Mask Of Scars. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ frowned. ‘Julio is your son, Maria?’

      ‘Sim, menina. Did not the senhora tell you so?’

      ‘No, she didn’t.’ Christina shook her head. ‘Where are you going, Julio?’ There was a wistful note in her voice now.

      Julio threw the peach stone away and wiped his hands on a cloth at the sink. ‘I am going down to the harbour. My uncle has a boat. I am going to help him paint it.’

      Maria frowned at him. ‘You are not polite, menino!’ she said sharply, speaking in English for Christina’s benefit. ‘The menina has a name!’

      ‘Oh, please!’ Christina was embarrassed. ‘I—I’d like you both to call me Christina, that’s all. I—well, I’m not used to being called miss, or anything like that. Christina is fine, really!’

      Maria heaved a sigh. ‘And the senhora? Your sister-in-law? She would approve of this, menina?’

      Christina looked mutinous. ‘Does it matter?’

      Maria spread her hands. ‘I should say so, sim.’

      Christina lifted her shoulders and then let them fall dejectedly. ‘What does it matter? A name is just a name. If you ask me, things are far too formal here!’

      Julio laughed, ignoring his mother’s scandalised face. ‘I agree—Christina. And I will use your name. At least, when we are alone.’

      ‘Julio!’ His mother’s voice was a warning.

      Julio raised his dark eyebrows, his eyes glinting with mockery. ‘Perhaps—Christina—would like to come down to paint Tio Ramon’s boat with me.’

      Christina’s eyes danced. ‘Could I?’

      Maria’s lips were pursed. ‘Julio, she cannot, and you know it.’

      ‘Why not? Why can’t I?’ Christina stared at the cook appealingly.

      ‘Your brother—and the senhora—they would not approve.’

      ‘But they’re not here!’

      ‘They will not be long.’ Maria was adamant.

      Julio shrugged regretfully. ‘You see,’ he said. ‘It is the way.’

      ‘Well, it’s not my way,’ exclaimed Christina impatiently. ‘Good heavens, I’m English! Not Portuguese!’

      Maria shrugged her ample shoulders. ‘These are not my rules, menina,’ she said.

      Julio hesitated by the door. ‘I will see you later in the day, Christina.’

      Christina hunched her shoulders. ‘Oh, I suppose so.’

      He went out, and after he had gone, Christina moved about restlessly, fingering a plate here, a sauce-pan there, impatient and defiant, and yet unable to take the step that would put her yet again in Sheila’s disfavour, and cause more trouble for Bruce.

      Maria put some dirty dishes into the sink and began to run hot water upon them. She glanced round at Christina sympathetically. ‘Why don’t you go for a walk, menina? The village is small. You won’t get lost.’

      Christina sighed. ‘I suppose I could.’

      ‘Of course. And soon your brother will be back from Lagos.’

      Christina nodded, and with a smile of resignation she left the kitchen, walking along the hall to the front door. Two men were sitting outside at one of the tables, looking at some maps. They looked up as she passed them, saying something in their own language which she thought was German. But they were older men, well into their forties, and they held no interest for her.

      She looked down the road to the harbour. Julio had gone and she presumed he was already down there, and she envied him. On impulse, she walked down the steep road to the harbour and crossing to the wall she looked down on the shingle that edged the jetty now that the tide was out.

      She saw Julio and his uncle at once. They were sitting on an upturned boat, having a cigarette before starting work, and Julio, looking up, saw her immediately. He said something to his uncle, who nodded, and then he bounded across the sand to her side. In denim jeans and an openwork sweater of a faded shade of blue, he was very attractive, and she could not help smiling at him.

      He looked up at her, leaning on the wall above him and said: ‘What are you doing? Playing truant?’

      Christina’s lips parted. ‘I’m tempted. Is that your uncle?’

      ‘Yes. Come and meet him?’

      ‘Should I?’

      ‘Why not?’ Julio’s dark eyes were amused.

      ‘All right.’ Christina swung her legs over the wall, and Julio lifted her down on to the sand, his fingers lingering a moment longer than was necessary at her waist. She was very conscious of him, too. It was the normal healthy consciousness of any young woman for any young man and she felt no sense of embarrassment now at the warmth in his eyes.

      Julio’s uncle was a garrulous old man, but as he spoke mostly in his own language Christina could understand very little. The job of painting his boat seemed of little importance compared with the chance to gossip and time passed swiftly as other fishermen came to be introduced and smiled appreciatively at the attractive young English girl with her mane of corn-gold hair, and long slender legs.

      At last Christina was forced to look at her watch and she saw it was already after eleven. ‘I must go,’ she said to Julio quickly, and he nodded.

      ‘I’ll walk back with you,’ he said. ‘Surely my mother will see no harm in that.’

      As the road flattened out at the head of the slope from the harbour, Christina saw a huge car outside her brother’s hotel, and parked a little ahead of it, the Land-Rover.

      ‘Your brother has visitors,’ remarked Julio dryly, and Christina felt her nerves stretch a little. The black limousine was familiar. It was the car which had passed her the day before on the road from Lagos. The car with the insignia on the side; the car which belonged to … She swallowed hard. He had not actually said it was his car, but …

      Julio noticed her anxious expression, and smiled. ‘Do not look so anxious, Christina. It is merely the car of your brother’s—how do you say it—dono, senhorio?’

      Christina frowned. ‘You mean—Bruce’s landlord?’

      ‘Ah, sim, that is the word I have heard Senhor Ashley use. Landlord!’

      Christina’s nerves tightened. ‘But what is he doing here?’

      Julio shrugged. ‘Who knows? Is it importante?’

      ‘I suppose not.’ Christina stiffened her shoulders and bidding Julio goodbye she crossed the road and walked past the magnificent Mercedes with its insignia and crest, the words of which she could read now: Fiel ate Morte—Faithful СКАЧАТЬ