The Sanchez Tradition Read online

  Rachel looked up in embarrassment to find all eyes were centred on them; Olivia and Lucy were smiling, Marcus looked amused, but André looked positively displeased.

  ‘And if we don’t continue our discussion, Hemming,’ he said sharply, ‘I shall wonder whether this meeting was arranged for purely social purposes!’

  Alister Hemming looked embarrassed now, and rose to his feet. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he exclaimed, running a hand through his thinning brown hair. ‘But—er—Rachel—and I have a lot in common. We were just discussing the likelihood of some of these so-called classic writers of yester-year becoming famous had they lived today.’

  Even to Rachel’s ears it sounded a lame explanation, but unless one was intensely interested in a subject, its qualities were not always instantly apparent.

  André slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘Well, I suggest we go into Marcus’s study,’ he said coldly. ‘Then we will be without the distraction of the ladies.’

  There was a trace of sarcasm in his voice, and Rachel wanted to say something biting to wipe that sardonic look from his face, but instead she said nothing, and the two men left the room.

  After they had gone, depression settled on Rachel. Although André might create atmosphere by his coldness, at least when he was around she felt alive and aware of herself as no one else could make her.

  Olivia and Lucy seated themselves together on the couch and began to talk about the problems of bringing up children in an alien environment, and as Marcus seemed quite content to lie lazily in his chair listening to the music emanating from the record player, Rachel felt her presence was unnecessary.

  Trying to behave casually, she said: ‘Olivia, would you think me frightfully rude if I went to bed? I—I’ve got a terrific headache and I think I’d like to lie down.’

  Olivia was concerned. ‘Oh, Rachel, are you all right?’ she exclaimed, getting up and coming across to her. ‘Would you like some aspirin?’

  ‘I have some, thanks,’ replied Rachel, smiling. ‘Don’t worry, Olivia. I’m all right. It’s just a headache, that’s all.’

  Olivia let her go alone reluctantly, but once in her own room, Rachel heaved a sigh of relief. At least the evening was over and if André conducted his business as swiftly as was his usual way, there was a possibility that he might return to the Bahamas on the following day. Feverishly, she hoped he would. She had no intention of making a fool of herself a second time.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HOWEVER, Rachel’s thoughts concerning André’s presence were far from accurate. On the contrary, when she came down for breakfast next morning she found André already at the breakfast table but dressed casually in navy blue shorts and shirt, thonged sandals on his bare feet. From the dampness of his hair, Rachel realised he had been swimming, and her heart lurched a little at the sight of him. He was reading a newspaper, but he put it aside when she joined him, and said:

  ‘Olivia and Marcus aren’t up yet, so I hope you don’t mind my joining you for breakfast. Sancha told me you usually have it here, with Olivia.’

  The table was set on the veranda, in the shade of its balconied roof, and Rachel had always enjoyed the informality of eating outside.

  Shaking her head now, she said: ‘You know perfectly well that as this is your bother’s house, you are at liberty to eat where you choose!’

  André gave her a speculative glance, noticing the shortness of the skirt of the attractive sleeveless pink cotton she was wearing, and Rachel flushed and seated herself at the table so that her legs were hidden.

  ‘You’re very brown,’ he commented dryly, and then: ‘Coffee?’

  There was a jug beside him and she knew it would be churlish to refuse, so she nodded and he poured her some and handed her the cup. Rachel was careful to see that their hands did not touch, and then she placed the cup on the table in front of her.

  Sipping the hot, aromatic beverage, she surveyed the scene before her with pleasure in spite of her disturbed thoughts. The whiteness of the sand on the beach never failed to amaze her, and it was always so beautifully clean. Breakers surged ceaselessly on to the shoreline, while in the distance some fishing boats could be seen.

  André poured himself some more coffee, and then said: ‘I haven’t eaten yet. What do you usually have?’

  Rachel compressed her lips, and turned her eyes reluctantly to his face. The lines that etched his mouth seemed more deeply engraved and she wondered if it was her imagination that made her think he looked thinner.

