The Sanchez Tradition. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ roof contrasting with the others because it had red tiles. The lagoon had a channel at the furthest side which led to the sea, and Rachel commented on this to Vittorio.

      ‘It is possible to sail round the island and reach the house through the channel by crossing the lagoon,’ he said, ‘but this way is quicker, and while I should like to show you the island, I have very explicit orders.’

      A quiver ran along Rachel’s spine at his words. For a while she had been engrossed in her surroundings to the exclusion of everything else, but now his statement brought it all back to her, most particularly her reasons for being here. Feeling she had to say something, she said: ‘It’s very beautiful. More beautiful than Conchera.’

      ‘And much less accessible,’ remarked Vittorio dryly. ‘Here, one can only breach the reef at one point, the one we used. André employs a guard who lives, with his dogs, in a house hidden by the trees you saw when we arrived. There is a telephone link with the house. No one reaches Palmerina without André being warned.’

      ‘And by air?’ questioned Rachel, intrigued in spite of herself.

      ‘Impossible, except by a chopper. André uses one, of course. But the airfield is small, and so long as his is in occupation, there’s little chance of anyone taking him unawares.’

      ‘A veritable stronghold, in fact,’ murmured Rachel, almost to herself.

      ‘Yes, I suppose you could say that.’ Vittorio had overheard her. ‘Rachel! Don’t go on with this antagonism. André’s much harder now than he was. You made him so!’

      ‘I?’

      ‘Yes, you.’ Vittorio put the vehicle into a lower gear to negotiate the curve into the village. ‘André loved you, Rachel, and you destroyed that love.’

      Rachel’s cheeks turned scarlet. ‘Everyone seems to know my husband better than I do,’ she exclaimed, turning to attack rather than defence. ‘André only wanted another possession, a human one this time!’

      Vittorio gave her a quelling glance. ‘You don’t believe that!’ he stated calmly, ‘so don’t expect me to.’

      Rachel heaved a sigh. ‘Well, anyway, that’s all in the past. He has—Leonie, now. Who is she, by the way?’

      ‘Leonie?’ Vittorio looked thoughtful. ‘Her father owns a big oil concession in Trinidad. Her name is Leonie Gardner, and her parents are of French-Canadian descent, I believe. At any rate, they’re very well established in New Providence. They have a house near Nassau.’

      ‘I see.’ Rachel listened with interest. ‘I—I wonder why André waited until now to get the divorce. If he has been thinking of getting married for some time, I’m surprised everything wasn’t taken care of before this.’ She couldn’t prevent the hint of sarcasm that crept into her voice. ‘After all, he arranges everything so clinically, doesn’t he?’ She bit her lip.

      Vittorio sounded annoyed. ‘He hasn’t been thinking of getting married for some time,’ he returned shortly. ‘I must admit, I’d be chary of the institution after—–’ He broke off. ‘Besides, André doesn’t have to marry a woman before…’ He halted again. ‘Goddammit, you know what I mean!’

      Rachel bent her head. ‘And have there been many? Women, I mean?’

      Vittorio raised a lazy hand in greeting to some of the villagers that were standing by the roadside watching their progress, and then sighed. ‘For someone who professes to despise my brother, you’re inordinately interested in his affairs,’ he observed mockingly, and Rachel’s fingers gripped her bag tightly.

      The vehicle was running along beside the lake now and Rachel could see a yacht anchored out in the centre. That must be André’s boat. He was a keen sailor and when he was home they had had some wonderful trips together. She felt a tightness in her throat and a conviction that whatever her reasons she ought not to have come here, not to the Bahamas, not to New Providence, and most definitely not to Palmerina.

      As they neared the house she could see it was two-storied, with green shutters at the windows and washed in a cream paint. It was surrounded by gardens, colourful with the many varied blossoms to be found in the islands, and stood in the shade of tall, feathery palms. Double doors stood wide, opening on to a panelled hall which Rachel could see as Vittorio brought their transport to a halt at the foot of shallow steps leading on to a low veranda. Tubs of tropical plants tumbled near the entrance, while the slats of the veranda were overhung with bougainvillea. There was so much beauty and colour it almost hurt her eyes, but she removed her dark glasses and stepped out on to the paved courtyard.

      Immediately, a dark-skinned woman in a scarlet dress and sparkling white apron appeared at the double doors, and stood staring at them incredulously. Rachel looked at the elderly woman, then at Vittorio.

      ‘Why, it’s Pandora!’ she exclaimed, in welcome astonishment.

      Vittorio nodded, and even as he did so, Pandora uttered an exclamation of delight and hastened down the veranda steps to greet her.

      ‘Miss Rachel, Miss Rachel!’ she was saying over and over again. ‘You’ve come back!’

      Rachel felt herself engulfed in a bear-like embrace and drawing back a little, she said gently: ‘Oh, Pandora, it’s wonderful to see you, too. Everything’s changed—everything except you!’

      ‘Oh, Mr. André! He hasn’t changed,’ answered Pandora, her eyes a trifle moist. ‘My—my—he’ll be so pleased to see you back, Miss Rachel!’

      Rachel felt slightly emotional herself at this welcome, but she tried to sound casual as she said: ‘I’ve not come to stay, Pandora. Just—just visiting, that’s all.’

      Pandora’s face changed. ‘You’re not staying?’ she said, aghast. ‘Why are you here, then?’

      Rachel sighed. ‘It’s a long story, Pandora. I’ll tell you some other time.’

      Vittorio joined them looking thoughtfully at his sisters-in-law. Then he looked at Pandora. ‘Where is my brother?’

      Pandora gestured with her hands. ‘Out back. He’s down at the boats. Shall I tell him you’re here?’

      Vittorio shook his head. ‘No, don’t bother. We’ll go down. Come on, Rachel. We’ll go through the house. It’s quicker.’

      Rachel accompanied him up the steps and through the double doorway into a marble-tiled hall. Arched doorways opened to left and right into lounges and dining areas. Some doors were closed, but those that were open revealed magnificently appointed apartments with crystal chandeliers reflected in polished wood, and soft leather furnishings. Some floors were carpeted, but others were polished and strewn with rugs and smelt deliciously of beeswax. Crossing the hall, Vittorio led the way out through another archway on to a patio tiled in a multi-patterned mosaic of muted colours. Rachel halted for a moment here. The view was magnificent, a backcloth of lake and hillside, and away to the right the channel that opened out into the ocean. The patio was broad, and beyond steps led down through lawns and flower gardens to where a pine-logged boathouse had been built beside a small wooden jetty. And it was here they found André Sanchez, working on the engine of one of his motor-boats, dressed casually in dark shorts and a dark shirt, unbuttoned to his waist. Nearby another man was working inside the boathouse, and he came out at their approach, obviously to see who was joining them. He nodded when he СКАЧАТЬ