The Smouldering Flame

Joanna did not answer this, but her nerves tightened at his words. If that were so, she ought not to have come here, and she had the feeling that Shannon would not appreciate her having done so. If only they had told her in Menawi how remote the mine was! But then she had not told them that she intended making the journey here herself.

At this hour of the afternoon there were few men about, but those there were stared with unconcealed amazement at Lorenz’s companion in the cab of the lorry. Joanna could feel the hot colour in her cheeks adding to the general discomfort of her body, and she did not like the amusement Lorenz made no effort to hide.

The layout of the site reminded her of an industrial estate back home, only here two-storied dwellings mingled with steel-ribbed girders and the intricate maze of a chemical processing plant. Had it not been for the heat which, even though the sun was slowly losing its power, was still intense here in the valley, they could have been in any industrial complex anywhere in the world.

Looking about her, Joanna finally had to ask: ‘Which of these blocks does my brother occupy?’

‘None of them,’ replied Lorenz laconically, startling her for a minute until he added: ‘Managers don’t live in blocks. They have houses. It’s not much further. Have patience, Miss Carne.’

The sarcasm was back and Joanna clenched her lips. They had turned off the main thoroughfare on to a narrow track leading between the living blocks which were interspersed here and there with stretches of scorched grass. Occasionally she caught glimpses of men playing football behind the buildings, but mostly her attention was fixed on the corrugated-roofed bungalows she could see ahead of them. There were several, set at intervals between scrub hedges, all alike with stuccoed walls painted in pastel shades, and overhanging eaves. Lorenz brought the heavy vehicle to a halt before one of them. The place looked deserted, the blinds were drawn and there was no apparent sign of life.

‘That’s it,’ he announced derisively. ‘I hope you don’t find it disappointing.’

Joanna was sure he hoped she did, but she thrust open her door and climbed down quickly before he could offer his assistance. He handed her out her suitcase, and she had perforce to thank him.

‘I don’t know how I’d have managed without you,’ she admitted.

‘Nor do I,’ he agreed, and let out his clutch; the lorry trundled noisily away.

After he had gone, it seemed incredibly quiet. The tiring journey on the train, the uproar at the station, and the trip in the lorry had all taken their toll of her nerves, and even the low throbbing sound which was all she could hear was welcome. Even so, she half thought her arrival would have disturbed someone, but no one appeared to have noticed.

Stifling the awful feeling of panic which was welling up inside her, Joanna picked up her suitcase and walked determinedly up the path to a meshed door. An outer door stood wide, but the meshed door had a self-closing hinge.

Feeling rather like an interloper, she knocked at the wood which surrounded the mesh and mentally composed how she was going to introduce herself. What if Shannon didn’t recognise her? She was sure she would recognise him. His image was printed indelibly on her mind.

No one answered her knock, and with a sigh she knocked harder. Still there was no response, and she shaded her eyes with one hand and looked hopefully up and down the road. What if Lorenz had brought her to the wrong bungalow? He might have done so deliberately. If only there was someone she could ask.

But the empty road mocked her, and the drawn blinds on the adjoining bungalows did not encourage intruders. When no one replied to her third attempt to attract attention, she tentatively opened the meshed door and went in.

She found herself in a narrow hall covered by some rubber flooring, but otherwise bare. The hall appeared to run from front to back of the building, with several doors opening from it. On impulse, Joanna opened one of these doors and peeped into the room beyond. She saw what appeared to be a study with a desk strewn with papers, a chair, a filing cabinet, and two telephones. A second door revealed a living room—armchairs, dining chairs and table, bookshelves, and a drinks cabinet.

Joanna closed this second door and stood, undecided. If this was not Shannon’s house she was taking dreadful liberties, and even if it was, she had no way of knowing what his reaction to her presence there might be. Perhaps she should go outside again and wait until someone did appear. Surely—she consulted the slim masculine watch on her wrist—surely the day’s work must almost be over. The men who lived in the other bungalows might be returning to them.

She was moving away towards the door when a low groan reached her ears. Immediately she stiffened, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. The sound was coming from a room further along the hall, and with comprehension came the realisation that Lorenz had not been lying when he had told her that Shannon was ill.

Putting down her case again, she went stealthily along the hall and pressed her ear to the panels of the door. There was no further sound from within, but her hand had found the handle and she could not resist turning it.

