Country of the Falcon

by Anne Mather

  She had expected it to be Consuelo, not the angry-looking man whose swift survey of the room took in the congealing beef on the tray and Alexandra’s obvious state of déshabille.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, sulking in your room all day?’ he demanded harshly. He gestured towards the tray. ‘Having Consuelo bring your meals in here, instead of joining us at table. Sending lies about not being hungry!’

  Alexandra scrambled off the bed. ‘They weren’t lies. I wasn’t hungry.’

  ‘Then what is the meaning of this?’ Again Declan indicated the tray.

  ‘I—Consuelo brought it. She—she felt sorry for me.’

  ‘Sorry for you?’ Declan sounded furious. ‘Why the hell should she feel sorry for you? What have you been telling her?’

  ‘I haven’t told her anything.’ Alexandra swallowed convulsively. ‘She—she has eyes. She can see.’

  ‘What can she see?’

  Alexandra bent her head. ‘Oh, does it matter? Please—go away! I don’t want to talk to you.’

  Declan’s answer was to kick the door shut with his foot. It slammed with an uncompromising bang.

  ‘I suppose you’re behaving this way because of what happened this morning?’ he suggested coldly.

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Alexandra forced a sarcasm. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! What do you want me to say? I didn’t feel like eating lunch at your table. I had no intention of giving Mrs. Forman further scope for her malicious tongue!’

  ‘How did you know Clare was staying for lunch?’

  Alexandra coloured. ‘I—I guessed.’

  ‘You mean Consuelo told you, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t intend to bring Consuelo into this. She’s the only person who’s shown me any kindness here!’

  ‘Is she?’ Declan’s face was grim. ‘I’d be interested to hear your definition of that word—kindness! If you mean she’s treated you like a spoilt child, then I’d agree with you.’

  Alexandra caught her breath, but she refused to let him see how easily he could hurt her. ‘Well, that’s what I am, aren’t I?’ she retorted, controlling her trembling lips with difficulty. ‘You’re always telling me so. But you needn’t worry about me any longer. I’m going to take myself out of your hair!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just what I say. I—I’m leaving!’

  ‘Are you?’ Declan’s lips thinnned. ‘And just how do you propose to accomplish this feat?’

  ‘I—I shall go to Sao Paulo when Senhor Rubiero leaves. I can easily get a flight from there. I don’t mind how many stopovers I have to make.’

  ‘Really?’ Declan folded his arms. ‘And what’s brought this on? Our—contretemps, earlier?’

  ‘Contretemps?’ Alexandra gasped. ‘I don’t enjoy being humiliated in front of Clare Forman!’

  ‘And do you think your life would be any easier if Clare thought there was something between us?’ he snapped.

  ‘I—I don’t know what you mean—–’

  ‘Forget it!’ He drew a deep breath. ‘So you want to leave with Enrico, do you? Well, I’m afraid that’s impossible. He’s on his way to the air-strip at this moment.’

  ‘What?’ Alexandra stared at him in dismay. ‘He can’t be!’

  ‘I’m afraid he is. One of my men, Gruvas, arrived from the airport with the car and Enrico decided he might as well leave now as later.’

  Alexandra tried to grasp what he was saying. ‘Why—why did Gruvas come here? Did you—send for him?’

  ‘No.’ He was brusque.

  She hesitated, touching her lips with her fingers. ‘It—it wasn’t to do with my father, was it? Did—did he bring some news?’

  Declan tapped long brown fingers against his thigh. ‘In a manner of speaking, yes. I had news of your father this morning, but you chose not to listen—–’

  ‘What news?’ Her eyes were wide and anxious. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Calm down,’ he advised coldly. ‘There’s no panic. Your father is much improved.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He stepped to one side and gestured towards the door. ‘Go and see for yourself. It was he, and his assistant, who brought Gruvas from the airport.’

  ‘What?’ Alexandra hesitated only long enough to cast a disbelieving glance in Declan’s direction before rushing out of the room. The living room door was closed, but she could hear the murmur of voices from beyond. Her courage almost failed her. With a fast-beating heart she reached for the handle, faltering as her fingers encountered the cold steel.

