A Sister’s Gift Page 4

  ‘Who will we be working for?’ I narrow my eyes now. ‘Even assuming we get the funds together to buy out this tract of forest so we continue our research…’

  ‘We’re flying by the seat of our pants now, Scarlett, let’s make no bones about that. I’m touting for backers. We need money. Lots of it. Don’t know any rich men, do you?’ She laughs nervously when I shake my head. ‘We’ve had some initial interest from a lady called Defoe at the European Alliance Group. I’m sorry this has happened so unexpectedly for you – it’s taken us all by surprise, believe me.’

  ‘So I’ve got to go home to renew my papers and none of us might have a job here come the summer?’

  ‘We’ve enough in the kitty to keep us going for maybe a month after Chiquitin-Almeira pull out but the situation is pretty bad, I won’t lie to you.’

  ‘We could still rescue it, though?’ I look at her uncertainly. ‘If we all pull together, I mean?’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Eve nods. ‘You don’t mind going home first, do you? I’ll be honest with you – you’re the person who I feel has the best chance of all of us to persuade people to part with their cash. You persuaded Tunga to give up the tribal secrets, didn’t you?’

  I swallow down my first response to that because she won’t want to hear it. I do mind going home.

  But there are more important things at stake here than just my feelings.

  ‘I understand you’ll be disappointed, Scarlett, but at least you’ll be coming back. And you haven’t seen any of your family for a good year and a half, have you?’ I get up and walk over to the tent flap because I need to take in some air. ‘That’s got to be one of the bright sides to going home for a bit,’ Eve says encouragingly to my back.

  ‘Sure, one of the bright sides, Eve.’

  That’s what she thinks.

  Hollie

  ‘I’m so sorry, Rich.’ I sprint the last frozen metres up to the bench on Jackson’s field where Richard is waiting for me. ‘That meeting with the whole board at work went on for an age.’

  I put my hand over my chest, my breath coming in short white puffs as he looks up, bemused.

  That guy I’ve seen hanging around before – the one with the hoodie – he was just behind me, I’d swear it was the same guy. He started walking towards me like he wanted to talk so I just ran. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to even think about him. Oh God. Rich is going to see something’s up if I don’t calm down…

  ‘All the Bridge Wardens were there,’ I puff. ‘They wanted to get this business over with before we close for Christmas. I thought I’d never get away.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Hol.’ He pats the bench beside him sympathetically. ‘You didn’t need to rush so much.’

  ‘Of course I did.’ I look for a place to put my bag down but the bench is frozen, wet. ‘I didn’t want to miss you.’ I distract. I glance over my shoulder but the hoodie guy has gone. Automatically I feel myself relax. ‘How long have we got before you catch the train to London?’

  ‘About twenty-five minutes.’

  ‘Damn it. This bridge-mending business is dragging on for an age.’ Richard hands me one of the cups and I take a grateful sip. It’s lukewarm but still welcome. ‘They haven’t found any evidence of scouring on the piers yet, but it looks as if the riverbed has definitely been lowered…’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Richard grabs hold of my gloved hands and pulls me towards him for a kiss.

  I don’t think he’s been listening to a single word I’ve just said.

  ‘It’s good?’

  ‘Of course it is. They’re getting to the bottom of it, aren’t they? Maybe that means the next time I invite my wife to have lunch with me I won’t be forced to sit beside a mile-long line of traffic crawling along the New Road,’ he teases. ‘Poor buggers have been stuck there for ages.’

  ‘Ha! Maybe next time you’ll treat me to the Italian,’ I retort. ‘Then we’ll get to sit in the warm instead of out here on the freezing cold bench.’

  ‘If we moved to Italy,’ he says out of the blue, ‘we could eat Italian all the time. We could eat it sitting on a sun-kissed patio with a blue sky over our heads.’

  I laugh at his comment. ‘I’m not planning on moving out of the country just to get a decent meal,’ I shiver. He holds my gaze for a fraction of a second and then shakes his head, as if thinking better of whatever he was going to say.

