ‘I’m sorry, Olivia,’ she said apologetically. ‘It’s just that—well, I suppose I’m on edge. I’ll be all right in a day or two.’
Olivia leaned forward and pressed her arm understandingly. ‘Maria has gone down to the beach with Tottie,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go and get your swim suit and join them? I think you need uncomplicated, unsophisticated company,’ she smiled.
‘Perhaps I do at that,’ agreed Rachel, getting to her feet. ‘And thank you, Olivia, for not asking too many questions. One day I’ll try and explain everything that’s happened, but right now I can’t.’
Later in the morning, lying on the sands with Maria, Rachel wondered how long it would take for her to recover from the impact of André’s visit. At no time during their tempestuous relationship of five years ago had she felt such a devastating sense of despair, and she realised that her feelings for André had matured as she had matured. It would be infinitely more difficult to assume a cloak of normality now than it was then. For one thing she was five years older, and for another, no matter how she might protest that she was capable of taking care of herself, she was completely alone, and that was quite a devastating realisation.
But the human body has incredible powers of recovery, and time, though it may not actually heal
a wound, can put a protective shield over it so that the pain is not so acute. Rachel discovered this during the weeks following André’s return to Palmerina. To begin with it was terribly hard to feel anything but self-pity and despair, but gradually her natural resilience asserted itself and she began to accept that life must go on. Marcus’s departure on a prolonged trip to Europe made her realise how selfish she was being in only thinking of her own problems, and after he had gone she tried to make Olivia’s life more bearable. Olivia was not having an easy pregnancy, and most days she was violently sick or developed terrible headaches. André had taught Rachel to drive when they were first married, so now Rachel chauffeured Olivia’s convertible and took her out along with Maria, away from the stifling atmosphere of the villa. Olivia enjoyed these outings, and they brought colour to her otherwise pale cheeks.
The weeks slipped away and Rachel began to realise that soon her three months’ stay would be over. She knew Olivia was dreading her leaving, but somehow she felt she must.
One afternoon, about a month after André’s departure, Rachel drove Olivia and Maria to a place in the mountains for an early evening meal. The village sported an excellent restaurant as well as having the advantage of overlooking a mountain lake. It was very peaceful there in the early evening and it wasn’t their first visit. But today Rachel herself felt moody and out of sorts, and half-wished she had not volunteered to drive so far. However, Olivia and Maria were in high spirits. Marcus was due to return in a couple of days, and they chattered about nothing else.
They ate an iced consommé, followed by steaks and salad, and finished with salted biscuits and spicy Brazilian cheese, but all Rachel could manage was a little of the salad. Her stomach was behaving in a most objectionable way, and she could only assume it was something she had eaten earlier in the day.
They drove home in the darkness, the headlights picking out the narrow, winding mountain road. Rachel wondered whether she should ask Olivia to drive, but decided against it. She didn’t want to worry her when she seemed to be enjoying herself so much, but as they neared the outskirts of Juanastra, Rachel was forced to stop the car, and hastily opening the door she ran into the bushes at the side of the road, and vomited violently. Afterwards she lay against a tree for a moment while the world swam round her in a hazy, nauseating fashion.
Olivia came hurrying across to her, looking anxious. ‘Rachel!’ she exclaimed, frowning. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
Rachel managed a faint smile. ‘It’s nothing, Olivia. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. It must be something I’ve eaten. I just felt terribly sick suddenly.’
Olivia studied her pale face in the moonlight and shook her head. ‘Come on back to the car,’ she urged gently. ‘We’re almost home, and I’ll drive from here.’
‘Oh, that’s not necessary,’ exclaimed Rachel apologetically. ‘I’ll be okay….’
‘Of course you will,’ said Olivia soothingly, leading her back to the car. ‘But I’ll drive just the same. Look, slide into my seat.’
Rachel did as she was told, and Olivia climbed in beside her, looking at her ruefully, a smile appearing mischievously as she saw Rachel was recovering her colour. ‘If no one knew which of us was pregnant, they’d imagine it was you, Rachel,’ she joked.
Luckily for Rachel, Olivia was intent on starting the car and answering Maria’s troubled questions, and she did not notice the tense white expression on her companion’s face. Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, pushing back her hair with a trembling hand. Oh God, she thought agonisingly, why didn’t I think of that?
She ran a hand over her damp forehead and blinked rapidly. It couldn’t be true, she tried to tell herself severely. Just because Olivia was pregnant she naturally associated everything with her condition. And in any case she had not been serious.
But as Rachel sat there, unaware of everything but the frightening absorption of her thoughts, a compelling kind of instinct warned her it was not an idea that should be dismissed lightly. She had been so engrossed with her own misery she had not considered the normal functions of her body and now that she did she began to realise that this was something she should have suspected days ago.
Perspiration trickled down her spine, and the dizziness returned in full force, brought on as much by sheer panic as by the motion of the vehicle. What a ghastly situation to find herself in. And what could she do now?
