Rachel Lindsay - Brazillian Affair

by Rachel Lindsay

  Philippa clutched her handbag, afraid Maya might try to take it from her. But instead, Maya skirted past her delicately and reached for the telephone.

  "I want to make a long-distance call to London…"

  "Wait!" With shaking hands Philippa took out the letter and photograph and tossed them on to the floor. "I'm doing it for Roland's mother," she said, and walked out.

  In the street again, she felt drained and spent; like something that had been used up and thrown away. Lucas… Roland… the names and faces swam before her eyes and she wished she had never heard of either of them. A taxi came by and she hailed it.

  Driving across town along the Avenida Rio Branco towards Copacabana, she was seized with hatred for the entire place. If she never saw another palm tree or hibiscus bush for the rest of her life it would be too soon! The brilliance of the sun, the white glare of the buildings, the laughing, chattering Cariocas with their dark eyes and colourful clothes filled her with dislike. She longed for grey buildings under grey skies, for grey streets filled with safe, unemotional people. "I'm tired," she thought, "I don't want a man; I don't want love or an interesting job. All I want is to be left alone!"

  Back in her room she kicked off her shoes and threw herself on the bed. But she had only been there a moment when there was a knock on the door which opened and Lucas came in.

  "I told the reception clerk to ring me as soon as you returned," he said. "I had a feeling you'd want to avoid me."

  She sat up, pushing her damp hair away from her forehead. "If you want to work, I -"

  "Don't be ridiculous! Can't you see I was worried about you?"

  "There's nothing to worry about."

  "Then why did you run out as if the devil was after you?"

  It was an apt simile for Maya, she thought dismally. "I told you I had shopping to do."

  "I can't see any parcels," he said drily, and came over to sit on the end of her bed.

  She swung her feet to the floor and stood up, swaying a little. Instantly he was beside her, feeling her forehead with his hand.

  "Lucas, let go of me!" His nearness filled her with such panic that she pushed away from him and ran into the living-room. "There's nothing wrong with me that a few hours' sleep won't cure."

  "First you need some food inside you."

  "It would choke me," she said, and sat down at her desk.

  "A drink, then." He mixed her a weak brandy and soda, and she took it from him and sipped it.

  He leaned against the desk, and looked at her. "Before you went out you said you had something to tell me."

  "It was nothing."

  "Don't lie."

  "I'm not. And stop looking at me like an inquisitor!"

  His face tightened and she knew his concern had changed to annoyance. "In a moment I'll lose my temper, Philippa. I know you're tired, but I won't let you rest until you tell me what's upset you. You haven't been yourself for more than ten minutes all day."

  Instead of answering she opened her typewriter and fed in some paper.

  " Will you stop it!" There was fury in his voice. "What's wrong with you ?"

  "Nothing." Seeing his expression she amended it hastily. "At least there was something - but not any more."

  "Anything that worries you is important to me." He came close to her. "Don't you know that ?"

  She kept her eyes lowered. "Why don't you leave me alone ?" she whispered.

  "I could say the same thing to you."

  Startled, she forgot her resolve not to look at him and, staring into his face, saw something there that made her heart start to thud.

  "Aren't you curious to ask me what I mean?" he went on. "Or do you know?"

  "I don't know anything any more."

  "Poor darling." At the tenderness in his voice, tears rushed into her eyes, and seeing them he caught hold of her hand and placed it to his lips. "I'm not surprised you don't know. I'm not an easy man to understand, and when I realised how you were affecting me I became even more difficult. All my life I've run away from being possessed. I saw what my mother's possessiveness did to my father - turning him from a self-sufficient man into a lap-dog who did anything for the sake of peace and quiet - and I vowed I wouldn't let it happen to me." He squeezed her hand. "My parents' marriage coloured my whole attitude. That's why my motto was love 'em and leave 'em!"

  "With a large bottle of perfume or a bunch of roses!" she said before she could stop herself.

  "Exactly! There's no use my pretending with you, is there?"

  "Secretaries are like valets. They -"

  "Know all their bosses' foibles," he finished for her. "Yet many secretaries marry their boss. Don't you find that surprising ?"

  The thudding of her heart was so loud she felt as though her entire body was pulsating. She wanted to speak, yet words would not come.

  "Tell me, Philippa. Don't you find it surprising?"

  "Not - not really," she said. "After all, better the devil you know than the one you don't."

  "Is that how you think of me - as a devil ?"

  "Of course not. I was just generalising."

  "I wasn't. I was particularising." He let her hand go, but only to place both of his on her shoulders. "Since we've been in Rio I've realised how stupid generalisations can be."

  Deliberately misunderstanding him, she said: "Does that mean that in future you're going to be a paragon to work for?"

  "I wasn't thinking in terms of work - but of love. For heaven's sake, Philippa, stop prevaricating! I love you. Don't you know that ?"

  The effort not to fling herself into his arms made her almost physically ill and she closed her eyes, not trusting herself to see him so close.

  "Philippa!" he said urgently. "I love you."

  She forced herself to open her eyes. "What about Maya?"

  "She's part of my past."

  "A pretty recent past."

