The House in the Pines Read online

  THE HOUSE IN THE PINES

  THE HOUSE IN THE PINES

  Margaret Carr

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available

  This eBook edition published by AudioGo Ltd, Bath, 2012.

  Published by arrangement with the Author.

  Epub ISBN 9781471302473

  U.K. Hardcover ISBN 978 1 408 44140 4

  U.K. Softcover ISBN 978 1 408 44141 1

  Copyright © Margaret Carr, 2000

  All rights reserved.

  Jacket Illustration © iStockphoto.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lynn Raynor collected her hired car from de Gando airport on the island of Gran Canaria and pulled out into the afternoon traffic. It was her first holiday abroad in three years and she meant to enjoy herself.

  She drove with care, adjusting to driving on the right hand side of the road as she passed under the flyover and curved up on to the south-bound motorway. She pulled in behind a dark blue Jaguar and settled back knowing she was now on a direct route to Playa Del Ingles.

  When the blue car in front of her braked suddenly she couldn’t avoid hitting it with a bang. The shock reverberated down her nervous system. She had barely recovered when she caught sight of a tall, dark man thrusting himself out of the Jaguar, an aura of anger surrounding him as he marched towards her.

  A spate of Spanish lashed down through her open window until he realised she wasn’t understanding a word he said.

  ‘Tourist,’ he spat out like a bad taste from his mouth. ‘Are you hurt?’ he continued in perfect English.

  She shook her head, then finding her voice said, ‘No thanks to you,’ seeing attack as the better part of valour. ‘Why on earth did you brake like that? I didn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘If you’d been paying attention you would have braked as well when that car tried to pull in between myself and the wagon in front of me. Why do you people hire cars once a year when in all probability you don’t even own one at home? Then you come out here and treat it as some kind of practice circuit!’

  He left the window to take a look at the damage. Lynn was furious at his accusation.

  ‘For your information,’ she said, climbing out of the car and following him round to where the crumpled nose of her little Ford was embedded in the Jaguar’s boot, ‘I own a car and a ten-year clean driving licence.’

  In reality she was horrified at the seeming damage her run-in with the bigger car had done. She heard him say something in Spanish that she was sure was rude as he climbed back into his car and eased it forward to make sure the two cars would separate without further damage. There was a tearing, grinding sound as the cars came apart.

  Lynn’s heart skipped a beat as she chewed on her lower lip. She was so angry she felt like kicking his car.

  ‘You’ll have to contact your car-hire company as soon as you reach your destination,’ he said in a patronising tone, as though he was speaking to an idiot.

  ‘I’ll make sure they know it was your fault.’

  ‘Fault doesn’t come into it. You hit me and if I were you I’d drive a little more carefully in future. You’re not in England now.’

  Muttering viciously, she turned her back on him and climbed into the driving seat of the Ford praying that the bump would not have affected its running ability. He stood aside as she turned the key. A loud, dry wail came from the engine.

  It stuttered once or twice and died. She repeated the procedure several more times with the same results. Then the door was jerked open and in a weary voice he said one word.

  ‘Out.’

  The traffic was tearing by them in the outside lane when a police car pulled on to the hard shoulder and drew up. Lynn’s insides started to play up all over again. Now she was glad that she had bumped into a local and not another tourist, and by the look of it, she thought, an influential local.

  The policeman greeted the stranger with a salute and they conversed in rapid Spanish, totally ignoring her.

  And that’s the way I like it, Lynn thought, keeping a low profile.

  The policeman glanced towards her a couple of times and she concluded that they were talking about her but he didn’t approach her. With a shrug he helped the stranger to jerk the bonnet of the car free and after a few adjustments the policeman turned the key in the ignition and the engine turned over with a cough.

  Lynn rushed over and climbed into the driving seat as the policeman strode back to his car.

  ‘Thank you for your help,’ she mumbled to the stranger, before clipping on her seat belt and pushing the car into gear.

  He gave a brisk nod and headed back to his own car. He kept tucked in behind her all the way to Playa Del Ingles then disappeared in amongst the town’s traffic.

  Lynn found her apartment without any bother by following the instructions given to her by the holiday company. She parked in a nearby street after depositing her luggage in reception, then walked back, picked up her key and took the lift up to the second floor. In the apartment there was a twin bedroom, shower room and small kitchen at the end of the lounge, with two gas rings, a sink, a fridge and a row of cupboards all hidden behind louvre doors. Her balcony looked out over the street. The apartment was clean and the soft furnishings crisp and bright and she was well pleased with it.

  She smiled as she dumped her cases on one of the beds and lay back on the other. Despite the bad start and that awful man she just knew she was going to have a wonderful time here.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two days later, Lynn sighed as the warm air caressed her bare shoulders. Her body was still adjusting to the change in temperature after the bitter cold of a North of England winter.

  The warm March sun of the Canaries was as close to paradise as anyone could wish, she thought. The hire company had replaced her car, and her insurance had covered it. The world was on an even keel once more.

  On the street below her balcony, a tour bus disgorged its consignment of new visitors to the island. Cases were being piled in a haphazard fashion on to the pavement as tired, pale-skinned people circled and weaved in an attempt to claim their property.