  ‘Sorry, darling. You’re going to have to accept a raincheck on the restaurant. This is all we’ve got time for today.’ He points to the brown paper bag with an assortment of sandwiches on the other side of him. I sigh. I suspected this was going to be a hurried rendezvous when he texted me earlier about needing to go to London, but with the delays at my end it’s become even more of a rushed affair.

  ‘Where’s my other one?’ I peer at the chicken and cucumber sandwich he’s just handed me.

  ‘I fed it to the pigeons. I thought you weren’t coming.’

  ‘You didn’t!’ I punch his arm jovially. ‘Those were your crusts. What have you done with it?’

  ‘Kiss first.’ He tilts his head challengingly as I make a grab for the brown bag. ‘Come on. Kiss – or no sandwich.’

  ‘That’s blackmail,’ I murmur, but I give him what he asks for, gladly. Even though his nose and cheeks are cold, his lips are warm.

  ‘You can’t take the train up a little later, I suppose?’ I look at him hopefully. ‘Then we could be a bit more leisurely.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I’d love to, darling, but I just heard Dad’s got to go in for his first set of tests this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh, Rich! I thought this was a work trip. You didn’t say…’ We both watch the birds squabbling over the last piece of crust for a bit, lost in our own thoughts. I swallow, suddenly nervous. ‘It’s all been rather sudden, hasn’t it? How’s your mum taking it all?’

  Richard shrugs. ‘She’s keeping upbeat. Chances are there’s probably nothing wrong with him at all, apart from stress, which is what his doctor reckons. I thought I’d spare her going in with him, though. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Of course not! Do you have any idea when you’ll be home?’

  ‘They want to keep him in overnight so I’ll stay till tomorrow.’

  ‘The family are still all planning on coming to ours for Christmas Eve, aren’t they?’

  He nods. ‘They’re all still keen to come. And Jay will drive Mum and Dad back up on Boxing Day. Hol, there’s something else…’He turns to me, hesitant now. ‘When I spoke to Jay on the phone earlier he hinted that…he and Sarah might have some “good news” to celebrate.’

  The sandwich in my mouth suddenly tastes like cardboard.

  ‘Oh. What sort of good news, did he say?’ I’m trying to keep my voice breezy but he knows full well I don’t feel it.

  ‘No, but we could hazard a guess…’ He looks apologetic. ‘You’re sure you’re OK with me going up to London today?’

  My mind is racing. How could Sarah be pregnant already? Rich’s brother and Sarah only got married in the summer…I make an effort to concentrate, get back to what Richard’s just asked me.

  ‘No, of course you must go. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Did you manage to get hold of your sister this morning?’ he reminds me. ‘Find out if she’s actually left Brazil yet?’

  ‘Her mobile was switched off as usual and then it got so busy at work, I couldn’t try again.’

  ‘And…are you still planning on asking her if and when she does turn up?’ he asks softly now.

  I bite my lip. ‘You don’t think I should, Rich?’

  ‘I can understand why you want to ask her,’ he says carefully. ‘She’s your sister, the child would be related to you. It keeps it all in the family, and you don’t have to rely on strangers who might let you down. I understand that. It’s just…’He puts his hands around my shoulders as we get up to make our way down to the station. ‘Face it, she doesn’t even live in England any more.
And she’s already involved in a demanding and dangerous and – to her – irresistible job. Don’t forget, we’re talking about Scarlett here,’ he reminds me. ‘Not just anybody’s sister. Scarlett’s – well, she’s got a lot of ideas about what she wants to get out of life. I can’t see having someone else’s baby being top of her agenda.’

  ‘No. There wouldn’t be anything in it for her at all, as you say. It could only be a gift.’

  ‘A gift, indeed. The greatest act of charity a woman could do for another. Well, who knows?’ he smiles. ‘Until you ask we won’t know what her answer will be.’

  Scarlett

  Home in time for Christmas, just like Eve said, but I’ve been travelling for so many days now, I barely know what date it is. I try and count the days in my head. Eleven days on the boat from base camp to the brown waters of the Solimoes river – I woke up just in time to see a flock of prawn-coloured flamingos rising up over the mangrove treeline – one more day to reach the port at Manaus then thirty-six more hours on the sleeper coach out of there to Caracas International airport – nearly two weeks.

