The Smouldering Flame. Anne Mather
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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.
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