The car turned between the gates of the villa and Olivia drew up at the foot of the veranda steps.
‘You go in and take a shower, Rachel,’ she said gently, urging her out of the car. ‘It must be the heat, catching up with you at last. Most people are affected by it some time.’
Rachel nodded gratefully, unable to speak or even think coherently, but she did as Olivia suggested and took a shower, glad of the refreshing stream of cool water against her hot skin. Afterwards, she deliberately examined her slim body in the tall mirrors on the bathroom wall. But in spite of her fears, there were no outward physical signs that anything momentous had happened, and she wondered if she could be mistaken. Had she let Olivia’s casual words assume a greater significance than they possessed?
She shook her head in bewilderment and went to dress. She would just have to wait and see. She could hardly take her problems to the Sanchez family doctor without causing a great deal of curiosity. But if she was pregnant, she ought to consider what she was going to do about it, she thought rather frantically. Was she going to tell André, for example?
The answer to that was quite definite—no! She had no intention of creating a situation he would be forced to honour knowing his sense of family responsibility. So then she was left with two alternatives: either she made some enquiries into the possibility of obtaining an abortion when she got back to England, or she had the child and brought it up herself.
As these alternatives ran through her mind she knew with certainty what she would do. On no account could she destroy the child of their love so deliberately. It was no use quibbling that André’s involvement had been physical rather than spiritual. This child that might now be forming in her womb was the living, breathing result of their union and she wanted it—there was no possible doubt about that, however difficult she might find the responsibilities in later years.
The decision made, all that was left was for her to allay any suspicions Olivia might formulate during the couple of weeks of her stay that was left. But of course Olivia had no reason to suspect anything and she accepted Rachel’s explanation that she must have eaten something that disagreed with her to cause her to feel so ill.
During the next ten days Rachel was forced to realise that she was indeed pregnant. She had all the usual symptoms: early morning nausea, acute tiredness, and a dislike for any kind of narcotics. She cut her smoking down to a minimum and only drank coffee when she was forced to do so. Marcus returned from his European tour, alone this time, and Maria deserted Rachel to spend her time with her beloved daddy. Olivia continually brought up the question of Rachel staying on in Brazil, but when it became apparent that she was determined to leave Olivia helped her to make her travel arrangements. Marcus had added his own inducements to his wife’s, and Rachel knew he was concerned about her being left alone when he went on his next trip. Therefore it was really no surprise when towards the end of the second week Marcus telephoned his mother asking her whether she couldn’t possibly come and stay for a few weeks. Madam Sanchez however was just recovering from a severe cold and was not really fit to travel.
Olivia was in the room while Marcus made his call, showing Rachel how to embroider motifs on to pillowslips, and she looked up when she realised the trend of the conversation. ‘It doesn’t matter!’ she exclaimed, rather tiredly. ‘Marcus, I’ll be perfectly all right.’
Marcus shook his head at her and continued to talk to his mother, and when he finally replaced the receiver he seemed well pleased. ‘Irena is coming,’ he said firmly. ‘She’s arriving tomorrow. Now I know you’ll be fine.’
; Olivia’s eyes flickered to Rachel. ‘I see,’ she said, her tone conveying very clearly that such a compromise was not particularly to her liking.
Marcus frowned. ‘What’s wrong now?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Irena is my sister. Surely she will be a suitable substitute for Rachel!’ He looked apologetically at his sister-in-law. ‘Rachel knows I don’t mean any harm by that. We would prefer her to stay, she knows that, but as she can’t, Irena will take her place.’ He sighed. ‘Later, perhaps, you could go and stay on Veros for a while, Olivia.’
Olivia licked her lips. ‘All right, Marcus, don’t alarm yourself! If my enthusiasm about Irena coming seems slightly strained, it’s merely because I’ve grown used to Rachel, and she’s good with Maria. Irena isn’t exactly anybody’s idea of the perfect nanny!’
Marcus uttered an exclamation and marched out of the room, and Olivia compressed her lips resignedly. ‘Oh, heavens, now he’s annoyed,’ she said, sighing. ‘Honestly, Rachel, I don’t mean to be unkind, but Irena and I have never been what you might call friends.’
Rachel, with her knowledge of Irena, dared make no comment. It would not be fair to criticise Irena and alienate Olivia’s relationship with her still further. So she smiled sympathetically, and changed the subject.
Irena arrived late the following afternoon. Rachel was glad her stay had only another full day remaining. Somehow Irena’s eyes stripped away her defences, and Rachel almost felt that she might immediately suspect that something was wrong.
But luckily Marcus was around to ease the situation, and as Irena had arrived to help Olivia, she put herself out to make herself useful, ignoring Rachel whenever possible, and making her feel useless and unwanted.
Still, Rachel argued with herself, that was how she wanted it to be. She didn’t want to feel guilty about leaving Olivia alone, and no matter how poor a companion Irena might be she would be there to help if any help was needed.
