Rose of the Desert (22 page)

Refusing to be downcast, she made her way at a steady pace to the Hifta hotel. Here much to her pleasure and surprise the name Bongola was sufficient to supply her with a fairly substantial meal. Though the proprietor too was Italian he spoke enough English to assure her that payment would do whenever she visited the village again.

Out in the sunshine she ate leisurely, dreamed haphazardly, and watched the shadows of the trees lengthen into afternoon. If only life could be as uncomplicated as this! If only she didn't have to exchange the peace of Hifta for the rather turbulent atmosphere of Bongola. But Clay was at Bongola, and so were Janet and Mark....

She wondered how the two had fared under the Mayhews' supervision. Probably quite well. They had sounded to be having a hilarious time of it with their uncle and the garden hose this morning.

Maybe things weren't going to turn out too bad after all. Clay did love her, she was sure of it. Maybe she had been wrong about Stephanie. Funny how her thoughts refused to follow the dreary depressing vein of this morning. It was as though the village breeze had dispersed all her troubles like flimsy cobwebs.

Just after three she walked over to Clay's car and turned it back in the direction of the farm. Happily she hummed a tune as she drove. Perhaps Janet and Mark would be on the steps to meet her. Would they have missed her? She imagined warm slender arms around her neck and hoped they had, just a little bit. She had only been gone a few hours, but what when she went away for good ? How would the children feel then ... how would she feel ?

Julie set her mouth and pressed hard on the accelerator. Those kind of thoughts were definitely not in keeping with the day's lightness. But try as she might, the nearer she got to her destination the lower was the cloud of despondency. It was almost as if she hadn't been away at all.

There was no sign of life at Bongola. The house seemed to hang suspended in the afternoon heat. Even Temkin had deserted his beloved kitchen. Down in the valley she could see robed women stooped over the cotton, and somewhere a bird sang a plaintive note.

She left the garden to the drone of insects and wandered aimlessly around the house, feeling a slight anti-climax. Everyone was out, it seemed. She had the house to herself. Ah well, she would just have to suffer the luxuries of a tepid bath. Since she had been given the day to herself she might as well make the most of it.

Pushing into the bedroom, her mind on other things, she was rather startled to see a movement on one of the bunks. She turned to see a blonde pony-tail hanging listlessly from a lowered head.

"Janet! I thought you were out with the others."

"Auntie Stephanie said I should rest this afternoon."

"Haven't you been feeling too good, poppet?" Concerned, Julie moved to the side of the bed. The small figure stayed hunched. Trying a new approach, Julie said brightly,

"Well, now that I'm back what about a walk down to the cotton picking?"

The cotton fields were Janet's favourite haunt, and as Julie expected the head shot up eagerly. At that instant Julie saw it—a red puffy area down the side of the cheek.

"Janet! What have you done to your face?"

"I ... I don't ... know." The brown eyes rolled wildly.

"But you must! Your eye and lip are swollen. Have you had a fall?"

"I don't know ... and I don't want to go out..."

Julie sighed, unbuttoning her dress. "You really will have to take more care, darling. Where's Mark?"

"He's gone with Clay and Auntie Stephanie to see a baby cow."

"And they left you behind all on your own?"

"I wanted to stay in ..."

"What not go and look at a baby cow?"

"I don't like cows."

"Mmmm ... well, I'm going to take a bath, if you're sure you wouldn't like to take that walk?"

"I'm sure."

Strange! Julie went off thoughtfully. It was so unlike Janet to sit poker-faced on her bunk. She was usually into everything.

When Mark arrived back for tea, he was full of the new addition to the Bongola livestock. He was still dreamily putting his delight into words when Julie tucked him up in his bunk that night.

"It's got a tail that long ... ten
miles
long .,. and its legs are all stiff and wobbly!"

"I wish I had a baby cow," Janet said, leaning thoughtfully on one elbow.

"I thought you didn't like cows?" Julie said in jnild surprise.

"I love cows."