  Then Declan’s cool voice just behind her said: ‘Go ahead! Open it. He won’t bite you. He knows you’re here.’

  ‘He knows?’ Alexandra stared at him over her shoulder. ‘But—but you said you wouldn’t tell him.’

  Declan reached past her, his firm fingers closing over hers, forcing her to open the door. ‘Don’t be a little fool!’ he murmured harshly, and with a frown puckering her brow she was propelled forcibly into the room.

  Her father was standing on the hearth before the log-piled grate. He was exactly as she remembered him, tall and thin, his greying hair needing cutting and straggling over his opened collar. The lamps had been lit, and the shadows accentuated the hollows in his cheekbones, but apart from a general air of fatigue, due no doubt to the journey, he looked quite well.

  But it was the woman standing beside him who focused Alexandra’s attention. Clare was not around, and of course, this had to be her father’s female assistant. Tall, but generously proportioned, Juana de los Vargos looked about thirty-five, with a coil of coal-black hair and magnolia pale features. She was very attractive, and her sleek green slack suit made Alexandra supremely conscious of the crumpled appearance she must present.

  ‘Alexandra!’ Her father’s voice was gruff, and with a little cry she ran towards him, surprised at the warmth of his embrace. ‘Alex, what in the world possessed you to come here looking for me, child?’

  Alexandra’s eyes were moist. ‘I—I wanted to see you,’ she murmured, realising how inadequate that must sound. ‘Oh, Father, it is good to see you again. How—how are you?’

  Professor Tempest shook his head. ‘I’m fully recovered now. Declan no doubt told you all about my little disaster.’

  Alexandra gave Declan a swift glance. ‘The blood poisoning? Yes, he told me.’

  ‘A most unfortunate occurrence,’ agreed her father, nodding. ‘Coming as it did at the very end of my research.’ Then he looked at the woman at his side. ‘Well, not altogether unfortunate,’ he amended, with a small smile.

  Alexandra looked at Juana de los Vargos now. She was still standing beside them with an air of confidence which Alexandra found vaguely annoying. As though realising that introductions were in order, Professor Tempest drew a deep breath.

  ‘Juana, my dear,’ he said, disentangling himself from his daughter and taking the other woman’s arm. ‘Juana, you’ll have gathered that this is my little wayward Alex.’ The Colombian woman gave a slight smile, and he went on: ‘Alex, my child, I have some rather startling news for you. I intended breaking it when I flew out to Cannes to join you and Elizabeth in a few days, but then I received the letter Elizabeth had sent to the Institute in Rio, and learned that you were here.’

  Alexandra’s eyes were drawn irresistibly to Declan. So he had not told her father, Aunt Liz had! A feeling of foreboding weakened her knees. She knew what was to come. And she didn’t want to hear it!

  Her father was patting Juana’s arm now, and she was looking confidingly up at him. ‘You’ve no doubt guessed what we have to tell you, Alex,’ Professor Tempest continued gently. ‘Juana and I were married in Bogota three days ago.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT was raining. Huge drops fell heavily on to the flowers, snapping off the petals, bending the stalks. The garden was veiled in a grey curtain of water that saturated the soil and sent up a pungent odour of earth and vegetation and rotting wood. Alexandra stood
by the open verandah door, hugging herself closely. She stared out unseeingly, conscious only of the scents from the garden which she felt would always remind her of this devastating period of her life.

  She sighed heavily, and suddenly became conscious that someone had entered the room behind her. She swung round on her heels to find Clare Forman shedding a sodden mackintosh, shaking out her umbrella.

  Alexandra’s nerves tightened. Clare was the last person she needed to see right now. After her father’s startling revelations of the night before, and the subsequent discomfort of the supper party that followed, Alexandra felt totally unequipped to deal with someone like Clare Forman.

  ‘I hear you’re leaving,’ she remarked, by way of a greeting, and Alexandra turned back to her contemplation of the garden.

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Your father. Who else? I saw him yesterday afternoon. Before I left.’

  ‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ Alexandra bent her head. ‘Did you also meet his—his wife?’

  ‘Juana?’ Clare gave a light laugh. ‘Of course. I could have told you the way the wind was blowing before they left here.’