The room beyond was darkened, but blessedly cool. Whatever else these bungalows lacked, they had air-conditioning, and for a moment it was heaven for Joanna to feel the cool air against her over-heated skin. But then her eyes adjusted themselves to the dimness and she could make out the figure of a man tossing and turning on a narrow bed. Her nails digging into her palms, she moved forward, and then drew back again as she realised the man was naked. He had kicked the thin cotton sheet aside, and although his body was streamed with sweat, she could see he was shivering.

Joanna hesitated only a moment longer, and then moved forward once more, gathering the sheet from the foot of the bed and drawing it up over his shuddering limbs. Mosquito netting hung suspended over the bed, but when she brushed it aside she could see his face, and a curious weakness assailed her. Shannon’s eyes were glazed and unseeing, but they were the same tawny eyes she remembered, the same heavy lids and long curling lashes. He had changed a little; after all, he was ten years older and therefore more mature. Nevertheless, the lean intelligent features were not so different, and from what she had seen of his muscled body, he still hadn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him. His dark brown hair was longer than it had been, but it was just as thick and virile, and her fingers trembled as she touched it now, smoothing a heavy swathe back from his damp forehead. Her fingers lingered against his burning skin, needing that physical contact, but as he fought her attempts to keep the sheet over him, she looked round desperately, wondering what she could do. She felt angry as she wondered how long he had been lying here like this without anyone to care for him. Why wasn’t he in the hospital Lorenz had shown her receiving proper attention?

‘Shannon,’ she ventured at last, sitting down on the side of the bed. ‘Shannon—it’s me, Joanna! Do you remember me?’

Her softly spoken words seemed to penetrate his delirium, and for a few seconds there was a look of faint recognition in the eyes he turned in her direction. But then it disappeared, and he began twisting restlessly again, licking his lips as if he was parched.

‘Who are you? What do you think you’re doing?’

The cold angry words brought Joanna almost guiltily to her feet and she turned to find a woman entering the room. In a white uniform, she was probably a nurse, Joanna decided, and she made an involuntary gesture of apology.

‘I—I’m Joanna Carne,’ she explained awkwardly. ‘Shannon’s—sister.’

The woman’s dark brows drew together uncomprehendingly, and as she drew nearer Joanna could see that like the man Lorenz, she was of mixed blood. But the combination was quite startlingly beautiful. Smooth olive features, lustrous dark eyes, and a wide sensuous mouth, her dark hair confined with madonna-like severity at the nape of her neck, she was unlike any nurse Joanna had ever seen, and her presence in this room emphasised the gulf which had opened between Shannon and his family more surely than the distance of miles could have done.

‘You—are Shannon’s sister?’ The woman shook her head now. Then: ‘What are you doing here—Miss Carne? Your brother is ill, as you can see. Please wait outside and I will speak with you after I have attended to my patient.’

The way she said those words made them an order, not a request, and the curtness of her tone caught Joanna on the raw. She had travelled thousands of miles to find her brother, and he was her brother, after all. How dared this woman, this stranger, nurse or otherwise, order her out of his bedroom?

‘There was no one about when I arrived,’ she stated, annoyed to hear the defensive note in her voice. ‘I let myself in, and when I heard—groaning, I came to see if there was anything I could do.’

‘Well, there is not.’ The nurse’s eyes were coolly appraising as she held up her hand to reveal the syringe she was holding. ‘As I have already suggested, if you will wait outside …’

‘What is that?’ Joanna looked anxious.

The nurse sighed, displaying the tolerance she might have shown to a child. ‘It is quinine, Miss Carne. Nothing more alarming than that. Now, if you don’t mind …’

Joanna almost protested, but one look at Shannon still tossing on the bed silenced her. Arguing with this woman was only delaying his treatment, and she had the feeling she would be wasting her time anyway. With a shrug of her shoulders, she walked towards the door, and as she reached it she looked back and saw the woman drawing down the sheet and taking Shannon’s right arm between her fingers. Joanna watched for a moment longer, and then, as the woman turned impatient eyes in her direction, she pressed her lips together and left the room.

CHAPTER TWO

JOANNA paced up and down the living room, her cork-soled sandals squeaking on the rubber-tiled floor. But she was too disturbed to sit and wait patiently for the nurse to come and speak to her, and with every minute that passed she grew more and more frustrated. How much longer was she to be kept waiting? What was going on in Shannon’s bedroom? Surely it didn’t take this long to give someone an injection.

