Rooted in Dishonour Page 11

  A black man she had heard Willard call Nathan was supposed to look after the vehicles, but the few occasions Beth had seen him, he had been lounging beneath the spreading leaves of the date palms, only springing to attention when his employer appeared, and today was no exception. But he gave Beth a wide grin when she asked him whether she might use the station wagon.

  'That there automobile's got a puncture,' he replied disappointingly, prompting Beth to ask why the devil he wasn't mending it instead of sitting on his fat behind. But she kept her own counsel, and as if mindful of her tolerance, he added: 'You c'n use Miss Barbara's car, if you like. Mr Raoul, he took her into the town in the jeep.'

  'Did he?' Beth's lips tightened, but she looked rather doubtfully at the dusty red Mini, wondering what Barbara would say if she knew Nathan was offering her vehicle to the girl she disliked so much. 'I don't know...'

  'How long you. planning to be out?' asked Nathan, patting the bonnet of the Mini, apparently unaware of the dirt he was transferring to his hands.

  Beth shrugged. 'Oh—an hour, maybe.'

  'There you are, then. No one need ever know,' decided Nathan cheerfully, and Beth shook her head with reluctant humour.

  'You think not? I hear that everything that happens here gets reported, one way or the other.'

  Nathan's grin widened. 'Be too late then, won't it?' he asked reasonably, and because she knew she couldn't go back to the house and sit in her room for two hours until Willard woke up, Beth gave in.

  The Mini Cooper handled better than the station wagon, she found. The tightness of some of the corners was more easily negotiated in the smaller car, and its acceleration was smoother. Even so, Beth had a few bad moments wondering what she would do if she crashed the thing and had to confront Barbara with that. Still, she argued, Willard would back her up. In this she felt quite confident.

  She took the road she and Willard used to reach Ste Germaine, but branched off some distance from the town, and circled the waving cane fields. Already plumes of grey flowers were appearing at the head of the canes, and she wondered if this indicated it was nearing the time for cutting. She knew little or nothing about the production of sugar, and she shuddered when she considered the snakes and insects one might encounter in cutting the cane.

  She was so intent on her thoughts that she was hardly aware of where the road was taking her until the roofs of the warehouses came into view, with the tall stack of a chimney towering overall. Inadvertently, she had taken the route to the mill, and although she stood on her brakes, she doubted she would be able to turn without actually using the yard in front of the offices.

  She was sitting there, wondering what to do next, when a man emerged from the building. She tensed, but it was only Andre Pecares, and when he saw the car he came straight towards it. She realised suddenly that he would expect it was Barbara, and wished she had made her escape while she had the chance. No one would ever have known that it was she driving the Mini.

  It was too late now. Andre had reached the car and was leaning down to look in the window. 'Can I help you?' he began, and then his sober expression relaxed. 'Miss Rivers!' He shook his head. 'I thought you were—'

  'Barbara—yes, I know,' Beth finished for him, a trifle desperately. 'I'm afraid I've taken the wrong track again. I—er—I was hoping to drive into the hills.'

  Andre frowned. 'I do not advise it. Not in this. The roads are very bad, and only Raoul's Landrover is capable of withstanding the knocks you would undoubtedly get.' He paused. 'Does Mr Petrie know what you are intending?'

  Beth sighed. 'No. I came out on impulse. Mr Petrie is resting. I—I was bored.'

  'Then why don't you come and have some coffee with me?' he suggested politely.

  Beth drew back into her seat as far as was possible. 'Oh, I—no, I don't think so.'

  Andre hesitated. 'I am alone. I would be glad of your company.'

  Now why had he said that? she wondered. Did he also know how Raoul felt about her? Was it common knowledge that she was suspected of marrying Willard for his money?

  There was only one way to find out. 'All right,' she said. 'Thank you.' And to his surprise as much as hers, she pushed open the door of the car and got out.

  The office Andre explained he shared with Raoul was shadowed and musty, and smelt of tobacco and something else Beth couldn't quite identify. He showed her liis desk, with its impressive pile of accounting books and ledgers, and told her that after the minimum amount of schooling Raoul had taken him on here and taught him everything he knew about sugar production.

