Illyrian Summer, page 6
Daniel grumbled all the way back to the car park. “Nothing is more frustrating,” he declared, “than to come to a place like this, ready to help, to do anything, to work all night if necessary, and then be told to come back in the morning.”
“We must remember we’re foreigners, Daniel,” Sarah said patiently, “and until the authorities know something about us and what we’re here for, we must expect to come up against delays or difficulties.”
“Edmund will laugh,” Daniel replied bitterly. “He’ll give us a knowing smile—oh, he won’t say ‘I told you so’ in so many words—but he’ll mean it all the same.” Sarah concentrated on picking her steps among the rubble. It was childish of Daniel to complain every time he didn’t get his own way.
By the time the three arrived back at the car park, Edmund and Ricardo had prepared a meal, and again Sarah felt guilty because she had not been there to help. Her going off with Daniel on what turned out to be almost a wild-goose chase might lead the others to believe that she was trying to evade her share of the work.
The men had also erected two of the tents as sleeping quarters.
“You, Sarah, will sleep in the minibus,” Edmund ordered. “The two drivers will sleep in the truck and the rest of us in the tents.”
In the light of the minibus headlamps Sarah saw Daniel’s mouth open to make some protest, but ail he said was, “When we unload some of the stores, there’ll be more room to stretch out.”
Sarah cleared a space on the floor of the minibus, tucked herself into her sleeping bag and was asleep almost before she had settled herself. It seemed no more than a few minutes before the early-morning sun slanted mistily across the massed vehicles in the car park to wake her. As she stood eating buttered rolls and drinking coffee, she could see the appalling devastation even from this distance above the town. Jagged parts of buildings stood drunkenly above piles of masonry, a tramcar lay on its side halfway down a hilly street, telephone poles leaned at odd angles with their wires festooned and tangled around them.
Above the ruins hung a great cloud of white dust, almost dimming the sun.
Already Edmund was instructing the two cameraman as to the shots they were to take.
“What do you want me to do first?” Sarah asked him when he paused in his instructions.
“Find this food depot and see what arrangements you can make. If they want us to unload and take the stuff down there, we’ll do so, but we don’t want to take it to the wrong place and have to cart it somewhere else. So be sure you fix exact instructions.”
Cranes and bulldozers, army trucks and ambulances lurched along the rubble-strewn streets where pavements were littered with glass. Shop windows had spilled their contents into jumbled disorder. Books and washing machines, radios and dresses, shoes and food—all were flung into heaps and were now covered with white dust.
Sarah’s throat and eyes burned with the dust, but she struggled on to find the depot for receiving stores and food and an inquiry bureau.
She had no success. A tent with an awning had been set up in the main square, but the lists of survivors were incomplete. Many people had already left the town of their own accord, or might be camping outside or even gone to another part of the country to start a new life elsewhere. There had not yet been time to check the names of injured or missing. Nobody knew anything about the steelworks or any of the English staff.
On her return to the car park, however, Edmund informed her, “We saw Radmilla in the streets when we were filming.”
“And her family? Are they safe?” she asked.
“For the moment, yes, but they’re not allowed into their house, since it might collapse any moment, and Radmilla is trying to persuade them to leave the town and stay with relatives somewhere else.”
“Poor Radmilla! What a problem! She told me once that her family had lived in the same house here for more than a hundred years. It must be heartbreaking for them to leave.”
“Apparently she had heard that a film unit was arriving and came to see if it was ours,” Edmund continued. “I induced her to come back with us and take some of the food. She promised to come again and see us.”
“Did she say anything about ... about Adam?” Sarah was unable to quell the rising color in her cheeks.
“She hasn’t seen him, but she thinks the steelworks are far enough away to be safe.”
“But Adam may have been here in the town when the earthquake happened,” Sarah said quickly, her mind full of apprehension.
“True, he may, but we shall probably find out before long.”
