Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties (35 page)

     
The little Cessna aeroplane rattles and shakes so much that I feel it may fall apart before we arrive. I sit next to the pilot whose name is Jose. His shirt is unbuttoned and in broken English he has been trying to chat me up since take-off from Luanda an hour ago. If his flying skills are anything like his seduction skills I’ll be lucky if I make it to the hospital. I feel a bit like a female Bob Geldof. Off to do my bit. Although, my bit won’t be quite as impressive as his bit was. I’m feeling really scared. Maybe my decision not to go to Asia was a bit rash. I could have given it a go. After all, the chances of Brice Edmunds being the doctor on my placement were
pretty slim. God, Harriet, it’s a bit late to be thinking that now isn’t it? I’d had two briefings with the voluntary organisation and Montamo had seemed like a dream then. Two flights later and I find myself boarding the most rickety plane I have ever seen. The intoxicating fumes from it make my stomach turn over. I look out of the window and see just flatness. I’m so tired but fear of the plane crashing or falling apart keeps me awake.

     
‘We land,’ says Jose.

I look at him in horror.

      ‘What already? But there is nothing down there.’

The truth is the thought of landing this plane is scaring the shit out of me. I was bloody surprised when we got the thing off the ground and I’m beginning to feel that getting it back onto the ground is going to be something of a feat.

He nods.

     
‘Yes, we land now.’

     
‘But where?’ I ask, looking for an airfield.

I look down and see a few little huts. Good God, what have I done? What if this doctor
Beadu is a cruel twisted misogynist? That would be so my luck wouldn’t it, or what if he’s an axe-wielding mad eccentric, or even worse, a ghastly bucking pervert?

     
‘There.’

H
e points to a dirt runway and I see a small group of men watching the plane eagerly. They’re undoubtedly waiting for it to crash. It is probably their only entertainment. Then I see the hospital and a small flutter of excitement rushes through me. Suddenly it all seems worth it. At last my dreams are coming true. Julian and his irresponsibility is now far behind me, as are the Jacks. I needn’t fear bumping into Brice Edmunds. I imagine what he would think of me volunteering to work in Angola. I find myself thinking how wonderful it would have been to have worked with him but quickly push it from my mind as the plane descends. I close my eyes and grip the seat. The little aeroplane lurches up and down as Jose fiddles with the knobs. My mind flashes back to the helicopter descent at Glenwood. We hit the runway with a bump and bounce up before going down again. Jesus, I feel the sweat run from under my armpits and my knuckles turn white. Only when the plane finally comes to a halt do I release my grip. I step from the plane into scorching heat, and am so relieved to be back on terra firma I have to stop myself from kneeling down to kiss the ground. A sea of black faces stare at me and I smile nervously. A young white man pushes through the crowd and waves to me. Thank God for a white face, not that I’m racist or anything.

     
‘Harriet Lawson?’ he shouts.

I nod, relieved that he speaks English.

      ‘Hello I’m Travis, coordinator for Medical Aiders. Fantastic, you’re on time. That doesn’t happen very often.’

I try not to show my disappointment. I had hoped he was Dr
Beadu.

     
‘Where’s Doctor Beadu?’ I ask.

He takes my cases and tips the pilot.

      ‘We’ve had an emergency. I say emergency, to be honest that’s pretty routine around here, but he said he does hope you will join him for dinner. Let’s get you to your room shall we? Sorry to seem in a rush. I’m getting the plane back. We need some supplies and you can’t trust anyone around here. I know it doesn’t look like much but it is one of the best compounds.’

He smiles apologetically. My bedroom is cool and furnished with a single bed and a small dressing table. There is a door to a bathroom.

      ‘I’ll get someone to send coffee over,’ he says.

I look around and fall onto the bed. I cannot believe I have done this. I stretch back and before I know it I am asleep.

     
A light tapping on the door wakes me. I open it bleary eyed and with wild hair to see a boy standing there.

     
‘Missy, doctor said please come for dinner in fifteen minutes.’

The sun is setting and I calculate that I must have slept for three hours. I rub my eyes.

      ‘Yes of course, where do I go?’

He points to a building at the far end of the hospital. I throw things out of my suitcase and find a suitable summer dress. The bathroom has a bucket of lukewarm water and a bowl, and I rinse my hair and quickly wash. I towel dry my hair when I realise there are no mains to plug i
n my hairdryer. I use my handbag mirror to apply my make-up. It will be wasted on this Belgium, or was it Danish doctor, but first impressions and all that. I try to check my dress in the little handbag mirror but it’s impossible. Picking up my bag I head to the building that the boy pointed at. The only lights are those from the hospital and the outbuildings. The one I’m heading to seems to be well lit and I walk carefully, looking around as I do. No doubt there are worse things to be had here than demented cats. Why is it everything I do somehow reminds me of Glenwood and Brice? The door is open and soft music reaches my ears. I push it open further and gasp. The room is filled with candles. The boy I had seen earlier ushers me in.

