Dark Oasis

‘You will be quite safe.’ His tone was slightly abrupt, preoccupied, and she noticed as he spoke that he glanced at the heavy gold watch on his wrist before meeting her eyes, a small frown wrinkling his brow.

‘I suppose I will.’ She wasn’t aware her voice was sharp, but he couldn’t have made it more clear that she was an awkward inconvenience and everything in her rose up in immediate opposition. ‘You must be a very busy man, Mr Dumont; please don’t let me keep you. Thank you for your kindness.’ The words were grateful, the slight edge to her voice anything but. And then he looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time and grey eyes met gold, the former defiant, proud and very dismissive and the latter narrowed with surprise. ‘Have you finished for now?’ She spoke directly to the older policeman, a plump hard-faced individual in his middle fifties with eyes of stone. ‘Then if you wouldn’t mind taking me to the nearest hospital, we’ll sort things out from there.’

Was she used to directing people like this? she asked herself faintly as she stood gingerly on her feet, her head thudding. It didn’t feel unnatural so she supposed she must be. She felt terrified, sick and desperately helpless but this man Gerard had made it perfectly plain he didn’t want to get involved, and she was blowed if she’d beg—she’d sort it out herself. She suddenly had the feeling she’d been doing that for a long, long time. Tears prickled under her eyelashes again and she blinked them away quickly. She’d cry later.

‘Look.’ Gerard steadied her with his arm round her waist as she stood swaying in the cool, air-conditioned room. ‘Please do not misunderstand me. I have an important appointment, that is all. I—’

‘Thank you, Mr Dumont.’ She moved out of his hold on trembling legs and offered him a slim hand, her chin high. ‘I hope you won’t be late...’ As the blackness took over again she just heard him growl something in muttered French that sounded incredibly rude as she fell, and then there was nothing, nothing but this soft enveloping darkness that cushioned her buzzing racing senses in the thick blanket of unconsciousness.

She awoke to the sterile neutrality of a small white room that smelt of antiseptic and carbolic, and the realisation that she had tried to surface several times before from the crazy world she had inhabited for the last little while, a world of whirling images and alien voices all of which were dominated by grinding, unrelenting pain in her head. But there was no pain now. She moved her head slightly on the hard pillow and winced as a flash of something hot spiked into her brain. Well, not if she kept still.

There was a buzzer connected to a long wire lying on the white counterpane next to her right hand, and she pressed it carefully before her eyes moved to the small narrow window at the end of the room. The grey light filtering through the louvre blinds suggested it was either dusk or dawn and she realised with a little dart of anxiety that she had no idea which it was. Or where she was. Or—and here the thought became a hard thudding in her chest—who she was. She shut her eyes tightly and prayed for calm. She remembered falling in that hot dusty street and hitting her head on the rough jagged kerb. She remembered being helped into a cool shaded room and she remembered... Her thoughts stopped abruptly. Yes, she remembered Gerard Dumont. And then, as if her mind had conjured him up, the creaking of the door brought her eyes open and there he was, closely followed by a small nurse.

‘Ah, you are awake.’ The smile was as devastating as she recalled and her limbs turned to water. ‘The doctor thought a few hours’ sleep would put you to rights.’

‘Did he?’ She glanced round carefully as she hitched herself up slightly in the bed, finding that if she moved slowly her head still belonged to her. ‘I’m in hospital?’

‘Just an overnight stay,’ he said coolly. ‘And do not start imagining the worst. You have concussion and—’ He stopped abruptly.

‘And?’ But then the nurse took over, popping a thermometer in her mouth which stopped further conversation as she took her blood pressure with bright impersonal efficiency.

He leant back against the wall as the nurse went about her ministrations, arms crossed and big body relaxed as he watched her with tawny narrowed eyes. She found his presence incredibly unsettling, and as her cheeks began to burn so did her temper. Surely he didn’t have the right to be in her room like this? This was a hospital, for goodness’ sake. And she didn’t even know the man. She’d be having a bedbath next to complete the indignities! And he had wanted to be rid of her.