It was easy for Edmund to dismiss Adam so casually, she thought, but not for her. A steelworks could be rebuilt, but if Adam were lost...? She swerved her mind from that possibility.
“I’ll go down to the town center and see if I can find Radmilla’s house. She may be somewhere near. I’d like to see her.” Sarah felt the need of action, anything that would dispel or even quieten the gnawing anxiety that filled her mind.
“You won’t have any luck there,” Edmund told her. “All that part of the town is barricaded off in case of further crashes—and while they go on trying to rescue people possibly buried in the debris.”
Sarah remained silent for a few moments. Then she said, “If there’s nothing much you want me to do at the moment, I’ll go down there all the same. There might be some kind of help I can give, even if it’s only ladling out soup.”
Edmund gave her a friendly smile and raised his eyebrows. “I suppose you’ve forgotten that you’re expected to cook for half a dozen of us here. D’you want us to starve?”
She laughed. “No. Of course I’ll stay, although you’ll have to put up with my efforts.”
“Mmm,” Edmund murmured. “Perhaps on second thoughts we’ll have a cold lunch. All right, take your stroll—and see if you can meet Adam.” He gave Sarah an oblique glance, then chuckled. “I know I shan’t get any sense or concentration out of you until you know what’s happened to him.”
“Well, naturally we all want to know,” Sarah said as evenly as she could, for she wanted to race off without further delay. “He was so kind to us—and helpful.”
“Of course!” Edmund was grinning.
“And if I find him,” Sarah added, with an attempt at dignity, “I have a message for him—from Melanie—Miss Roche, that is. She told me to give him her love.”
“And will you deliver the message?”
“Why not?”
Edmund nodded, still smiling. “Come back here not later than about seven, will you? I shall need you to type a report of the day’s work.”
“Yes, of course, Edmund. I’ll do that.”
She turned to go, and Edmund called out, “Hey, Sarah! Take your lunch with you. Fruit and cheese and other oddments. You won’t get anything elsewhere.” She was glad of his reminder and promised herself that she would be more thoughtful in future.
On that first visit this morning, she had not penetrated far beyond the center, and it was possible that Radmilla’s house was farther, away, although it was unlikely that the family would still be near.
Then a few paces in front of her she saw a tall, lean figure. Adam? Could it really be Adam? Or was she seeing him in every man’s shape?
It was impossible to hurry along the brick-strewn roadway, and he was gaining on her. His long legs strode over obstacles.
“Adam!” she called at the top of her voice. “Adam! Adam Thorne!” If he were a stranger, he would not respond to an English name.
But the man turned, and Sarah felt her senses reel with relief.
Adam stared at her, then a smile of recognition lighted his face and he retraced his steps to meet her.
“Sarah! How did you get here?”
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she answered, gasping for breath. “We were worried about you. We couldn’t get any news.”
“But why have you come?” he queried.
Before she could explain about Edmund and the film unit, Daniel appeared, apparently from nowhere.
“Sarah! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Hallo, Thorne.”
Adam’s face changed instantly. “This is no place for tourists or sightseers, Miss Catherall,” he said coldly. “I’d advise you to leave as soon as you can. It may be dangerous to stay, and the authorities obviously have their hands full trying to cope with the damage—as well as the people still alive.”
His sudden change of attitude struck Sarah like a blow. His first greeting had surely been cordial, but she was momentarily thrown off balance by his icy rejection of herself and Daniel. She managed to murmur, “Well, we’re glad you escaped.”
He gave Sarah an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment.
“And we’re not exactly here as tourists,” Daniel pointed out, obviously affronted.
Adam gave him a cool glance. “No, perhaps not. I should have realized that even disasters have their publicity value. If you’ll excuse me, I must go. I’m on my way to the hospital. My secretary, Mirjana, is badly injured and I must visit her.”
Sarah watched almost unbelievingly as Adam walked up the ruined street. Surely at first he had greeted her with friendliness? Daniel’s sudden appearance had changed that, but why?
