«Where were you living before Oliviera?»
«Nowhere. I've always lived there. This is the first time I've been anywhere except for other parish islands, and they're pretty much the same.»
«You mean you've never been on the mainland?» he asked, surprised.
«Not yet, no. I'm probably going to go next year, when I'm eighteen.»
«You've got a real treat in store,» Althaea said. «Kariwak's a riot; but just make sure you count your fingers after you shake hands.»
«Really?» Mullen switched his entire attention back to her.
Eason felt lonely, out of it. The truth was, their conversation had been incredibly boring all evening. They talked about nothing—the antics of the firedrakes, weather, which fish they liked best, how the picking was progressing. Every word was treated as though it had been spoken by some biblical prophet.
He was also very aware of the way Mullen's eyes roamed. Althaea was wearing just her turquoise shorts and a cotton halter top. It was distracting enough for him, so Heaven knew what it was doing to Mullen's hormones—the other boys from the parish, too, for that matter. He ought to have a word with her about it.
When he looked round the garden, Tiarella was still staring at him; her face sculpted, immobile. Maybe she was finally realizing her time was coming to an end. After eighteen years of stagnation and inertia it would be a jolt for any personality.
He allowed Mullen and Althaea to babble on for another ten minutes, then plucked at her halter strap. «Come on.»
She glanced at him, frowning as he rose to his feet, slapping sand and grass from his jeans. «Oh . . . not just yet.»
«Yes. We need to get some sleep afterwards.» He let an impish grin play over his lips, and picked up their blanket.
Althaea blushed as she glanced at Mullen, lips twitching into an embarrassed smile.
«Come on.» Eason clicked his fingers impatiently.
«I'll see you both tomorrow,» the lad mumbled.
«Sure. Good night.» He steered Althaea towards the black picket of trees. He liked Mullen, but the lad had to understand exactly who she belonged to.
«That was very rude,» Althaea whispered.
His free arm went round her shoulder. «Not as rude as what I'm about to show you in a minute.»
Althaea fought against a grin as he tickled her ribcage. Her finger poked him in retaliation. «Rude!»
«Was not.»
«Was too.»
He looked back as he reached the trees. The glowing charcoal was spilling a pool of tangerine radiance over the lawn. It showed him Mullen covering his face with his hands, shoulder muscles knotted. And Tiarella, who hadn't been staring at him after all, because her eyes had never moved when he and Althaea departed. She was watching Mullen.
When the lad's hands slipped back down to reveal a crestfallen expression, the corners of her mouth lifted into a serene smile.
Eason stood on the jetty, his arm around Althaea as they waved goodbye to the Anneka . The parishioners were leaning over the gunwale, waving back, shouting farewells which were scrambled by the wavelets lapping against the coral.
Tiarella started walking back to the house. Eason turned to follow, and gave Althaea a reassuring hug, noting a certain wistfulness in her eyes. «Don't worry, I'm sure your new boyfriend will be in touch. He's madly in love with you, after all.» He grinned broadly to show he understood.
Althaea shot him a look of pure venom, then her face became the identical blank mask which defended Tiarella from the world.
«Hey, listen—« he began.
But she shook herself free and ran off down the jetty. He stared after her in consternation.
«What did I say?»
Tiarella arched her eyebrow. «It's not what you say, it's what you are.»
«You make me out as some kind of ogre,» he snapped, suddenly exasperated with her, the unending stream of oblique remarks.
«In medieval times that's exactly what you would be.»
«Name one thing I've done to hurt her.»
«You wouldn't dare. We both know that.»
«With or without your threats, I wouldn't hurt her.»
Her lips compressed as she studied him. «No, I don't suppose you would. I never really thought about how you would be affected by your time here. I should have done.»
«My time? You make it sound finite.»
«It is. I told you that the day you came.»
«Your fucking cards again!» Crazy bitch!
Tiarella shrugged and sauntered off down the path to the house.
He slept alone that night, for the first time since the funeral. Guilt soaked his mind as he lay on the cot, yet he still didn't know what it was he'd done.
The next morning over breakfast she gave him a timid smile, and he glossed over any awkwardness with an enthusiastic account of how he intended to clear all the island's old service tracks with the mower tractor. Then they'd be able to start attending to the coffee bushes.
That night he welcomed her back to his bed. It wasn't the same; she had become reserved. Not physically, as always her body was defenceless against his skill and strength. But somewhere deep inside her thoughts she was holding herself back from him. No matter how exquisite their lovemaking was she no longer surrendered completely.
It took a certain amount of nerve to walk into the Kulu Embassy carrying three antimatter-confinement spheres. Eason was pleased to find himself perfectly calm as the glass doors of the reception area closed behind him. He asked the girl behind the desk for an interview with the military attaché, only to be told the Kingdom had no military ties with Tropicana.
«What about a police or security liaison officer?» he asked. «Surely you cooperate in tracking down criminals?»
She agreed they did, and asked for his name.
He handed over his passport, proving if nothing else that he was a bona fide citizen of Quissico. «And could you also say I'm a senior member of the Independence Party.» He smiled warmly at her flustered expression.