As soon as the thermometer was out of her mouth she spoke carefully, her eyes veiled. ‘I appreciate your help, Mr Dumont, but perhaps it would be better if you left now? I don’t want to inconvenience you further. I’m fine and this is a hospital, when all’s said and done—’

‘A private nursing home actually,’ he corrected coolly, levering himself off the wall, with a nod and a smile to the nurse as she left, and walking lazily over to the side of the bed to survey her with an expressionless face. ‘And as I am paying the bill, I do not foresee a problem.’ He knew exactly how she felt about him, she realised with a little shiver.

‘You’re...?’ She stared aghast at the tall figure watching her so closely. ‘But why? There are hospitals here, aren’t there? I mean—’

‘I know what you mean.’ He smiled, but there was no warmth in the twist of his mouth. ‘And before that active little imagination runs riot, let me assure you that I have no designs on your body.’ There was something almost contemptuous in the gold eyes as they ran over her slender form under the white bedclothes. ‘I prefer my women with a little more meat on their bones and definitely more submissive.’

I bet you do, she thought angrily as her eyes sparked. I just bet you do. And I’m glad you know I don’t like you!

‘Nevertheless you asked for my protection before you passed out at my feet, and that is exactly what I have given you, so please do not agitate yourself.’ The hard gaze was piercing as it roved consideringly over her hot cheeks. ‘Also the hospital here is perhaps not quite what you were used to in—England? Do you come from England?’

‘I think so.’ She stared at him as the anger drained and the enormity of her problem took hold again. ‘I must do. I look English, don’t I?’

‘To the tips of your feet,’ he assured her gravely. ‘And your demeanour is all English.’ Somehow she felt it wasn’t a compliment and again her temper was ignited.

‘What exactly does that mean?’ she asked hotly.

‘Cucumber-cool and twice as self-contained,’ he said smoothly, the dark tanned face slightly amused at her indignation. ‘You do not like this description?’

‘I can live with it,’ she returned shortly, and then felt immediately ashamed of her ingratitude. But then...she didn’t trust him, not one little bit. Why would a complete stranger pay for her to be cared for in a private hospital anyway? There was a catch here, she just knew it. Or was she generally just distrustful of people and men in particular? she asked herself silently. She didn’t know, she just didn’t know. The panic rose hot and fierce.

‘Is there a mirror anywhere?’ she asked weakly, as she glanced up from her musing to find the strange gold eyes intent on her face.

‘You look delightful—’

‘I don’t care what I look like,’ she said sharply before wincing as the pain shot through her head again. ‘I just want to see...to see who I am,’ she finished miserably.

‘Of course.’ Suddenly the hard face softened. ‘I will call the nurse to take you to the bathroom in case you should feel a little unwell again, yes?’ He paused as he walked over to the door and turned again, his eyes searching her white face slowly. ‘You will remember soon, little one, have no fear about that. The police are making enquiries and soon someone will notice you are missing.’

‘But perhaps I’m here by myself?’ she said weakly. ‘Perhaps I’ve rented a place even? I could have.’ She stared at him, her eyes wide and the pupils unnaturally dilated. ‘I could have a child waiting for me, pets, anything. I don’t know, do I?’

‘This is true,’ he said gravely, ‘but if you try to remember too hard I think it will be even more difficult.’

‘That’s all very well for you to say,’ she said tightly. ‘You aren’t me, are you? Not that this would have happened to a man, I suppose,’ she added bitterly.

‘You think the male sex is impervious to being attacked?’ he asked quietly, his eyes narrowing at the look of resentment darkening her face.

‘Not necessarily, no.’ Her eyes met his again. ‘But you sure as hell have things your own way most of the time. Women are just appendages of a man’s ego, that’s all...’ Her voice trailed away as she realised what she had said. What had made her feel like that? She felt something large and dark looming in the background and shut her eyes tightly. She had to remember.

‘I will fetch the nurse.’ She didn’t look up as he spoke, and as the door shut behind him she opened her eyes slowly as she sank back against the pillows. This was a living nightmare and one from which there was no awakening. She put her arms round her middle and hugged herself tightly as the panic clawed at her stomach, sending it churning sickeningly. She was exposed, vulnerable, helpless... Her heart began to thud crazily, and when the little nurse knocked and entered in the next instant she could have kissed her, so pleased was she to have another human being in the room to counter the monsters in her mind.

