The Turquoise Sea Read online

  “I’m quite scared of her at times, for she seems prepared to stoop to anything. It is wonderful to know that now I can buy Rosa really pretty clothes and that I no longer have to do everything secretly. I’m getting Rosa some games so that I can teach her to count and spell. Mr. Lister remarked on the improvement in her English, and she no longer looks like a little slug, bless her.

  “Oh, Mummy, this is a wonderful job! It’s just that sometimes I catch myself shivering — just as if someone has walked over my grave. I caught the Senhora looking at me tonight and her glance was really evil. Aren’t I being silly? Maybe it’s just because she has such a malevolent sort of face and is always draped in black and her jet beads make a horrible noise as they dangle.”

  Kate re-read the letter and then added a postscript.

  “I’m a bit worried about my friend Natala. She hasn’t been at the desk for three days now, so I’m wondering if she is ill. I’ll ask one of the waiters in the morning. She is such a dear and so unhappy. She lives alone with her sick mother, so she may need some help. Take care of yourself — the six months will soon be gone and we shall be together again.” As she signed the letter, Kate stifled a sigh. What would happen at the end of the six months? They would go back to England, and Mr. Lister would pay her, thank her politely, send Rosa to bonding school, and forget the whole episode.

  Would she be able to forget it? Kate wondered. Hugging her knees, gazing into space, she admitted the truth to herself.

  She was utterly, hopelessly, and helplessly in love with Randel Lister.

  More fool you, she told herself, as she set about preparing for bed? When a man had Mariana eating out of his hand, he would not look at anyone else! Who could blame him? Such beauty, such fire, such provocativeness, such a perpetual challenge to a man. Why — why, it was like the difference she felt between James and Mr. Lister. James was comforting and soothing — but Randel Lister was ...

  It was best not to think about it. She found a library book, curled up on her bed and began to read, deliberately shutting out tantalizing, thrilling yet depressing thoughts of a lean, dark, arrogant man — a man of many moods.

  In the morning she managed to see the manageress, a short fat women in a very tight black dress with small white ringlets piled high on her head.

  “She has gone,” Senhora Lopez said flatly when Kate asked about Natala.

  It was a battle to get anything out of the woman, who was, quite obviously, unwilling to be cooperative. In the end, Kate was shocked to learn that Natala had been dismissed. When she pressed the manageress for a reason, the Senhora Lopez’ dark eyes glittered and she had an ugly flush on her sallow skin.

  “It was your fault — she was a good girl until you came and made her above herself. Then she lies, insults a guest, and so I said she must go.” She refused to give Kate Natala’s address and told Kate that she had made trouble enough already.

  Kate was both shocked and hurt — how could she have caused Natala’s dismissal? As she went back to the flat, Mariana met her, and told her haughtily to prepare Rosa for a visit.

  “I take her with me,” she told Kate.

  Kate paused. “Do you know why Natala was dismissed?” she asked.

  She met the Portuguese girl’s triumphant eyes and felt suddenly sick.

  She might have guessed it was Mariana’s work.

  “But of course I know,” Mariana said smoothly. “High time, too. She was impudent.”

  Kate turned away. What could she say, or do, that could be effective?

  She dressed Rosa in silence, hardly noticing the little girl’s curious glances. At the last moment, Kate held Rosa tight for a second, kissed her and whispered that she would see her soon and, in the meantime, to enjoy herself. Tea parties were always fun....

  She was startled by Rosa’s reaction. The small arms clung to her neck, her mouth was warm on Kate’s cheek. “Kate — never, never go away, please,” she begged, her eyes wide.

  “I won’t,” Kate promised, and whispered a silent if I can help it.

  Unfortunately so much seemed to depend on Mariana.

  Kate stood for a long time after Mariana and Rosa had gone out. What could she do? Could Mr. Lister help? Then she recalled that he had said he was going down to Durban for a few days. She went out into the heat of the day and took a bus, going to sit in the cool, quiet cathedral, trying to collect her thoughts.

  What would happen to Natala? It would not be easy for her to get a job.

