The Turquoise Sea Read online

  “Rosa,” Kate said softly, “why not give those shells to your father?” Rosa’s young eyes met hers thoughtfully and then the child smiled — a grave understanding smile. She went to her father and held out her hand.

  “Look, Father,” she said in her young clear voice. “I have found you a present.”

  It was as if only Rosa now existed. Kate saw the change on Randel’s face. “Why, Rose!” He dropped on one knee and took the shells almost reverently. “They’re beautiful — I’ll always keep them.”

  “Always?” Rosa asked solemnly.

  He put his arm tentatively round her shoulders. Kate held her breath.

  She could imagine what was in his mind. This was Rosa’s first attempt to reach him — he knew that and was afraid to spoil the moment.

  “Al ...” he began.

  Mariana put in quickly, “Really, Rosa, those are just stupid shells. Your father doesn’t want to be laden with them.” She stopped as Randel turned his head and looked at her.

  Kate let out her breath with a little sigh. Rosa’s face had closed up again, Randel looked annoyed – and Mariana — for the moment —

  abashed, as if not sure what she had said wrong.

  C H A P T E R T W E L V E

  ONCE they returned to Lourengo Marques, it seemed to Kate as if that idyllic interval on the yacht had never been. Life resumed its solid tempo and Kate rarely saw Randel Lister. Not that he was neglecting Rosa, for now he took her out on Sundays — but Mariana always went along, telling Kate with a malicious smile that she could “have the day away.” It meant, of course, that Kate spent her Sundays with the McCormacks, something she normally enjoyed; yet the stress that Rosa obviously underwent each Sunday meant that Kate grew to dread the weekends. Not that Rosa had nightmares, but Monday morning would see her very quiet, find her eyes glancing quickly at Kate’s face and away again, as if there were questions she longed to ask.

  One day she asked Kate, “If you have got to marry someone, Kate, why don’t you marry my father?”

  Kate was cutting out doll’s clothes they were going to stitch together.

  She sat back on her heels and looked at Rosa. “But, darling, I haven’t got to marry anyone.”

  Rosa looked solemn. “Mariana says you are looking for a husband. If you are, Kate, please marry my father.” Her hands clutched Kate’s arm and her face crumpled. “I don’t want Mariana to be—”

  Kate held her close, rocking her. What new mischief was Mariana up to? She told Rosa very gravely, “There is only one man in all the world, Rosa, whom I would marry.” Her tone caught the child’s attention. Rosa stopped crying and looked at her. “Rosa — that man is your father.” Kate was frightened by the sudden hope on Rosa’s face, and blamed herself for raising it. “Darling,” Kate went on quickly, “your father doesn’t want to marry me, so I can’t. You see, you must love someone very much.” It was hard to make Rosa understand what was meant by “love.”

  “You love my father?” she asked, frowning.

  Kate sighed. “Yes, I do,” she said bluntly.

  “Then why doesn’t he love you? If someone loves me, I love them.”

  “But poppet,” Kate said, kissing her quickly, “you’re not a man. Men are different. Whoever your father loves, you will love too, because whoever it is, she is sure to love you.”

  Kate saw by the stubborn look on Rosa’s face that it was no good telling her that.

  “Isn’t Mariana much kinder to you now?” Kate went on. “When, you go out on Sundays, and --”

  Rosa smiled. An old smile for one so young. “Only when my father is there.”

  Oh dear! Kate thought. And gave it up. If only she could find some way to help Rosa to like Mariana — but Mariana seemed to do everything she could to antagonize the child. But what would happen when Mariana married Randel?

  Kate was sure now that it was when and no longer if.

  Mrs. McCormack agreed with her. “That poor Mrs. Kelly — she’s just out of hospital after a nervous breakdown,” she said. Kate had not told her about the meeting in the park, and decided it was too late to do so now.

  “She is telling everyone that they are secretly engaged,” Mrs. McCormack continued.

  “But why?”

