The Turquoise Sea Read online

  The words sent Kate back to the Pensao Fadora with renewed courage.

  It was true. He had engaged her. And tomorrow they would discuss the whole matter and find a solution.

  Natala was not in the hall of the Pensio, and Kate felt sorry for that, for her confidence began to vanish as she climbed the stairs slowly. As she passed the open sitting room door, the Senhora looked up. She was still sitting in the same high- backed chair, her flat-heeled shoes resting on the embroidered footstool, still sewing.

  “You will join me, mees.”

  It was an order. Kate reluctantly entered the room and then rang the bell as directed. She sat on a chair and the two women gazed at one another while a tray of coffee and rich cream cakes arrived. Not liking to risk the Senhora’s anger, Kate ate one cake while the Senhora enjoyed four, then they drank two cups of very sweet coffee.

  It was then that the front door opened and Kate heard a child’s voice.

  Instantly she stood up, determined not to lose her chance this time.

  “Rosa! I’d better—”

  But the Senhora waved an imperative hand. “Sit down,” she said harshly. “I tell you, mees, sit down.”

  There was so much anger in the voice that Kate obeyed. She sat down and stared at the older woman and the hopelessness of the situation per-vaded her body. How could she fight—?

  “Leave the child to Anna. It is better so.” Now the Senhora’s voice was less angry, as if she was surprised at Kate’s obedience. She even smiled at Kate — if that creaking stiff grimace could be called a smile. “She knows Anna, and you are a stranger,” she finished contemptuously.

  Kate took a deep breath and found courage to protest. “But, Senhora,” she said in a very mild voice. “If I do nothing for Rosa, how can she ever know me?”

  The black beady eyes were mocking as the Senhora stared at Kate. “It will come, in time,” she said.

  Kate looked down at her hands, which were twisting together unconsciously as she tried to control herself. What did the Senhora mean by it? Her friendship with the child? Or, more likely, her dismissal? Was that what they were counting on — proving to Mr. Lister that Kate was an absolute fool? That she had failed to make a contact of any sort with the child? Or were they going to drive her into handing in her resignation?

  Were they going to frustrate her at every turn – force her into making complaints, annoying and antagonizing Mr. Lister, and so strengthening their position? Were they planning to make her so miserable that she had to leave?

  Kate looked up and smiled politely. “You’re right,” she said meekly.

  This was something that had to be fought — and fight it she would, she thought, letting her eyes fall demurely, thinking of what Mrs. McCormack had said. This was something she must do for Rosa’s sake.

  The evening dragged by with seeming endlessness. The Senhora told her when it was time to bath and change for dinner. Fortunately the bath water was hot, and despite the humidity of the evening Kate enjoyed that part. She dressed slowly, longing to know in which room Rosa slept, yet knowing she could do nothing about it. She ate alone with the Senhora, who ploughed her way solidly and silently through six courses while Kate nibbled at her food, unable now to enjoy it because of the emotions that were surging inside her. While she tried to look subdued and meek, in-wardly she was rebelling, planning ahead, hanging on to her courage, counting the hours until the next morning when she would see Randel Lister.

  It was when Kate had given up all hope of seeing Rosa that day that she had her chance and seized it. After dinner, as she walked down to her room, she heard a strange tune and guessed it was Anna, singing Rosa a lullaby. Very quickly — and before she could change her mind — Kate knocked on the door and opened it.

  Rosa was in bed. She sat up at once, eyes wide with fright.

  “Anna!” she exclaimed.

  The plump African girl whom Kate had seen before moved quickly to Rosa’s side, saying something in a soft voice, turning to stare at Kate with angry, fearful, defiant eyes.

  Kate stood still in dismay. Rosa was afraid of her. Oh, why had she taken a chance and walked into the room? Why hadn’t she been patient just a while longer?

  “I came to say good night, Rosa. Please teach me to say it in Portuguese,” Kate said very gently.

  “Boa noite,” Rosa said, her voice trembling, her body stiff with fear.

