Rooted In Dishonour. Anne Mather
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Название: Rooted In Dishonour
Автор: Anne Mather
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Modern
isbn: 9781472099747
isbn:
‘That’s right.’
‘What’s wrong with Barbara?’
There was silence for a moment, and then Raoul said: ‘One of her migraines, I guess. I don’t know. She sent Marya over with a message.’
Willard didn’t seem surprised, but Beth’s nerves tightened. Barbara might well have a headache—a migraine, even—but her father had been away more than two months. In her place she thought she would have had to have been very ill indeed to prevent her from meeting him. Still, Willard wasn’t concerned, so why should she be? But she was.
Willard roused himself to lean forward, resting his arms on the back of the empty seat in front of him.
‘How are things workwise?’ he asked Raoul. ‘Did you get the new rotor blade? What about that lime? Did you have it replaced? And what happened about Philippe’s arm——’
‘Don’t you think you ought to take it easy instead of getting uptight about things that were settled weeks ago?’ Raoul interrupted him tolerantly, glancing round. His eyes flickered to Beth. ‘What does your—er—nurse say? Does she approve of you jumping in with both feet the minute you get back?’
Beth guessed he had overheard what she had been saying to Willard while they waited for their cases to be loaded, and her lips tightened in annoyance. But Willard was unaware of her indignation, and casting an apologetic look in her direction, he replied.
‘Beth’s my fiancé first, and my nurse second. She understands how I feel, don’t you, darling?’
Beth’s smile was strained. ‘And you know how I feel,’ she countered tautly, causing Willard to wrinkle his nose affectionately at her. But he went on asking Raoul questions, and she determinedly turned her attention to her surroundings, trying not to look as put out as she felt.
They drove up through the narrow streets of the town, using the horn to clear a path between mule-drawn carts and bicycles. Children ran heedlessly in front of the station wagon, but miraculously they remained unscathed, due, she had reluctantly to concede, to the skill of the driver. The drawn blinds and striped canopies they passed reminded her a little of the South of France, but the high walls that concealed hidden courtyards were more Spanish in origin. She saw people of seemingly every race and colour, Indians sitting in shop doorways where exotically-woven carpets screened their shadowy interior, and Chinese women hand-painting lengths of wild silk with brilliantly-plumaged birds and flowers.
Beyond the town they skirted fields of tall, grass-like stalks that shaded in colour from a golden yellow through to an orangey-red. She realised this must be the plantation, and that what she could see was sugar cane, but it looked so different from how she had imagined it that she almost felt cheated. Towering above the station wagon, it looked coarse and disjointed, not at all romantic as she had expected.
Willard paused long enough in his conversation with Raoul to point out the start of the plantation, but Beth found the view of the coastline which could be seen from the other windows of the car far more appealing. They had climbed some way since leaving the harbour, and now the whole of Ste Germaine and its neighbouring beaches was spread out below them. It looked incredibly beautiful, and from this height one could not see the poverty Beth had glimpsed through the doorways of buildings that were little more than shacks, or smell the unpleasant scent of unwashed humanity which had pervaded the narrower streets. Her spirits rose again. It was foolish letting anything upset her when the sun was shining and she was here at last, on her way to her new home. If only Willard had been a little more understanding, and Barbara had come to meet them—and Raoul Valerian had not behaved as if he owned the island …
The road began to descend slowly through thickets of cypress and acacia trees that mingled with the palms which grew so profusely throughout the islands. The smell of damp undergrowth was not unpleasant, nor was the sound of running water from a cascading stream that tumbled over rocks at the side of the road. Their way was strewn with stones which made it rather uncomfortable riding, although the springs of the old station wagon seemed strong enough to weather it.
The sea was nearer now, and Beth breathed deeply, inhaling its tangy scent. She was going to be happy here, she told herself fiercely, and as if to confirm this belief, Willard left his forward position to relax back beside her, reaching for her hand and saying: ‘We’re almost home.’
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