  Mrs. McCormack shrugged. “She likes to imply that she has secret information. I’m sure Randel Lister would tell you, Kate. He’d want you to prepare Rosa.”

  “I wish I knew how to do that,” Kate said bitterly.

  Kate was visiting Natala regularly in hospital, and she was progressing well. One day Natala was allowed to walk.

  Her face was radiant. “Tomorrow I see my mother!” she exclaimed.

  But unfortunately she did not, for Natala’s mother died the next day.

  She had barely spoken since she went to hospital, and Natala had no chance, even, to see her at the end. James took complete charge, to Kate’s great relief. He arranged for the funeral, saw the doctor because Natala had collapsed in hysterics, and then drove Kate back to the Pensio.

  Outside, he parked his car and went with her to the door. He looked down at her.

  “Kate, you mustn’t suffer from other people’s troubles.” Her tear-stained face tried to brighten. “I can’t help it, James. I know how I’d feel if I lost my mother. It was terrible enough when my father died.”

  “I know.” His hand was warm on hers. “Dear Kate,” he said gently.

  “Oh, James, if only my mother was here and we had a home. I can’t bear to think of Natala going back to that dreadful room. Mother could have had her to stay with us.”

  He smiled and got back into his car. Kate came to stand by the window, looking down at him.

  “Kate,” he said. “Mother and I have often talked about Natala — we knew this must happen. She is coming to stay with us.”

  “James!” Kate was so happy she could hardly speak. Swiftly she bent and kissed him “Oh, James, you really are wonderful!” She stood still, watching him wave and drive off. Then, as she turned, she saw Randel Lister on the pavement behind her, an odd look on his face.

  She wondered how long he had been standing there. She told him impulsively:

  “Natala’s mother has died and Natala is going to James’s home. Isn’t that wonderful of them?”

  He looked at her almost coldly. “I think it’s very good of them,” he said.

  “Rosa is asleep, but she’ll be waking up now,” Kate told him, deciding to ignore the cold tone. Maybe he had seen her kiss James and thought she was trying to find an excuse for it. “Are you coming up to see her?”

  “It was my intention,” he said with even greater coldness.

  They went up the stairs in silence. Looking around, she wondered for the millionth time that he could not see how unsuitable this place was for a child to live in. What was it Mrs. McCormack had said once? “None so blind as those that don’t want to see.” Perhaps that was it.

  The months were passing swiftly, the weather was already changing, with heavy winds, torrential showers, and Kate thought, with a sense of panic, of the moment that must come — the moment when they went back to England and she walked out of the Listers’ lives. If only she knew what Randel Lister’s plans were — if he still meant to send Rosa to boarding-school. Mariana would be the first to say that was a good idea!

  Rosa was dressed and waiting in her room, carefully dressing her doll.

  She looked up and saw her father, and her face changed.

  “We were going to the museum,” she said, hurrying to Kate’s side, her face disappointed.

  Randel’s voice was stiff. His smile hid the pain that showed in his eyes.

  “You can still go, Rosa. I just came to bring you — this.” Awkwardly he held out a small parcel. Rosa took it, her eyes brightening. She sat on the floor to undo the parcel, taking a long time over it.

  Kate wondered what was in the child’s mind. She kept her fingers crossed, praying that neither Rosa nor her father would be disappointed.
r />   Rosa lifted a radiant face. The parcel contained a musical box — small, daintily carved. When she lifted the lid, tinkling music filled the air as it played Oranges and lemons, said the bells of St. Clements.

  “How lovely!” Kate said eagerly.

  Rosa hugged it, beaming at her father. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” She cried.

  He looked embarrassed. “I remembered you said she knew no nursery rhymes—I thought ...”

  “It’s a wonderful present. Every time she plays it, she’ll think of you,” Kate told him warmly.

  His eyes met her quizzically. “And not of James?” he said softly.

  Kate tried not to look worried. “It’s just that she sees more of him,” she tried to explain, almost apologetically. “He plays with her, teaches her to swim.”