Daniel’s hand on her arm recalled her.
“He jumped to some hasty conclusions, didn’t he?” he remarked. “One of those who think that every actor is out for all the publicity he can get, no matter how. Jealousy, that’s what it is.”
“Jealousy?” The word caught Sarah’s attention.
“Yes. Engineers or construction men or whatever it is he does can’t hope to be in the limelight. They’re not news unless they’re reading a paper to some learned society or they get a medal.”
“I suppose so,” murmured Sarah, disappointed with Daniel’s matter-of-fact explanation, yet unsure of what she had expected. Surely, she told herself as she and Daniel walked back along the dust-laden streets, she did not expect jealousy to flare up between Adam and Daniel over herself?
“I was trying to find Radmilla,” she said, “but it’s hopeless unless you can make a definite rendezvous.”
Daniel chuckled quietly. “Yet you managed to find Adam easily enough—by accident?”
Sarah smiled and took refuge in silence.
“I’ve found Radmilla,” Daniel continued after a moment or two. “Or at least, I’ve found where her family is camping out. I’ll take you there now if you like.”
“Oh, good!” Sarah was enthusiastic. “I want to see Radmilla. I’m sure she can help me.”
“Help you to what?”
“To do something constructive, of course. What’s the point of coming here otherwise?”
“Quite!” agreed Daniel in a tone that was snappy and metallic. “Time you did something other than hunt about the streets for Adam. I’ve been hauling boxes and cases of stuff down here all morning.”
“I haven’t been hunting the streets for Adam,” she retorted, “but now that we know he’s alive and walking uninjured...”
Daniel broke into a shout of laughter. “Why d’you get so offended every time I mention Adam?”
“Why do you?”
“Because I don’t like the man,” Daniel answered quickly. “He’s arrogant and sly and unreliable and—”
It was Sarah’s turn to laugh. “All the things that you are not!”
“Well, I don’t think I’m any of those!”
“No, Daniel, you’re a paragon. Your good qualities are too many to catalog.”
It was easy enough to restore good humor between herself and Daniel, she thought. How much more difficult to fathom the mysteries of Adam’s swift changes?
Radmilla’s family was grouped on top of a grass bank close to the river. Other groups of friends and neighbors huddled together in the sunshine as though out on a forlorn picnic.
Sarah was introduced to Radmilla’s parents, who acknowledged her with vague smiles and murmurs.
“My mother is very shocked,” Radmilla explained. “Yesterday she insisted that I take her back to our house, although we could not go in, of course. While we were there, a neighbor’s house fell in ruins, and my mother cried. She wanted to go inside ours and bring out clothes and furniture and many possessions she has treasured ail her life, but the soldiers would not let us enter and I had to bring her away.”
Sarah sighed. “Oh, it’s so tragic! But I must find some way of helping. Of course, Edmund needs me, too, but I have spare time. What can I do, Radmilla?”
“There are many ways and we will find out, but first you must eat with us.”
Sarah hesitated and Radmilla assured her, “Edmund made me bring some food with me, so there is plenty to eat at present.”
At the finish of the meal, Sarah and Radmilla left the small party on the grass.
“I am sure they need help at the health center,” Radmilla suggested. “We will go there first.”
“If not, they can send me elsewhere,” Sarah agreed, “although today I must return by seven to start on Edmund’s work.”
Outside the hospital many of the injured were lying on stretchers or mattresses in the shade of trees or awnings.
“Some have had first aid,” explained Radmilla, “and are waiting to see a doctor. Others are waiting for transport to take them to another town. Even here in this new and modern hospital, it is not safe to be inside.”
The health center was in a separate block and in the same grounds, and part of the building had cracked and fallen away, exposing twisted girders and torn walls. Immediately after the earthquake, tables and chairs, desks and mattresses had been hastily retrieved from inside and were now ranged in orderly rows on the lawns.
