Dark Paradise (25 page)

Maria gave her a look filled with foreboding. 'I hope you haven't done anything silly,' she remarked with sudden abruptness, and to Kate's relief, left it at that. Going to the Caribbean with Matt, falling crazily in love with him, giving herself to him even though she knew he had no serious interest in her, would definitely come under the heading of 'anything silly,' she thought wretchedly.

Going home was the hardest, convincing her mother that she was fine and life was coming up roses, joining in her pleasure over Jon and Alison and the coming baby. Time and time again, she longed to tell her everything, but it was impossible. She could never tell her mother the whole story without hurting and worrying her, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

The only bright spot in a bleak landscape was the fact that her preliminary sketches for the new book were better than ever, and even Felicity was pleased.

But there wasn't an hour went by that she didn't think of Matt, and wonder where he was and what he was doing. He had to be back in London by now, with his interview on tape, or without it. As the days lengthened into weeks, she was tempted to telephone him at National Television, ask for his extension just to hear his voice again, but of course she did no such thing. She still had a little pride left, and besides, she reminded herself practically, it was unlikely that Matt would answer his own phone. His secretary—Carole, he'd called her—would do it for him.

Meanwhile, she watched television almost obsessively, waiting to see him or even hear some brief mention of his name, or a trailer of a programme he was involved with. But she was invariably disappointed.

It was as if he'd vanished off the face of the earth, Kate thought, and shivered as she wondered what kind of revenge Jethro Alvarez might take against a man who had become his wife's lover. These were uncomfortable thoughts, and it was a relief to know that she was going to have supper with her parents, instead of sitting in the flat brooding. Even listening to Ally listing the latest treatments for morning sickness was better than that.

All evening Matt was on her mind, this inexplicable sick anxiety about him destroying her appetite. Her mother looked reproachfully at her barely touched plate as they cleared the table.

'Darling, I'm sure you're not well,' she began as they washed up together in the kitchen. 'You haven't been yourself since you came back from your holiday. Do you think you picked up some kind of virus while you were away?'

Kate shook her head. 'I don't think so.'

'Well, I think you should see a doctor,' her mother said decisively. 'You're certainly not eating properly, and you don't look as if you're sleeping either.' She was clearly warming to her theme when her husband came into the room.

'Great excitement in the sitting room,' he said wryly. 'I put the television news on, and it appears that Alison's former boss has got himself involved in some South American revolution.'

It seemed impossible that the glass Kate was holding wasn't lying in shattered fragments on the floor, but she found she was still holding it. She set it down quietly and carefully on the draining board, and put the tea-towel beside it. She wanted to run, but she made herself walk.

Jon looked round as she came into the room, grimacing slightly. Alison was on the edge of her chair, her eyes fixed tensely on the television screen.

'Can you believe it?' Jon said. 'That dictator fellow who was supposed to be dead has been in hiding all this time, and he's staging a comeback. And guess who just happens to be on the spot—the great Matthew Lincoln, of course.'

'Oh, hush!' Alison hissed.

The screen was filled with a picture of a city, which Kate guessed was the capital of Santo Cristo. As she watched it dissolved away, and Jethro Alvarez took its place, wearing some kind of military uniform. And all the time in the background, Matt's voice, distorted and sometimes indistinct. Dimly Kate heard phrases— 'control of the radio station,' 'government forces falling back,' 'fighting in the streets,' 'some loss of life already.' She heard other things too—the muffled rattle of gunfire, louder explosions which had to be falling shells.

She watched the picture fade and the screen grow dark, and suddenly she was part of that darkness, falling into an endless void.

'I still think you should let me call the doctor,' Mrs Herbert said anxiously.

Propped up by pillows, Kate gave her a wan smile. 'Really, I'm all right.'

'All right indeed!' Her mother pursed her lips. 'Fainting away like that! I told you that you must have picked up some kind of virus. Well, you're not going back to that flat of yours, and I've telephoned your landlady and told her so. You're staying here so that I can look after you.'

Kate sighed, 'Mother, I have to go back. I have work to do.'

'Nothing that can't wait.' Mrs Herbert's face wore an expression of steely determination. 'Your career won't be furthered by you making yourself thoroughly ill.'