She was quite steady on her feet as she made her way along to the bathroom on the arm of the nurse, and after insisting that the small Moroccan girl wait outside and promising twice not to lock the door, she walked gingerly over to the cloudy square mirror above the small white washbasin and peered at herself with bated breath.

A pair of large, grey, darkly lashed eyes stared back at her nervously and then continued their inspection of the reflection. Small, straight nose, a somewhat wide generous mouth, she noted wanly, and all set in a clear skin that was real peaches and cream. Thick, sleek, chestnut-brown hair with more than a touch of red in its silky depths gave an explanation of the freckles scattered across her nose, and the short bob was expertly cut, complementing the fine features and upward tilt of her chin. Altogether reasonably attractive, although she would never win any beauty contests, she thought slowly, and it didn’t mean a thing to her. It could have been the face of anyone, the face of a stranger. What was she going to do? She sat down on the loo and put her head between her hands as she tried to think. She was all alone in a foreign country... or at least she thought it was a foreign country. For all she knew, she lived here. She groaned softly. Surely the police would find out something soon? They had to, this was horrific. And that man, Gerard Dumont. Why did she have this feeling that she had to be rid of him at the earliest opportunity? That he spelt danger with a capital D? Could she trust her instincts? They were the only thing she had right now.

He was waiting m her room when she returned with the nurse, his big frame stretching lazily as he stood up at their approach, his whole demeanour casual and relaxed but his eyes hawk-like on her face as she passed, although he said not a word as the nurse settled her back into bed.

‘I fetch the breakfast, yes?’ The small girl smiled cheerfully. ‘And then you feel a million dollars with plenty of zow?’

I wouldn’t bank on it, Kit thought silently as she smiled a dutiful response as the nurse left the room.

‘The police phoned.’ Gerard Dumont settled himself back on the stool by her bed that he had vacated a minute before, and she raised her eyes reluctantly to his. ‘No luck yet, unfortunately; it would appear you are the mystery girl. The doctor will be along shortly to examine you, but if all is as he thinks there is no reason why you cannot leave this morning.’

‘To go where?’ she asked blankly as her mind raced. Was there a British embassy near here? But then she wasn’t even sure she was English.

‘Well, I do have an idea there as it happens,’ he drawled slowly, lifting dark brows as he watched her carefully, his face cynical and cool. ‘But maybe it would be better for you to eat your breakfast first and—’

‘I would prefer to hear anything you have to say right now,’ she said firmly, her chin setting at a determined angle that brought an amused gleam into the glittering gold-brown eyes trained on her face.

‘As you wish.’ He stood up abruptly, walking over to the small narrow window and lifting the blind aside so that a shaft of sunlight spilled into the austere room, catching a million tiny particles in its radiant light. ‘I was going to suggest that it would seem logical for you to remain resting somewhere until either you regain your memory or the police find out who you are, yes?’

‘I suppose so.’ She glanced at the broad back warily. ‘And?’

‘And that would pose a problem, or at least an embarrassment, as you have no money that I know of?’ He turned to face her, his eyes slits of gold light.

‘You know I haven’t.’ She stared back, hard. ‘But I can assure you that once all this is sorted out I will reimburse you for every penny you’ve spent—’

‘Do not be ridiculous.’ This time his voice was harsh, and she blinked twice before opening her mouth to respond, but he continued swiftly. ‘The money is incidental, as I am sure you are aware. I was merely stating facts.’

‘Well, now you’ve stated them I still don’t understand—’

‘It would seem practical for you to be my guest until you are recovered sufficiently to take charge of your own affairs,’ he said expressionlessly. ‘There are several guest-rooms at my home in Marrakesh, and as I am a prominent and well-known figure in business circles I am sure the police would be happy to—’

‘You must be joking!’ Tact and diplomacy fled out of the window as she reared up in the narrow bed like a small lioness. ‘You must think I was born yesterday, Mr Dumont! So that’s what this has all been about, the private room and so on! Well, if you expect me to pay for my expenses in the fashion that is as old as time, you can forget it, mister! I know your sort—believe me, you’re far from being unique! I’d rather spend the next few days, weeks or months in a prison cell if necessary compared to what you’re suggesting. Just what do you think I am—?’