There was the sound of footsteps behind her, and she swung round in relief, only to find a black youth in white shirt and shorts staring at her from the open doorway. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him, but like the nurse he obviously considered he had the prior authority here.

‘You waiting to see Mr Carne, missus?’ he asked frowning. ‘You can’t. He sick. He not seeing anyone.’

Joanna sighed. ‘I know he’s sick, but I have seen him.’ Then as his dark eyes mirrored his alarm, she hastened on: ‘I’m Mr Carne’s sister. From England.’ She waited until this was absorbed, and then added a question of her own. ‘Who are you?’

The youth looked taken aback. ‘Jacob, missus,’ he answered reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder. ‘You seen Miss Camilla?’

‘Miss Camilla?’ Joanna folded her arms, supporting her chin with the knuckles of one hand. ‘Would that be—the nurse?’

Jacob nodded. ‘Miss Camilla looking after Mr Carne.’

Joanna inclined her head. ‘Yes, I’ve seen her.’ She paused in front of him. ‘Do you work for Mr Carne?’

Jacob shifted under her scrutiny. ‘I Mr Carne’s houseboy,’ he admitted, his chin jutting proudly. ‘Jacob best houseboy in Kwyana.’

‘I’m sure you are,’ agreed Joanna dryly. ‘Tell me, how long has Mr Carne been ill?’

‘Two days, Miss Carne.’ The nurse’s cool tones overrode Jacob’s reply. ‘I told you I would answer your questions as soon as I had attended to my patient.’ She looked at the houseboy. ‘That’s all right, Jacob, I can handle this. You can go.’

‘Yes’m, Miss Camilla.’

Jacob left them, and Joanna tried not to let the other woman’s assumption of authority undermine her confidence. But her words had been in the nature of a reprimand, and it was apparent that Jacob regarded her instructions as law.

‘Now …’ The woman Jacob had called Camilla indicated a low armchair. ‘Won’t you sit down, Miss Carne? I’m sure we can speak much more amicably that way.’

Joanna took a deep breath. ‘I prefer to stand.’

She didn’t. But the small gesture of defiance did not go unnoticed as she had intended.

‘Very well.’ Camilla made an indifferent gesture. ‘What brings you to Kwyana, Miss Carne?’

‘I don’t think that’s anything to do with you,’ replied Joanna evenly. ‘And I’d like to ask some questions of my own, if you have no objections.’

‘None at all.’

Camilla lounged gracefully into an armchair, crossing her long slender legs, and immediately Joanna felt at a disadvantage. The white uniform did something for the other woman, she had to admit, and she could quite see that Camilla would enjoy wearing it. It would command admiration and respect among the Africans, and was the perfect foil for her dark beauty.

Suddenly aware of her own dishevelled appearance when compared to that dusky elegance, Joanna broke into speech: ‘What is wrong with my brother?’

Camilla’s look was vaguely condescending. ‘Malaria, Miss Carne. Your brother is recovering from an attack of malaria.’

‘Is that serious?’

‘It can be. But nowadays, with modern drugs and modern treatment, it is not the debilitating thing it once was. Nevertheless, it can be most unpleasant for the patient, as you saw.’

Joanna nodded. ‘But is he getting better?’

‘Well, he’s not getting any worse,’ Camilla amended dryly. ‘Knowing your brother, I’d say he’d be up and about in a couple of days.’

‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Joanna could not hide her relief, but the other woman was regarding her frowningly.

‘I—I understood Shannon broke with his family some years ago,’ she ventured unexpectedly, and Joanna felt the hot colour fill her cheeks.

‘Did you?’ she managed, turning away towards the windows which overlooked the bungalow adjacent to this, noticing how the shadows were lengthening as the afternoon drew to its close. It would be dark soon. ‘I—I’m very hungry,’ she said quietly. ‘Do you think Jacob would make me a sandwich? I haven’t eaten since this morning.’

She was conscious of Camilla getting to her feet, and glanced round half apprehensively to find the other woman surveying her contemptuously. Without her controlled mask of composure she looked older than Joanna had first thought her, but no less intimidating.

‘Shannon will not want you here,’ she stated with cold conviction. ‘I know how he feels about his—family!’

Joanna squared her shoulders. ‘Do you? Well, I intend to stay and find that out for myself.’

‘Then you’re a fool!’ Camilla controlled her sudden outburst, and with calmer emphasis, asked: ‘Where do you intend to stay? There are no hotels here.’

