Sweet Torment Read online

  'No. We believe he has gone to the ranch,' said Eugenia. 'You see, Diego, I told you she would come soon.' She pulled out a chair for Sorrel while Diego stood up politely. 'Sit down, Sorrel,' she urged, 'and have a little polio alla cazador. It is our cook's speciality.'

  Although she wanted to be on her way to the ranch Sorrel did as she was told and found the chicken cooked with tomatoes, peppers and chickpeas quite delicious.

  'Is Juan all right?' she asked.

  `As well as can be expected,' said Diego. 'Fortunately it was only in the left arm he was gored—about here,' He indicated the upper part of his own arm. 'Did you get your business in Medellin finished satisfactorily?'

  'Business?' repeated Sorrel in bewilderment, looking from him to Eugenia and back again. It seemed to her that they were both staring at her suspiciously.

  ',Si, when you didn't appear on Wednesday morning I asked Juan where you were when he came back from the arena,' said Eugenia. 'He told me you'd gone to Medellin to see Señor and Señora Angel for whom you have been working. I assumed you'd gone to collect your belongings from their home.'

  So he had covered up. He hadn't admitted to his aunt that his wife of one night had deserted him.

  `You don't seem to have any extra luggage with you.' Eugenia sounded puzzled and Sorrel realised she hadn't answered her.

  `No. It's being sent on,' she said tonelessly.

  'Bueno. I thought you'd be back on Wednesday night or pe'rhaps Thursday morning, and when you didn't come I wanted to send a message to you to let you know Juan had been hurt. But he wouldn't hear of it. He said you'd find out soon enough and it would only worry you. How did you find out?' Eugenia gave her another curious glance.

  'I read about. it in the paper this afternoon,' replied Sorrel in a low voice. 'Oh, please tell me the truth. Is he really all right? The article in the paper said he was in a critical condition.'

  'An exaggeration,' said Diego.expect the sports writer thought the story would attract more attention if he put that, although Juan did lose a lot of blood. He should have left the arena and had the wound bandaged as soon as he was gored. But not Juan. He had to put on a performance of having to overcome his own bodily weakness as well as the strength of the bull. The crowd loved it.' Diego smiled as if well satisfied, and Sorrel suppressed an urge to tell him what she thought of the whole business of bullfighting.

  'But he did faint at the end,' said Eugenia quietly. 'And at the hospital they gave him blood transfusions. But this morning he suddenly decided he couldn't stay there any longer, and had to get back to the ranch. He said Jovita would look after him better than the nuns. I'm afraid the Sisters were very offended.'

  'I must go to him,' said Sorrel, half rising from her chair.

  'When you've finished your meal and have had a good cup of coffee,' said Eugenia firmly. 'Tomas will drive you to the ranch in the limousine.'

  All the way to the ranch Sorrel kept wondering why Juan hadn't told Eugenia the truth. Why had he covered up? And if he hadn't covered up wouldn't she have been less welcome this evening in the Cortez house? Wouldn't Eugenia and Diego have blamed her for the accident in the arena? Somehow she was sure they would have done.

  Lights twinkled from the windows of houses. They were in Ibara. In the small plaza the bus to Manizales was parked in front of the hotel and a few people were

  sitting on the steps of the church. Then the town was behind and the powerful headlamps were slicing through the dark again lighting up trees and bushes, glinting on outcrops of rock. The big black car was making good time in spite of the poor condition of the road and in another ten minutes she would be at the ranch.

  Sorrel's nerves quivered. What would she say to Juan? What could she say? 'I'm sorry' sounded too weak and hardly expressed the feeling of contrition which was tearing her apart. Anyway, would he believe her after the note she had left? He might not even agree to see her, might tell Jovita to send her away.

  Tyres crunched over loose stones as the car turned into the lane leading to the ranch house and the pale trunks of trees which edged the lane flitted by like pale ghosts. White walls overhung with creeper gleamed faintly about the darkness of an archway. The car slowed down, swept through the archway into the shadowed courtyard and stopped by the fountain.

