Ryman, Rebecca (108 page)

"Don't
be tricked into complacency by a few cheap victories, Olivia." He spoke
almost gently. "You will not be able to fight me."

"You
think not? And why, might I ask, such an odd delusion?"

"I
know not. Unlike you, I am unencumbered by a conscience."

"No
longer! In your admirable tutelage I have also unloaded
that unwanted
appendage. The rules I too follow now are my own. I devise, I improvise. Like
you I too have made a fine art of the rule of thumb." Olivia's voice rang
with confidence, but how she hated that minimal quaver she always felt in his
presence!

"Indeed!"
He smiled and leaned against a pillar. "Street dogs fight very craftily,
Olivia. They attack from unexpected directions, which is how they survive as a
beleaguered breed."

"Not
every street dog wins every fight. Sometimes crafty mongrels too can be
outwitted. And as tutor you have already seen how fast I learn!"

"True.
But then, a cutting tongue and a bag of wily, childish tricks are not all that
are needed in the game, Olivia. You are still vulnerable, although in your
brashness you fail to see it, and there are areas of your mind that are still
freely accessible to me." His manner was casual. Obviously he did not take
her seriously.

"No
longer that either!" she countered sharply. "Don't underestimate me
now, Jai, as you once did. The mind you think you know exists now in quite
another form. Don't misinterpret it."

"Perhaps
it always existed in quite another form! I sometimes wonder if I have not
always misinterpreted it." He raised a quizzical eyebrow and walked past
her into the quarter in which he had once lived. To her astonishment, he
reemerged a moment later carrying a pipe and a pouch of tobacco. Olivia felt a
small sense of shock; he was used to coming here, perhaps during the hours of
night when there would be no risk of exposure. In his audacity, he had stored
his belongings in some crevice remembered from his childhood. She felt her skin
start to tingle. How foolish of her to have doubted her own instincts or,
indeed, his!

"Whatever
the misinterpretations, they were mutual," she snapped. "One could
say even mutually beneficial."

"And,
in your case, also material and tangible! You did well out of your marriage. A
pity your husband appears to have benefitted somewhat less, apart from the
carnal pleasures of having sired two infants." He took his time lighting
his pipe, no longer uneasy in her presence, unconcerned that he had tacitly
informed her of his nocturnal visits to the quadrangle in which they stood.

"But
then whoredom brings its own benefits to some men,"
she retorted,
hating his nonchalance, his unruffled calm, because she could not fathom it.
"And I
have
had the advantage of a highly skilled mentor!"

If
Olivia had hoped for the reward of at least a flinch, of some gratifying sign
of inner bleeding, she was disappointed
again. The brazen reference did not
even graze his skin. "You flatter me surely," was all he murmured
with a trace of humour but none of embarrassment. "Had the tutorials been
better skilled, the Golden Behind might not have earned all those fat bills
Donaldson never tired of paying."

It
was she who flushed and was furious that she had, but she was glad he had said
that. It swept aside the remaining debris from her path, made her task easier.
"Whatever Freddie's faults, he is a man of honour, a gentleman, twice the
man
you
could ever aspire to be!"

He
arched an eyebrow. "Is that why he separates himself from you by half a
world? A curious reward for such touching loyalty!" He mocked her with a
laugh, but then, all at once, he seemed to tire of the pointless game, of its
barbs and lances and futile verbal jousting. With a gesture of exasperation, he
spun on a heel and walked away from her. "Why the hell are you still here,
Olivia?" he asked wearily. "Why are you also not half a damned world
away with this man who is twice what I can ever aspire to be?"

"If
my presence disturbs you, that is justification enough! For the rest, it is my
business."

"I
don't really give a damn where you are." Still no heat, only persisting
fatigue. "Your presence is a nuisance, no more, no less." Outside the
verandah it had started to rain. A few drops leaked through a crack in the
ceiling and made a puddle on the floor. He stood and stared at it fixedly.
"I wish you would go, Olivia. England, Hawaii, anywhere. We are unequal
adversaries."

