Unknown (5 page)

‘But I’m leaving in the morning.’

He was desolate. ‘You cannot do that! I must get to know you first. I do not even know your name and already I think I am in love. I will die if you go away so soon.’

Minella burst out laughing. She’d heard of Latin lovers working fast and being outrageous flirts, but this was ridiculous. She would have to be careful not to give him the slightest encouragement. Yet she couldn’t help liking him.

‘Sam calls me Sparrow,’ she said.

‘And that is your name?’

‘No. It’s just what he calls me.’

‘Then I will not use that word the same as him.’ Indignation made his voice rise, and he was leaning closer. Minella flattened herself back against the cushion, wishing he would stand up and behave normally. At home she could handle infatuated boyfriends, and there had been one or two, but this gorgeous, impetuous young man was an unknown quantity. If she rebuffed him he might become even more temperamental, but she couldn’t allow this charade to continue.

She was on the point of calling for Sam as a last resort when a single word was spoken behind them, cutting as a whiplash.

‘Vasco!’ Sam was standing in the doorway, legs astride, anger apparent in every inch of him. ‘Get away from Minella! And haven’t I told you before not to come here.’

Vasco stumbled to his feet, but he was not intimidated. His eyes glittered even more and she could tell they were old antagonists.

‘I come because Benita sent me,’ he said. ‘Never would I come here otherwise. Never!’ He spat on the ground to demonstrate his aversion. ‘She wished me to tell you that her father, my grandfather, is ill and she cannot leave him.’

‘Thank you. Is that all?’ The sarcasm was so heavy in Sam’s tone it made Minella jumpy. Whatever was the matter with the two of them? Surely Sam was old enough to know better.

‘No,’ said Vasco. ‘I do not like the
senhora
staying with you. I wish to take her to my aunt’s house.’

‘You won’t take Minella anywhere, now or ever. I didn’t choose to have her as a guest, but she’s here and it’s where she’ll stay.’

‘I do not trust you.’

‘Trust!
You
talk about trust!’ He took a threatening step towards the younger man. ‘I don’t know why I’m even bothering to talk to you. Get out!’

Minella stood up, her legs so shaky it could only be nerves that were making them worse.

‘Will you both stop it!’ she cried. ‘Whatever grievances you have against each other, please don’t use
me
to aggravate them. I would rather go back to Dr Porva’s and spend the night in his surgery. Anything would be better than this.’

Vasco was contrite. ‘
O
senhora
, I am sorry. It is just that I shall worry about you, you understand.’

‘Thank you,’ said Minella, sincerely. ‘Now perhaps it would be wise if you leave.’

‘For you I will do anything.’ He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, and if the tension had not been so great she would have wanted to laugh. No one had ever treated her with such gallantry.

‘Don’t touch her!’ Sam snapped.

Vasco slowly backed away, an insolent smile on his face. ‘Until we meet again,’ he said, and disappeared swiftly into the shadows.

The silence after he had gone could have been cut with a knife. Sam’s bad temper simmered and he glared at her as if it was all her fault.

‘You were very rude to him,’ she ventured, unable to stand the silence any longer.

‘That boy is trouble,’ said Sam. ‘Keep away from him.’

The order was issued so abruptly and with such slighting coldness that Minella’s own patience evaporated and she turned on him.

‘Why should I?’ she demanded. ‘How do I know you are any better than he is? I’ve only Just met the pair of you, and I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t. What sort of place is this? A desert island where the arrival of a woman is so extraordinary all the men start tearing each other to pieces. It’s ridiculous!’

His shoulder muscles slackened and he permitted a smile to ease the tightness of his mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

‘Don’t kid yourself, Sparrow. There are far more important things to think about than women. Believe me, I know.’

Somewhere in the house the phone started ringing. It had an antiquated sound quite different from the telephone at home, but its insistence was the same. He ignored it for a moment, still considering the issue he had raised, and she felt there was more behind the words than she would ever know. Then he went inside and the bell stopped ringing.