  Politely Sorrel asked Tomas if he would like some refreshment before he returned to Copaya. He declined and got out of the car to open the door for her. She stepped out, thanked him and waited until the car had gone. Then she was alone in the flower-scented, water-tinkling darkness.

  Jovita was a long time coming to open the front door and when she did open she didn't fling it wide in welcome, but jerked it back cautiously a little at a time and then stood in the opening, a small woman in a brown dress whose wizened monkey-sad face betrayed nothing of what she was thinking or feeling.

  `Buenas noches,' Jovita,' Sorrel said nervously. `Buenas noches, senorita.' Surprise rippled through Sorrel as she realised that the woman had addressed her

  by the title of a single woman. It seemed as if Juan had told his old nurse nothing of his marriage.

  `May I come in?' asked Sorrel, and Jovita shook her head.

  `Señor Juan is in bed. He says he doesn't want any woman. You come back another day, senorita.'

  `But I'm not just any woman,' Sorrel started to object hotly as she saw the door beginning to close, and added urgently, 'I must see him, Jovita. Please let me come in. I've come a long way and I've no car to take me back. Let me stay the night in that room where I slept before so I can see him tomorrow. Please, Jovita! '

  The door stopped closing. Jovita's low forehead wrinkled into many creases as she tried to deal with this new problem.

  `You know that he is hurt, here in the arm? There are many stitches in it. He needs much rest.'

  `Yes, his aunt Eugenia in Copaya told me. She sent me here to help you to nurse him,' said Sorrel, stepping closer and laying her hand on the door ready to push it open. 'Do you remember, Jovita, how strange he was the last time he was hurt, how he wanted to hide from everyone? He's going to be like that again if you won't let me help you. Together we'll make him well again. You'll see, I'm going to make him very happy.'

  For a few moments Jovita looked troubled, her submissiveness and loyalty to Juan obviously at war with her love for him and her desire to do what was best for him. Then to Sorrel's relief she opened the door wider and with a gesture invited her to step inside.

  'I let you in, senorita, because I know you are good at heart and also because I know you are on his mind,' she said as she closed the door.

  'How do you know I am?' asked Sorrel in surprise. 'This afternoon he rested after his journey from

  Copaya. In his sleep he talked of you,' replied the little woman. 'Yet you · are not like the other woman who came last time he was hurt and who had caused so much trouble here.'

  `What other woman?' Sorrel exclaimed.

  `I'll tell you while I take you to the room where you will sleep,' said Jovita, and started off down the passage. 'Her name was Teresa Baena. She was from Cali—Señor Juan used to know her when he was younger. He liked her for a while, then it was over for him.' Jovita paused to open the door and switch on the lights in the pretty ivory and gold bedroom where Sorrel had slept on Monday night, then added dryly, 'But it was not over for her.'

  Sorrel entered the bedroom and put her overnight bag down. No longer did the absolute femininity of the room worry her. In fact stepping into the room was like coming home.

  `Would you like a bath, senorita?' asked Jovita, hovering about her attentively. 'It will relax you, take away the dust and tensions of your journey.'

  `Won't the drawing of the water waken Señor Juan?'

  don't think so. He has taken some pills, for the pain in his arm, you understand. The doctor at the hospital prescribed them. He will sleep heavily.'

  `Then I would like a bath, please.'

  `I'll get it ready.' Jovita actually smiled a little because she
was being allowed to wait on the visitor. 'Do you have your own robe this time?' she asked, pointing to the overnight bag, and Sorrel nodded.

  Once she was sitting in the black marble bath, up to the shoulders in glinting, rustling ivory-coloured foam, Sorrel gave in and let Jovita wash her hair and then scrub her back.

  `You were telling me about a woman called Teresa,'

  she said. It was true Juan had said anything that had happened to him before she had met him was no concern of hers, but she had to know what trouble the woman had caused. 'You said that when Señor Juan broke with her it was over for him but not for her. What do you mean?'

  'She still wanted him, and since she couldn't get him she became friendly with his younger brother,' replied Jovita in her simple way. 'You remember I told you he had a brother, senorita?'

  'Yes, I remember. What was his name?'