  As Natala said, people were embarrassed by her appearance. When Kate left the cool building, the heat of the street was even more powerful.

  Gasping a little, she hesitated and decided to have a long cool drink, sitting at one of the pavement cafes. She walked down the hot pavements, ignoring the glances, and the whistles. She had learned to cope with the many advances that every girl who walks alone in Lourengo Marques meets, and could even laugh at them now. She hesitated when she saw the face of a man she recognized, sitting outside one of the cafes. Even as she wondered if she dare risk asking him if he knew where Natala was, she left it too late to retreat. He was on his feet, hastening towards her, with that bold appraising smile she hated.

  “Mees Williams!” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. His bold eyes looked her up and down. “I am fortunate. You will join me?” She sat down reluctantly, said she would like a cool drink, sipped it and listened while he paid her compliments, while his eyes said the things she knew he would like to say and which made her feel so uncomfortable, almost as if she had forgotten to dress properly that day. It was hard to interrupt his flow of conversation, harder still to bear the complacent looks he gave the other men at the little tables, as if to say See — I have another skive! Antonio reminded her irresistibly of a peacock — the next second she was ashamed. She must remember what Natala had said about him.

  “Senhor Vidal,” Kate said firmly. “Can you give me Natala’s address?” Antonio’s mouth gaped open. He had been in the middle of a flowery, well-phrased, he thought, sentence, in praise of Kate’s eyes, and she asked him a blunt question like that.

  “Natala?” he said stupidly, and shrugged. “Let us forget such a one.

  Our friendship with one another has the greatest importance.” Kate flushed. She leaned forward, her voice hard. “But I am worried about Natala. I want to know where she is, and ...” Someone stopped by their table. Kate looked up. It was James. The flood of thankfulness made her eyes glow warmly. “Oh, James,” she said, not realizing how she was betraying her relief, “have you met Senhor Antonio Vidal?”

  James was looking at the young Portuguese with cold eyes as he acknowledged the introduction and asked if he might join them. Kate could have laughed at the way Antonio was scowling. He looked like a small boy who had been snubbed. James asked why Kate was looking so worried. Bless him, Kate thought, he was able to read her thoughts, for how else could he have known what cue to give her? If James knew that Antonio Vidal could find out Natala’s address, he would make Antonio tell them.

  But Antonio was sulking. He declared he did not know where Natala lived. That there was no need to be worried, for she was a good bookkeeper and would get another position without difficulty.

  “I don’t agree,” Kate said emphatically. “I know she was terrified of losing her job.” She turned to James. “Mariana got her dismissed,” she said accusingly.

  She was startled by James’s reaction.

  “Isn’t that rather a rash statement?” he asked. She stared at him — so he too, for all he had said, was under Mariana’s spell. “Perhaps it was,” she said, feeling as usual that it was just a waste of time trying to fight Mariana. “But I’m still worried about Natala.”

  James looked at his watch. “My mother wants to see you, Kate. May I run you home?” He apologized for interrupting the little talk she had been having with Antonio. “I’m sure that we can count on Senhor Vidal to help us trace your friend now that he knows how anxious you are.” Kate saw Anton
io’s eyes flicker and had a moment of hope. James went on talking with his authoritative air. “As Miss Williams’s friend, I am naturally interested and would appreciate any help you can give us,” he finished formally.

  Kate stood up and felt happier, for in other words, James was offering a bribe. This might work where all Kate’s pleading must fail.

  James dropped her off at the Pensio. “Mother is out, but I guessed you needed rescuing,” he said with a friendly grin. At Kate’s fervent assurance that he was right, he cautioned her to be careful. “It’s playing with fire, Kate. You may think you can handle men of Vidal’s calibre, but believe me, you can’t.”

  She looked up into his troubled face. “I do realize that, James. I’m very careful. I just happened to run into him, that’s all. Natala is desperately in love with him, poor girl, and that’s why I’m sure he knows where she is.” James nodded. “So am I. Well, we’ll see what happens. I’ll let you know if he contacts me.”