  'That was ten years ago now,' he added, pouring thick black liquid into equally thick mugs, 'and now I've relieved Raoul of a lot of the paper work.'

  'I'm sure you have. Thank you.' Beth accepted the mug he offered her gratefully. And wanting to get away I rom the subject of the overseer, she said: 'Did you go to the school on the island?'

  'Yes. Mrs Signy taught me until I was eleven. Me and my sister both.'

  'You have a sister?'

  'Yes—Louise. She's five years younger than I am. She and Raoul—well, she's very fond of him.'

  Beth looked down into the cup. Was there no way she could get away from that detestable man's name? And what was Andre telling her? That his sister, Louise, was another woman in Raoul's life? How many women were there? Barbara—Isabelle Signy—Louise Pecares; did he care about any of them?

  As if sensing something was wrong, Andre finished his coffee and said: 'Would you like to see the mill? It's not working at present, of course, but I could explain the process to you.'

  Beth looked up. 'Oh, yes, I'd like that.'

  'Good. When you've finished your coffee, then...'

  The mill was dank and sour-smelling, the moistness in the air causing a film of slime over the idle machinery. But soon, Andre explained, all would be in working order again, and then the heavy rollers would crush the shredded cane and extract the juice that eventually provided the sugar crystals. The process was simple enough —after the juice was extracted it was mixed with milk of lime to destroy any impurities before being heated and run into tanks to cool. Then the clear juice was run off into vacuum pans, and boiled until a thick consistency of molasses and sugar crystals was formed.

  'The final process involves separating the molasses and the crystals by centrifugal force,' Andre explained, indicating the huge cylinders with their bored holes through which the molasses was forced, leaving the raw brown sugar behind. 'We ship it raw. We have no refinery here. But for the size of the island, the production is not bad. Not bad at all.'

  'Are you selling the lady the industry?' enquired a mocking voice from the open doorway, and they both turned to see Raoul standing watching them. Unlike the morning when he had been dressed in a cream shirt and levis, this afternoon his only attire was the disreputable jeans Beth had seen hi'm wearing before, the stark whiteness of the plaster on his wrist in direct contrast to the all-over brownness of the rest of him.

  'Raoul!' Unlike Beth, Andre seemed delighted to see his superior. 'We have a visitor.'

  'So I see.'

  Raoul's eyes flickered over Beth insolently, but determined that he should not misconstrue her motives, she said coldly: 'I lost my way and Mr Pecares kindly offered me a drink.'

  'Do you make a habit of it?' Raoul countered in- furiatingly, and she looked apologetically at Andre.

  'I'll be leaving now,' she said. 'Thank you for the drink, and for showing me around. I've enjoyed it.'

  'Don't leave on my account,' mocked Raoul, but when he stood aside to let her pass him in the doorway, anger overcame timidity.

  'I am leaving on your account I' she told him bitterly. 'I would hate you to get the idea that I'd have stayed if I'd known there was the remotest chance of you returning! I heard that you'd gone into town with Barbara, and I foolishly assumed you would be satisfied with her for the afternoon!'

  She stormed on before he had chance to reply, and she did not hear the words he flung at Andre befo
re going after her because of the frantic beating of her heart. It had been quite an effort standing up to him, and reaction was setting in rapidly. But she loathed and despised him, and it would have been far worse saying nothing.

  His fingers grasping her arm and slowing her were a painful reminder that Raoul played by no rules but his own. 'Wait!' he muttered, savagely. 'I want to talk to you, and you'd better listen.'

  'Will you let go of me?' she demanded, amazed at the coolness of her tone. 'I'd really rather not have bruises all over my arms.'

  'Will you listen to me?'

  'Let me go!'

  'And if I don't?'

  Beth glared at him. 'This is rather" silly, isn't it? Are you going to let me go or aren't you?'

  'If I do, will you promise to give me a chance to explain?'

  'Explain!' Beth forced a caustic laugh. 'What is there to explain? You're a liar and Barbara's a liar. You complement one another.'