"Well, they say It's a woman's privilege to cKange Her mind!" Julie laughed, hugging the small figure to her. "But you're starting a bit young, aren't you?"

Peering over the side of his bunk, Mark said with the matter-of-factness of a three-year-old, "Janet got smacked, and she cried ... and I was sad."

"Janet got smacked?" Julie echoed. She was remembering a tiddly swollen cheek.

"I didn't! It's not true!" The small girl's eyes jerked wide with terror. "You shut up, Mark!"

Slowly Julie turned the bruised face to the light.

"Did Auntie Stephanie do this? It's important, Janet. I want to know."

"She'll be cross, I know she will!" Janet began to whimper. "She said nobody must see it, and it would soon go away. She said I was very naughty...."

"But good heavens! What did you
do?"

"I picked up her handbag, and it was open, and .,. everything dropped out."

Julie waited expectantly, and when nothing else came she asked, astounded,

"Is that all?"

"She said I was very naughty."

"Did she?"

Julie busied herself settling them down for the night and tucking the blankets round their chins. Forcing a cheerful smile, she kissed each one in turn and made for the door.

"Goodnight then, poppets, see you in the morning."

As it happened Stephanie was in the lounge on her own. Still dressed in shirt and slacks, she clapped an empty glass on the tray. As Julie entered she flicked an uninterested glance her way, and then continued to gaze morosely out on to the veranda.

"Did you hit Janet this afternoon?" Julie jumped Straight in, and not missing the leap of anger in the other's eyes, she added, "You needn't worry. She didn't tell me, she was far too scared for that. What did you threaten her with?"

Stephanie turned with a bored smile.

"Do we
have
to have the dramatics? The child was a nuisance and I told her so."

"With an iron hand, by the look of it You must have knocked her against something?"

"The wall, or table ... I don't know. Look!" the eyes flared again. "You know as well as I do that Janet's a mischievous little pest. Are you saying I shouldn't chastise my own children?"

Julie faced her squarely.

"Do you really care enough for Janet and Mark to make them your own?"

"I consented to take them over, didn't I?"

"But didn't that have something to do with the idea of their getting you back to Kenya?"

"You mean I'd persuade John that Bongola wasn't a fit place to bring up Lynn's children?" Stephanie drawled without moving an eyelash. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, if you could ... well, feel a little something for Janet and Mark. They really are lovable when you get to know them, and ..."

"And what makes you think," Stephanie tossed her a derisive smile, "that I won't love them every bit as much as Lynn did?"

"Just a feeling I have," Julie replied evenly. "But they
are
your nephew and niece, and if you don't intend having children of your own ..."

"Heaven forbid!" Stephanie gave a slight shudder. With a cold thoughtful eye on Julie she added, "Still, there's no need for you to concern yourself now, is there, so you can drop the mother hen role. As a matter of fact, I think your job is done here. Perhaps it would be better if you were to leave."

"Very well."

Julie turned and left the room. What was the use of arguing? Stephanie had the whip hand in this situation and she knew it. She was Janet and Mark's legal guardian and that was everything.

Making her way to the bedroom, Julie couldn't help drawing on her lower lip worriedly. She had come to care for the children as if they were her own small brother and sister. It went against everything in her nature to leave them here with their aunt. Newly orphaned, they needed love and affection more than the average child. Possibly John Mayhew could give them something, but Stephanie seemed without feeling of any kind.

_ But what could Julie do? The law was on Stephanie's side. She resolved to speak to Clay at the first possible moment. Here too was a problem. Julie had just had polite orders to leave the house ... but what about Clay? There had been no mention of him. What if he chose to stay on at Bongola? If be did, it would mean he went along with Stephanie as regarded the children.

With a heavy heart Julie knew she could but wait and see. The two men didn't arrive for dinner, and Julie sat through a very strained and silent meal, with Stephanie seated at the head of the table. She looked quite breathtaking in jade green, and Julie pondered on the fact that matted hair and bloodshot eyes had never shown themselves since that first night. Yet she knew from Temkin that before they had arrived his mistress had gone for days without so much as putting a comb through her hair.

