Brazillian Affiar Part 8

"You're not very subtle, are you?" she said angrily.

"I didn't think you'd appreciate subtlety." He walked to the door. "We'll have to leave here at six a.m. sharp, so don't make a late night of it."

She shrugged and turned away. Her pleasure at spending a couple of days alone with Lucas was dimmed by the knowledge of the emotional strain it would place on her, and she wondered whether it would have been wiser to have refused to go.

Her evening with Roland was suddenly more than she could stand, and deciding to use her early departure the next day as an excuse to put him off, she scanned the directory for his number. It was not listed, nor was there any reply from his office. On an impulse she called Maya again.

"Rolly's number?" the woman queried. "Can't you find it in the book ?"

"It isn't listed," Philippa explained. "I thought perhaps you might have it."

"Why should I? We don't mix in the same circles."

Conscious of having made a fool of herself, Philippa rung off. Not only had Maya made her feel Roland was socially unacceptable but she would also not lose the opportunity of mentioning the call to Lucas.

No nearer cancelling her date than before, she went to her room to change. After she had showered she concentrated on the morning's journey, collecting what she supposed were essentials and trying to fit everything into one small suitcase. She was so absorbed that she forgot the time, and when the reception clerk rang to say Mr. Masterson was waiting for her in the lobby, she had to finish her dressing in a rush.

The admiration on Roland's face as she came towards him helped to improve her mood. Strange how even the attention of a man one didn't want could have this effect!

"Every time I see you, you look more beautiful." He caught her hand and pulled her towards him.

Stubbornly she held back, and with a slight smile he released her and led the way to his car.

"I bet you've had a busy day," he said as he slid into gear and moved out to join the traffic speeding along the coast road.

"No busier than usual."

"Really? I thought Paget would have been like a bear with a sore head all day."

"What makes you say that ?"

He drove for a few hundred yards before replying. "I put in another tender for the dam today, and I've a shrewd idea it beats anything your boss can offer."

She mulled over the words and then decided to ask the question they brought to mind. "What made you put in another tender ? When we last spoke about it you said your price was lower than anyone else's."

"I wanted to make doubly sure. I knew Paget wouldn't sit back without trying again." He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. "He did, didn't he?"

She said nothing and he chuckled. "Don't look so cross, darling."

"I'm not. But I'm in a difficult position and -"

"You haven't said anything about me to Paget have you ?" he cut in.

"Of course not."

He caught her hand and squeezed it. "Poor darling, I bet you'll be glad when the contract's given out. Then you'll be able to forget the whole thing."

"You make it sound so easy," she said bitterly. "Do you think I'll forget that you're alive? That I won't find it hard not tell your mother I saw you?"

"I wasn't thinking about you leaving Rio or seeing my mother again. I was thinking of you working for Paget, and how difficult it must be." His hands gripped the wheel. "I can't bear to think of my life without you."

"Then don't let's talk about it," she said and rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes. When she looked up again they were on the outskirts of the city, climbing a steep hill banked with large houses and apartment blocks.

"What an odd place to have a restaurant."

"I'm taking you to my flat first. We can stop off there for a drink and go on later."

She felt a quiver of unease. "Is there time?"

"Loads of it." He pulled up outside a white concrete building surrounded by beautiful gardens landscaped into the hillside. The lobby was startlingly modern, with metal sculptures standing in specially lighted alcoves. Roland watched her, his face reminding her of a little boy showing off.

"This place was designed by one of our best architects," he said. "I have the penthouse and the best view of Rio."

Impressed, she followed him into his home. Like the entrance below it was extremely modern, furnished in pale blond colours with white rugs on a dark wood floor. Picture windows ran the width of three walls of the living-room, providing a panoramic view of the city and harbour. There were bowls of flowers, boxes of cigarettes and dishes of sweets set out on the tables - yet despite this the room looked like a stage-setting, with no proof that a living, breathing man occupied it.

It was a disquieting discovery, indicating the shallowness of the life he was leading. If only there was one sign that he had put down some roots... But there was none. And a man without roots could all too easily be a man without any loyalties or standards.

"Well," he said, "what do you think of it?" There was such pride in his voice that she had to nod approval.

"It's beautiful," she admitted. "But it's more like a stage set than a home."

"It isn't a home," he answered. "It's an achievement. All this is mine, bought with my own efforts and perseverance. It's proved to me that I can be a success without doing anything underhand."

Hating herself for what she had been thinking, she put her hand on his arm, her first spontaneous gesture to him. "It's lovely," she reiterated. "You should be very proud of yourself."

"You've no idea how I've longed to hear you say that."

He placed his hand over hers, and the warmth of his fingers caused an uprush of affection in her. Dear Roland, he was the same as he had always been: eager to please and delighted when he had done so. Somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. But as her lips touched the side of his face he turned his head and found her mouth. She tried to draw away. But it was too late. The pressure of his mouth increased as he pulled her close against him.

A tremor shook him, but it awakened no response in her, nor did it arouse fear. Roland was her childhood and her youth, and though he could never be part of her womanhood he would always be part of her past.

Abruptly he let her go. The colour had seeped from under his tan, giving his skin a sallow tinge. "I've been wanting to do that since I saw you again. It was the only way I could know."

"Know what?"

"If you'd really altered."

She walked over to a mirror on the wall and smoothed her hair. "Has it given you your answer?"

"Yes." He came to stand beside her and looked at her in the gla.s.s. "I don't mean a thing to you, do I? You still can't forget the way I left England."

"How can I? If you knew how your mother suffered..."

"What about you?"

"I got over it. I was young. But a mother's love..."

"Perhaps you never loved me, Phil."

"Perhaps," she agreed, thinking how different was the feeling she had for Lucas.

"But you'll still keep my secret, won't you?"