  ‘Just rolls and butter,’ she replied, replacing her cup in its saucer. ‘I enjoy a light breakfast.’

  André nodded. ‘Good. I thought that was what you would say. Sancha agreed with me, so I ordered enough for two five minutes ago.’

  Rachel felt her lips twitch slightly. She ought to have guessed that André would endeavour to anticipate her needs. But all she said was, ‘Thank you,’ and returned her gaze to the view.

  But it was terribly difficult to remain composed when she was aware of his eyes upon her all the time, and she fidgeted with her hair, and smoothed her neck with one hand, trying to prevent the feeling of being appraised very thoroughly. Finally she said:

  ‘Must you?’ in a tortured voice.

  André frowned. ‘Must I what?’ he queried coolly.

  ‘Stare at me like that?’ exclaimed Rachel. ‘What idea have you now? Is it an attempt to embarrass me? Or simply annoy me?’

  André shrugged. ‘I enjoy looking at you,’ he replied indifferently, and Rachel’s cheeks burned anew.

  Sancha brought a dish of warm rolls and another containing curls of butter, and a fresh jug of steaming coffee and hot milk. Rachel helped herself to a roll, spread it liberally with butter, and took a bite. At least the food provided her with an occupation for her hands.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said suddenly, ‘where are Gilroy and Sheridan? I didn’t notice their obsequious presence last night.’

  André’s lips curved into a faint smile. ‘They’re staying in the village,’ he replied briefly.

  Rachel raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh? Why?’

  André sighed, and began to pare an apple. ‘I knew you wouldn’t care for their company,’ he answered sardonically. ‘Don’t worry, they’re within a reasonable distance.’

  ‘I’m sure they are,’ commented Rachel dryly, but she wondered why André should have taken the trouble to accommodate them elsewhere when there was plenty of room here at the villa. It couldn’t be as he said, so mockingly, that he was considering her feelings. Maybe Olivia didn’t like it either. In any event, it was much easier to talk without supervision, even if their conversations were barbed and barely civil at times.

  André finished his breakfast, and poured himself some more coffee, then, obtaining her permission, he lit a cigar, and exhaled lazily, looking towards the horizon. Rachel was curious to know how long he intended to stay in Rio, but she could hardly come right out and ask him, could she? She sighed, and then was sorry because it attracted his attention back to her.

  ‘Are you enjoying your stay here?’ he asked, studying the tip of his cigar thoughtfully.

  Rachel pushed her plate aside. ‘Very much, thank you. Olivia is sweet. I like her very much, and I think she’s glad of my company.’

  ‘I told you she would be,’ remarked André complacently. ‘But what have you done since your arrival? Have you seen much of Rio?’

  ‘Enough,’ answered Rachel smoothly. ‘I spend most of my days on the beach.’

  ‘With Maria. I know, Olivia told me. However, I did not send you here to become Olivia’s unpaid nursemaid.’

  Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Aren’t you? Then what would you call yourself? I sent you here for a rest cure and what do I find? Frankly last evening I was amazed when Olivia explained that you usually supervised Maria’s bath and got her into bed.’

  ‘I enjoy doing it,’ said Rachel stonily. ‘I hope you haven’t been complaining!’
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  André shrugged. ‘If you mean have I mentioned the matter to Marcus and Olivia then I must tell you I have. We discussed it last evening after you had gone to bed.’

  ‘You did what?’ Rachel was aghast.

  ‘You heard me, Rachel. Besides, I have other plans for you that do not involve my niece!’

  Rachel shook her head impatiently. ‘Honestly, André, you amaze me! You may have paid my fare here, but—–’

  ‘Please, Rachel, do not let us have another argument. You know perfectly well I am right.’ He drew deeply on his cigar. ‘As to my plans—–’

  ‘I’m not interested in your plans,’ exclaimed Rachel. ‘I don’t know why you’ve come here, André, but I don’t intend that you should humiliate me in front of your brother and his wife!’

  ‘I do not intend to humiliate you,’ he replied imperturbably, ‘but I warn you, I shall not hesitate to use any authority I have to prevent you behaving like a servant.’