  “Not very surprising, really,” Randel Lister said, and Kate looked at him quickly, for his voice sounded bitter, almost ironic. “Seeing that you spend most of your time with James, it’s natural that she should know him better than me.”

  There was silence, broken only by the tinkling tune. Kate looked worriedly down at Rosa, but Rosa was engrossed in the music. Then Kate looked at Mr. Lister.

  “I ... do you object?” she said stiffly. It had sounded like a complaint

  — even a lecture.

  Randel Lister shrugged. “What right have I to mind? Your private life is your own. But are you sure you’re wise? You’re very young — it could be infatuation.”

  Kate caught her breath. “I’m not as young as that,” she said indignantly, “and it certainly isn’t infatuation that I feel for James.” Kate stopped, for the front door had opened, the click-clack of high heels could be heard.

  “Randel — ah, my Randel!” Mariana was calling. Now she stood there, breathless, delectably lovely in her tangerine-colored silk dress with a small hat over one dark eyebrow, her hands outstretched. “Oh — this is my good fortune day. I was feeling so sad — so alone. I telephoned you and you were out, my Randel. I come home in despair, and here — here you are.”

  She stopped, aware of the music tinkling and Rosa’s engrossed interest.

  Mariana frowned. “Randel, you foolish boy. Did you buy that expensive toy? It is absurd of you — she will break it. So much money!” she scolded.

  Rosa looked up and promptly shut the lid of the box, cutting off the music abruptly. “I won’t break it,” she said, in the nearest approach to a rude voice Kate had ever heard her use. “I won’t break it!” Rosa said again, and her face crumpled.

  Kate stooped. “We know you won’t, darling,” she comforted the child.

  Mariana spread out her hands. “You see, Randel – always it is as I say.

  She is getting beyond control, cheeky — and Kate allows it.”

  “I don’t ...” Kate began, but Randel Lister took charge.

  “If you’re so unhappy, Mariana, I’d better cheer you up. Goodbye, Rose, Kate.” He was gone, down the passage, his hand on Mariana’s arm.

  Mariana’s clear voice travelled. “What were you talking to Kate about so seriously?”

  Kate could not hear his answer. She wondered what Marina would say if she knew that Randel had practically asked her if she was in love with James!

  She managed a smile. “I’ll change my dress, Rosa, and then we’ll go to the museum.”

  They did not stay there long, for Kate felt emotionally exhausted and thought Rosa looked tired. That night, Rosa asked her to lock the musical box up in her suitcase. Without questioning the request, Kate obeyed, but it distressed her very much to see the extent of Rosa’s fears as the days passed, for either Rosa carried the little music box with her wherever she went, or gave it to Kate for safe keeping.

  A spell of wonderful weather came — warm but not too hot, ideal for the beach. Rosa and Kate acquired the habit of going early every day, taking a picnic lunch with them. James had presented Rosa with a gaily striped sun-umbrella which they could dig into the sand, and Rosa and Kate spent many happy hours under it, talking, listening to the tinkling of the beloved musical box, or just watching the sea shimmer and sparkle in the sunshine.

  Kate had to ask the Pensio to pack picnic lunches for them, wishing —

  as she did so often – that they had a kitchen of their own, so that she could prepare Rosa’s food. She still felt that Rosa should be having more vegetables and salad, although she tried to improve the child’s diet by buying as much fruit as she could.

  One morning, their lunch was particularly heavy — cardboard cartons of veal and some rich sauce, then fruit salad and coffee. The coffee, Kate thought, was exceptionally bitter, and both she and Rosa made little grimaces. Kate had often wondered if she could buy a small percolator and make their own — but there again, that was difficult, for there were no power plugs in the flat, and she was not sure how to work anything off the light.

  Rosa and Kate curled up in a hollow in the sand, talking lazily. Kate was telling Rosa, once again, the fascinating story of Peter Pan. Rosa’s favorite character in it was Tinkerbell, and Kate had taught her to use a small hand mirror to make the little flashing light.