Olivia
had once prided herself on knowing all his moods in all their subtle shadings. But
tonight, she could not recognise any of them. It seemed that nothing she had
said had truly touched him. Even his stinging insults had been lazily
dispensed, devoid of anger. Not even the fact of her all too obvious pregnancy
invoked those familiar expressions of disgust. As he had done so many times
before in another age, he had merely removed himself mentally from her reach.
And she had allowed herself to be distracted from her purpose.

"We
shall see about that," she said shortly. "In the meantime I would
like to know why you are on my property without my permission. I presume you
trespass with a purpose?"

He
puffed thoughtfully at his pipe and dug one hand deep in a pocket. "You
still play with toys that are not toys, but your games now are dangerous. You
could be badly hurt." He did not answer her question.

"Nothing
in my life could hurt me badly again." It was not what she should have
said, but having said it she persisted. "Yes, you did have the power to
hurt me once, Jai. Once. You don't have it anymore. Nor ever will again."

"And
you are certain of that?"

"Entirely!
To act outside the rules is not a monopoly, and my skin too is now toughened.
No, you will not be able to hurt me again. If you try, you will be
disappointed."

It
was almost dark. Heavy footsteps sounded in the gathering gloam at the far end
of the court-yard. A flickering, lemon light approached, a lantern carried
towards them by the night-watchman. He salaamed, placed the lantern on the
ledge between them and withdrew.

"I
think you must know that I cannot allow you to demolish these."

Olivia's
breath quickened. At last, he nibbled! "And you must know that you cannot
stop me!"

"What
you mount for my benefit is a charade. Once again you make a fool of yourself,
this time with even more pointless bravado."

"Do
I?" Her eyes glinted with amber light. "You forget these worthless
ruins mean nothing to me. I will raze them to the ground with no compunction
whatsoever."

"And
you consider they mean something to me?"

Olivia
shrugged. "If they do, your interest is incidental."

"Oh,
no," he said softly, "my interest to you is vital! You are indeed a
fast learner: I compliment you on your efforts at blackmail."

"Blackmail?"
Olivia threw him an amused smile. "What a curious notion!
I
didn't
invite you here, you arrived of your own accord."

"Which,
of course, surprises you?" he inquired casually. Noticing his pipe had
gone cold, he tucked it into his belt and crossed his arms. "Mooljee has
been sounding the drum hard to tout your hotel hoax. Why not? Your collateral
adds power to his lungs. But what if I told you to go ahead and build your
hotel, that your little charade does not impress me? That you may pull down
these worthless ruins if you wish
with
my blessings, what then?"

"The
hotel project is neither a hoax nor a charade, Jai!" The tremble starting
in her knees made it difficult to stand. She took a step back to sit on a
broken half wall. "That hotel
will
become a reality!"

"Unless?"

She
hesitated, then conceded the point. "All right. Unless."

"Ah,
so it is blackmail after all!"

"No,
merely the use of a tactical advantage I happen to have over you. I call it
shrewd business strategy."

He
nodded, as if accepting the distinction. "And you seriously believe I will
allow myself to be coerced?" He asked the question not with anger or
contempt, but merely as if he were truly curious to have an answer.

"You
have no option!"

"Options
are easily devised."

"They
weren't with the
Daffodil
and they won't be now."

But
he only laughed.

Covertly,
she searched his face jaundiced by the lantern. And once more she felt out of
her depth. Was she missing something? Instinct told her that he prevaricated,
but today the chameleon colouring tricked the eye with disquieting success. He
touched the pipe tucked inside his belt, half lifted it, then shoved it back
again—and Olivia's heart skipped a beat. In that small gesture there was
infinitesimal but significant and uncharacteristic indecision; it spoke to her
only because she
did
know him so well! Behind the smoke-screen of airy
nonchalance, she sensed a faint smell of doubt, a frisson of uncertainty. He
was suspicious, but he was not sure. And because he knew
her
so well,
his intuition warned him that her project was a hoax, the proposed demolitions
a bait. But it was her instinct that proved to be right in what he next asked.