  Mariana brought Rosa back to the flat very late indeed. Mariana was in a temper. “Rosa — she has lost all her good behavior. She was rude. You teach her the rudeness, like you teach all her friends,” she said, almost viciously, her eyes glinting. “I do not like to go out with cheeky children.” Kate’s arms were round Rosa. She looked up. “Rosa is never cheeky,” she protested.

  “You do not see it — for you are very cheeky, too,” Mariana told her, dark eyes flashing. She paused in the doorway. “I tell Senhor Lister this and he agree. He says all English girls are cheeky – it is their way.” She smiled acidly. “He said it is a peety. Men like the girls to have the good manners. That is why English men love Portuguese girls.” She closed the door with a bang. Biting her lip, feeling the helpless anger fill her, Kate devoted herself to the tired, tearful Rosa. Later that night Rosa had a nightmare. This time everything was different, for she clung to Kate, and when she saw Mariana in the doorway, she screamed louder than ever.

  Mariana was furious, but kept her voice scathingly cold as she requested Kate to stop the child screaming for they would have complaints if they disturbed the Pensio’s night. When they were alone Rosa stopped crying, but still clung to Kate so finally Kate carried the child to her own room, and Rosa slept in Kate’s bed, cheeks still wet, one hand clutching Kate’s.

  Next day Kate got a clue as to the reason for the nightmare. They were talking Portuguese, and Rosa said in one of those pedantic little phrases she was slowly forgetting, “You are making the improvement, Kate.”

  “Thanks to you, darling,” Kate said, and bent and kissed the child. She was startled by the fervor of Rosa’s return kiss.

  “Kate,” Rosa begged, “don’t ever leave me!”

  “I’ll never leave you,” Kate promised, and wondered if she ought to say that. If only she could be sure it was true! Yet there must come a time.

  ... If only she could stay with Rosa long enough to give her a sense of security.

  In the days ahead, Kate tried to find out why Rosa was once more afraid. Mrs. McCormack had invited them ceremoniously to lunch. Mrs.

  McCormack had behaved very formally — and politely — towards the Dominguez. She had visited the Senhora and also invited her to an evening of bridge. The Senhora had been visibly impressed, and had several times asked Kate questions about James — his age, his job, was he the heir? Amused, Kate began to wonder if perhaps Mariana was weighing the advantages of marrying James, as against those she would enjoy if she married Randel. Kate, of course, knew that she herself would not hesitate — but then she chose with her heart and not her mind. If she had any sense, Kate felt she should choose James. So good and kind, so wonderfully understanding – yet such fun to be with; he would be a husband in a million. Yet with her foolish heart she had only to hear Randel’s footsteps — his voice — or meet his eyes across a room to know without fail whom she loved.

  Sometimes unrequited love is sad and hard to endure, but Kate found she enjoyed it. Maybe it was because she did not really hope — she simply dreamed. Dreams were free. She could dream of their home — a white villa surrounded by flowers, Randel coming home at the end of the day, Rosa teaching her small stepsisters to talk ... Kate would stop thinking then, and sigh. It was just a lovely dream. She suffered from no illusions.

  Randel had never seen her as anything but a pleasant young girl, who might be useful, and who had proved quite successful at looking after his problem daughter. Another thing that puzzled her was that though she could have such tender thoughts of Randel, could tremble when he was near with a sweet breathlessness she had never known before, yet Kate could be so angry with him — just for a single remark — that she almost exploded.

  Such an occasion arose soon after his return from Durban. He took her out to tea at the English Club and they sat on the terrace, under palm trees and with distant strains of music. Young people lounged round the pool, Rosa was playing with a doll by Kate’s feet.

  Kate was happy, just to look across the table at that lean handsome face. She took a deep breath.

  “Kate,” Randel said coldly, and frowned. Kate woke up from her dream. “Kate, I don’t want to seem difficult, but Mariana tells me ...” She stared at him, wondering if he had noticed how her head had instantly been lifted, that she was immediately on the defensive. “Mariana tells you?” Then she remembered Rosa and looked down. “Another time,” Kate murmured.