"I gave you my promise, Roland, I won't break it."

"Because of my mother," he said, half turning away from her. "But at least you mean it." His seriousness vanished and once more he looked confident. "Let's get out of here. If we're late we'll lose our table."

Knowing he was making an excuse to leave, she followed him down to the car. Roland was afraid of her, no matter what he said, and she wondered, not for the first time, whether he had something other than his past to hide from Rodriguez.

But once the car was in motion he seemed to forget any fears he might have, and entertained her with stories of all the things he had done in order to get started in Brazil. She tried to enter into the lightheartedness he was exhibiting, but all the while she kept thinking of Mrs. Marsh, who believed him dead, and who could well die of shock herself were she to discover otherwise.

With an immense effort she managed to block off her thoughts and, by the time they were seated at a candlelit table for two, set among the trees in a hilltop restaurant overlooking the Bay of Guanabara, she was almost able to make herself believe Roland was indeed Roily, and that she was on a normal date with him.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said, waving his hand in front of her.

"I was thinking how different this is from my normal life," she fibbed. "I'm not usually taken out to dine in such glamorous surroundings".

"A girl with your looks should be taken out glamorously every night."

She shook her head. "I generally have a T.V. supper in my bed-sit!"

"Then change it for a new life out here. Not with me, if you don't want it, but in Rio. I can get you any kind of job you'd like."

"I like the one I have," she replied, unwilling for him to know how soon she would be giving it up. Somehow she could not bear to let Roland know how deeply she felt about Lucas.

"If you change your mind, let me know." Roland pushed back his chair and led her on to the dance floor.

Set amid the trees, the tables were far enough apart to lend them an air of privacy. But Philippa saw the restaurant had filled since their arrival.

"You seem to know everyone here," she said as Roland amused himself pointing out the various notables.

"It's the place of the moment. In a month or two it'll be somewhere else."

"Don't you get tired of cafe society?" she asked curiously.

"It's no different from Turville society. Everyone knows your business - and talks about it!"

"I bet they're far cattier here."

"They are," he agreed, and looked away from her towards the bay far below them, as if seeing another sea and another very different coastline. "I thought I'd got used to knowing I'd never see my own country again, but it's going to be a lot harder when you've gone back."

Afraid the conversation was getting out of hand, she did not reply. Shutting her eyes, she drifted quietly along in Roland's arms until the music stopped, then, arms entwined, they walked back through the tables. She felt his lips touch a tendril of her hair and was filled with the same complicated sympathy she had known earlier that evening in his flat.

Before they could reach their table the music started again, and other couples began to move on to the floor. Forced to a momentary standstill, they paused, and looking at the table nearest them, she saw the back of Maya's head, the slender neck bent intimately towards Lucas. But whatever she was saying was lost to him, for his eyes, colder than Philippa had ever seen them, were fixed on herself. For a second they stared at each other, then the thin line of his lips parted in a cold smile before he turned to his companion.

Conscious of Roland's arm still linked in hers, Philippa walked on, knowing that as far as Lucas was concerned she had been judged and dismissed.

Seated at their table again she pressed her hands together to prevent their trembling, and Roland looked at her with a frown. "What's up ?"

"Lucas is here with Maya."

He glanced round. "Where?"

"We pa.s.sed them as we came to our table."

"So what? Paget knows I'm seeing you."

"But he doesn't like it. He asked me not to see you - I told you that."

"And I told you what I thought of him for saying such a thing. He doesn't deserve to have you stay with him."

"I can't leave him now. He brought me out here because he needs me. If I left, it would be letting him down."

"Don't you think he's let you down? Paget prides himself on being a judge of character - surely he knows the sort of person you are ?"

Roland was giving utterance to her own thoughts, and hearing them spoken aloud she found it difficult to defend Lucas. Remembering the contempt in his eyes as she had paused by his table, she wished with all her heart that she were back in England and free to give in her notice.

"Leave him," Roland reiterated. "If he needs a secretary he can always find one."

"I've got to stay with him while we're here." Against her will she had to spring to Lucas's defence. "You can't blame him for being suspicious. I'm sure you'd be the same."

"I'd never doubt you."

"You did once" she reminded him. "You never told me you were in trouble."

"That's not a fair comparison. You said yourself you were a different person three years ago."

She conceded the point. "But you still put business first," she a.s.serted, "so in that way you're like Lucas. He's still fighting for the contract. We're going up to -" She stopped abruptly but Roland had already interpreted her unfinished sentence.

"So Paget's going to look at the site, eh?-It won't do him any good. No one will be able to undercut me."

"Don't be so sure. Lucas is as determined as you are."

"A11 the determination in the world won't get him the contract. He doesn't need to build this dam in order to survive. Langland's can work anywhere in the world. But I can't move out of Brazil - you know that very well. It's the one country where I've got connections and where I'm safe. The fee I'll get for building this dam will give me the money I need to keep going. That's why it's important to me."

"I never thought of it like that," she admitted.

"Because you've been too busy seeing Paget's side of it." He signalled the waiter for the bill. "Let's get out of here."

On the way back he drove recklessly, pus.h.i.+ng the car to its limits with no regard for other road users or even for their own safety. It was only as they rounded one perilous bend and seemed to be suspended over a precipice that she gave a cry of fear.

"What's the matter with you, Roland? You'll kill us!"

He slowed down and for the rest of the journey was careful not to go too fast. Had he not maintained his indifference to Lucas's attempts to undercut the Callis...o...b..d, Philippa might have a.s.sumed him to be worried by it - certainly something had precipitated his change of mood - and she wished she knew what it was. There was still something odd about Roland and she would dearly like to know what it was.

He did not speak to her until he deposited her outside her hotel. "Will you call me when you get back from the site ?"

"Are you sure you want me to ?"