  Some were making their way in straggled formation across the road to an apartment block on the other side when an open-topped Jeep full of young people swung around the corner and ploughed straight into the baggage-carrying tourists.

  Lynn’s mouth fell open with shock then she was pushing her feet into sandals and grabbing a T-shirt as she ran from the room. Down two flights of stairs, she emerged on to the walkway that skirted the swimming pool. Once on to the pavement, she pushed her way through the gathering crowd and kneeled down by the first person she found on the ground.

  It was an elderly gentleman holding a clean handkerchief someone had given him to his head. Lynn eased his hand away and saw that, although there was some heavy bleeding, it was only superficial. His hands were grazed but he smiled stoically and tried to get up. Other people had helped him to his feet as Lynn moved on.

  One quick-thinking person was standing in the centre of the road directing traffic away from the accident as police horns sounded in the distance. The luggage had taken the brunt of the damage, she noticed, as she glanced across the burst cases and scattered belongings.

  A middle-aged woman and two children were crying, a young woman had skinned knees and a man trying to gather together his belongings looked to have a broken collar bone that someone had temporarily strapped up with a scarf.

  Five of the young people from the Jeep were attempting to right it from its upside down position when Lynn spotted the tip of a brown sandal protruding from beneath the rear of the vehicle.

  ‘Stop, that’s the wrong thing to do,’ she shouted.

  There was
some confusion until they understood what she wanted then they stopped rocking the Jeep and made way for Lynn. By now the police had arrived and were pushing the crowd back. A voice spoke in Spanish at Lynn’s shoulder, but she ignored it and pointed to the sandal beneath the Jeep.

  A great deal of talking broke out and the Jeep was gently raised up lifting the weight from the rear. Lynn was down on the ground before anyone could object, wriggling beneath the upturned vehicle.

  The sandal led to a leg encased in denim, a yellow T-shirt, then a face of white marble and a thatch of dusty blonde hair. The foot and leg were intact, the face and head unmarked. The nearest arm was uninjured when she checked it but the other was out-flung and the hand pinned beneath a wedge of seating.

  The far leg was definitely broken in at least two places to be at the angle it was. What concerned Lynn most was the trickle of blood seeping from his right ear. Gently she turned his head to the right to allow the ear to drain. Someone was shouting to her from beyond the vehicle and she struggled backward after reassuring the unconscious boy and deciding she could do no more.

  The receptionist from Lynn’s apartments had explained to the police that Lynn was a nurse and as she straightened, a doctor was talking to her in English. She explained what she had seen of the patient’s injuries and this enabled the doctor to instruct the police on the best way to remove the Jeep. In no time the road was cleared and the young man on his way to hospital in the ambulance, siren screaming.

  Only the police remained, taking the names and addresses of those involved. Lynn tried to slip back to her apartment unobserved but was delayed by the doctor’s praise to the police of her quick thinking, which in turn led to more questioning.

  Now, as she stood behind the open doors of her balcony and gazed down at the street, it was as though nothing had ever happened there. She stood for a few minutes longer watching the people going about their business, then turned back into the apartment and put a pan of water on the gas ring to boil. There were never any kettles in holiday accommodation and Lynn, like all good English people, was in need of a cup of tea.

  This holiday was, as much as a well-earned rest, by way of compensation for the job she had lost due to cut-backs. There had been a post for her in the new set-up, but she had turned it down on principle. She sighed over her cup of tea.

  Why, she asked herself, should she take on more stress and responsibility for no more money, when hospital managers were being paid large bonuses for no more work than they were doing now? When her two weeks holiday was up, she would go home and turn a new leaf. She loved her profession but there was still time to change direction.

  * * *

  Returning from an afternoon on the beach the following day, Lynn noticed a dark blue Jaguar parked against the kerb outside her apartment block. A man in a chauffeur’s uniform was leaning against the bonnet, idly thumbing through the pages of a notebook. As Lynn turned down the short flight of stairs to the reception area she saw the girl at the desk signal someone beyond Lynn’s shoulder. Immediately the man in the uniform was standing in front of her.

  ‘Excuse, please, but you are Miss Raynor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I am told to ask if you wish to visit the hospital.’

  Lynn frowned.

  ‘Hospital?’

  ‘Si, to visit the son of my employer, Senor Falcon. The young man you rescued yesterday, did you not? His father now wishes to show his gratitude to you.’

  Lynn eyed the familiar car with exasperation. Please, she prayed, not him again.

  ‘But I didn’t rescue his son. I simply assessed his injuries.’

  ‘Do you not then wish to see him?’

  ‘Well, yes, I would like to know how he is, but I’m in no fit state to go visiting at the moment.’

  She swept a hand down the front of her sun top and cut-off shorts.

  ‘Ah, no problem. I will wait.’

  Lynn shrugged and continued on up the stairs to her apartment. As she showered, she toyed with the idea of asking about the possibilities of work here on the island.