  It feels as if I had that conversation with Eve in her tent only a few days ago but…I rub my eyes, getting my bearings, I am back in Rochester. It is – I glance at my Mickey Mouse watch – quarter to four in the afternoon on the twentieth of December, and it’s already starting to get dark.

  I pull the rusty latch on the gate at the bottom of the garden and the familiar ‘click’ echoes into the early dusk. The sound of the latch has alerted Ruffles and I can hear him ambling expectantly down the garden path. The wooden gate sticks and even before I’ve got it open I can hear his laboured breathing on the other side.

  ‘Hey, boy! It’s me. How’s my old boy, my lovely boy?’

  And here I am again, my face buried in the familiar smell of wet Labrador fur. He’s missed me like crazy, the silly old thing, and I’ve been too busy to even give him a second thought. One and a half years. Has it really been that long? But I see that the clump of Physalis, bright red berries swaying in their delicate paper cases by the herb beds, has almost doubled in size. It has been that long.

  ‘Scarlett?’

  I spin round at the familiar low sound of Richard’s voice as he closes the garden gate behind him now.

  ‘Is that really you?’

  I laugh, running into his arms, at his surprise. Oh my God, I’m really home.

  ‘Do I look so different?’ I challenge. Though the sky is bright tonight, the garden where we stand is getting darker by the minute and he peers closer at my face.

  ‘You’ve – grown up,’ he professes. ‘You always looked so young…but, Lettie…’He pushes his dark hair out of his face, laughing, and I remember that my brother-in-law is shy. ‘We knew you were coming but we had no idea when. Why didn’t you tell us you’d be arriving today? I’d have picked you up from the airport. And you know Hollie. She likes to be prepared for guests…’

  Good, I think. I’m glad she hasn’t had time to prepare for me. Let her learn to be spontaneous and go with the flow, for once.

  ‘I’m twenty-four,’ I remind him. About bloody time everyone stopped thinking of me as a kid. Just because Hollie’s eight years older than me doesn’t mean her little sister’s going to remain a ‘kid’ forever. ‘I don’t need any special treatment,’ I laugh at him. ‘I didn’t expect anyone to bake me a cake.’

  Richard grins good-naturedly and Ruffles does an old dog impression of a young dog, rushing between us and nuzzling his hand and mine, not knowing which way to turn in his delight.

  ‘Hollie’s been so looking forward to seeing you.’ Richard puts his arm about my neck companionably as we walk back towards the house. ‘You’re staying with us for Christmas, of course?’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  ‘She’ll be over the moon,’ Richard promises me. ‘She’s been talking about you a lot lately.’ His voice changes almost imperceptibly. ‘You’re not so easy to get hold of, out there, are you?’

  ‘No. We move about quite a bit. It’s easier for me to contact her than the other way. Sorry, I add, because I know I haven’t kept in touch half as much as I should have. When I’m out there I have so much else to think about. So many things…The mission I have come over to accomplish rushes momentarily to the front of my mind, all those funds that Eve hopes I’m magically going to be able to wheedle out of people. Will Rich and Hollie be able to help?

  I push my fringe away impatiently from my eyes; I’m not going to go into that right now. I have so much to fill them in on, so much to share, but the comforting touch of Richard’s hand on my neck makes me silent, calms me down, reminds me that I’m home.

  When we step inside Florence Cottage, the flickering from the huge log fire glowing in the inglenook is the only movement. Where is my sister? I drop my damp rucksack on the rug.

  ‘Hollie’s out shopping getting some bits in for the holiday. It’s Saturday,’ Richard reminds me.

  ‘Of course. Christmas Eve in a few days’ time as well.’ I glance around the familiar room. The plump red and gold cushions we once embroidered for Auntie Flo as part of a school project are still in place on the deep settee beside the fire. The original oak beams are still hung about with drying herbs, just like Flo used to have them. My sister has somehow managed to maintain the authentic Olde Worlde air of the place just as Florence would have wanted it. And trust Hollie to have added some mistletoe to the mix. Hoping Richard’ll kiss her under it no doubt – always the romantic, my sister – not like me!