Radmilla spoke to an official and soon Sarah was conducted to a vacant table, with typewriter. Her immediate job was to type out medical cards with details of where each person had been transferred and the nature of injuries.
Radmilla waved goodbye, explaining that she had to visit the transport depot to arrange something for her family.
Sarah concentrated with furious attention on her typing; as fast as she finished one pile, fresh stacks of papers were delivered by a dark-eyed lad of about twelve who dashed about from table to desk, happy to be anybody’s messenger boy.
The more senior or important officials had been given awnings or colored umbrellas to shade them from the scorching midafternoon sun, but the rest had to manage as best they could, and Sarah was glad she had brought with her the wide-brimmed straw hat she had bought when the unit first went to Opatija.
Soon after six o’clock she decided that she must return to Edmund. She tidied the table and took all the completed cards to an official at the far end, where she explained in halting Serbo-Croatian that she would return tomorrow, prepared to work again.
“Hvla,” he said with a dazzling smile, then added in equally halting English, “you are most kind.”
She smiled in return and walked toward the exit gates. Someone came behind her, turned as he passed to look at her, and said, “Ah, Sarah! I thought I recognized the hat.”
“Adam!” She was so pleased that he had called her “Sarah” again after the cold, dismissive “Miss Catherall” that she could not keep the delight out of her voice. “The hat?” she queried. “Is it so distinctive?”
“I remembered the wide green ribbon on it. You wore it at Pula—when you were climbing the amphitheater.”
Her eyes danced with pleasure. So he had remembered the hat she had worn! “I’m very flattered,” she said demurely. “Most of our hats are created to be forgotten.”
They walked out together through the exit gates. Then she remembered that probably he had been visiting Mirjana in the hospital grounds.
“Is Mirjana here in this hospital?” she asked him.
“Yes. I’ve just been to see her again.”
Sarah’s spirits, so lately soaring to pinnacles of joy, sank equally suddenly.
“Is she very badly injured?” she asked evenly.
“She has a broken leg and a few other cuts and minor injuries,” Adam answered. “She will be moved away as soon as possible.”
Sarah was on the point of saying that quite likely she had typed out a card this afternoon for Mirjana’s case, but she bit back the words. “I saw Radmilla today,” she told him. “Her family is staying close by the river. They aren’t injured, I think, but they will lose their house and all their possessions.”
“Where are you going now?” he asked abruptly, as though Radmilla’s problems were no concern of his.
“To the car park in the public gardens. Up there on the outskirts of the town.”
“You’re returning to Dubrovnik?”
She could not repress the spurt of triumph that now elated her. “Oh, no. Not until our work here is finished. Edmund has brought a small film unit to make a documentary.” She watched his face and added, “You jumped to rather hasty conclusions this morning when you took Daniel and me for idle sightseers. We haven’t come here for a day trip. We work on our jobs and in j our spare time we do anything else we can to help.”
For a moment or two he stared down at her, his eyes hard and unemotional. Then he smiled and his features became less forbidding. “It must be the hat,” he said softly.
“The hat? Why?”
“When you wear it, you become indignant.” He chuckled. “I apologize, though, for this morning’s mistake. Actually, I was rather concerned about your safety. Buildings fall down all the time.”
She was touched by his admission of error and smiled back at him. “Thank you, Adam. I have to go up to Edmund now. There’s a load of typing to be done.”
“May I come with you?”
“Of course. Edmund will be glad to see you again.”
“When it happened, were you here in the town?”
He hesitated for several moments, as though he were framing his reply. “I had taken Mirjana home—we’d been working late at the steel plant and we had dinner at a restaurant on the other side of the town, the old part across the river. Mirjana and her mother lived on this side in one of the tall new apartment blocks, only built a few years ago. I was walking back to the hotel where I live—that’s on the other side, too, handy for my work—and after I’d crossed the bridge I felt the ground heave under my feet.”
