Tapestry of Fear (3 page)

Her violent attacker had metamorphosied into a round-eyed boy, he backed away into the shadows of the other room. Miss Daventry tutted impatiently and followed. Feeling as if I were in the middle of particularly bad and bizarre dream, I moved after them. His brother, fully conscious though breathing with difficulty, said weakly: “What, in God's name, is happening?”

It was, I thought, a sensible enough remark.

“This old …” began the boy, but Miss Daventry interrupted him and introduced us both afresh. While she was talking she had taken off her hat and put it, together with her camera and binoculars, on the floor, and was now rolling the sleeves of her blouse up.

“Luis,” Jose said. “Boil some water.”

“Mother Mary,” Luis said devoutly. “ You are not going to take any notice of her, are you? The woman is a maniac, and a foreign maniac at that, she.…”

“Do as I say,” his voice was rasping. Briefly Luis hesitated, then, full of misgivings he picked up a large metal pan and limped away with it. Jose leant back, exhausted, against the white-washed wall.

His black hair curled thickly over his head, and under straight brows were fine eyes, golden-brown, that despite his weariness were still bright and keen, vivid under the black lashes. I could understand Carmen's anxiety for him.

Miss Daventry began to remove the blood stained bandage from his shoulder. “All the medical things are wrapped in a towel on top of the basket, could you be getting them ready for me, Alison? The sooner we see to these bullet wounds the better.”

I did as she asked, and then dropped down onto my knees beside her. She had removed the make-shift bandage and the wound lay ugly and exposed. I tightened my stomach muscles as she scrubbed her hands vigorously, then, her sleeves rolled up, she turned towards Jose. I averted my head, staring out through the window, unshuttered now to give her as much light as possible. Bees hummed, darting in and out of the shade and I stared with undue concentration on scarlet begonias that massed the window bottom. There was a quick intake of breath and Miss Daventry said reassuringly: “There, that's done. You have been lucky. The bullet simply ploughed through the flesh, another inch to the right and it would have shattered the bone.”

Silently I passed improvised swabs across to her as she cleaned the gaping wound and then bound it with bandage. No-one spoke. Luis watched every movement of Miss Daventry's deft fingers, and said, subdued: “Thank you … we are … I am sorry. You will accept my apologies?”

“On one condition,” Miss Daventry said briskly, turning towards him. “And that is that you behave yourself while I see to you.”

He nodded, paling visibly as she began to tear the trouser away from his leg and I saw that what I had thought was rust was congealed blood. A faint tinge heightened his cheeks and he clenched his hands into fists as Miss Daventry probed for the embedded bullet. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and then he gave a gasp as Miss Daventry triumphantly withdrew the bullet. He closed his eyes as she finished cleaning the ripped flesh, bandaging it firmly. Miss Daventry leant back on her heels, saying briskly: “Now all you need is some food, and we have plenty of that.”

I began to unpack a large loaf of bread and thick wedges of cheese and one of Maria's tarts.

“When do we leave?” Jose asked as Miss Daventry passed him a bottle of wine.

My heart sank. It was a question I had been dreading. It seemed impossible that either of them would be able to keep the rendezvous with the boat.

“
A boat!
” Jose rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are they all fools? After last night a boat will stand no chance!”

“It belongs to a German tourist and is crewed by Germans.” I said, sounding more hopeful than I felt. “ You and Luis will be hidden in case of a search.…”

“In
case
of a search,” he stared at me as if I were mad. “There is no doubt of a search … and do you know how much room there is to hide on a small boat? None. None at all. The whole thing is suicide!”

“Father Calzada says it is suicide to remain here.”

He swore angrily. Even Miss Daventry seemed deflated. I wondered wryly what the prison sentence was for helping Basque terrorists … and how on earth I had got myself into such a mess.

As dusk fell we helped Luis out to the car. Jose seemed much fitter, his shoulder not giving him any trouble, but there was a dark sticky patch beginning to ooze through Luis's trouser leg and his face was pale.