Joanna gasped. ‘I—shall stay here, naturally.’

‘Where? There is only one bedroom. These bungalows are built for individuals, not for entertaining.’

Joanna looked about her. ‘I can use two of these chairs, pushed together. You don’t have to bother about me, Miss—Miss——?’

‘Langley. Nurse Langley,’ retorted Camilla abruptly. ‘And you can’t sleep here. There’s no mosquito netting, and these chairs are probably infested with bugs. Or don’t you care?’

Joanna hid her instinctive shiver of fear. Insects of any kind terrified her, but she refused to let Camilla see that. ‘I’ll manage somehow,’ she insisted, clinging to the knowledge that this woman could not force her to leave.

‘Why have you come here?’

Clearly her presence at Kwyana represented a problem to Camilla, but Joanna had no intention of satisfying her curiosity.

‘I want to speak to Shannon,’ she said steadily. ‘Now, will you call Jacob, or shall I?’

That small piece of defiance brought an angry darkening of colour to Camilla’s cheeks, but before either of them could speak again, someone knocked at the outer door and a man’s voice, with a definite American accent, called: ‘Is anybody home?’

Camilla’s face cleared, and ignoring Joanna, she walked to the hall door, her smile warm and welcoming. ‘I’m here, Brad,’ she answered. ‘Come on in.’

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and then a man appeared in the doorway, casually dressed in a bush shirt and shorts. He was a huge man, with broad shoulders and rusty hair that extended from his head, over his chest and down his arms and legs. Joanna guessed he wasn’t much more than Shannon’s age, and his bushy eyebrows ascended rapidly at sight of her.

‘Hell’s teeth, who’s this?’ he exclaimed, grinning. ‘A white female, no less. Shannon has all the luck!’

Camilla cast a denigrating glance in Joanna’s direction. ‘That is Shannon’s sister,’ she remarked briefly. ‘Or so she says. I must say, she doesn’t look much like him!’

‘I am Shannon’s sister!’ declared Joanna hotly, and then coloured herself at the look in the American’s eyes.

‘I believe you,’ he said, coming towards her holding out his hand. ‘I’m Brad Steiner, ventilation superintendent at the mine. And you’re …?’

‘Joanna. Joanna Carne. How do you do?’ Joanna allowed him to envelop her small hand in his much larger one, and then withdrew her fingers quickly. ‘Are you a friend of my brother’s, Mr Steiner?’

‘The name’s Brad, and yes, I guess you could call me that. We’re old buddies. Used to work together in the Transvaal. Came up to Lushasa at the same time.’

‘I see.’

As Joanna absorbed this, Brad turned back to Camilla. ‘Anyway, how is he?’ he asked, with evident concern. ‘That’s why I came. Meeting Joanna …’ he used her name quite unselfconsciously, ‘was just a bonus.’

‘He’s a little better,’ replied Camilla shortly. She had not liked Brad’s response to Joanna’s fair attraction, and her smile was no longer in evidence. ‘I’ve just been explaining to Miss Carne that she can’t possibly stay here.’

Brad frowned. ‘Stay here? Oh, you mean actually here, in Shannon’s house?’ He looked Joanna’s way again. ‘Shannon didn’t mention you were coming, or we’d have fixed something up, wouldn’t we, Camilla? As it is——’

‘Shannon didn’t know I was coming, Mr Steiner,’ said Joanna reluctantly, aware of the other woman’s contempt. ‘It’s a—surprise visit. And you really don’t have to worry about me. I’ll manage.’

‘I think Miss Carne should be accommodated at the hospital,’ put in Camilla, as Brad Steiner stood considering the situation, his brows drawn together. ‘There are plenty of spare beds there, and it would avoid the inevitable speculation her arrival is bound to cause among the men.’

‘You could be right——’ Brad was beginning, when Joanna broke in angrily.

‘I have no intention of sleeping at the hospital,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve already told Miss—Nurse Langley. I’m staying here.’

‘Sleeping on two chairs!’ Camilla was scornful.

‘Have you a better suggestion?’ countered Joanna, but Brad raised his hand in protest.

‘I have,’ he said with finality. ‘I have that folding camper my nephew Rod used when he visited last year. Providing the bugs haven’t eaten it away, you could use that, Joanna.’

Joanna wasn’t quite sure what a camper was, but she guessed it was some sort of folding bed. ‘That would be marvellous!’ she thanked him, but Camilla still had an objection.