  'Andres. Ah, he was a good baby, like a little angel, fair like his mother and always smiling like her too. He was her favourite and when she was killed he was very upset. He was only fourteen at the time.'

  'Did he become a bullfighter too?'

  'No. He didn't care for the sport. He was gentle and very clever, always reading books. He went to the university in Bogota—he said that one day he would be a great writer. Then that Teresa got hold of him.' Jovita sighed and gently rinsed the soap lather from Sorrel's back. 'He was crazy about her, brought her to the ranch to stay, and that was what she wanted. It meant she could be near to Juan when he was here. She didn't really want Andres. She was using him, do you understand, senorita?'

  'I think so.' Sorrel found she was repelled and fascinated by the story. 'Didn't Señor Juan object to her coming to stay?'

  'No. You must understand, senorita, Señor Juan is a very generous man. His heart is big. He loved his sister and his brother very much and let them come and go here as they wish. It is their home as much as his, he says, and they can bring all their friends. Always there were parties with many people dancing and singing when Señora Inez lived here, and Juan liked the parties

  as much as she did. They are alike, those two.'

  'And did Teresa's plan work? Did she get to Juan through his brother?' asked Sorrel, determined to bring Jovita back to the point.

  'She tried. Every chance she had she flirted with him.' Jovita shrugged her shoulders as she took a towel from the rack. 'He likes to flirt too, but when he saw Andres was upset by Teresa's behaviour he began to ignore her, and, that made her angry.' Jovita came back to the bath. 'Have you ever noticed, senorita, people do strange things when they are angry?'

  'Yes, I have. I'm afraid I get angry myself and often I'm very sorry afterwards for what I've done or said in anger,' Sorrel muttered. 'What did Teresa do?'

  'She told Andres she didn't like him anymore, that she preferred Juan. She taunted him until he was mad with jealousy of Juan, and he accused his brother of stealing Teresa away from him. At first Juan laughed at him and tried to tell Andres that Teresa was no good. But Andres wouldn't listen. He hit Juan, struck him in the face. You must know, senorita, that the men of this country have much pride and they will fight over anything they consider to be an insult to their honour.'

  'I had heard that,' said Sorrel. 'Did they fight?'

  `Si. Out there in the courtyard. Señor Juan being the bigger and stronger soon won and he picked Andres up and dropped him in the fountain—to cool him off, he said—and walked away.'

  Sorrel tipped her head forward to hide a smile which she couldn't help as she imagined the happening, for she could tell by the tone of Jovita's voice that the story wasn't intended to be humorous. She was beginning to realise that behaviour which she and her English relatives and friends might consider to be funny was not always amusing to Colombians who tended to take themselves rather seriously.

  'What happened then?' she asked.

  'Señor Juan took Teresa back to Cali himself and told her to leave his brother alone.'

  'And what did Andres do?'

  'He went to Cali too, and we didn't hear of him for a long time. Señor Juan was away much to corridas in other countries and his sister was married and living in the States. Then one day nearly two years ago when Señor Juan was just going into the arena at the end of the lidia at Manizales that woman Teresa turned up. She had come to tell him that Andres was dead, killed by his own hand.'

  'Not suicide?' gasped Sorrel.

  'Si. She had led him into bad ways, that one. He took an overdose of drugs of some sort. Señor Juan was very upset and blamed himself for not having taken more care of his brother. Then he was hurt in the arena. Ay, ay, ay,' Jovita moaned, showing more emotion than Sorrel had ever seen her show. 'It was a terrible time, and that woman dared to come to see him here while he was convalescing. It was good for him that Señora Inez was here visiting at the time. She soon got rid of her.'

  As she had once got rid of Monica, thought Sorrel, stepping out of the bath and letting Jovita pat her dry. But why didn't she try to get rid of me?

  'Thank you for telling me,' she said to Jovita, and with the towel draped around her, sarong-wise, she left the bathroom and went into the bedroom. 'It has cleared up some mysteries for me. And now it's my turn to tell you something. I'm not a senorita any more. Señor Juan and I were married in Copaya on Tuesday night. I would have been watching when he was hurt, but I'd had to go to Medellin that day.'

