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Authors: Roumelia Lane

Rose of the Desert (19 page)

BOOK: Rose of the Desert
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The car sped on through deserted mountains where baobab trees grew to a tremendous size, their great deformed trunks glistening in the afternoon sun. Towards sundown the"
Car
drew in at the customs house, a solidly built structure with a wide blue veranda. For what must have been the tenth time since they had left Tripoli, Clay produced the passports and necessary documents and approached the
fat
man who gazed out morosely from the doorway. They went inside together.

It occurred to Julie that this would be an ideal time for the children to stretch their legs. Although it couldn't be far now to the Mayhews' they might as well take full advantage of the stop.

"Out you come, cherubs," she called gaily. "Twice round the gas works, back in time for tea!"

She caught them as they fell out of the car in giggles,

"Twice ... round the gasworks... back in time for tea!" they chanted, boldly marching from the car. Or at least Janet did. After the first couple of words Mark found it a bit of a mouthful, so he just hopped and grunted untune- fully. Julie gazed round. The scenery was breathtaking and the high altitude had lifted them from a heavy oppressive heat clean into an English summer. She felt happier about the children's future than she had done for some time. It looked as if things were turning out rather well. The climate was perfect, and Janet and Mark were on their way to an aunt who loved and wanted them. Stephanie May- hew was Lynn's sister, so it was natural she should feel a special affection for her children.

The subjects of her thoughts were cavorting merrily around a leafy bush, and for a few moments Julie allowed herself the luxury of looking beyond today. When all this was finished, when Janet and Mark were secure and loved again, there was Clay ... Quickly she shut the thought from her mind, not daring to anticipate such rapture ... not yet.

As they came round to the front of the customs house again the fat man's voice greeted her. "Na! na!" He was out on the veranda shaking his head vigorously and clutching the parcel of passports.

With a frown Clay strode towards her.

"There's been a hitch. It seems we can't go yet"

"Why not?" Julie was apprehensive.

"Why not?" His mouth had a hard twist of amusement. "Because, my dear, you are not my wife, and these are not our children."

"You can't be serious?"

"I can assure you he is deadly serious." He thrust a glare towards the fat man. "We have to wait until his superior arrives to sort it out."

"But it's ridiculous! What difference could it possibly make our not being ... married?"

"I can't make head nor tail of it." Clay shrugged. 'The nearest I can get to sense is that you and the children are. cleared. For some reason known only to himself I'm not."

Probably sensing something in Clay's brisk tones, Mark whimpered and drew close to Julie.

"It's all right, darling," she told him. "It won't take long." It was amazing how quickly the children felt the seriousness of a situation. A second ago they had been gay and laughing. Now they gazed up with wide solemn eyes as though fearful of being mysteriously abandoned again. Julie was afraid this period of travel and insecurity was going to have far-reaching effects, if they didn't settle down soon into a homely atmosphere.

"Look, how long is he going to be," she asked, "this boss of his?"

"He could come in an hour, or he might not arrive till morning. These people have no sense of time I" He kicked at the barrier testily.

The sun gradually faded behind the hills and a cool wind blew along the road. Mark scuffed his feet and tried to stop heavy eyelids blinking. Putting on a smile, for the children's benefit, Clay turned.

"As there's nowhere else we can wait, we may as well bed down in the car. Come on, nippers."

Mark clung to Julie's dress, tearful again.

"Where's Mummy? I want Mummy! "

W
r
ith a touching gesture Janet curled an arm about his neck and pulled his head on to her shoulder, while she caught at her own trembling lower lip.

"Clay," Julie gulped, "why don't I go on with the children? You could follow later. Surely they'll offer you some kind of transport."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't think of letting you go it alone."

"But why not? What's the sense of us all hanging around here? You said yourself the children and I are cleared, and it can't be far to Bongola now."

"About ten miles. You should be there in a matter of minutes ..." he rubbed his chin thoughtfully "... and the Mayhews are expecting us."

"Well, then ... ?" She raised her face eagerly.

"Hang on. I'll check with old Sobersides to see whether It's O.K. for you to go through." He returned in a few minutes.