'No, Mother,' Kate agreed with unwonted meekness.

'And now I'm going to heat up some milk,' was Mrs Herbert's final stern decree as she departed.

Warm milk and her old room. It was like plunging back into childhood, Kate thought when she was alone. Except that no childish crisis in her life had ever hurt like this one. She kept seeing Matt, lying on his back in some dusty street with blood on his face.

She could hardly believe what she had seen and heard, and yet she knew it must be true, and that Alvarez must have been planning it all along. In fact, when she looked back, she could remember things he had said about his plans which she had not understood.

But then, she thought ruefully, she had understood very little of what was going on at the house on St Antoine.

But she had never dreamed that Alvarez intended to re-invade Santo Cristo, or, most incredible of all, that Matt would accompany him. Perhaps Alvarez had forced him, she thought, then castigated herself for being a fool.

It was a chance no newsman would be able to resist, and Matt knew Santo Cristo well because he had been stationed there as a foreign correspondent.

Even if the revolution failed, he would know where to go—how to survive, she told herself with a kind of desperation. He had to know, because if anything happened to him… Her eyes closed and scalding tears began to trickle down her face, as she prayed silently, 'Keep him safe. Oh, please, keep him safe!'

The next day's papers were full of the coup in Santo Cristo, and Jethro Alvarez's apparent return from the dead. Matt's interview with him had been shown the previous night on television, and the papers quoted extensively from it.

There had been secret meetings going on for months, with rebels from the present government, and high-ranking officers in the armed services going to St Antoine to discuss the details of Alvarez's return.

Kate thought, 'No wonder Carlos got so edgy when I talked about visitors! He must have thought we knew something.'

At her mother's insistence, she spent the day resting, trying to resist the temptation to put on the television when the newscasts were on and find out what was happening.

During the afternoon, Alison arrived. Kate's heart sank when she heard her voice in the hall, and saw the speculative glance her sister-in-law cast her as she came in.

'Hello,' Alison said awkwardly. 'Are you feeling better? You gave us quite a fright.'

'I frightened myself,' Kate admitted. She made herself smile 'I think my mother's right, and I have some kind of virus.'

'Oh, really?' Alison didn't bother to disguise her scepticism. She shrugged. 'Well, I suppose you know your own business best, but don't forget I know Matt well—I worked for him—and work always comes first with him, as a number of his girl-friends have found to their cost. He won't be pinned down to any safe, domestic number.' She paused. 'I suppose you were with him, not in Spain at all. And I always thought butter wouldn't melt in your mouth! Well, you live and learn.'

She gave Kate a cool, brief smile and went into the kitchen to talk to Mrs Herbert.

Kate had to force herself to sit quietly through the news that night. The latest bulletin from Santo Cristo included the first pictures of the fighting, and they made her feel sick, but the news was that Alvarez was back in control, and the former government leaders were under arrest. The reporter making the broadcast was a stranger, young and blond. Matt Lincoln's name wasn't even mentioned, she realised, her heart thudding with unease. Where was he? What had happened to him?

In spite of the warm milk, she slept badly that night, disturbed by violent dreams of death in the streets. And next morning, she told her mother that she was going back to the flat.

'But I thought you'd stay till the end of the week,' Mrs Herbert wailed.

Kate shook her head. 'If I stay any longer, Clive will begin to panic. And I can't afford any more time off. I have my living to earn.'

'Oh, Kate!' Her mother bit her lip. 'You still don't look well. You're so drawn!' She hesitated. 'Alison was hinting that there was a man involved. Oh, darling…'

Kate almost ground her teeth. 'Damn you, Alison!' she thought savagely.

Aloud, she said, 'Well, Alison has a vivid imagination, that's all. Please don't worry about me any more.'

Even so, it was late afternoon before she finally got away, after steadfastly refusing to stay for supper. There'd be something in her store cupboard in the flat, she thought, or if not, she'd call at one of the local takeaways.

The journey back to the flat seemed interminable. It began to rain, and she felt damp and despondent as she made her way up the path to the house. The outer door was locked, so Felix and Maria must be out, which was a relief in a way. They would have been watching the news too, and she couldn't endure any kind of inquisition about it.

