The Mountains of Spring (21 page)

‘
Oh, no!
’

‘
Apparently a doctor has been called, but when Carlos left the hotel he had not yet arrived. I must go immediately, and I
’
m afraid you will have to go too. I am sorry.
’

‘
But of course—of course we must go immediately.
’
Caroline felt as if the world were spinning round her. In the last few minutes she had made what to her was a shattering discovery—the discovery that she was in love—and as a result she was still a little dazed. Just for a short time she had known what it was to live in a kind of wonderful dream
...
and then this terrible interruption had come, and the dream had ended. And now Diego was looking at her as if she were a stranger, and as she stood quite still, exactly where he had left her, she knew that the icy numbness spreading through her was not only a result of anxiety for the old lady of whom she had become so fond. It was also due to a sort of anguish of spirit—anguish because a golden moment had passed, and she felt very strongly that it might never come again.

T
hey both drove to the hotel in Diego
’
s white sports car, but the journey was accomplished in almost total silence. The midday sun was blindingly strong, and Caroline was glad that she had brought a light silk headscarf to tie over her hair, but the man beside her, who scarcely took his eyes off the
sunbaked
road ahead, didn
’
t seem to feel the heat at all. He looked remote and completely unapproachable, and much as she sympathized with his anxiety and longed for him to speak to her, Caroline had neither the heart nor the courage to attempt to bridge the gulf that had opened between them.

The hotel to which Senora Rivel and Isabel had been driven was a smart
modern
one on a height overlooking the Aztec ruins, and as the long white car slid to a standstill in front of the wide main entrance a commissionaire sprang forward immediately to open the doors. There was an air of uneasy bustle about the place, and as soon as Diego gave his name to the receptionist she uttered a soft, sympathetic exclamation, and came round from behind her desk to conduct them personally to the lift.

As they reached it Caroline hesitated, and looked up anxiously at Diego.

‘
Will you mind if I come up?
’
she asked quietly.
‘
If you
’
d prefer it I
’
ll stay down here
...
’

He seemed to look right through her, but he shook his head.
‘
You will come up. It would be my grandmother
’
s wish.
’

The receptionist conducted them along a wide, cool corridor, and then they stopped outside a numbered door, and she knocked. Somebody on the other side called
‘
come in
’
in Spanish, and as Diego opened the door he gravely signed to Caroline to precede him into the cool hush of the room beyond.

For a moment or two she could see nothing at all, for the shutters had been closed to exclude the harsh whiteness of the sunlight, and coming straight from the vivid glare outside it took time for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. But after a few seconds she saw that a man who had been sitting beside the bed had risen, and was walking towards them. He was obviously a doctor, and she stood back while he spoke to Diego in Spanish.

The old lady was lying on the bed, apparently asleep, and from out of the shadows Isabel
’
s wheelchair came gliding towards Caroline. The Mexican girl looked pale, and her expressive face once again bore the traces of an outburst of tears, but she smiled as she drew near, and her first words were encouraging.

‘
I hope—I think it is going to be all right. The Senora collapsed, and of course everyone thought she was very ill, but the Senor Doctor thinks perhaps it was only that she fainted. The heat was so very bad
...
But we must wait and see. I have been praying to the Holy Virgin—when such things happen one can do nothing else.
’

Diego turned from the doctor to Caroline and spoke quietly in English, confirming what Isabel had said. He added:
‘
I understand that until tomorrow it will be impossible to be sure. I shall of course remain here, and I would be grateful
...
’
He hesitated, although his manner was perfectly detached.
‘
I would be very grateful if you also
would stay. It would perhaps please my grandmother.
’

‘
Of course.
’
She spoke quickly, automatically.
‘
I
’
ll do anything I can to—to help.
’

As the old lady was sleeping naturally and peacefully the doctor shortly afterwards cleared everybody out of the room. A nurse had been obtained, and for the time being she would attend to the Senora
’
s needs. There was nothing for anyone else to do, and for a short time Caroline and Isabel toyed with a light lunch in the hotel
’
s crowded dining
room. Diego had temporarily vanished. Afterwards they w
e
nt to their rooms, and Caroline, lying down on her bed without intending to do more than close her eyes, succeeded in sleeping soundly until nearly half past five,

When she awoke she had a bath and changed, and then went along to the Senora
’
s room. A soft tap on the door brought a request from the nurse to enter, and quietly she slipped inside. There was no one in the room but the nurse and her patient, but the latter was awake, and propped up against her pillows. She looked white and tired, but she smiled at Caroline, and extended a hand to her.

‘
Ah,
chiquita
...
’
She spoke faintly.
‘
Come a little closer.
’

Car
o
line obeyed, taking the fragile hand of the invalid in both her own.

‘
Did you enjoy the ruins?
’
The question sounded rather anxious.