The road curved down the mountainside and through a scattering of villages to the coast. All that could be seen in the darkness was the white flecked foam of the sea pounding against the cliffs. We rounded a corner and looked down upon the bay, sheltered between a sharp headland on the west and a ridge of cliff to the east, the wide sweep of sand, golden and inviting by day, was now nothing but a black, blank void. The wind was coming in flying gusts, whipping the Atlantic into white horses that plunged and reared up the distant shingle.

“Take the car as near the sea as possible,” Jose said.

I could hear Luis's sharp intake of breath as I swung the car off the road and onto the rough turf, jolting inch by inch closer and closer to the luminous line of pale foam that showed where the sea ended and the sand began. The wheels began to sink and clog and I stopped.

“It's no use. If I go any further out I'll never get the car back.”

“Come on,” Jose said to me brusquely. “ Let's walk down to the tide line and see if we can see anything from there.”

Jose was breathing heavily and I wondered if his shoulder was giving much pain, and how he would manage to swim out to the boat with the sea running so high. We felt our way along the shingle traversing the full curve of the bay till we reached the barrier of the headland. Here the sea beat noisily, creaming against the smoothness of the rocks, deep and inhospitable. He drew me to a halt. “Can you hear anything?”

I shook my head. Gripping my arm once more he set off back, this time towards the eastern arm of the bay. For a few brief minutes the moon sailed from behind the banks of cloud and we could see the sand, firm and pale. This time we walked faster, and in ten minutes had reached the ridge of cliff that jutted out starkly into the ocean. The breeze was growing stronger and there was the spit of rain in the air. Nervously I waited as he stood, straining his senses for any sound or sight of the promised boat.

The sea drummed and surged, filling up the dark air around us, the white horses growing higher and wilder.

“If the boat does come,” I whispered. “You won't be able to swim out in this.”

“Ssssh,” he said angrily. “ Listen!”

Faintly I heard another noise. A humming and then, suddenly, I saw a pinprick of light flash on and then off.

“There!” he said sharply. “That's it.”

Tugging me behind him he began to run across the sand, towards the black shape of the car. Luis was already struggling to stand, leaning heavily against the bonnet. Then we saw it, shrouded in deep darkness, laying low in the water, rocking and plunging just inside the arms of the bay.

“That's it!” Luis's voice was exultant. “They've come!”

“But they are not coming any nearer.” Jose said grimly.

I felt my throat tighten as he dropped his jacket to the ground and kicked off his shoes.

“My dear boy!” Miss Daventry said, the wind tugging at her straw hat, blowing wisps of hair across her face. “ Surely you can't swim so far out in a sea like this? Not with an injured shoulder!”

“There is no choice. The boat is waiting for us and it is not coming any nearer to the shore. If anything should happen before I get back, do not wait for me, take Luis immediately back to the cottage, understand?”

“Yes, but …” she broke off in alarm. “Alison! What on earth are you doing?”

“I'm going with Jose. As you said, he can't swim out alone in a sea like this.”

Jose did not hear me, he was already sprinting down to the sea. Heedless of Miss Daventry's protests I raced after him, my dress and sandals lying scattered at her feet. He was already waist deep, and then, as the icy cold of the water numbed my feet and legs, he disappeared amongst the waves, his arm rising ghostlike in the darkness as he struck out towards the boat. The silky water submerged me and then I was swimming steadily after him, shaking my hair out of my eyes as I tried to keep him in sight. The wind was blowing in strong gusts now and the waves grew higher, a holacaust of tumbling water, the foam crashing over my head drowning me for whole seconds at a time. Jose's voice sounded thinly over the roar of the sea.

“What the hell.…”

I swam up to him. “I'm all right.” I yelled. “ Keep going!”

He blasphemed viciously and then turned, heading once more straight out to sea. Another five minutes and I was beginning to wonder if my rash impulse had been justified. If Jose were in difficulty I had no strength left to do anything about it. He was treading water now, staring into the night.

“Where the devil has it gone to?” he gasped.