  “Thank you,” Kate managed to say as she fought the sudden desire to cry — cry with annoyance and anger at her own folly; to cry with pity for the child. “Boa noite. Obrigado, Rosa, boa noite.” As she turned away and left the room she saw Rosa fling her arms round the African girl’s neck.

  Kate stood on the balcony of her room for a long time until the mosquitoes began to bite her. Then she went into the hot, airless room, leaving the window open but closing the wire netting. She stood still, staring at nothing, tasting the bitterness of defeat.

  Yet, with the resilience of youth, when she awoke next morning and saw the sun shining on the shimmering blue glory of the Indian Ocean her spirits lifted. The birds were twittering shrilly in the trees and, suddenly, all was right with her world. She could remember Mrs. McCormack’s words of advice, remember that in England Mr. Lister had shown great concern for his child. He must surely understand — somehow she must make him.

  Anna was in the dining room, laying the table, and Kate greeted her cheerfully, “Bom dias.”

  Anna gave her a dark resentful look and went silently out of the room, her bare pink-soled black feet moving lightly over the polished floor. The flat was very quiet, and Kate wondered if she had risen too early, so went back to her room, standing on the balcony to watch a big white liner coming slowly and gracefully into dock, just as Kate’s had done, the previous day.

  The previous day.

  Kate gasped as she took in the significance of the words. Had she only been in Lourengo Marques for one day? It seemed unbelievable — she had experienced so many different emotions — misery, excitement, alarm, and again, uncertainty. No wonder she felt as if she had been there for months. And wasn’t it rather silly to feel a failure after such a short time?

  How melodramatic could she get? Maybe it was the heat, she thought.

  Already the sun’s warmth was beating on to her.

  She went down the corridor when the gong sounded and found that she was to eat alone. It seemed like being sent to Coventry — a habit of schooldays she had always thought the height of cruelty for a sensitive child — as she sat there, eating the tender slice of pressed beef served with a pungent sauce, followed by bacon and eggs, crisp rolls and butter. She had no appetite and sat staring in front of her, drinking bitter coffee, and her misery grew as she thought ahead.

  She must not let the Dominguez know how much she minded. Yet she did mind very much when she went to Rosa’s room again and found the narrow bed made and the tiny room neat and no sign of Rosa anywhere.

  Kate looked round, and her heart ached for the child. What a dreadful room, with its sombre curtains and dark heavy furniture. Kate’s fingers itched to paint the walls pale pink, to put a gay cover on the bed, hang curtains with animals in the design, put bright rugs on the floor. How could Rosa be anything but fearful in such a gloomy atmosphere? And the curtains were so thick that at night, when they were drawn, not even a tiny chink of light would be able to creep through.

  Kate carefully dressed for the forthcoming interview. As she was obviously not going to be allowed to see Rosa, she thought she might as well go down to the town and explore it a little before she saw Mr. Lister.

  It was as she went into the hall that she saw Mariana, wearing a trailing shabby transparent black housecoat, her black hair pinned in curls, her face sallow and drab without make-up. Kate wondered if Mr. Lister would still love Mariana if he could see her like that But she knew that he probably would, for somehow—and maddeningly—Mariana managed to remain beautiful.

  “I trust you had the good night, mees,” Mariana
said sweetly.

  “Yes, thank you,” Kate replied politely, wishing with all her heart that they would stop calling her “mees.” The way Mariana and her mother said it made it sound like an insult.

  Mariana gave her a brilliant smile. “So did I – but not a long sleep, alas.

  It was so very late when the Senhor Lister brought me home. We danced, and he could not bear to let me return.”

  Kate’s face felt stiff. “I’m glad that you both enjoyed yourselves,” she said, still very politely. Her hand closed convulsively. She knew very well what Mariana was telling her. But apparently Mariana was not sure that Kate fully understood.

  “I am sure you are,” Mariana went on, still smiling, but her eyes were hard. “The Senhor Lister and I — we have known one another a very long time. We are happy together. We are—” She held up one hand and straightened the first two fingers together so that they were joined and, apparently, one finger. “We are like that — you understand?”