  Jovita stared at her, then looked at the wedding ring and her dark eyes filled with tears.

  'Senora,' she whispered. 'Señora Renalda. I am very happy for you and for Señor Juan. He isn't my son, but I love him as if he were. Now I do not have to worry about him anymore. You will take care of him. Please, senora, put on your gown and I will dry your hair and brush it for you.'

  Sorrel dressed in the thin clinging nightgown she had brought and pulled on the loose robe which went with it. Sitting before the mirror she thought of the last time she had sat there on Monday night. How differently she felt now! No longer did she want to run away. She wanted to stay and live with Juan. The trouble was she wasn't sure whether he wanted her any more.

  When her hair was dry and brushed Jovita said goodnight and left the room. For a while Sorrel sat thinking about the story of Andres and Teresa; a story of passion and violence and tragedy. The chiming of the antique clock reminded her that it was ten o'clock as it had on Monday night. She should go to bed, catch up on the sleep she had lost during the last two nights so that she would be fresh in the morning and ready to face any punishment Juan dealt her.

  She went over to the bed and pulled back the covers and was about to slip off her robe when an idea leapt into her mind. She would go and look at Juan before she went to bed, make sure he was comfortable. After all, Jovita had committed him to her care.

  She went to the other bedroom by way of the still steam-filled bathroom, opening the door quietly and standing there for a moment looking round. One bedside lamp was lit, its crimson shade glowing rosily. The light from it slanted on the pillows of the king-sized bed and gave a bluish sheen to the black hair of the man who was lying there.

  Sorrel moved into the room and closed the door as

  softly as she could. Even so it made a click, and she froze for a second watching Juan. But he didn't seem to be disturbed, so she moved forward, her bare feet sinking into the pile of the luxurious crimson carpet. Beside the bed she stopped and looked down. Juan was lying on his stomach. His right arm was bent upon the pillow and his head was resting on it, with his face turned away from her so that all she could see was the curve of his cheek, the jut of his jaw and thick lashes fringing one closed eye. The bedclothes covered him only to the waist. Above that his back was bare. The top part of his left arm was swathed in bandages and their whiteness was startling against the olive tint of his skin.

  She stepped back, looking round for a chair to bring to the bedside, thinking she would sit with him for a while.

  'Is that you, Jovita?' His voice was low, a little slurred as if he had on
ly just woken. 'I told you not to come back.' The voice hardened, took on an authoritarian tone. 'But since you're here, you can make yourself useful. Rub my back, por favor. It seems to be aching in every muscle.'

  He hadn't turned his head or opened his eyes. Sorrel hesitated, not sure what to do. Then suddenly it came to her. This was something she could do for him far better than Jovita could, something she was trained to do. She knew exactly where his back was aching and why it was aching and she longed to relieve the tension for him. A spirit of mischief, long dormant, awoke within her and she smiled to herself. She wouldn't say anything to him. She would just massage him and let him guess who was doing it.

  Leaning over him, she pulled the bedclothes down further, and wasn't surprised to see he was without a stitch of clothing. She laid her hands on the curve of his

  back on either side of the spine and began to massage with long strong strokes.

  She thought he stiffened slightly and expected him to turn his head, open his eyes and look at her. But he didn't. A long slow sigh came from him and he settled his head more comfortably on his arm.

  Sorrel had always enjoyed doing massage and had been able to bring to it a professional detachment which had made her a successful masseur. But as she stroked and kneaded Juan's body she slowly lost that detachment. This was the man she loved, whom she had vowed to worship with her body. Looking down at the shape of him, wide flat shoulders narrowing gradually to lean waist and hips, she felt desire curl within her and the movements of her hand became slower, more caressing, enticing him to turn and pull her down beside him, to kiss her in his ruthless, domineering way.

  'How many men have you done this for, Sorrel?' he spoke in English and there was a harshness in his voice which warned her he wasn't pleased.

  'How did you know it was me?' she countered, breathless not only with exertion but also with the desire to be with him in that closeness which brought such joy.