  "Because I've taken her out while I've been here?" His mouth flexed in a smile. "Dammit, you didn't expect me to give in to you without putting up a fight! Of course I took her out. She's a beautiful woman, and I hoped she would help me to forget you." His hold tightened on her, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. "But no matter what I did I couldn't get you out of my mind. I wanted to be near you, wanted you to mock me or tease me or even just talk to me. I fought against it as hard as I could, but last night, when we were working together, I knew it was no use. You once said a man who loved his business had no business to love and-"

  "And you said you didn't believe in love."

  "That shows what a fool I was." He lowered his head and rested his cheek against hers. His breath was warm on her skin and her whole body was aware of his closeness. "I want you, darling. You'll never know how much."

  She closed her eyes again, wondering if it were really possible for a heart to break. A few hours ago she would not have believed she could hear these words and yet wish them unsaid. If only they had never come to Brazil! And yet if they had remained in England he might never have realised he loved her. She caught her breath in a painful gasp. Much good it did her! The memory of Maya and Mrs. Marsh made everything Lucas said impossible: she could not take her happiness at the expense of an old and sick woman.

  "Why don't you say something?" Lucas said huskily, "When I kissed you last time, didn't you know how I felt?"

  His hands started to caress her, making coherent thought more difficult. But she had to think! She had to make him believe she did not love him. Yet how could she do it when every part of her ached to let him take her. To argue with him was useless, and her only hope was to pretend she had misunderstood him and, by her misunderstanding, make him feel a fool.

  "You're making a mistake, Lucas. Wanting a woman isn't enough."

  "It's enough for me." He touched her mouth with his but she averted her head.

  "Well, it isn't for me." I'm not like the other women you've known. I want more than passion." She felt his body tense and rushed on: "I know passion's enough for yo
u - you've proved it by all the affairs you've had - but I won't be one of them."

  He held her away from him. "Is that what you think it is, Philippa? Just passion? Haven't you understood what I've been saying ?"

  "Certainly I have. And it's no use." She hated her ability to keep her voice so unaffected by her real feelings. "Don't you understand what I'm saying, Lucas? I don't want to be another one of your girl-friends."

  "I love you," he said quietly.

  She clutched at the side of the desk as though hoping it would give her the strength to carry on. "Love to you means lust! But it means more than that to me. When I think of love I think of spending the rest of my life with one man; of sharing his home and having his children. And that's something I don't want to do with you." She saw the pain in his eyes and was afraid that unless she ended this scene she would burst into tears. "I won't deny I'm attracted to you," she hurried on. "But that's not enough for marriage."

  "Why do you assume that the future I want with you is going to be a repetition of my past?"

  "A leopard doesn't change its spots."

  "And a stupid girl remains stupid, even when she appears to be intelligent."

  Knowing she could not carry on any longer, she tried to think of the most wounding thing to say. "Since I am stupid, how long do you think you'd go on wanting me? You're the one who's stupid, Lucas. With all your experience of women and business, don't you know it's easier to find a mistress than a good secretary!"

  He turned even paler and, opening the door, stepped outside. "It looks as though I'll have to find myself both when I return to England."

  "Where are you going ?" she called.

  "To look for another mistress," he said, and banged the door shut.

  Without his presence as a bulwark, she collapsed in a flood of tears. Never had she believed herself capable of talking to Lucas the way she had done. How right he was to call her stupid; any woman who turned him away was stupid indeed. But the dice were loaded against her and she had been forced to play the game Maya's way.

  Maya! Was she the woman to whom Lucas had gone?

  The thought was so painful that she threw out her hands as though warding off a blow. The pile of letters which Lucas had collected from the reception clerk fell to the floor. She picked them up and as she sorted them into a pile, she saw that the last one was addressed to her in her father's writing.

  She opened it and started to read. Halfway through, the pages fell from her fingers and she stared at them as though the words were written in blood. As they were. Her blood.

  What mischance of fate had stopped Lucas from giving her this letter as soon as she had come in? If she had read it earlier she would never have gone to Maya; never have turned down his proposals.

  Trembling with emotion, she picked up the letter from the floor and started to reread it.

  "I debated whether to tell you until you came home, but felt that it would be more of a shock if I waited until you came home. The day after you left for Brazil Mrs. Marsh had a stroke and went into a coma. If there had been a chance of her recognising you, I'd have cabled you to come back - I know it's what you would have wanted - but she was completely unaware of her surroundings and died without recovering consciousness."

  Philippa slowly picked up the telephone. Even when it was in her hand she did not dial, but looked at it as though it were a serpent. But a serpent had to be destroyed and swiftly, before she could change her mind, she dialled the offices of Callisto & Co. and asked to speak to Mr. Masterson.

  A moment later Roland came on the line. "I'm glad you got back early, darling." There was false joviality in his voice. "Can I see you this evening?"

  "There's no need to pretend any more," she said dully. "Surely Maya told you I saw her this afternoon?" Only the crackle of the telephone told her he was still hanging on at the other end, and because she had rung him for a definite purpose she pushed away her desire to hang up. "Are you still there ?" she asked.

  "Yes. But I can't talk to you over the phone. I've got to see you."

  "No!"

