Unknown Read Online Free PDF Page B

tops of the banana trees, far brighter and far closer than it had ever done at home. I changed into my housecoat, opened my window and walked on to the small balcony. Bullfrogs croaked in the dark garden over by the lily pond and the little statued fountain. Huge moths fluttered round the security lights that flanked the drive. Something, a bird or some tropical animal, scuffled and squeaked among, the dry palm leaves.
    Beyond the Residence walls I could hear the shuffle of feet and laughter as Quicha came alive for the second half of the day. The shops, Mrs. Mallenport had told me, stay open till midnight, and Charaguayans rarely retire before the small hours. Cars were out in force too, talking to each other with their horns, shouting insults or laughing or playing little tunes. Lights shone everywhere, shimmering against the dark flank of the mountain.
    I could even smell the roasted chestnuts from the street stalls and the hot seafood delicacies of which Charaguayans are apparently so fond. It seemed a lifetime, I thought nostalgically, thinking of all the complications I seemed to have arrived to since I’d had lunch aboard the aircraft with that most charming of all Charaguayans, Don Ramón.
    When the knock sounded on my door, it was not his compatriot Chico, but Hester herself.
    ‘I thought I’d save Chico’s legs,’ she said, depositing the tray and then sitting herself down on my dressing- table stool. ‘Besides, there’s a message from James.'
    She pointed. There was an envelope resting beside the plate which held a dainty concoction that looked like prawns in aspic. The writing on it was neat and bold and clearly legible, and the sight of it quite removed my appetite. I wondered what other enormity I had committed. Perhaps Ashford Aid was an undesirable person with a highly coloured reputation. Or Morag’s comments had reached his ears. Or the Military Attache had objected to something I’d said.
    ‘I can’t think what he wants to say to you that’s so private he couldn’t tell me ,’ Hester said, tossing her head and then picking up my file and attending to her nails. The expression on her face said clearly, ‘But I mean to find out.’
    I opened the envelope. An errant hope suddenly uplifted my morale. Mr. Fitzgerald might consider that he had spoken over-harshly to me considering the circumstances. Maybe he had talked over my arrival with Eve Trent and she had put in a good word for me of womanly explanation. Or Eve Trent was now much better and my services would not be required. I could go back to the safety (and something inside me told me I was going to need that safety) of my quiet life at home.
    ‘Well?’ Hester prompted after a moment. ‘Is it anything to do with Eve?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Is it an invitation from James Fitzgerald, then?’
    ‘If,’ I said drily, ‘you can call a summons to Chancery to meet him at nine sharp tomorrow an invitation, then an invitation it is.’
    Hester gave a little trill of laughter. She relaxed. She seemed to warm to me, perhaps as an ally, against the perfect Miss Trent. ‘I told you he was a tyrant, didn’t I?’ She looked at her reflection in the mirror. ‘He’s terribly sweet underneath, though.’
    Drily I asked, ‘How far underneath?’ which I shouldn’t have done. She let out another trill of mischievous laughter. If she repeated that remark to Mr. Fitzgerald I would certainly not get that one hundred per cent for loyalty and tact.
    ‘Seriously, though ' She lifted my comb and ran it through a strand of that coppery hair, ‘How did you get off to such a bad start with James? He was in a frightful bait, though being James he doesn’t show it.’
    ‘He gave me some slight indication,’ I said.
    She laughed at the dryness of my tone again, but she looked surprised. ‘Did he say why ?’
    ‘Yes, he did,’ I tied the sash of my housecoat in a fierce knot. ‘In no uncertain terms.’
    ‘Well, go on,’ she prompted impatiently.
    ‘I met