‘
Yes, I did. Very much.
’

The Senora
’
s brown eyes stared up at her penetratingly.
‘
I thought that perhaps
...
there might have been something else to interest you. You
talked with Diego?
’

‘
Yes—yes, we did talk ... a little.
’

‘
Ah
...
only a little?
’

Caroline flushed.
‘
Only a little,
’
she repeated. How much had those keen eyes guessed?

The nurse stepped forward to intervene.
‘
The Senora is tired,
’
she said.

‘
Yes, of course. I mustn
’
t stay.
’
Gently, Caroline set the older woman
’
s hand down on the eiderdown, and smiled at her.
‘
I
’
ll come again,
’
she said.
‘
If you don
’
t mind.
’

‘
I shall mind if you do not. Good-bye, my child.
’

As she turned to go the nurse nodded to her.
‘
Perhaps tomorrow,
senorita
.’

She went back to her own room, and shortly afterw
a
rds the telephone rang. It was Diego. He trusted she was comfortable, and stated that at a quarter to eight he would collect her for dinner. He sounded as cool and remote as if they had met for the first time that morning, but when she put the receiver down she was trembling.

Why, she wondered, did he say nothing? Obviously, the incident at the Temple of Quetzalcoatl had meant less than nothing to him—and as she forced herself to face up to the fact her whole body seemed to wince. But he was behaving as if it had never happened at all, and that was the
crowning
humiliation.

He didn
’
t even think her worth an apology. Punctually at a quarter to eight, however, he did arrive to collect her; She was wearing a simple, short white dinner dress, with no jewellery and her hair loose about her shoulders, and as they went
down in the lift and crossed the hall to the dining
room a good many pairs of masculine eyes followed her unash
am
edly, but he made no comment and in fact scarcely looked at her. Isabel was waiting for them—he had, she gathered, established the Mexican girl at their table before going to collect his other responsibility—and as they sat down waiters clustered about them. Despite air-conditioning, and tall windows wide open to the night, it was almost unbearably hot in the room, and throughout the long-drawn-out meal that followed Caroline felt as if she were being stifled.

Isabel and Diego talked a good deal, with the easy intimacy of long friendship, but Caroline had no wish to join in their conversation, and she didn
’
t feel like eating either. She thought of the last time she had dined in public with Diego. They had danced together, and he had likened her to a rose
... a white rose, in a moonlit garden.

All at once her helping of smoked salmon revolted her, and, unnoticed by the others, she put her knife and fork down without touching it. Her eyes fell on a vivid bowl of imported roses which had been placed in the centre of the table, and the powerful scent rising from them seemed to her as nauseating as the salmon.

Valiantly, she struggled through
mole poblano
— a Mexican speciality which appeared to consist of turkey with chile sauce—a small helping of ice cream and a peach, and then to her profound relief she heard Diego suggest that coffee should be served to them in a private sitting-room upstairs, and they all stood up. The sitting-room had been reserved at the same time as their bedrooms, and was on the first floor, not far from the Senora
’
s room. It was
modern
and very comfortable, with large picture windows which looked out across the moonlit valley, and across which no curtains had been drawn. There were deep settees and armchairs, and discreetly shaded table lamps. It was cool and quiet, and as Caroline sat down and leant back against a pile of cushions she felt the headache that had been hovering about her all evening begin to lift.

Isabel was dispensing coffee—a job which had quite naturally, it seemed, fallen to her rather
than
to the English girl. She looked more thoughtful and serious than she had done earlier in the evening, and as Diego accepted a cup from her Caroline heard her mention his grandmother.

‘
She will be all right
...
won
’
t she?
’
she asked. Her accent was more pronounced than usual, and she
sounded a little tense.

Diego stood looking down at her, and Caroline thought he hesitated. Then:
‘
I
’
m sure of it, Isa,
’
he said.

Her eyes, huge and dark in her magnolia-pale face, gazed up at him appealingly.
‘
Really?
’

‘
Really,
chica.
Go to bed soon, you are tired.
’

She nodded and put her coffee-cup down, obeying him like a child.
‘
I think I
’
ll go now,
’
she said.
‘
I am weary.
’
They both watched as, very gracefully, she moved her wheelchair towards the door. At the door she turned and smiled at them.

‘
Good-night, Caroline ... I may call you so?
Buenas noches,
Diego.
’

And then she was gone. And Caroline
’
s heart began to flutter wildly because she was once again alone with Diego Rivel.

B
ut she need not have felt any particular agitation, for the Mexican himself was totally unembarrassed, and as calm and matter-of-fact as if their relationship had never at any time been on anything but the most formal footing. He suggested that she should pour herself another cup of coffee, and when she offered to pour him one too he accepted.

Then he sat down and studied her.
‘
You also must be tired,
’
he said.
‘
Soon, I expect, you will wish to go to bed. It is probable that I shall stay up very late—perhaps all night—so you must pay no attention to me.
’

Something in his voice made her glance across at him swiftly.

‘
It isn
’
t quite true that the Senora—that your grandmother is certain to be all right
...
is it?
’