Why were things different now? Was it that Stephanie didn't want to let herself down in front of guests ... or did Clay come into it somewhere?

As soon as it was decently possible Julie retired to her room. Halfway through a book she heard the sound of men's voices and eventually the closing of doors. It sounded as if the Mayhews had gone to bed. Julie got to her feet. Now was her chance to speak with Clay. He would be on his own. He was always the last one to turn in.

Feeling slightly ridiculous, she crept along the corridor. If this was the only way to get Clay on his own, then she must do it. She had to know his views. How he felt about leaving Janet and Mark here, about her own orders to quit....

Whatever the outcome it would be good to talk with Clay. She had seen so little of him since their arrival at Bongola.

The lounge was empty. She guessed he must be on the veranda smoking his last cigarette. Not wanting to knock against the furniture in the dim light for fear of disturbing the others in their rooms, she moved stealthily.

The sight that met her gaze as she looked out on to the veranda made her heart feel as though it had suddenly been grabbed by a cruel and ruthless hand. The fingers were squeezing, slowly, tightly, as though to suppress its pounding action.

How she got back to her room Julie had no clear recollection. She only remembered finding herself slumped on the side of the bed, her breath coming in sobbing jerks, that scene still searing her mind.

A slim jade green figure held close in Clay
's
arms, his mouth fastened on the upturned lips.

T
HERE
was no telling how long she sat there. It must have been for some considerable time, for the house was now still and silent and dark.

As the numbness left her, and the awful reality of what she had seen hit her, she was galvanised into action. Flinging a suitcase on the bed, she pushed in the necessary requirements for Janet and Mark and herself. Where she would go, what she would do wasn't very clear. The all- important thing was to get away from here.

The children were far too sleepy to make any fuss as she dressed them in warm clothing and led them out Luckily Clay's car was parked down the drive a good way with the ignition key still intact. She would have to trust that no one heard the engine and came out to investigate.

Away from the house the night was as black as the far end of a cave and just as frightening. Strange animal sounds came from every direction as well as the screech of night birds. As the car forged along its column of headlights a plan was forming in Julie's mind. Convoys were continually passing through Hifta; she had had evidence of that this morning. Could she get to the village and possibly team up with another driver? If her geography was right they were only two or three days' drive away from the Qoast, and a boat for England.

She looked at her watch ... eleven-thirty. Did they have night drivers out here? She hoped so, if not she would just have to go it alone, but the village was worth a try first. She drove as fast as the solid darkness would allow, spurred on by an urgent desire to put as much distance between the three of them and Bongola. She didn't give a thought to the difficulties of having no passports, or the fact that legally she was abducting Janet and Mark. It was enough to know they were tucked up safe in the back of the car.

As for Clay ... the pain was almost physical as she thought once again of that embrace ... what he was getting himself into was his own affair.

She seemed to have been driving for an eternity and there was still no sign of Hifta. She could have sworn that this was the rock-strewn path she had taken this morning, but if it was, where was the village? Surely it should have shown up ages ago.

Perhaps it was just impatience to get there.

This morning's journey had seemed to take little more than minutes, but then she had been deep in thought. A mile in the darkness could seem like a dozen. She decided to curb her impatience and press on.

The inky blackness did not let up and now thick tree trunks reared up in the headlights. Had she left the track? If not the trees were uncomfortably close to it. A glance at her watch made the perspiration prick around the temples. Twelve-thirty! She couldn't have been driving for an hour ... and what had happened to the village? She must have overshot somewhere.

There was nothing for it now but to carry on alone. She sat on the edge of the seat, gripping the steering wheel and straining for a glimpse of the road. The ground below the bonnet didn't even resemble a footpath. It was sprinkled with coarse grass and an occasional wiry bush. Now the car dipped and leapt like a bucking bronco. There were trees everywhere.

Julie hung on and slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a stop only inches from a huge prickly trunk. Anxiously she turned towards the back seat, but nothing, it seemed, could jolt Janet and Mark awake.