If I had kept my cool and had ignored the remark, I wouldn’t have given her the hint that the subject of Val, to me, was a touchy one.
‘Oh, wrap up!’ I said angrily. ‘Why don’t you look where you’re going?’
She regarded me, gave a sudden little grin and went into the bedroom.
The next four days were trying. Apart from clearing my desk in preparation for my trip, coping with Dyer who was continually on the telephone raising stupid and unnecessary queries about the schedules he had given me and handling the day to day routine work, Rhoda became increasingly tiresome.
When she upset a box of face powder in the bathroom leaving me to clear up the mess, she shook her head in mock sadness as she said, ‘I really must try to be like efficient, gorgeous Val.’ When she overslept and made me late for the office, she said, ‘I’m sure gorgeous, efficient Val never kept you waiting.’
Every time she mentioned Val’s name it was more than a pinprick to me, with an effort I kept my temper and ignored her jibes, hoping she would get tired of baiting me.
I now found myself looking forward to getting away from her for five days. She would probably have forgotten Val by the time I returned.
We took Olson out to dinner on Monday night and Rhoda was on her best behaviour We had a pleasant evening, but returning to our apartment after dropping Olson off at his, Rhoda flopped into a lounging chair, lit a cigarette and surprised me by saying, ‘Let’s have a drink Clay. A goodbye toast, huh?’
‘Why not. Scotch?’
‘Hmmmm.’
I fixed the drinks and sat opposite her.
‘Tell me Clay, was Val your mistress?’
I slopped my drink so violently some of the ice shot out of the glass on to the carpet.
Rhoda giggled.
‘Who’s clumsy now?’
I picked up the ice cubes and took them into the kitchen.
I stood for a moment or two to compose myself, then I returned to the living room, aware that Rhoda was watching me.
‘Was she your mistress?’ she repeated.
‘No. Now listen, Rhoda, I’ve had enough of this. Understand? From now on you will cut out this continuous reference to Val. I don’t know what the idea is, but if you think it is funny, I don’t.’
She sipped her drink and eyed me over the rim of the glass.
‘She did mean something to you, didn’t she?’ She giggled. ‘I believe you’re still in love with her.’
‘Stop this nonsense! You’re just showing what a small, stupid mind you have!’
She flushed.
‘You don’t deny it do you?’
‘There’s nothing to deny. Finish your drink and let’s go to bed.’
‘Well, five days with slinky Mrs. Vidal might cure you,’ she said spitefully. ‘She’s just the kind who could get a faded romance out of your head. It would be a joke if you went all moody about her.’
Leaving my drink, I went into the bedroom. I was so angry that if I hadn’t left her, I would have slapped her She must have sensed she had gone too far for she remained in the living room until she heard the shower going, then she hurriedly undressed and was in bed by the time I came out of the bathroom.
‘I was only kidding Clay. Can’t you take a joke?’ she said, uneasily.
‘You haven’t cleaned your teeth,’ I snapped. ‘For God’s sake hurry up! I want some sleep if you don’t!’
‘To hell with my teeth and to hell with you!’ she exclaimed furiously and turning her back on me, she snapped off the light.
Three
I was met at el Aeropuerto de Ilopango by a stockily built, swarthy Indian who introduced himself as Roberto Rivera. He was in his middle forties with a Charlie Chan moustache, and he had the crafty eyes and the sly smile of the Latin American at his worst. I took a dislike to him at first sight.
‘Welcome, Señor Burden,’ he said, shaking hands and raising his straw sombrero. ‘Everything, is very fine. I meet Señor Vidal and the señora as arranged. No problems. I am at your disposal. You wish to go to the hotel?’
‘Yes, please. Is it far?’
‘No distance: perhaps a little way. Here is the beautiful car, full air conditioned, every comfort, much expense.’ He led me over to a dusty black Mercedes 200 parked in the sun and opened the offside door, again lifting his sombrero.
I was glad to get into the cool of the car. The sun must have been 96 in the shade.
He slid under the driving wheel.
‘Excuse my English, Señor Burden. Speak very fine American, but English more difficult.’
I said I understood.
He drove away from the airport and along a dusty road crowded with Indian peasants. Nearly all of them carried big metal pots on their heads or their shoulders.
‘What are they carrying?’ I asked.
‘Water, Señor Burden. Water is difficult here. Everyone carries water. It is the way of life.’ He blasted his horn as an Indian wandered aimlessly across the road. ‘Very stupid people. Sun makes them stupid.’ He laughed, showing a mouthful of gold teeth. ‘I have a fine schedule for you. Señora Vidal will be very pleased.’ He glanced slyly at me. ‘Señor Vidal is plenty rich, yes?’
‘He has enough,’ I said shortly.
‘Many poor people live here.’ He shook his head sadly.
‘Many, many. Rich too. More poor than rich, but rich very rich.’
We were now passing through a small village, crowded with Indians, Most of them wore battered sombreros, white shirts and dark, shapeless trousers. The women had on various coloured aprons, covering their light cotton dresses. The main street of the village was dirty with a litter of paper, discarded fruit skins, cigarette butts and other rubbish. The sight of this squalor depressed me.
It took us over half an hour to reach San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador. It was also swarming with Indians who mingled with well dressed, overfed men and women, obviously the wealthy citizens of the City.
‘Lovely city,’ Rivera said. ‘You like it, Señor Burden?’
‘Oh sure.’
‘You call me Roberto. Everyone calls me Roberto. I am a very well-known guide here. Many rich Americans ask for me.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘We approach the hotel.’ He drove up a steep hill, turned left and edged into a curved drive. ‘Beautiful hotel Señor Burden, the best. Everyone very satisfied.’
The doorman opened the car door and I got out. A porter took my bag.
‘You’d better come in, Roberto,’ I said. ‘I’ll look at your schedule. I must report to Mr. Vidal.’
Roberto showed me his gold teeth.
‘No hurry, Señor Burden. Señor Vidal and the señora are with friends for lunch. Jose — he works with me — took them to El Cuco. Very lovely place by the sea. They visit Señor Guzman who owns many coffee plantations, very rich: beautiful, beautiful house, cost two million dollars. They cannot be back here until 19.00. Plenty of time.’
I looked at my watch. It was just midday.
‘Okay Roberto. I’ll have lunch here. Suppose we get together around 15.00.’
‘I go home then.’ He looked happy. ‘Nice home: poor, but nice. My children see little of me. It will be a surprise for them.’ He lifted his sombrero, shook hands and climbed into the Mercedes.
After checking in, inspecting my room which was air conditioned and pleasant, I took a shower, changed into an open neck shirt and slacks and went down to the coffee shop for the best scampi cocktail I have ever eaten.
I took coffee on the terrace, overlooking the big pool. The Salvadorian children all swam like fish and all made a lot of noise. Their parents, solidly built, sat under sun umbrellas, eating ice cream or drinking beer.