  He stopped abruptly and stared at her, and taking advantage of his momentary lack of perception, Beth pulled herself free of him and ran to the car. It had been standing in the full glare of the sun, and the hot seat caused her to catch her breath, but at least the engine fired at the first try. She had no time to turn, but thrust the gear lever into reverse, and shot backwards up the track at a reckless pace.

  Raoul made no attempt to run after her, but continued walking in her direction, and her breathing began to quicken again. It was awful having to look over her shoulder to see where she was going with the inescapable awareness of him coming after her. She half expected him to produce bionic legs and every time she turned she expected him to be right behind her.

  Panting, she saw a semi-circle of gravel at the side of the road, straddling the ditch which had prevented her from turning. If she could accelerate quickly on to it, swinging her wheel, she might conceivably be in a position to throw the car into first gear and make her getaway.

  Measuring her distance, she picked up speed, the engine grinding protestingly at the pressure she was putting on it. Swinging the wheel, she reversed towards the gravel, and then groaned in dismay as the offside back wheel spun wildly over thin air. She had misjudged the steering lock, and if she moved another foot both her wheels would plunge down into the ditch. With a feeling of despair she put her forehead down on to the steering wheel and wept, uncaring any more what Raoul Valerian might do to her.

  'Move over!'

  The instruction was more in the nature of a command, and she lifted her head to stare mutely up at her pursuer. But the green eyes brooked no refusal, and with trembling lips she swung her feet across the gear console and shuffled on to the passenger seat. Raoul swung open the door and levered his length behind the wheel, causing her no small moment of alarm as he shifted the seat back to accommodate his long legs and the little car rocked dangerously near the edge of the ditch. Then he found first gear, slammed the lever home, and put all the power into the forward wheels. They rolled on to the road again effortlessly, and Beth stifled a resentful sob.

  'Front wheel drive,' remarked Raoul expressionlessly. 'Now, do we talk?'

  Beth drew an unsteady breath. 'I don't have much choice, do I?'

  'Yes.' His voice was cold. 'I'll get out and you can drive straight back to the house.'

  'Then do it,' she mumbled.

  'You're sure that's what you want?'

  She expelled her breath indignantly. 'Of course I'm sure!'

  'Okay.' He swung open the door again, but before he got out he said quietly: 'I didn't tell Barbara you begged me to drive you back. I told her the truth. What she chooses to do with it is not my affair.'

  He put one leg over the sill, but Beth's hand on his arm detained him. 'How can I believe you? Did you tell her what—what happened?'

  'At my house, you mean? No.'

  'You say that now ...'

  He looked at her and this close she could see every pore in his skin. 'Why should I lie?'

  She hesitated. 'To protect yourself. To try and make me say something else. To—to create another situation you can use to your own advantage.'

  'Oh, come on ...' His voice was harsh now. 'What do you think I am?' The green eyes were like chips of ice. 'Don't you realise that if I'd supported Barbara's story, she'd have had Willie eating out of her hand by now, and you'd have been out on your earl'

  'You think he'd have believed you and not me?'

  'I know it,' he snapped violently. 'My God, don't you know how suspicious he is? The night after I brought you home he came to the bungalow himself. He wanted to know what happened, what I'd said!'

  Beth stared at him half disbelievingly. 'What you'd said?' she echoed. 'Wh-what about?'

  Raoul looked down at the plaster on his wrist, shaking his head. 'Come on,' he said, swinging his leg inside again. 'You can take me home.'

  Beth looked anxiously at him as he adjusted the rear- view mirror to his own satisfaction. It explained how Willard had known about Raoul's hand, but how could she be sure this was not just another ploy to discredit her? She stared blindly through the windscreen. She should go to Willard herself and make a clean breast of everything that had happened since she arrived here, but her courage faltered when she considered what Barbara would make of her behaviour.

  So where did that leave her? she thought wretchedly. She had to trust this man. She had no alternative. Obviously he hadn't told Willard what had happened between them, but whether he had his own reasons for withholding that information she had yet to find out.

