Shout at the Devil - Smith Wilbur. Страница 44

"Don't you want to say good-bye to your father?" Sebastian looked down at her with the tender protectiveness that was such a new and delightful sensation for him.

Rosa hesitated a moment, and then realized that it would take very little to weaken her resolve. Her dutiful affection for Flynn, which at the moment was submerged beneath the tide of anger and resentment, could easily re-emerge should Flynn employ a little of his celebrated blarney. "No,"

she said.

"I suppose it's best! Sebastian agreed. He glanced guiltily towards the bungalow where Flynn was, presumably, still lying in state attended by the faithful Mohammed. "But do yOU think he'll be all right? I mean, I did hit him rather hard, you know."

"He'll be all right," Rosa said without conviction, and tugged at his sleeve. Together they moved to take their places at the head of the little column of bearers.

Kneeling on the floor of the bedroom, below the window sill, peering with one swollen eye through a slit in the curtain, Flynn saw this decisive move. "My God," he whispered in concern. "The young idiots are really leaving."

Rosa O'Flynn was his last link with that frail little Portuguese girl. The one person in his life that Flynn had truly loved. Now that he was about to lose her also, Flynn was suddenly aware of his feeling for his daughter. The prospect of never seeing her again filled him with dismay.

As for Sebastian Oldsmith, here no sentiment clouded his reasoning. Sebastian was a valuable business asset.

Through him, Flynn could put into operation a number of schemes that he had shelved as involving disproportionate personal risk. In these last few years Flynn had become singly aware of the depreciation that time and large inc rea quantities of raw spirit had wrought in his eyes and legs and nerves. Sebastian Oldsmith had eyes like a fish eagle, legs like a prize fighter, and no nerves at all that Flynn could discern. Flynn needed him.

Flynn opened his mouth and groaned. It was the throaty death rattle of an old bull buffalo. Peering through the curtain, Flynn grinned as he saw the young couple freeze, and stand tense and still in the sunlight. Their faces were turned towards the bungalow, and in spite of himself, Flynn had to admit they made a handsome pair; Sebastian tall above her with the body of a gladiator and the face of a poet; Rosa small beside him but with the full bosom and wide hips of womanhood. The slippery black cascade of her hair glowed in the sun, and her dark eyes were big with concern.

Flynn groaned again but softly this time. A breathless, husky sound, the last breath of a dying man, and instantly Rosa and Sebastian were running towards the bungalow.

Her skirts gathered up above her knees, long legs flying, Rosaled Sebastian up onto the veranda.

Flynn had just sufficient time to return to his bed and compose his limbs and his face into the attitude of one fast sinking towards the abyss.

"Daddy!" Rosaleaned over him, and Flynn opened his eyes uncertainly. For a moment he did not seem to recognize her, then he whispered, "My little girl," so faintly she hardly caught the words.

"Oh, Daddy, what is it?" She knelt beside him.

"My heart." His hand crawled up like a hairy spider across his belly and clutched weakly at his hairy chest. "Like a knife. A hot knife."

There was a terrible silence in the room, and then Flynn spoke again. "I wanted to... give you my... my blessing. I wish happiness for you... wherever you go. "The effort of speech was too mUch, and for a while he lay gasping. "Think of your old Daddy sometimes. Say a prayer for him."

A fat, tiny tear broke from the corner of Rosa's eye and slid down her cheek.

"Bassie, my boy." Slowly Flynn's eyes sought him, found him, and focused with difficulty. "Don't blame yourself for this. I was an old man anyway I've had my life." He panted a little and then went on painfully. "Look after her. Look after my little Rosa. You are my son now. I've never had a son."

"I didn't know... I had no idea that your heart... Flynn, I'm dreadfully sorry. Forgive me."

Flynn smiled, a brave little smile that just touched his lips. He lifted his hand weakly and held it out towards Sebastian. While Sebastian clasped his hand, Flynn considered offering him the money that had been the cause of the dispute as a dying man's gift but he manfully restrained himself from such extravagance. Instead he whispered, "I would like to have seen my grandson, but no matter. Good, bye, my boy."

"You'll see him, Flynn. I promise you that. We'll stay, won't we, Rosa? We'll stay with him."

"Yes, we'll stay, said Rosa. "We won't leave you, Daddy."

"My children." Flynn sank back and closed his eyes.

Thank God, he hadn't offered the money. A peaceful little smile hovered around his mouth. "You've made an old man very happy."

Flynn made a strong come-back from the edge of death, so strong, in fact, that it aroused Rosa's suspicions. However, she let it pass for she was happy to have avoided the necessity of leaving Lalapanzi. In addition, there was another matter which was taking up a lot of her attention.

Since she had said good-bye to Sebastian at the start of his tax tour, Rosa had been aware of the cessation of certain womanly functions of her body. She consulted Nanny who, in turn, consulted the local nungane who, in his turn, opened the belly of a chicken, and consulted its entrails.

His findings were conclusive, and Nanny reported back to Rosa, without disclosing the source of her information, for Little Long Hair had an almost blasphemous lack of faith in the occult.

Delighted, Rosa took Sebastian for a walk down the valley, and when they reached the waterfall where it had all begun, she stood on tip-toe, put both arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. She had to repeat herself for her voice was muffled with breathless laughter.