  “I understand,” Kate said. She tried to pass Mariana and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She wondered why Mariana bothered to warn her to leave Mr. Lister alone. What would he ever see in that ordinary-looking face with the fair curly hair and good skin? Just a pleasant- looking face....

  But — Kate remembered suddenly — Mrs. McCormack had pointed out that he had engaged Kate to look after his daughter, and not Mariana.

  That was something she must hang on to when things got too bad. Now, after she had passed Mariana and let herself out of the flat, she hurried downstairs with a feeling of escaping from something very ugly.

  Natala greeted her warmly and told her how to get to town and where to catch the bus. She even gave Kate some Portuguese money for the fare.

  And then, as Kate was leaving, Natala smiled and said, “I keep the fingers crossed — so!” She lifted one hand, showing her crossed fingers to Kate and smiling. “That means good luck for you when you meet Mr. Lister

  — is it not so?”

  “Thanks, Natala,” Kate said, trying to sound cheerful. “Thanks a lot —

  I’ll need it,” she said, and smiled. But as she hurried to the bus stop she wondered how Natala had known that she had an appointment with Mr.

  Lister.

  C H A P T E R F I V E

  KATE had no difficulty finding the bus stop, and she enjoyed the ride down town, for now she could look around her and appreciate the blinding sunshine and the pure white of the buildings, with their gay window-boxes and gardens. When she left the bus she walked down the main shopping street and felt as if she were walking on air. Everything looked different — the shops, the people, the traffic. Such huge cars were sliding noiselessly by —

  and then one impatiently honking as a cyclist swung carelessly across his path. She found the address Mr. Lister had given her, saw his name RANDEL LISTER on the board in the hall under AFRICO-AMERIC

  COMPANY. Looking at her watch, she found she only had a few moments in hand, so she got into the lift, which shot her up to the thirteenth floor.

  As a very pretty girl with a pony-tail of black silky hair came to ask her her business, Kate realized that she should have rehearsed what she had to say to her employer. Even as the girl went away with Kate’s name to find out if Mr. Lister would see her, Kate tried to remember all the things Mrs.

  McCormack had told her.

  Her duties must be defined. The Dominguez must understand that she was to look after Rosa. Anna was redundant.

  But was she?

  The girl returned and led Kate to Mr. Lister’s office. Kate had just time to get an impression of huge lofty rooms, great windows letting in the light and a number of young men and girls sitting at desks, and then she was alone with Mr. Lister.

  He did not look up. He sat at a big lightwood desk, bent over some papers. Kate hesitated, noting what long fingers he had and how rapidly he wrote, without hesitation, as if he knew exactly what he intended to say.

  Then he looked up.

  Kate met the full impact of his searching, demanding sceptical gaze.

  She took a deep breath and clutched her handbag more tightly, trying not to let him see just how shaken she always was when she was near him.

  It was absurd. He was her employer. He saw her as a pleasant, rather dull, but safe English girl who might be able to help his daughter — might now being the operative word.

  Yet she still had this sense of breathless excitement when she was in the same room with him, the feeling of expectancy, of something wonderful about to happen.

  Pure nonsense, of course. What she probably was going to get was the sack!

  That gave her courage. “Good morning, Mr. Lister,” she said coolly.

  He got up then, settled her in a chair, offered and lighted a cigarette, then sat opposite her and smiled at her. But it was a cool, calculating smile, and she felt the palms of her hands go damp. So Mariana had talked him into some arrangement!

  A silence fell between them and they stared at one another. Kate had read somewhere that, when being interviewed, it is always wise to leave the other person to do all the talking — it gives you the advantage. Maybe Mr. Lister had read the same article, for the silence grew between them until it became quite embarrassing. Kate sighed and capitulated.

  “Mr. Lister,” she said very formally, “I must talk to you about the position I’m in.”

  He leant back in his chair, flexing his fingers and half smiling.

  “Well?” he asked.