  The hospital would be a good place to ask. There would be legalities to be got through of course but it wouldn’t hurt to find out. She imagined living here all year round and, flushed by her inspiration, she dressed carefully in a blue print dress and soft white sandals. Adding a touch of pink lipstick, she picked up a small clutch purse and a white sweater in case it grew chilly when the sun went down.

  The driver explained that the boy had spent the previous night in the nearby hospital of San Augustin but then that morning he had been moved to Las Palmas to be closer to his family.

  It took nearly an hour to drive to the hospital in Las Palmas, the capital. The car drew to a stop at the main entrance and the driver left the car to escort her to the chief nurse.

  Lynn was shown into a deeply-carpeted room with soft chairs and low tables. Lamps and magazines were placed strategically around the room. It looked more like a department store window display than a hospital waiting-room. The grey-suited man staring out of the window turned at her entrance and Lynn felt a hysterical giggle run up her throat as she recognised the man she had bumped into on the road the day she’d arrived.

  ‘Miss Raynor, thank you for coming,’ he said without a show of recognition.

  Her hand disappeared into his and she swallowed hard. He towered over her, big, lean and strong, like the grip in which he still held her hand. She remembered his hands and funnily enough his ears. They were the first things she noticed about a person and what they told her rarely let her down. His hands were perfect—long, slim hands with short, clean nails, firm, not podgy. He had generous ears, large without sticking out, no fleshy lobes or thick rims but curved smoothly to the sides of his head. His dark hair was clipped neatly at collar length.

  Cool grey eyes with thick dark lashes washed over her then came back to study her face and with a small gasp of surprise Lynn realised the attraction was mutual.

  Suddenly conscious that she was staring Lynn lowered her gaze and moved back a pace.

  ‘How is—er—your son?’

  ‘His name is Peter. His leg is broken in two places, as you surmised, and his left hand has some tendon damage but it was the head injury that worried us. However I have been told that he will live and for that we must be thankful.’

  He turned away from her and made to sit down, then checked himself.

  ‘The name is Falcon, by the way, Luis Falcon. Please be seated. The doctors will be finished with Peter directly then we may see him for a short while.’

  Lynn moved to another chair and sat down. Her legs had a decided wobble from the surge of her emotions. He was so like everything she had ever dreamed of in a man, from his looks to the deep, strong timbre of his voice, yet he’d said nothing about their earlier meeting and she doubted he even remembered her.

  The door opened and a tall, thin woman came into the room. Her suit was silk, her perfume wafting in a breeze behind her. Not a single hair was out of place on her beautiful dark head, nor a wrinkle marring the perfection of her finely-boned face, yet Lynn thought a certain hardness of expression spoiled the woman’s over-all good looks.

  Luis Falcon rose to his feet once more.

  ‘Sofia,’ he said, addressing the new arrival, ‘this is Miss Raynor, the young woman who helped save Peter. Miss Raynor,’ he said, turning to Lynn, ‘my mother-in-law’s niece, Sofia Mateo de Sosa.’

  Lynn held out her hand.

  ‘Senora.’

  The woman’s hand brushed with a feather-like touch across Lynn’s own. ‘Miss Raynor.’

  Her voice was brittle and negative, making Lynn feel invisible.

  Senora de Sosa picked up a magazine, sat down and flicked through its pages. Lynn glanced from one to the other several times. What strange people, she thought. Where were the hugs and kisses, the expressions of concern for the patient that she knew her own family would have given amongst each other?

  After seve
ral silent minutes had elapsed Lynn said, ‘I think I’ll come back tomorrow. I don’t want to intrude on your visit.’

  The man’s eyebrows rose a fraction.

  ‘You can’t wait? You have another appointment perhaps?’

  ‘No, but I doubt your son will be fit enough to see strangers even supposing the doctors will let me in.’

  He rose to his feet along with her. The senora didn’t look up from her magazine.

  ‘I’m sorry you can’t stay. Peter will want to thank you,’ he said.

  Lynn smiled politely though she doubted very much that Peter would be in any fit state to thank her or otherwise.

  Falcon’s eyes searched her face and Lynn wondered if he was trying to place where he had seen her. Then she was out of the room and hurrying towards the exit.

  At the central desk she stopped for an update on Peter’s condition. Glad to hear he was in no immediate danger, she went on to ask about the possibilities of work.

  The young nurse shrugged her shoulders and tried to explain how to apply for work, while writing down an address for Lynn to seek out.

  ‘The people here will help you,’ the nurse said with a smile, handing over the piece of paper.

  Probably the equivalent of an employment office, Lynn whispered to herself as she left the building.

  A voice close behind her made her jump.

  ‘It’s the address of a nursing agency.’

  Lynn’s heart gave a great bump before racing twice as fast as it should. ‘Senor?’ was all she could think of saying.

  ‘With you leaving so suddenly, I omitted to offer you the use of the car to take you home. If you can tell me what time you wish to visit my son tomorrow, I will send the car for you again.’

  ‘Oh, no, please. I’ll find my own way here.’

  His face stiffened as though she had insulted him.

  ‘You are on holiday. It is not to be expected that you should spend your allowance travelling to see my son.’

  Sensing the strong pride in this man, Lynn made a frantic effort to back pedal.