  They played with their tea. It was a relief when a small girl with red hair came to Rosa and asked her to dig a hole. The two children knew one another slightly and with great solemnity Rosa stood up and asked Kate for permission to go with Flora.

  “Of course, darling,” Kate said, and waited until the children were out of earshot. Then she braced herself, turning to her employer. “Well?” she asked.

  He watched Rosa walk away. “She asked your permission to go,” he said in surprise. “Mariana said she had lost her manners.” Kate counted ten, and then was proud of her moderate voice.

  “Perhaps we have different standards — Mariana and I. I think she calls it good manners when a child is willing to sit for hours in a corner of the room while adults talk and forget her. When she does not interrupt her elders or make a nuisance of herself “ Against her every effort, Kate’s voice began to tremble. “Rosa, I’m afraid, has grown used to English ways. She talks to people. I realize she must have changed.” She saw that he was staring at her, frowning. Was she being very aggressive? But she must defend Rosa. Then she forgot to try to be calm, cool and collected.

  “Mr. Lister, how can we go on like this?” she said, almost desperately. “You distrust everything I do. You look at Rosa through a microscope, searching for faults. Can’t you see ... or won’t you see—” she did not realize she was shaking her finger in his face — “that Rosa needs love, love, more love? She can’t have enough. She needs praise, encouragement. Never has she known security. Mariana says Rosa clings to me now. Once she clung to Anna. But now I am with her all day long.

  I am the one she trusts.” She was suddenly aware that she was almost shouting. She looked round nervously, but luckily no one was near them.

  She dared not meet his eyes, for her courage would go and these things must be said. “She had a nightmare —but only after she had been out with Mariana. I know she was over-tired, but I think many adults forget how much a child hears and understands.” Kate drew a long shuddering breath. Here it came! “I can tell you why Rosa was so afraid of me when I arrived. She told Mrs. McCormack that I was going to take her to London to chop off her head.”

  Now she looked at him. He was quiet, not angry at all, she saw. But he looked as if he did not believe a word she had said.

  “Chop off her head? That’s ridiculous.”

  Kate sighed. She felt the inspiration trickling out of her. Why waste time? “Maybe she heard a story about the Princes in the Tower — of how King Henry the Eighth beheaded his wives.... Mrs. McCormack thought someone might have read her an historical story.” Mr. Lister said
slowly, almost thoughtfully, “I don’t imagine anyone ever read a story to Rose until you came.”

  Kate stared at him. Was he angry? His face betrayed nothing. He offered her a cigarette and lighted it. The little act gave her time to calm down. She waited nervously for his reaction. None came. They talked of other things, and then he said it was time to go and she called Rosa.

  It was as he drove them back to the Pensio that he said something relevant to their conversation. “I’m beginning to understand a lot of things that puzzled me before, Kate.”

  He gave her that thrilling, breathtaking smile that made her life worth living just because she could wait for the miracle of it.

  “Keep on with the good work, Kate, you’ll educate me yet,” he told her.

  She went up the stairs with wings on her feet, sang as she bathed Rosa.

  It was long after Rosa was asleep that the Senhora sent a message that Kate was wanted on the telephone.

  She ran down the corridor, expecting it to be James or his mother, hoping without hope that it might be Randel.

  It was Antonio Vidal.

  “You wish to see Natala? I will call for you in fifteen minutes,” he said. And rang off.

  Kate hesitated. Yet if he knew where Natala was … She saw the time and frowned. Natala must be ill — otherwise why the haste?

  She changed her dress quickly, told the Senhora she was going out, and ran down to the hall. She saw that she was early.

  Suddenly she was afraid. James had warned her, she remembered. On an impulse she went to the telephone, dialling the McCormacks’ number.

  Mrs. McCormack answered. Kate asked swiftly for James, but he was out. She was going to explain when she heard the sound of the car outside, she did not want Antonio to think she doubted him — he had such funny moods that he might turn sulky and refuse to help. So she said breathlessly, and very worriedly, that it didn’t really matter, and when Antonio walked in he found her sitting patiently on a chair.