"All
right. Would you consider selling me this property?"

Olivia
knew she had won. Almost. "No. One doesn't sell a tactical advantage that
can be exploited with continuing profit," she scoffed.

"Regardless
of the consequences?" Her refusal did not disturb him. He had expected it,
of course.

"Regardless
of anything
you
are capable of conjuring!"

He
laughed. "Still as stubborn as that old Kansas mule?"

"No.
More so."

He
finally lifted his pipe from under his belt and, holding it unlit, sauntered to
the edge of the verandah and peered up at the sky. It still drizzled and in the
distance was the rumble of thunder. For a while he stood in silence, surrounded
by it as if insulated from everything around him. Then he turned and asked very
quietly, "What is it that you want from me?"

Only
superhuman effort concealed Olivia's exhilaration. It was an unconditional
surrender, but she volunteered no reaction. "You already know what I
want."

"Yes,
but clarify it further for me."

"Leave
Farrowsham alone. Restore our credit and carry our cargo in your holds as
before."

In
her pause he sensed more and lifted a questioning eyebrow. "And is that
all?"

"No.
I would like a fresh contract drawn up between us giving us more favourable
freight rates."

"Anything
else?"

Olivia
shrugged. "An undertaking, of course, that you will not harass either
Farrowsham or Arthur Ransome again."

He
sucked in his underlip, nodded and looked quietly amused. "And what do
I
get in exchange for all these generous concessions?"

"If
you agree to make them, there will be no demolitions. If you also implement
them honourably, I will gift you this property with clear title, to do with as
you wish." She waited, breath held back tight in her chest, scarcely daring
to expel it for fear of causing ripples, knowing that even a verbal acceptance
from him would be his bond. When no response came and he remained silently lost
in thought, she asked a trifle impatiently, "Well?"

He
started to light his pipe, attention concentrated entirely on the task at hand.
"It seems like a fair bargain," he said finally.

She
was ecstatic! "I consider so. Then you agree?"

He
looked at her and smiled. "No."

"What?"
For a moment Olivia thought she had not heard him correctly, but then he
repeated himself.

"No,
Olivia. I do not agree. I told you I tolerate neither coercion nor blackmail. I
meant that. But I do commend your persistence. And your ingenuity.
Those
I
find worthy of unqualified admiration."

Olivia
forced herself out of her shock of stunned disbelief. "But you yourself
admitted that it was a fair bargain!" she cried, shaken out of her
complacency.

"True.
But then, as you know, I am not a fair man."

She
started to tremble. "You reject my offer out of hand despite all
this?" She waved a furious hand at the quarter outside which they stood.
"You realise that I
do
intend to go ahead with the demolitions,
don't you?"

"I
realise that you do
intend
to, yes."

"Intend
to and
will!
I warn you, Jai—"

"Don't
threaten me, Olivia." There was a chill edge to his tone. "That I
would tolerate least of all."

"Nevertheless
I do
warn
you . . .," choking with disappointment and a bitter,
bitter sense of failure, she sprang to her feet, ". . . first thing
tomorrow morning all this starts to come down! Every stone, every
termite-riddled, rotten beam, every stinking rat hole—by evening there'll be
nothing left of this miserable hovel and those memories that you pretend to
cherish. Wiped out will be all that remains tangible of your mother's last
wretched, drug-ridden years, her degradations and desperations, of her very
being
—as
will be every trace of the birth-place where your own damned life began."
She now shook so violently that she had to sit down again, her legs suddenly
like jelly. "Take a good look, Jai," she taunted, insane with
frustration, "like your broken mother, these mute walls too will merge
with the earth tomorrow. Drink in your fill of memories now. There will be no
more opportunities."