  Neither the question nor the voice was very helpful. Kate took another deep breath. “Mr. Lister, I’m in a very difficult position,” she began again, and realized she was repeating herself and getting nowhere.

  Then he smiled, and she caught her breath. Had any other man in the world such a thrilling, completely disarming smile? All her anger vanished, and she could see his side of the question instead of her own.

  “Kate — I appreciate that,” he said slowly, “but then so am I.” He spread out his hands in a little foreign gesture which, she thought unhappily, he must have caught from Mariana. “The Dominguez — they have been so good to Rose and me. I hadn’t realized that this would hurt them so much. If I’d known ...” He paused, and Kate could hear her own heart beating as she waited.

  When he did not continue, but went on looking at her with that vaguely sad smile, she knew what she must do. Bending her head so that he should not see the disappointment in her eyes, she said in a small voice: —

  “I understand. You feel it would be better if I went back to England.” She was startled by the violence of his protest. “Of course I have no such thought!” He glared at her as if she had said something wicked. “Or are you regretting taking the job?” he asked scornfully.

  Anger was always a good tonic for Kate. Now her cheeks reddened and her eyes flashed. “Of course I’m not. I want to stay on — I want to look after your daughter, but everything that has happened so far has led me to believe that you’ve changed your mind about the situation and want Maria ...” She stopped and began again. “Want the Dominguez to continue to take care of her.”

  The anger had left Mr. Lister’s face. “What has made you think that?” She was no longer afraid of him. “Do you want me to tell you the truth?” she asked.

  Perhaps her solemnity was amusing, though she did not find it so, for now he was half smiling again. She forced her eyes away from his lean, attractive face and concentrated her thoughts on the things that must be said.

  “Yes, please,” Mr. Lister told her. “The whole truth and nothing but the truth.” She could hear from his voice that he was smiling, but she refused to look at him.

  Her face was stiff and her voice a little unsteady as she obeyed. Not looking at him, she had no idea how he was reacting as he heard the account of her first meeting with the child, of Rosa’s terror, of the Senhora’s insistence that Kate leave the child to Anna, of her attempts to make friends with the child — and that the greatest obstacle she had to face
was his daughter’s fear of her.

  She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together unhappily.

  “You see, Mr. Lister, this isn’t something I can do in a few hours. Your daughter has only known the Dominguez and Anna. I am a stranger and ...

  I’m afraid she has ... has been led to believe that with me life will be —

  well, not very pleasant. If you could see how afraid she is of me, how she clings to Anna—”

  “She’s afraid of you?” Mr. Lister asked slowly. Kate ventured to look at him. There was shock and anger on his face but, for once, no disbelief. He leaned forward.

  “Can you account for that?” he asked.

  Kate hesitated. What a very awkward situation it was! It was difficult to find diplomatic yet truthful words.

  “Mr. Lister — it can’t be easy for the Senhora to have me come out here. Old people find it hard to adjust themselves. Anna, too, probably thinks it means she will no longer be wanted, and she seems very fond of Rosa.”

  “Why do you keep calling her Rosa?” Mr. Lister put in irritably. “Her name is Rose.”

  Kate stared at him. “But she has been called Rosa all her life. That, to her, is her name. How would you like it ... if someone started calling you Dick?”

  She was startled by his shout of laughter. “Touche!” he said. “Go on.” Kate still hesitated. She began pleating the soft material of her dress.

  “It won’t be very easy for me, Mr. Lister, unless the Dominguez are willing to accept me. At the moment I feel an intruder, an unwanted nuisance.” Against her will, her voice shook. “You do see how hard it is for me to gain Rosa’s confidence unless she feels that her grandmother and ...

  that her grandmother approved of me. If they treat me as an alien, unwanted, resented, she is bound to feel the same emotions towards me.” Looking at Mr. Lister, she saw that he was nodding, his face grave. “I blame myself entirely for this unfortunate situation,” he said slowly. “I had not, as I just said, realized the depths of their love for the child — nor that they would be so hurt. However, as I plan to send Rose to boarding school when we go to England—” He stopped.