  Rachel compressed her lips and stared down angrily at her hands. She had no doubt that André had expressed his opinion in no uncertain terms, and she felt infuriated that he still considered he had the power to direct her life. Why was he acting like this? What motive was behind it? Why should he care whether or not she looked after Maria? When she looked up again, she found him regarding her thoughtfully. Then he said:

  ‘Do not alarm yourself, Rachel. My conversation with Marcus and Olivia was not in any way intolerant. I merely explained that I intend to spend several days in Brazil and that I mean to show you a little of the countryside around here.’

  Rachel stared at him in astonishment. ‘You expect me to accompany you…’ she began incredulously.

  ‘Is the idea so distasteful to you?’ he queried politely. ‘That was not my impression when last we spoke together in my mother’s house.’

  Rachel rose to her feet, her breast heaving. ‘You dare to bring that up!’ she cried chokingly. ‘After—after what you said!’

  André lay in his seat, undisturbed by her obvious emotionalism. ‘My opinion of you has not changed,’ he said coldly. ‘However, as I am here, and as I intend to take this break with or without your permission, I see no reason why we should not take advantage of each other’s company!’

  ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘Oh, but I am.’ André leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. ‘And you would do well not to challenge my authority!’

  ‘Are—are—are you threatening me?’ Rachel was uneasy.

  André rose now. ‘For heaven’s sake,’ he snapped impatiently. ‘Why is it you can never accept a thing on its face value? You don’t know Brazil well, I do. You haven’t done any sightseeing, I intend to take you. Where is the harm—the threat—in that?’

  Rachel linked and unlinked her fingers. ‘And what if I don’t want to go?’ she asked unsteadily.

  André lifted his shoulders and thrust his hands into the pockets of his shorts. ‘This conversation bores me,’ he said, ignoring her question. He glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. ‘It is now a little after nine. I shall expect you to be ready to accompany me at nine-thirty, right?’

  Rachel hesitated, looked as though she was going to protest, and then turned away. What was the use? So long as she was here, in his territory, she was helpless, and besides, deep inside her something primitive and urgent wanted to accept his demands and go with him no matter what his motives might be. She glanced back once and said:

  ‘Why haven’t you brought Leonie with you? Surely she would have made a more suitable companion than me!’

  André’s expression was bleak. ‘Leonie has gone to the States with her parents,’ he replied frowningly. ‘As to her company, then yes, her company would be less—shall we say—demanding than yours!’

  Rachel wrinkled her nose. ‘When the cat’s away…’ she said mockingly, and then fled before he could think up some suitable retort.

  But for all her misgivings, and her discomfort at leaving Olivia to cope with Maria in her newly discovered condition, Rachel found the following days spent in André’s company both mentally and physically stimulating.

  From the awkward antagonism of that first morning, their relationship developed slowly, but naturally, into a restrained kind of companionship. It was impossible to maintain enmity in such idyllic surroundings, and almost without her being aware of it, Rachel began to look forward to each day with anticipation. When André set himself out to be charming she found it impossible not to respond and as the days passed she refused to look beyond the limits of his stay here. She wondered whether Leonie was aware that her proposed fiancé was in Brazil with his wife, and decided that she could not. Leonie would never have stood for that even though Rachel did not fool herself as to André’s motives.

  Even so, she was aware that André was deriving enjoyment from her company, and that sometimes he relaxed completely in her presence. But always something, some careless word, would recall their actual status and then André would withdraw again and become simply a charming companion.

  In the beginning, they drove often into the hills, seeking the cool air of the mountains, and the delicious meals which could be had at small hostelries, but later they spent hours in Rio while André demonstrated the delights of that city to his fascinated companion. The favellas, the slum areas, appalled Rachel, but it was impossible to remain subdued amongst so much colour and brilliance. They bathed from Copacabana beach, Rachel had daringly bought herself a bikini of chocolate cotton, but she preferred the quieter beaches south of the city. Sometimes, lying on the beach, she would become aware of André’s eyes upon her tanned body, and it was at times like these that the hazards of what she was doing struck her most forcibly. While André might be able to regard her with diluted contempt, finding aesthetic enjoyment in her company, she was always totally aware of him as a man; a man moreover, who had once shared every intimacy with her, and whose lean brown body had frequently trembled with passion in her arms.