She wanted to go back to bed, but hadn’t the strength to put one foot before the other, so she stood where she was, staring out at the lake. The moon climbed higher and silvered the garden and the water beyond it. It seemed as if another storm had passed.

Minella could hear the murmur of his voice in the distance, but it dropped so low she couldn’t distinguish it from the dreamy sounds all around. Sam Stafford had been hurt in the past—hurt badly. That must be why he lived in seclusion and hated visitors, particularly females. Unless he had something to hide, and that was more than likely from the hints that Vasco had let slip.

Supposing he was a criminal gone to ground here, safe from British law? There were plenty who had left England and vanished without trace. If so, of what crime was he guilty, and how safe was she here alone with him, miles from any form of help?

Until now she had had no doubts about his integrity. He spoke her language and he had carried her up from the sea in strong, dependable arms which had lulled her into a feeling of security. She had had confidence in him. But now she was uneasy and wished Vasco hadn’t come with his plausible insinuations, or at least not until the morning. Daylight always made night-time fears lose some of their credibility. And it was as well to be forewarned that there could be danger.

Her body was tense as she listened for him to come back to the patio. What greater danger could there be than the terrifying experience she had lived through last night? After that, surely there was no need for her to be afraid. All the same, she held her breath as a soft tread announced his approach.

He came and stood behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body against her, and when she would have turned to face him he prevented it with firm hands clamped on her shoulders. When he spoke his face was against her hair and his voice was gentle.

‘Sparrow, I’m afraid it’s bad news.’ He paused a second, trying to ease the shock that was to come. The yacht you were on didn’t make it through the storm. Wreckage has been identified, and there were no survivors. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

Minella tried to speak, but instead she slipped from his grasp and began a long journey through darkness as she collapsed on the floor.

A strong wind was blowing and the sound of the sea was roaring in her ears. She was cold; so cold. She really ought to have worn her sheepskin coat, because it was always like this when an east wind swept along the coast and set the small craft bobbing in the marina. Silly to be walking along Brighton seafront in only a T-shirt and jeans on a day like this. Silly.

Minella tossed on the bed and her teeth were chattering. Someone switched off the ceiling fan and brought another blanket, wrapping it firmly round her. She didn’t know where she was. One minute it seemed she Was at home in England and the next she was on an island, and both places were -deserted except for herself. Where had everyone gone? She called out for her brother Greg.

‘It’s all right, Sparrow,’ a calm, consoling voice soothed her, and a hand stroked the hair away from her damp forehead. ‘You’ll soon feel better, little one.’

She looked up at him and his eyes were full of concern. He sponged her face and neck and hands, his touch so gentle she felt happy and loved.

‘Hold me, Greg,’ she whispered.

Her brother was ten years her senior and even when she was a child he had looked after her. She loved him dearly. Their father had died very suddenly of a coronary when she was still a baby and she couldn’t remember him, so Greg had become the man of the family, almost a father figure to the small girl, although he was so young. She had grown up knowing he was the one she could turn to no matter what the problem. Greg was always there when she needed him, and she needed him now.

‘Please hold me, Greg,’ she insisted again.

Strong arms gathered her up and she was cradled against a broad chest that was warm and familiar. Her cheek lay on a linen shirt and the hand supporting her head pressed her closer. She heard him murmur something, but the words were lost because his mouth was against her hair and she was too drowsy to tell him she couldn’t hear. There was some sort of hammering going on, loud, rhythmic thudding in her ear, and only when it continued incessantly did she realise it was his heart. Why should Greg’s heart beat so fast? Perhaps he’d come running to find her. She stretched up her hand to his face, wanting to tell him how glad she was he had come, and her fingers encountered a bearded chin. Greg had never grown a beard.

She cried out.

Now she was hot. Her body was on fire and she tried to push off the bedcovers. It wasn’t often there was a heatwave in Brighton, but there must be one now, because she was stifling under the tarpaulin cover of a sailing dinghy she had just sold to a short, fat man and she couldn’t get out. She heard him talking to someone else. .