  Alexandra glanced back at her. ‘Do you—know her well?’

  ‘Reasonably.’ Clare pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one. ‘She’s not the sort of person one ever gets to know really well though. No other woman, that is.’

  Alexandra hesitated. ‘I—I suppose Declan knew, too.’

  ‘Naturally. They stayed in his home, you know.’

  ‘Umm.’ Alexandra stared out at the falling rain. Her eyes felt tight and drawn, due no doubt to the amount of weeping she had done the night before, but at least now she felt drained and not in any danger of making a fool of herself in front of Clare. ‘I—I never thought my father would ever marry again.’

  Clare flung herself down on to the leather couch. ‘That’s always the way. Look at me and Declan! He never thought I would marry anyone else either.’

  ‘You—and Declan?’ Alexandra turned slowly. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Clare shrugged. ‘You know I’ve told you how—close we were. Surely you guessed we were—lovers?’

  Alexandra’s stomach twisted. ‘I—I never thought about it,’ she lied tautly.

  Clare looked sceptical, but she ignored the obvious rejoinder and went on: ‘Well, Declan and I were virtually engaged when he decided he would like to work at Paradiablo. He asked me to come with him. I refused.’

  ‘You refused?’

  Clare sighed impatiently. ‘Yes. I was young—and reckless. I couldn’t imagine myself living in a place like this.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what happened?’

  Alexandra shook her head. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Perhaps not. But I’ll tell you anyway.’ Clare’s smile was brittle. ‘Declan came up here, and while he was away I married David. When Declan came back for me—I was unattainable.’

  Alexandra felt sick. She had suspected something like this all along, and now to have it confirmed … She turned away, gesturing futilely towards the weather. ‘How—how long do you think this is going to last?’

  Clare’s face hardened. ‘You can’t fool me, you know, Alex. I know exactly what you’re thinking.’

  Alexandra tightened the hold she had upon herself. ‘What have my thoughts to do with you?’

  ‘Everything. I’m not blind, you know. I have eyes. I’ve seen the way you look at Declan, the way you try to attract his attention. And yesterday—–’

  ‘Oh, really, Clare!’

  ‘No. You listen to me!’ Clare got to her feet and came across to her, her face contorted with anger. ‘I’ve told you some of what’s between Declan and me, now I’m going to tell you the rest.’

  Alexandra shook her head. ‘I don’t want to hear—–’

  ‘No. But you’re going to anyway. If only to get rid, once and for all, of those childish little fantasies you’ve been weaving about you and Declan.’

  Alexandra tried to move away, but Clare caught her arm in a compelling grasp, imprisoning her in front of her.

  ‘I realised my mistake,’ she said tightly. ‘It was always Declan I wanted. That was why when this post came vacant up here, I persuaded David to take it. It meant Declan and I would be near one another. You’re not immature enough not to realise what happened!’

  ‘Let—go—of—me!’ Alexandra twisted away from her. ‘You—you’re revolting!’

  Clare let her go then, a mocking smile replacing her anger. ‘Just so long as you’re aware of the facts,’ she commented maliciously. ‘I’m sorry I had to break it to you so cruelly, but what is it they say about the end justifying the means?’

  Alexandra didn’t wait to hear any more. She pushed past her and almost ran across the room, colliding full tilt with the man who was just entering.

  ‘Alex, my child!’ Her father’s face was mildly reproving. ‘Can’t you look where you’re going?’

  Alexandra halted reluctantly. ‘I—I’m sorry, Father.’

  He patted her shoulder. ‘That’s all right.’ He looked beyond his daughter to where Clare was standing. ‘Good morning, Mrs. Forman. Rather a change in the weather, isn’t there? Lucky for us we arrived yesterday. Couldn’t have made it today.’

  Clare was composed. She walked back to the couch and sat down. ‘Never mind, these storms are soon over. When do you expect to leave?’

  ‘As soon as possible. I want to introduce Juana to my sister,’ Professor Tempest smiled. ‘Actually, that’s what I came to discuss with Alex.’

  ‘Would you rather I left you alone?’ Clare moved to the edge of her seat.