There was a note on the hall table, written in Maria's flaring script. 'You have a visitor,' followed by a number of exclamation marks.

Kate looked at it stupidly. What did it mean—that someone had called or telephoned? Then why hadn't Maria put the name? She sighed. It was probably Clive, panicking about the illustrations. She would phone him tomorrow, she decided. She was too tired and too wretched to do it that evening.

She walked slowly up the stairs, and pushed open the living room door. It was dim in the room, the curtains half-drawn across the windows, and she saw a movement and screamed, her hand flying to the switch, flooding the room with light.

Matt said wearily, 'I'm sorry if I frightened you. It's the last thing I wanted.'

He'd been lying on her bed, she realised. The movement she had glimpsed had been him sitting up, swinging his legs to the floor. He looked terrible. He was pale and unshaven, and his eyes were red-rimmed with weariness.

She whispered, 'What are you doing here?'

'Waiting for you,' he said. 'I thought you'd never come. Your landlady phoned your home, and they said you were on your way, but that was ages ago.' He threw his head back and looked at her. 'I began to think you'd run away again. It was all part of the nightmare, to get here at last and find that you were gone.'

She said, 'I don't understand. I thought you were in Santo Cristo.'

'I was,' he said briefly. 'But I never intended to stay. The media have rediscovered the place in force by now, and I took the first flight out.'

Kate said, 'You realised what was going on, didn't you? You knew what Alvarez intended?'

'I took an educated guess,' he said. 'It was clear we'd stumbled into the middle of something, and that it would only be a matter of time before Alvarez told me what it was.'

'After Leanne had persuaded him,' she said, staring down at the floor as if it fascinated her.

Matt said cynically, 'I think you vastly overestimate her powers of persuasion. And she hadn't a clue what was going on anyway.'

'But that was why you got the interview.' She still couldn't look at him. 'Because she helped you.'

'I fail to see how,' he said after a moment's pause. 'But I don't really want to talk about that hysterical bitch. I want to know why you ran away like that without a word to anyone.'

'Carlos knew,' she muttered.

'What the hell's that got to do with it?' demanded Matt with a snap. 'You were supposed to be leaving the following day, and you know it!' He gave her a long look. 'In fact from what I remember, you weren't keen on leaving at all.'

The colour rose miserably in her face. 'I changed my mind.'

'And I want to know why.' He moved towards her, and she took an involuntary step backwards. He stopped, his face hardening. 'After what happened between us, I'd have thought I rated an explanation at the least, if not a goodbye.'

'Well, that's simple enough.' Kate lifted her chin. 'The explanation—you wanted me gone, and I wanted to go. And goodbye,' she added defiantly. 'Now perhaps you'd go. I'm tired.'

'I haven't come halfway across the world to be dismissed like that,' Matt said roughly. 'What the hell's the matter with you? Didn't it occur to you that I had good reason for wanting you safely out of the way?'

'Oh, yes,' she said bitterly. 'And I know what it was.' She glared at him, fighting her tears. 'I saw you— remember?'

He said slowly, 'I gather we're back to Leanne again. Well, I don't know what you saw, or what you dreamed perhaps, but it wasn't me. I was not with Leanne, at the pool, or anywhere else for that matter, although I admit I wasn't in my room.' He paused. 'As it happens, I was with Jethro. He sent for me, and we talked until dawn, establishing terms, although he still didn't tell me everything. Naturally, he was still wary in case I jumped the gun and took the surprise element out of the invasion, but it was clear he was prepared to give me an exclusive, if I promised him the guarantees he wanted in return.' He shrugged. 'Of course, I agreed. I'd have probably stood on my head if he'd asked me to, but I would not have seduced his bloody wife, or allowed her to seduce me.'

There was another pounding silence, and Kate felt screaming tension rising inside her.

Matt went on evenly, 'I don't know who you saw with Leanne that night, although I can guess. When you accused me, I thought you were suffering from delusions—sunstroke perhaps, and then I realised what the truth was. But the fact that you could even think it was me proves up to the hilt that you still have this lousy image of me, that you're still convinced that anything female will do.'