  They had the beach to themselves, only the sound of the sea and the casual call of a stray sea gull to break it. Kate was talking. And then, quite suddenly, she opened her eyes. She must have fallen asleep!

  Rosa was not there.

  Kate sat up, staring at the empty place by her side. She stood up, but the empty sands stretched away on either side.

  It had to be a dream ... but it was not. It was a nightmare. She ran down to the water’s edge, heart in mouth, and then reassured herself. The tide was coming in — not going out. It stretched for miles, just ankle depth. No one, not even a child, falling and frightening herself, could drown in that.

  Kate shaded her eyes against the glaring sun. Had Rosa gone off hunting on the rocks? But there were no rocks on this part of the beach — just yards and yards of creeping blue water, creeping too gently to knock a child off her feet.

  Kate ran back to their picnic place. No sign of the child, except for her musical box, tucked under a corner of the rug they had lain on.

  Kate picked it up. Rosa would not have left it there, she thought.

  Suddenly she was so afraid she could hardly breathe. She felt rooted to the spot, as if her limbs were made of iron. Fear gripped her throat and she could feel hysteria rising.

  Rosa would never have gone willingly—

  There were her small white sandals, her socks. She was only wearing her swim suit.

  If Rosa had wanted to walk she would have dressed. Rosa was a queer child at times, showing her Portuguese upbringing; believing that it was not “done” to be seen walking in public “undressed,” or “naked” as Mariana would say.

  Kate closed her eyes. Mariana!

  Relief flooded her. Mariana must have done this to frighten her — watched till she slept and then taken Rosa away, knowing how upset Kate would be.

  She dressed swiftly, gathering up everything, hurrying back to the Pensio.

  Mariana was there, her face cold.

  “What is wrong?” she asked angrily. “You have lost Rosa?” Her face was horrified, her voice rose. “You must be mad — how could you lose her?” It was a bad half-hour for Kate, having to admit she had gone to sleep on the beach, even worse when she heard Mariana telephone Randel, her voice bitter.

  “I told you — she is unsuitable, that one. She sleeps ... and the child goes. What do we do? Yes, she says she has searched the sands. She says ...” Mariana sneered. “I am telling you, my Randel, that she is not to be trusted. She sleeps ...” Kate turned away miserably. How could she have allowed herself to fall asleep?

  Such a thing had never happened before.

  Randel’s eyes were cold when he arrived to question her. “I can’t understand it!” he said.

  She was nearly in tears. “We’re wasting time here — we must look for her,” she told him.

  “I’ve phoned the police,
” he informed her coldly. “Now we’ll go down to the beach.

  Surely she would not have left you?”

  “I don’t think she went willingly,” Kate said, and saw that he believed she was inventing a wild story to excuse herself. “She left this—” she showed him the musical box. “She always looked after it. When she did not keep it in her own hands, she made me lock it away,” she told him, not caring that Mariana stood there, her face hard. “I telephoned James, but he’s away,” she finished miserably.

  Randel’s mouth twisted bitterly. “I think we can manage without his aid, just for once.”

  The Senhora chose that moment to come in, standing monumentally in the hall, her heavy black clothes clinging, her jet beads swinging. When she heard the news, she had hysterics, moaning, accusing Kate of wicked neglect — of being incompetanta.

  Kate and Randel went to the beach to search, but not even a footstep could they find.

  “Not surprising — such fine sand shows nothing,” Randel said curtly.

  It was all Kate could do not to cry. She stared at his hard, angry face and blamed herself bitterly. Yet surely he could see how worried she was — couldn’t he understand what it meant to her?

  As if he guessed what she was thinking, he looked down at her “Don’t you start having hysterics too,” he said bluntly. “Two hysterical women on my hands are bad enough.”

  In the end they gave it up. The police had arrived, and Kate had shown them where they had eaten lunch. The police spread out a cordon – were talking of netting the sea.

  Someone mentioned sharks — and Kate went so white that Randel caught her by the arm to steady her.