  Twice he took her to the race track, and watched with amusement as she systematically lost the sixty thousand cruzeiros he had given her to gamble with.

  ‘Obviously you take after your father,’ he remarked tolerantly, as they made their way back to the huge car-park where they had left the car. It was the first time he had mentioned her father since his arrival, and she looked up at him quickly, but there was nothing but amusement in his face.

  Rachel sighed, tearing up the last race tickets she had in her hand. ‘I suppose I must,’ she agreed, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Don’t you ever gamble on horses?’

  André’ shook his head. ‘One loser in the family is quite enough,’ he remarked lazily, opening the door of the sleek Aston-Martin and putting her inside.

  Rachel compressed her lips and watched him as he walked round the car and got in beside her. In a charcoal grey silk lounge suit, and a pale grey shirt, he looked as sleek and powerful as the automobile. Since he arrived in Brazil, he seemed to have shed some of his gravity, and while it still lurked beneath the surface, outwardly he appeared relaxed and casual. She would never have believed they could spend so many days in one another’s company without creating an impossible situation. But due to André’s calm, disciplined manner they were able to behave like friendly strangers. It was very rarely that she caught a glimpse of the passions he so successfully disguised, and sometimes she had an almost irresponsible urge to dispel his civilised indifference once and for all. But she always restrained herself, remembering the precariousness of her position, and trying desperately to accept that sooner or later he would return to the Bahamas and the life he led there. Sometimes she speculated on what Olivia and Marcus thought of this strange state of affairs, but it was impossible to guess, and as she and Olivia had never discussed André anyway, they didn’t feel any restraint in that respect.

  Now, André turned the car in the direction of Juanastra and Rachel turned sideways in her seat, resting her arm along the back of it.

  �
�I’m surprised you don’t own any racehorses,’ she said conversationally.

  André’s long fingers curved round the steering wheel. ‘I’ve never found the time to study the subject,’ he replied, in his usual polite manner. ‘I should imagine it’s an absorbing interest.’

  Rachel nodded, frowning slightly. ‘I suppose boats are your all-absorbing interest,’ she commented.

  ‘You could say that,’ he agreed, halting at a crossroads. The streets of Rio were thronged with people at this time of day and the traffic was thick and noisy. He looked towards her. ‘Do horses interest you?’

  Rachel shrugged. ‘Not particularly,’ she replied, shaking her head, the hair swinging against her cheek. She was wearing the diamond ear-rings Marcus had bought her, and as though compelled, André said:

  ‘Those ear-rings: I once bought you some like that.’

  ‘Yes, I know you did.’ Rachel bit her lip. ‘You’ll have found them, of course. I left them behind.’

  ‘Yes, I have your jewel case,’ he said, putting the car into gear as the traffic lights changed.

  They moved forward swiftly, and Rachel wondered why he should have mentioned the ear-rings suddenly. It wasn’t the first time she had worn them. ‘Are—are you—are you going to give them to Leonie?’ she asked, the words tumbling over themselves at the finish.

  André frowned. ‘Of course not,’ he answered, rather tersely.

  ‘It seems a waste,’ remarked Rachel quietly. ‘I mean—what do you intend to do with them?’

  André raised his eyebrows. ‘Me? Nothing. They’re not mine, Rachel, they’re yours. As soon—well, as soon as the divorce is settled, I shall give them to you.’

  Rachel compressed her lips trying to suppress the surge of resentment that gripped her, resentment and—jealousy! ‘Why should you give them to me?’ she asked harshly. ‘As a kind of peace-offering?’

  André glanced her way. ‘I have no peace to make with you, Rachel,’ he replied mildly. ‘But if the idea offends you I won’t mention it again. I’ll have them valued and give you the jeweller’s assessment in cash.’