‘How long has she been like this?’ the fat man asked. ‘I felt sure she would be all right after resting in bed all day. I hope you made her stay in bed—I gave Benita strict instructions.’

‘Benita vanished before I came home, and Minella is not a young lady who’ll be ordered about. She got up for dinner.’

‘Tch, tch, tch! No wonder she has a fever! She should have been kept as quiet as possible and only given light food. I suppose you gave her steak!’

‘Pork and sausage, actually, but she didn’t eat much.’ The fat man threw up his hands in horror. ‘No, no, no, that is terrible!’

‘I’m sorry, Henrique. Vasco Hernandez came up here, which didn’t help matters. You know how I feel about him.’

‘I suppose you shouted and frightened her. Is that what happened?’

‘No, a little thing like that wouldn’t frighten Minella,’ said Sam. ‘She was all right until I had to tell her about the yacht breaking up. Her brother was on it, and I think they must have been very close. She keeps calling for him.'

'Yes,’ agreed Dr Porva, ‘it is very sad. Very sad. Now, I will give her something to bring down the fever and make her sleep naturally, and I insist she must not be disturbed. You are bad for a young, innocent girl,
o men amigo'

When Minella woke up the room was cool. The curtains were pulled across the window to keep out the sun and her skin felt dry again, no longer bathed in perspiration. She lifted her arms above the sheets and found she was once more wearing the voluminous nightgown, and she wondered how it had been put on without her knowing.

Seeing a movement in the bed, a plump, dark woman who had been knitting in the corner came over and looked at her, and when she saw Minella was awake her face lit up.

‘Ah, you are better! The fever, he has gone.’

Minella frowned, not recognising her immediately. What was a foreign woman doing in her bedroom? And then she remembered.

‘Benita, why did you put your nightdress back on me? It’s much too big.’

Benita finished the row of knitting and prodded both needles through a large ball of wool.

‘I did not do it. Sam, he put it on. It is my best one.’ Minella glanced round the room and saw the jeans and shirt she had been wearing neatly folded and hanging on the back of a chair. He must have taken those off her first. Her face coloured and Benita quickly put a hand to her forehead to test for a temperature.

‘You weren’t here last night,’ Minella said to her. ‘Did you come over this morning?’

‘I came yesterday. All day I looked after you.'

'Yesterday? How long have I been here?’

‘Two days,’ said Benita.

Minella closed her eyes and turned her head away. All at once she remembered what Sam had told her just before she collapsed, and an ache spread right through her body, worse than anything she had ever known. In front of her stretched a vast emptiness and she wished she could sleep on and on and know nothing more about it. Both Greg and Annette were dead and there was no one else in her life who mattered.

She didn’t want to talk, and when Benita chattered in her broken English she pretended not to hear. The present was so painful she couldn’t cope with it yet, and all she could do was let her mind wander through the past where there had been happiness.

It was Greg who taught her to sail. Living by the sea and with all the facilities within easy reach, he spent most of his spare time with boats, and because Minella was often with him he took pride in coaching her so that she was able to take part in dinghy racing at a very early age. Her mother was delighted, not by her daughter’s achievement, but because she became so absorbed in sailing she was hardly ever at home. As soon as school was out she was down at the harbour, and at weekends she was too occupied with boats to bother about doing homework, until her teachers complained and Greg scolded her. Her mother didn’t even bother to look at her report.

Without Greg her childhood might not have been so happy. Patricia Farmer was not the maternal type and Minella had been a mistake, but with her husband’s help it might have been fun bringing up a daughter. When he died soon after the baby’s birth she was heartbroken, and acted as if Minella was to blame. Patricia rejected her. And Greg, who was then ten years old, found himself having to stay in and look after his tiny sister more and more often. He accepted the situation stoically. Aware that his mother was making new friends and didn’t want to be bothered with the baby, he took responsibility for Minella, and it was to him she turned for much of her love and affection.