"It's all fixed. Keep to the road. Habib mentioned it turns off into a track about three miles from the farm, but it's clearly marked. You should have no trouble.''

Janet and Mark had decided they wanted to sit at the front and as Julie slid into the driving seat Clay fastened the door. His face was taut.

"Take care Julie. And don't waste any time, get straight to Bongola, you understand."

"We're practically there!" With a reassuring smile and a wave of her hand she steered the car through the barriers and along the road.

It grew dark suddenly and quite without warning and it was impossible to see anything beyond the ribbon of the road, but Julie was unperturbed. They must have covered five or six miles already and should soon be coming to the track. She recognised this by the sudden lurching and bumping of the car, and as there was a serious risk of damaging the underbody she deemed it wiser to do no more than five miles an hour. After what seemed an eternity of tossing and bouncing she saw a light in the distance. The headlights picked out a sign at the side of the track: BONGOLA. The letters were so faded they almost emerged into the greyness of the board. In fact if Julie hadn't known what she was looking for, she doubted whether she would have been able to read the sign.

Further along leaning gates opened on to a drive that looked reminiscent of an autumn setting in England. Leaves and twigs swirled around in the gathering wind, and an occasional cocoon of grass or moss rolled into the glare of the headlights. The tall black trees shuddered painfully at the brunt of .the wind.

With a cheerfulness she was far from feeling Julie put on the brakes and helped the children out, "Here we are, kittens, home at last!" The house sprawled away into the darkness, a dim grey collection of pillars and windows. Wooden steps led up to a high veranda, and along this shutters swung to and fro fitfully.

It would be all right once they were inside, Julie told herself firmly. Night was never a good time to sample new surroundings. With the light of day things could look so very different.

The light she had seen came from the side of the house. Funny no one had come out to meet them! Surely they must have heard the sound of the car? She smiled down encouragingly.

"Let's go in and find Aunt Stephenie ... it looks as though we're going to surprise her!"

Mark clutched her hand so tight she could have winced with pain. Janet stared rigidly ahead. Looking at them now, their eyes wide and apprehensive, Julie would have given anything to spare them this. It couldn't have been a more disastrous introduction to their new home.

They climbed the steps to a door that swung easily inwards. In the dull glow of the light from the other room she saw a polished wood floor strewn with rugs, and dulled by a surface of dust. The dark shapes in the room suggested some kind of lounge.

"Hello!" she called. "Anyone home?" She walked resolutely towards the lighted room.

"Is there any ..." Her voice trailed off in dejection at the sight before her.

The room resembling a kitchen held a large wooden table. This was completely covered with opened cans and stale food. There was a sink in one corner, tapless and made of coarse stone, and opposite a rough enamel container that could have been a fridge. On the wall an open cupboard displayed a jumble of expensive-looking crockery, and cooking utensils, and opposite was an iron stove, rusted, cold and utterly cheerless.

It was a sight that brought the tears pricking to Julie's eyes. Perhaps she was just tired. It had been a long journey ... hundreds of miles ... to this! Try as she might she couldn't suppress the black disappointment at what she saw.

And where was everybody? Where was Auntie Stephanie? Didn't she know her nephew and niece were arriving tonight ?

There was a movement from behind her, and not knowing why, Julie tensed. The children instinctively clung to her skirt, and under this encumbrance she turned with difficulty.

The figure was draped around the opening of the door, clinging to anything that would offer support to the sagging limbs. The eyes were bleary and bloodshot, and the dark hair hung forward, unruly and uncombed. Even so the beauty shone through. Here were the neat good looks of Lynn and something more ... a whole lot more, Julie thought, noticing the perfect figure in the wispy blue housecoat.

At that moment the head was tossed back and slurred words were pushed from curling lips,

"We ... ell, hello!" Hurriedly seeking the support of the wall again, she managed to add, "Wel ... come ... welcome ... to Bongola."

CHAPTER IX

"
H
ELLO
!
Y
OU
must be Mrs. Mayhew." Julie tried to speak normally, though the shock of seeing the children's aunt and guardian in such a state had almost taken her voice. "My name is Julie Lambert, and this is your nephew Mark ... and Janet, your niece. I'm sorry if we seem to have barged in, but we thought you were ... expecting us."