Breathlessly I swam beside him, all around us the sea swelled and heaved and far back in the distance I could see the faint silver line where the waves were crashing on the shore. It looked far, far away.…

We were too low in the water to see clearly. If they would only flash their lights again, anything to give us an indication of which way we should go … but the inky blackness that enveloped us remained impenetrable.

The solid mass of the rock stacks showed where the curve of the bay ended and the open ocean began. We were now parallel with them and the roar of the sea filled the night air, loud in my ears, drowning all other sounds.…

Jose shouted. “The boat was inside the arms of the bay. We must have passed it.”

I blinked the foam from my eyes, nodding in agreement, deeply thankful that he had no intention of swimming any further out into the vastness of the indifferent sea. Hanging there in the black water I was experiencing fear, real fear, for the first time. I wondered which way the currents were running, if they would be against us as we swam back.… I pushed the thought away from me, struggling to remain calm.…

Jose took a deep breath and plunged away to the east. I swam after him, wondering if he had seen the boat, if it was near.

Suddenly there came a new sound, the distant throb of an engine. Jose was treading water now, gasping for breath. As I joined him I could see the black shadow of the boat low in the water, bobbing silently at anchor not twenty yards away from us, and I could hear the engines coming nearer.

The sea boiled around us, a raging mass of surging water, tossing us backwards and forwards, sucking us down into its limitless depths. Another wave crashed over my head, beating the breath from my body as I struggled for air. Then I saw it and hope failed.

Around the headland came the powerful hum of a speedboat, its searchlight sweeping the glittering, living surface of the sea. It was bearing straight towards the waiting boat and in another few moments, the cruel shaft of light would catch us in its glare. Jose dived away, heading directly back to the beach. My heart beating painfully I put my head down and followed. The vibration of the engines surrounded us, drawing nearer and nearer. Then there was sudden silence as the motor cut and all that could be heard was the suck and slap of water against wood and metal. The line of foam on the shore was luminous and distant, the black expanse in between colossal. Summoning up all my reserves of energy I fought to keep abreast with Jose. He was treading water again, shaking the spray from his eyes. Behind us the small boat was clearly visible as the police shone lights on her deck and began to board her.

“Come on,” Jose gasped painfully. “ They'll be searching the water next.”

Once more we turned our faces towards land, swimming with fresh urgency. The wind caught the voices from the boat, carrying the abrupt questions and the gutteral replies of the Germans. This time I could feel the rush and force of the water lifting me onwards, bearing me towards the shore, the relief I felt as I allowed myself to go with it vanished as the searchlight skimmed our heads and the motors revved once more.

They were right behind us, it was impossible that they should miss us. I wondered vainly which was preferable. Death by drowning or death by shooting.… The wash from the boat slapped over my head, swamping me in black water. The prow cleaved the sea, veering to the left, the blinding light sweeping the coastline. The black silhouette of two figures were pinned down in the glaring circle of light that pierced the darkness of the shore. Helplessly I cried out as the boat, its light blinding its intended victims, skimmed the sea, closing in.

I heard Jose shout and then saw, between the foam and the flying clouds of spray, the two helpless figures turn and run.… Terror engulfed me as I heard a shout of command from the speedboat and heard the rifle crack whistling shorewards.

“Bastards!” Jose was gasping. “ The bastards!” Then he dived away to the right, swimming towards the rocks. Other shouts followed but I could no longer see, fearfully I swam in Jose's wake, my strength failing rapidly, the sea pulling insistently on my legs, weighing me down, sucking me under.

The cliffs stood out against the white gleam of breaking waves, then my eyes were blinded, the spray flying in my face. I could sense the nearness of the rocks but could not see them. Helplessly I floundered, swallowing water, coughing and spluttering as I struggled for air. Desperately I clawed out, reaching for a handhold, a foothold.… The next wave lifted me high and I gripped slippery rock, hauling myself painfully from the surging depths.

Jose was still struggling in the roaring water and I leant forward trying to grasp his arm. Our hands met, then he was swept from my hold, submerged in the mass of foam and spray. Sobbing, I saw his head disappear and then nothing but the waves crashing against the rocks in a mass of white surf.