     
‘Has there been a power cut?’ I ask. ‘Does this happen often?’

He pushes me further into the room.
A table is beautifully laid. There are two plates and a small stove in the middle.

     
‘It’s not homemade curry but I did my best. Hi I’m Dr Beadu, but you can call me Sku,’ he says.

I gasp and grab one of the chairs for support. Oh my God, why didn’t I realise,
Scooby Doo
. What a bastard.

     
‘But you’re in Laos,’ I say stupidly.

     
‘Is that man impersonating me again?’

I can’t take my eyes off him. I want to but I just can’t. He’s looks so gorgeous I feel like I may faint. He is wearing a white shirt and knee
-length linen trousers which show off his deep tan. His warm hazel eyes are shining and I feel hypnotised by them. His hair is damp, like mine, and I desperately want to run my hands through it. He pulls a chair out for me and I fall into it.

     
‘I’m surprised you of all people didn’t get the Scooby Doo bit.’

     
‘I’m not staying,’ I say in a shaky voice.

My body is trembling so much that I’m afraid to lift even a glass to my lips.

      ‘I didn’t think you would,’ he replies calmly, placing a casserole dish onto the table.

     
‘It looks like the dogs bollocks,’ I say before I can stop myself.

     
‘No, they were sold out of those at the market this morning,’ he smiles cheekily. ‘It’s chicken, with an assortment of vegetables, sorry it isn’t grander but things are sparse around here and …’

He stops and I look up at him.

      ‘God, it’s good to see you. Amazing in fact,’ he says softly.

     
‘I wanted to go to Asia,’ I say stupidly, holding a glass of water, ‘but I didn’t want to see you. Isn’t that ironic?’

     
‘Don’t you just love irony,’ he smiles.

     
‘Jane Austen might, but I’m not so keen,’ I say, struggling to breathe. This is terrible. I can’t even walk out, not that I really want to. I look around at the candles and realise there hasn’t been a power cut at all.

     
‘How can this happen?’ I say.

     
‘Brice Luck,’ he grins, sitting opposite me.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, to be angry or to be happy.

      ‘I’ve missed you,’ he says softly and I feel my knees tremble.

     
‘You told Phoebe you weren’t interested in me and besides we have nothing in common. I’ll fly home tomorrow,’ I say, knowing the last thing I want to do is fly anywhere except, maybe, into his bedroom.

     
‘Harriet, you never fail to make me laugh. We have nothing in common? We’re both sitting in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mud huts because we both want to help the needy, and you say we have nothing in common. There aren’t many women who would be here. As for Phoebe …’ he breaks off and leaves the table and returns with a bottle of wine.

     
‘Homemade, not by me I hasten to add. My translator enjoys doing it. It’s a bit potent. Phoebe is,’ he says pouring the liquid into the glasses, ‘an interfering, stuck up little cow who likes to cause trouble. I wasn’t going to tell her my feelings for you. She is the last person on earth I would share my intimate feelings with. I’m disappointed you would think me so shallow.’

My body aches to touch him, to feel his lips on mine, his hands on my breasts. I take a sharp breath as he moves towards me.

      ‘Harry, there isn’t another woman on earth that could have more in common with me. From the moment we met outside the church I knew you were something special.’

I feel tears prick my eyes.

      ‘I don’t think you’re shallow. I just can’t imagine what you see in me.’

     
‘Fishing for compliments are you?’ he smiles. ‘Well, I see your lovely nose which twitches at certain times. I see your fabulous sense of humour which matches mine. I see your honesty and your beauty. I see a woman I want to spend every day and every night with. I see a woman I can work with. A woman who not only understands my work but one that can also help with it, in fact I see my perfect woman.’

     
‘Oh,’ I say feeling my body tremble. ‘I’m out of debt,’ I add stupidly.

     
‘I’m more interested in whether you’re available,’ he says, desire hanging thick between us.

     
‘Oh yes,’ I say feeling my breath becoming more ragged by the second.

I’m in his arms with no idea how I got there. His lips cover my cheeks, chin and neck before landing urgently on my lips. His hands grasp my buttocks and I sigh heavily, feeling my legs give way.

      ‘If you don’t mind Miss Lawson, I think I shall have you for a starter,’ he says huskily, his hands sliding down the front of my dress. ‘Or maybe I shall just make you my three course meal.’

     
‘Oh yes please,’ I moan as my hands circle his hardness.

     
‘Don’t you just love
Brice Luck
?’ he whispers into my ear as he lifts me from the ground and carries me across the compound. ‘Or do you want to diss it again.’

     
‘Just shut up,’ I laugh, kicking open the door of his room.

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