  ‘Heavens, no!’

  Professor Tempest had no conception of his daughter’s frame of mind. But then he never had, thought Alexandra bitterly. He had never tried to understand her, and she doubted that he ever would. That was why his marriage to Juana de los Vargos was so astonishing. She had thought him without the need of any woman.

  ‘I thought we might fly down to Rio tomorrow,’ her father was continuing. ‘Naturally, I want to visit the Institute, and Juana has friends she wishes to see. No one knows about our marriage, you see.’

  Alexandra drew a deep breath. ‘Anything you say,’ she agreed expressionlessly.

  Professor Tempest frowned. ‘Doesn’t the idea of a few days in Rio appeal to you, Alex? I should have thought you’d have looked forward to seeing the cultural capital of Brazil.’

  Alexandra shrugged. ‘I could always fly straight back to England. Aunt—Aunt Liz might appreciate my company. Has she been to Cannes?’

  ‘Now you must know she hasn’t, Alex. Elizabeth was too concerned about your activities to take herself off for a holiday. I haven’t said anything to you so far concerning your complete lack of consideration for your aunt, but there remains a great deal to be explained. How, for instance, did you get the necessary information and inoculations to come out here?’

  Alexandra cast a resentful look in Clare’s direction. How she would be enjoying this, she thought angrily.

  ‘Can’t we discuss it later, Father?’ she suggested, with a helpless gesture. ‘I—if I’m leaving, I have packing to do.’

  Her father clicked his tongue irritably. ‘You might go and have a few words with Juana,’ he remarked. ‘You hardly spoke to her last evening.’

  Alexandra scuffed her toe. ‘You can’t expect Juana and me to have a lot to say to one another yet, Father. We—we hardly know one another.’

  ‘And you never will unless you make an effort,’ he retorted. ‘Really, Alex, talking about flying back to London alone!’

  ‘I thought this was your honeymoon. I don’t want to intrude.’

  Her father’s mouth drew in. ‘I don’t recall mentioning any honeymoon, Alex—–’

  ‘I think your daughter needs a little time to grow accustomed to the situation, Professor.’ Clare’s cool tones were faintly amused, and Alexandra’s fists cl
enched. ‘After all, Alex is old enough to understand that her position in your household is going to be vastly changed, but not old enough to appreciate that a man needs more out of life than a daughter can give him.’

  Professor Tempest turned to Clare with some relief. ‘Yes, Mrs. Forman, I’m sure you’re right. And perhaps Juana needs a little time, too, to become used to our British reserve.’ He smiled. ‘When Alexandra returns to school at the end of the summer vac—–’

  ‘I’m not returning to school, Father!’ Alexandra’s clear statement arrested him in full spiel.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I’m not returning to school, Father. I’m going to get a job.’

  ‘A job!’ At last she had her father’s full attention. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Alex, of course you’re returning to school.’

  ‘No, I’m not. And you can’t make me.’

  Her father’s face was ominously dark. ‘And what kind of a job do you propose to get?’

  ‘I don’t know. I have “O” levels. I could work in a bank—or a library—or a hospital!’

  ‘A hospital!’ Her father latched on to the final assertion. ‘And what could you do in a hospital?’

  ‘Lots of things. Train to be a nurse, for one. Or work on the administrative side. It appeals to me.’

  Clare rose to her feet, her face cold and angry. ‘I think what your daughter really means is that she hopes at some future date to return to the Amazon basin, Professor.’

  Alexandra gasped, and Professor Tempest turned to her. ‘Is this true, Alex?’ he demanded furiously. ‘Why on earth should you want to return here?’

  ‘Because she imagines she’s in love with Declan!’ stated Clare pitilessly. ‘She’s made nothing but a nuisance of herself to him ever since she arrived!’

  Alexandra could only stare speechlessly at them both. She could scarcely believe that Clare would be ruthless enough to tell her father such things.

  Professor Tempest’s face was grim. ‘Good heavens, Alexandra! Do you hear what Mrs. Forman is accusing you of?’ He shook his head. ‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’

  Alexandra opened her mouth, but no words would come. She shook her head helplessly, and her father smote a hand to his thigh.