‘What about the mosquitoes?’ she demanded.

‘I guess I have some netting somewhere,’ Brad assured her, his eyes twinkling at Joanna. ‘Like the lady says, we’ll manage.’

‘I shall have to report this to Doctor Reisbaum,’ stated Camilla shortly, and marched out of the room.

After she had gone there was an uneasy silence, and then Brad grinned at Joanna, and some of the tension left her. ‘Don’t mind Camilla,’ he said. ‘Like all medical people, she thinks we ordinary mortals don’t know how to look after ourselves. But she’s a damn good nurse, and she’d do anything for Shannon, you know.’

‘I know.’ Joanna had gathered that, but she had her own interpretation of Camilla’s motives. Camilla didn’t want her here, but it was a much more personal thing than caring for Shannon’s health. She had made that very plain.

‘I live next door,’ Brad was saying now, and Joanna dragged her thoughts back to the present. ‘What say I go round, get my houseboy to fetch you the camper and set it up in here while you wash up, then maybe later you’d come round and have supper with me?’

Joanna plucked the damp denim away from her midriff, looking doubtful. She longed to submerge her sticky limbs in cool water, but the idea of taking supper with this friendly American did not appeal. What she really had in mind was to wash and change her clothes, cajole Jacob into making her something to eat, and then sit with Shannon for a while. Even if he wasn’t aware of her presence, it would give her time to collect her thoughts.

‘I really think I’d rather stay here this evening,’ she refused him politely. ‘I’m grateful for your offer of the bed, but I am rather—tired.’

Brad nodded understandingly. ‘Okay. Point taken. I’ll have Andy fetch the camper round in a few minutes.’ He walked towards the door and then paused. ‘If you have any trouble with Jacob, just let me know.’

Which wasn’t very reassuring, Joanna thought, but she saw Brad to the door, and then walked down the hall looking for the kitchen. It wasn’t difficult to find. Someone had switched on the strip lighting, and when she paused in the doorway she saw that Jacob was sitting on a tall stool beside a steel-covered working surface, studying the newspaper which was spread out in front of him. There was no sign of Camilla, and Joanna looked round the small, functional room with interest. Because of the incidence of electricity, everything was extremely modern and up to date, even to the presence of a deep freeze in one corner.

Clearing her throat to attract the African’s attention, she said: ‘Could you tell me where the bathroom is, Jacob?’

Jacob looked round, and because her eyes were steady and inquiring, he got reluctantly to his feet. ‘You staying here, miss?’ he asked, a certain amount of aggression in his tone.

Joanna sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘That’s what Miss Camilla said.’

‘Good.’ Joanna glanced round. ‘Where is—Miss Camilla?’

‘She’s gone. Back to hospital.’ Jacob’s chin jutted. ‘Who say you stay here? This Mr Carne’s house.’

Joanna gasped. ‘And I’m Mr Carne’s sister!’ she retorted, angrily. ‘Are you questioning my right to be here, Jacob?’

Jacob’s belligerence suffered a slight puncturing. ‘Miss Camilla, she say better you stay at hospital.’

‘I don’t give a damn what Miss Camilla says!’ Joanna answered furiously. ‘I’m staying here, and if you have any objections, I suggest you save them until your employer is capable of answering them himself!’

‘Yes’m,’ mumbled Jacob sullenly, and then: ‘Mr Carne, sir!’

Joanna had been too taken up with her argument with Jacob to be aware of any sound behind her, but the horrified look on Jacob’s face made her swing round in dismay, her lips parting involuntarily. Somehow Shannon had dragged himself out of bed, pulled on a navy bathrobe which he had wrapped loosely about him, and was standing swaying behind her. He was no less pale than when she had seen him tossing on his bed, but at least his eyes had lost their glazed stare.

‘For heaven’s sake, Jacob,’ he was saying, grasping the door post for support, ‘what in hell is going on?’ Then his eyes shifted to Joanna, and she saw the wave of disbelief that crossed his lean features. ‘My God! It was you!’ he muttered incredulously. ‘I—thought I was dreaming!’

Joanna could feel a lump in her throat just looking at him, and her voice was unsteady as she said softly: ‘Yes, it’s me, Shannon. I’m—I’m sorry you’re not well.’

‘Not well!’ Shannon raised his eyes heavenward for a moment. ‘For God’s sake, what are you doing here?’ His eyes darted round the room. ‘Who brought you? You can’t have come alone.’