Page 62 of The Last Postcard

‘No,’ he said coldly, ‘now leave us.’

I had to lock myself in the bathroom after that, and tell Bouzid through the door that the heat had made me sick. I was terrified, and furious with myself for being so. I never wanted to feel that way again, as I had been at the inn, voiceless, exposed …

I forced myself to think. So what if Cabrera knew me? I had done one job for him, that was all. He could only know what Bautista might have told him: I was a young man who had arrived in La Atunara with no papers and had paid for some new ones. He knew nothing that could hurt me, I told myself.

But Langham had seen the recognition pass between Cabrera and me. He was no fool, and would have guessed in that second that my past was murkier than I had let on. It went the other way too. Langham knew Cabrera. Knew him well enough to telephone him, to be concerned with ‘trouble’. What was Langham’s business?

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, I knew what I would find. Bouzid was waiting in the kitchen, his face as calm as ever. He had served the dessert of iced apricots and candied rose petals without me.

‘Monsieur Langham,’ he said, ‘is in the lounge.’

I nodded. Silently, I shed the apron and pulled on my jacket. Words and excuses crowded to the front of my mind, ready to come spilling out. They would do me no good; Langham had asked for loyalty and now he had found out that I had given him less than the truth.

I opened the door of the lounge without knocking. It was dark in there, as always, lit only by candles and the lamplight that crept from the veranda. I could hear the guests out there, Lady Bailey and the other woman laughing softly, could smell their bitter smoke and kif.

‘Monsieur?’ My voice was barely audible.

Langham was standing at the piano, turned away, his hands clasped behind his back. He was twisting the ring on his little finger around and around. I had never seen him do that before.

‘Why are you here?’ His voice drifted to me, like the smoke.

‘To be your cook, monsieur.’

He didn’t turn around.

‘Are you working for someone? I will find out if you are lying.’

Any excuses dried on my lips. We had been spinning such brilliant, unspoken truths between us, he would know a lie in an instant. I clenched my hands behind my back.

‘I don’t work for Cabrera, if that’s what you’re asking.’

He turned his head a fraction. ‘But you admit that you know him?’

A bloodstained jacket. And you? I wanted to ask.

‘I don’t know him. I only met him once.’ I took a step forwards. ‘I carried a bag here for a man in La Atunara, named Bautista, in exchange for new papers. Cabrera was the man I delivered it to. I haven’t seen him since and I’ve no wish to again.’

Let that be enough. I stared at the edge of Langham’s cheek, at his sharp jawline, at the shadow of stubble beginning to show. Be satisfied. I did it to get to you.

‘Why would you tell me that?’ His voice was soft.

‘Because you asked me to,’ I said. Langham’s face was half hidden in shadow, but his eyes found mine. ‘Because I promised you loyalty. Because I want—’ My words ran out, replaced by smoke-filled air. Because I want to crack you open and see what’s inside. Because I want to know you.

‘Because you want what?’ He stepped towards me, raising a hand to touch my chin.

A knock on the door, as loud as thunder and I stumbled away, tripping on the edge of the rug. Langham moved back too. His face was tight, as if we’d been caught in the act. Nothing had happened, but my whole body was buzzing as if it had.

‘What is it?’ Langham called impatiently.

The door creaked open. Was it a trick of the shadows, or did Bouzid’s eyes flick to where I stood trembling, for one brief second? ‘A telegram, monsieur. It is marked urgent. I thought you should know.’

‘Fine, I’ll be there shortly.’

Bouzid shut the door. For one uncertain moment, Langham looked at me, his lips parted.

‘Alejandro—’ he began, but the rest was lost in a tumult of voices and laughter as the guests called Langham’s name from the veranda, demanding more music, more drinks.

I turned and fled, the danger of it all burning on my lips.