  ‘Can I fix you a drink?’ His question pulls me out of my reverie.

  ‘Sure, I’d love one.’ While Richard disappears into the kitchen I linger by the fire for a bit, pulling off my wet gloves, warming up my fingers and taking in my old home a little more closely.

  I see Hollie’s got that picture of the three of us taken on their wedding day still hanging on the wall. I must have been all of fourteen there. Hollie was just twenty-two. So young. I look about eleven, though. Ugh. It might be a good one of the two of them, but I wish she’d take it down.

  ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having,’ I call in the direction of the kitchen. I could do with a nice drink. Everyone drinks rum at the weekends in Manaus – not my favourite beverage, I’ll admit. A Long Island Iced Tea now – that would go down a treat. I should change out of these damp clothes I suppose. I glance at the clock. I should, but I won’t, because once Hollie gets back she’ll want me all to herself and then I’ll never get a chance to spend any time with Richard.

  ‘Here you go,’ Richard’s back with a large mug of steaming cocoa. ‘I’ve remembered your usual mug. The one with the baby chimps on,’ he says, pleased with himself.

  ‘Oh, that’s sweet of you.’ I deliberately keep my face straight and take a sip. ‘At least it’s not camomile.’

  ‘Hollie’s tea? No.’ Richard sits down at the other end of my sofa. ‘Yuck! You’re more of a chocolate girl, aren’t you?’

  More of a Cabernet Sauvignon girl nowadays, I think but, hey, maybe cocoa is a better prospect in front of this lovely warm fire just at the moment.

  ‘I still can’t quite believe it,’ Richard is shaking his head. ‘You’re back, and looking so well, and…all in one piece!’ He laughs. ‘Are you still staying with the Yanomami Indians?’

  I nod. ‘I’ve been living with a family unit of about fifty Indians.’ I lean back into the sofa and regard him with half-closed eyes. His hair is dark, like Guillermo’s, but that just about ends the resemblance between them. Richard is taller. He’s slim but still muscular. Guillermo is more…wiry. His features are quicksilver, Latin, urgent and hard. More…dangerous. I give a secret smile. Should I tell Rich about Gui, or should I wait until Hollie is here too?

  ‘Fifty of them?’ Richard prompts. ‘And your tribe – do they have much contact with the outside world?’

  ‘My people prefer to keep to themselves. When the white men come – the pelacaras as they call them – they keep
on the move. The truth is, they’re scared witless of the illegal loggers that come with their tractors. The machines make such a noise when they chomp down the forest, clearing everything away. They think the machines are going to eat them up too.’ I give a small shiver, remembering. ‘So they run.’

  ‘They run,’ Richard’s eyes narrow. ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m not scared of the loggers.’

  He takes a sip from his mug, places it thoughtfully down on the coffee table in front of us. ‘No. But you’re working with them, aren’t you? When they run away from the loggers – what do you do?’

  I smile. ‘Sometimes I run with them. When I can keep up with them. Once or twice I’ve woken up in the morning to find the camp broken up, everyone gone, just disappeared overnight. When they go, Rich, they don’t leave any trace. No remains of the fires that were burning. No branches that were torn down as shelters, no footprints; nothing. You wake up and find it’s just you there. Alone. It totally creeps you out, that.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ he says. His eyes are alive with interest and I shuffle a bit more upright on the sofa, trying to reconnect with some of the adrenaline that propelled me back home in the first place.

  ‘It feels…’ I stop to consider for a bit, recalling the gaping feeling of emptiness I felt the first time it happened. ‘I can’t really describe it. The first time it happened I thought they’d all been killed or something, I didn’t know what had happened.’

  He makes a sympathetic face. ‘That must have been terrifying.’

  It had been. I had felt…utterly abandoned.

  ‘I got through it,’ I tell him softly, ‘by thinking of home. I’ve come to think of them as my second family,’ I continue. ‘You and Hollie are my first family and they are my second family. It took me three days to find them again that time, and I only managed it because our tracker guy Barry from PlanetLove came and helped me and it turned out my little guide José had left us a secret trail.’