Journey to the River Sea

But the twins were not crying for their mother.

‘It’s our money,’ sobbed Beatrice.

‘The money for the reward. Twenty thousand milreis each – and it’s all burnt!’

‘Perhaps you will get it again, from the insurance?’

But the Carters, of course, were not insured, and the twins went on snivelling till the nurse became impatient and walked away.

Mrs Carter was in the next ward. Her arm was bandaged and she had inhaled a lot of smoke. Even so, she found time to complain about the way the hospital was run, the lack of hygiene, and the patients whose young children were allowed to visit them and run all over the ward.

‘And there’s a fly on my water jug,’ she said fretfully. ‘Two, in fact.’

She was still complaining when a smartly dressed Englishman came to her bedside. He was the British consul’s assistant.

‘Mrs Carter, the consul has asked me how we can help you to return to England. There seems to be little future for you here.’

‘You mean you’d pay our fares?’

‘For you and your daughters, yes. Do you have anyone you could go to in England? Relatives or friends?’

Mrs Carter frowned. She did not actually seem to have any friends. Then her face cleared. ‘Lady Parsons, in Littleford. She would take us in, I’m sure. She is my mother’s cousin ... well, almost. Her address is Grey Gables, The Promenade, Littlefordon-Sea.’

The young man wrote this down. Then he said, not meeting her eye, ‘Your husband won’t be returning to England, just yet, I’m afraid.’ And as gently as he could, he told her that when he came out of hospital, Mr Carter faced a trial and possible imprisonment for fraud and embezzlement. Just as he had cheated the bank in England, so had he done out here. It wasn’t only Gonzales to whom Mr Carter owed more money than he could ever hope to repay.

Miss Minton ran up the hospital steps and the professor, mopping his brow, ran behind her.

‘The Carter family,’ she said at the desk. ‘The girls from the fire. Where are they?’

‘Ward C,’ said the receptionist, and they hurried up two flights of stairs.

The twins were still whimpering, but they stopped to stare at Miss Minton.

‘You’re not badly hurt, I understand,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re not in pain.’

‘Our money’s gone,’ sniffed Beatrice.

‘Yes. But you might have lost your lives.’ And then: ‘Where’s Maia?’

The twins shrugged. ‘Daddy went back to find her. We don’t know where she is. She didn’t come in with us.’

Miss Minton’s heart began to pound. The professor put a hand under her arm. ‘I’ll go and ask the Sister.’

He made his way down the corridor and came back with a set face.

‘She said there were only the two girls and their parents in the ambulance. She didn’t know there was another girl.’

Miss Minton took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

‘But Mr Carter went back for her, the twins say. She must be here.’

The Sister had come out of her office to join them. Now they all hurried to the men’s ward.

Mr Carter’s burns were serious. His hair and eyebrows were singed, his face was swollen, both arms were bandaged. He lay still with his eyes closed. But Minty had no thought to spare for him.

‘Mr Carter, where is Maia? Your daughters say you went back for her. Did you bring her out safely?’

‘I ... tried ...’ lied Mr Carter. ‘I went right to her door, but it was impossible. An inferno ...’

Miss Minton swayed. ‘I am not the kind of person who faints,’ she said as the Sister moved towards her.

But there she was wrong.

Chapter Twenty

For a few hours the bungalow had been beautiful. Orange and crimson and violet flames lit up the night sky; showers of golden sparks flew upwards as the fire danced and played on the dying house.

Then it was over, and there was nothing left – only grey ash and those strange objects which survive disaster. The nozzle of a flit gun, a splintered washbasin ... and in what had been Mr Carter’s study, a single eye, cracked by the heat, staring creepily at the heavens.

So when Finn sailed back down the Negro at dawn, he saw no flames and heard no roaring as the house was destroyed. Everything at first seemed as it had always done; the big trees by the river, the huts of the Indians, the Carter’s launch riding at anchor.

Then the dog, standing beside him, threw back his head and howled.

‘What is it?’ asked Finn.

But now he too smelled the choking, lingering smell of smoke.

And as he sailed towards the landing stage, he saw it – the space, the nothingness where the Carters’ house should have been. Not even an empty shell. Nothing.

He had thought that the news of his father’s death was the worst thing that had happened to him, but this was worse because he was to blame. If he had taken Maia as she had begged ...

He was shivering so much that it was difficult to steer the Arabella to the jetty and make her fast. There was no point in searching the ruins; it was so obvious that no one could survive such a blaze.

But there was one last hope. The huts of the Indians had been spared. Perhaps they had got Maia out; perhaps he would find her sleeping there.