  "Please, Phil. I'd have given anything for you not to have found that letter and photograph."

  "I'm sure you would," she said drily. "You never did like me to know you as you are - first a thief and then a blackmailer!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know very well what I mean. It was your idea for Maya to see Lucas again. You thought if you couldn't learn what you wanted from me, that she might be able to worm something out of him!"

  "That isn't true. I never asked Maya to steal those prices. She saw the opportunity and took it."

  "And what about her blackmailing me into silence? Do you expect me to believe that wasn't your idea either?"

  There was another pause. "I did tell her about my mother," he admitted, "but I never dreamed she'd use it the way she did."

  "Why didn't you try and stop her?"

  "No one can stop Maya when she gets the bit between her teeth. I know she upset you, but she did it to protect me."

  "Because she loves you, I suppose?" Philippa could not keep the pleasure out of her voice. "You're in for a surprise, Roland. Maya wants to marry Lucas. That's why she didn't want him to know about you. She wasn't protecting you - only herself!"

  "Is that what she said?" He tried to make the question casual, but failed.

  "That's exactly what she said. When she saw Lucas again, she realised she still wanted him."

  "She only said that to needle you."

  "Really?" Philippa spoke slowly. "If Maya loved you, she could never have threatened to tell your mother you were still alive."

  "Maya was thinking of me," he reiterated. "She doesn't know my mother, You can't feel for someone you don't know."

  "That's true," Philippa said. "And thank God she'll never have the chance of knowing her."

  He sensed another meaning behind her words. "What are you trying to tell me ?"

  "I've just had a letter from my father." She took a deep breath. "Your mother died three days ago."

  The shock her words gave him was so tangible that it seemed to come across the line.

  "This alters things, doesn't it ?" he said at last.

  If there had been any pity for him in Philippa's heart, his question would have killed it, showing as it did that even in this moment of personal loss his only thought was for himself.

  "Yes, Roland," she said, "it alters everything."

  "What are you going to do ?"

  "Tell Lucas the truth. The only good it might do you is that Maya won't get her wish to marry him. But I'm sure that winning her back will be compensation for you losing the contract!"

  "Where are you speaking from?" he asked unexpectedly.

  "From the suite."

  "Then Lucas knows already ?"

  "No. He's out. But he'll know as soon as he gets back. I intend staying up until he returns."

  With a feeling of unutterable relief she put the receiver back on its rest. When Lucas came in, this nightmare would be over. She flung her arms wide, savouring the happiness of the future.

  The telephone rang and she recoiled from it as though it were alive. It rang again, but she still refused to pick up the receiver. It was more than she could bear to talk to Roland any more. For a third time it reverberated in her ears and she hesitated. Suppose it were Lucas? Sighing, she knew she had to answer the call.

  A voice spoke to her in careful English, explaining that it was urgent that Mr. Paget be at the Ministry at four o'clock that afternoon.

  "But that's only in fifteen minutes' time," she said angrily. "Why didn't you let us know earlier?"

  "Senhor Rodriguez only made the decision a short time ago. He understands Mr. Paget is going to tender an even lower bid than his previous one and he wishes to see it immediately."

  "I don't know where Mr. Paget is. If there's anything I can do…"

  "Perhaps you could bring the bid yourself?"

  Philippa was taken aback at the
suggestion, but could not see any reason why she should not comply.

  Saying she would be at the Ministry as soon as she could, she hurried into her room to change into something more suitable than a cotton dress, collected the re-worked tender from the drawer of the desk and went down to get a taxi.

  A distant clock was chiming the hour as she entered the imposing marble interior of Senhor Rodriguez's office. A thin dapper man was waiting for her in the inner office and introduced himself as Carlos Diegos, the man to whom she had spoken earlier.

  "Unfortunately the Minister was called unexpectedly to his home," he apologised, "but he has asked me to take you there."

  "I can call back later," she said quickly. "Or by then I may have been able to contact Mr. Paget."

  "No, no. Senhor Rodriguez has asked me to bring you to his home."

  Philippa followed the man out to his car, a low- slung Alfa Romeo, and they were soon speeding across the city. He handled the car superbly and she was not surprised when he told her he had once been a racing driver. The busy boulevards fell away behind them and they were soon climbing up into the hills.

  "It's funny," she exclaimed. "I didn't think the Minister lived so high above the city."

  "It is a short cut. This way we'll avoid a lot of traffic."

  Despite the short cuts it was after five when he slowed on the narrow mountain road and took a sharp turn into a tree-lined drive, coming to a stop outside a small villa.

  "This isn't the Minister's house," she exclaimed.

  He smiled. "This is my home. I have something to collect and then we'll be on our way."

  "But I'm going to be so late."

  "Don't worry. The Minister lives five minutes from here. Come in and meet my wife."

  She had no choice but to follow him, and he led her into a book-lined study. The room was empty, its shutters already drawn.

  "Wait here, Miss Smith. I will see where my wife is."

  In a stride he was at the door, and before she realised what was happening, he had closed it behind him and turned the key in the lock.

  For an instant Philippa was too amazed to move. Then she ran across and turned the handle. The door did not open and she hammered on it.