  'The cane's almost ready for harvesting,' Raoul remarked suddenly, and she forced herself to answer him objectively.

  'I—I expect it's quite a dangerous job, cutting cane,' she commented. 'Aren't there a lot of—of snakes and spiders?'

  'We don't have the men to harvest it all by hand,' he replied laconically. 'We burn the fields first and that serves the dual purpose of burning off the leaves and destroying the infestation. It doesn't harm the cane, and it makes our job safer as well as quicker. It does mean that the cane deteriorates faster, though, so harvesting

  and crushing has to be done at once.'

  In spite of her own anxieties, Beth was interested, although her skin crept at the thought of the black widow spiders and scorpions that inhabited the fields they were passing. So far she had encountered only a few of the smaller varieties of spiders, big enough by British standards but not particularly terrifying. Of course, she had seen plenty of beetles, but somehow they never inspired the same horror in her as their eight-legged cousins.

  The sight of the ocean had never been more appealing, and within a few minutes Raoul was drawing up outside the bungalow. But when Beth tensed, waiting for him to get out, he turned towards her.

  'Have you been swimming again?' he asked unexpectedly, and she felt the hot colour invading her cheeks.

  'You—you must know I haven't,' she stammered, and his eyes narrowed.

  'How would I know that?'

  She took a deep breath. 'Doesn't—doesn't Barbara keep you informed?'

  His mouth twisted. 'You still don't believe me, do you?'

  'I—I believe you didn't tell Willard what—what you did.'

  'You're dead right.'

  'You—you insist you didn't tell Barbara either?'

  He raised his eyes heavenward for a brief moment. 'Haven't you learned anything yet?' he muttered harshly. 'God, do you think Barbara would keep a thing like that to herself?'

  'Like—like what?'

  His eyes dropped to her mouth. 'What are you doing now? Trying to provoke me?'

  'No.' She shrank back in her seat. 'Are—are you going to get out?'

  He made an indifferent gesture. 'Come and collect your shoes and glasses. I found them on the beach after you'd been swimming, but they—er—slipped my mind the last time you were here.'

  Beth hesitated, and he gave her a wry look. 'You want me to have Tomas fetch them out to you?'

  'No.' Beth thrust open her door as he did the same, and they
faced one another across the roof of the Mini. 'Where are they?'

  'Follow me.'

  They crossed the stubbly grass at the back of the bungalow and came round the side to where the verandah faced the ocean. The surf creamed invitingly beyond the coral curve of the beach, and Beth felt the familiar longing to submerge herself in its depths.

  'I'll wait here,' she said, as he mounted the steps to the verandah, and with a shrug, he disappeared into the house.

  Unable to resist, she sauntered down to the water's edge, kicking off her sandals and allowing the waves to curl about her ankles. The horizon hazed and shimmered, its definition smudged by the brilliance of the sun which, past its zenith, was beginning its slow slide into oblivion. Shifting shreds of cloud drifted like vapour, forming and reforming in illusory images across that vast expanse of blue. The air was still for once, without the cooling breeze that tempered mornings, preparing for the coolness of evening that was to come.

  Beth glanced back towards the house and saw Raoul descending the steps again, her shoes in one hand, the thin strip of metal protruding from a pocket of his jeans proclaiming the presence of her sunglasses. He strode across the sand towards her, and she took the shoes from him with a reluctant word of thanks. He pulled the glasses from his pocket and handed them over as well, but although her eyes would have welcomed the relief they could have given, their warmth reminded her too well of where they had been, and she thrust them into one of the canvas shoes to avoid contact with them.

  'Thank you,' she said again, shifting from one foot to the other. 'I—I thought that probably the sea would have claimed them by now.'

  'And you didn't think to come down here to find out.'

  'I—well, I suppose I did think about it...'

  'But you were afraid you might see me,' he inserted flatly. 'Be honest. Admit it.'

  Beth held up her head. 'Why should I be afraid of seeing you?' She cleared her throat. 'That's ridiculous!'

  'Is it?'

  'You know it is.'

  'Do I?'