"I was . . .1 am." Stephanie opened her arms expansively and showed a brilliant smile, then she suddenly spiralled down and swept the children into her arms. "My babies!" she crooned over them; the smile was now conspiratorial. "If you don't bring John to his senses, nothing else will!"

Being very small, Janet and Mark made no effort to hide their dislike at being held so suffocatingly close. They wriggled furiously, and to tide them over
a
difficult moment Julie asked politely,

"John ... that's your husband, isn't it? Is he here?"

"He's in the village ... he's always in the village, looking for someone to get this damned place hoisted on to its feet." Stephanie rose and swayed. "He can't do it on his own ... but of course I knew he couldn't. Still, he had to drag me along ... he was determined to do that!"

Julie tried to bed down her embarrassment with the suggestion that perhaps Mrs. Mayhew ought to sit down. Taking the vpeight of the slack body, she ied her to a chair in the lounge, hoping there would be no more personal grievances aired. Stephanie was bound to regret them once she was sobered up. But she wasn't finished yet.

Once in the chair where a small table lamp cast a pool of light Stephanie hiccupped and laughed hoarsely.

"Isn't life funny? Don't you think life is funny? Johnny always wanted children, and I didn't... I sometimes think bringing me here had something to do with punishment. I should have been like Lynn ... poor Lynn!" the green eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Poor Lynn with two babies. Why couldn't it have been me with nobody ... and stuck in this stinking ..."

"Mrs. Mayhew, would you like me to make you some coffee?"

Tears trickled slowly down alabaster cheeks. The thick lashes drooped.

"Mrs. Mayhew!"

Without warning an arm was swung wide. She laughed throatily.

"Now look at me ... what do you say now, John? I've got a family, ready made, and now we can all go home, and ..." The rest was lost in unintelligible mumbling but she rallied at the end to chuckle. "If there's anything Johnny can't resist it's ... kids."

"Mrs. Mayhew!" Julie shook the shoulder vigorously, but Stephanie Mayhew was quite unconscious.

Now
what were they going to do?

Brushing her eyes wearily, Julie supposed she had better see what she could sort out for herself. The children needed a bath, a meal, and a warm bed. The air was decidedly chilly. She looked around in sudden panic. Where were they—Janet and Mark? Her heart constricted at the sight of them. Two small figures nestled close together in the corner of a huge sofa. They were fast asleep.

Well, it looked as if the first job would be to get some kind of heat going under that formidable-looking stove. It wasn't going to be easy. The wood was damp, which was bad enough, but apart from this, the small hatch that should slot open to take fuel refused to budge. She tried forcing it with a wedge of wood. But no. Nor would it yield to the heel of her shoe.

"Confound the stupid, idiotic, maddening ... !" She kicked it forcefully and collapsed in a heap of tears and frustration. She really couldn't stand any more. On top of everything else they weren't to be allowed the comforts of a warm drink. And it didn't look as if there was anywhere to sleep....

There was the sound of a firm footstep outside. The steps quickened across the lounge.

"Oh, Clay!" Julie looked up at him with brimming eyes. "Everything's awful... just awful!"

"What in heaven's name ..." He drew her to her feet, looking around him at the chaos.

"We shouldn't have come here," Julie sniffed. "Stephanie doesn't love the children ... she only wants to use them to get her husband away from here. He wanted a family and she didn't, so he brought her out here to get his own back, but now Janet and Mark are here they ..."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Clay gripped her patiently. "Let's start at the beginning. Where are the May- hews?"

"Stephanie is in the lounge, out to the world, and her husband is in the village, wherever that might be."

Disbelieving, Clay strode into the lounge and stared down at the prostrate figure. He turned to another door.

'You wait here. I'll see if there's a bed she can go into." Within seconds he had returned. "First door on the left You'll see the light. Straighten up the bed and I'll bring her through."

She watched as Clay scooped Stephanie up into his arms, and then she hurried along the corridor. The bedroom was well furnished but very untidy. She smoothed out the sheets as Clay lowered Stephanie. He stood gazing down at her.

BOOK: Rose of the Desert
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