Unknown by Unknown

campestres. Hester, who had been handling the tickets, told me at breakfast that morning that all had been sold.
    ‘Did Don Ramón buy one?’ I asked casually.
    She shook her head. ‘He tried to, but I told him there were none left.’
    ‘Why?’
    She shrugged, frowned, tossed her shimmering hair behind her shoulders and said, as if in apology I think to me, ‘That was a while ago. I didn’t know then how . . Then with relief, ‘That’s the Land Rover! Better get a move on. James won’t let anyone off early, if they don’t arrive early.'
    He wouldn’t either. Mr. Fitzgerald was actually allowing the staff to leave at four-thirty instead of five- thirty, providing they arrived for duty at seven-thirty instead of eight. As he had told me, rules were carefully observed, yet despite that the Embassy was as relaxed and happy as a good family. At least it would be when Eve returned.
    I wanted to ask Hester if the Head of Chancery himself was to accompany us, but I didn’t want to waste time in finding out what was of really no interest anyway. I was outside before Chico opened the door, hauled aboard the Land Rover by Ashford Aid, and I had my confidential cabinet open and my first letter typed before the eight o’clock carillon sounded over the sweet clear air of Quicha.
    No one stopped for lunch, except Mr. Green. He put his head round my door at one o’clock. ‘I’m off for a lonely bite lest anyone wants me,' he announced, beaming. ‘I’m D.O., as I won’t be getting all the lovely grub you lot are having tonight.’
    That meant Mr. Fitzgerald would be free to come. But would he want to? Would he prefer, I wondered, at the back of my mind, as I filed and typed and minuted that afternoon, to support Hester’s effort for the shoeshine boys? Or would he rather while away an evening cosily with Eve in her room with a view? I decided Hester would win on duty points. I got a melancholy pleasure in seeing, when we all assembled, that I was right.
    It seemed ironic, I thought, as the ticket holders foregathered outside the Embassy just by the statue of the Conquistador and his bride, that Don Ramón himself should be excluded. A fleet of taxis had been laid on by Morag, and with masterly authority, quite at variance with her diminutive stature, she immediately got down to the task of getting everyone in.
    Hester stood on the pavement. She was wearing a short pink dress which showed off her lovely long legs. She carried a wide-brimmed straw hat with a matching ribbon.
    ‘Where is he?’ she asked, as I appeared in the Embassy doorway.
    ‘Mr. Fitzgerald? He’s just gone into the Duty Office to check with Mr. Green.’
    ‘On expeditions,’ Hester said testily, ‘we’re all on Christian name terms. Even you can call him James.’
    ‘Whom can she so call?’ an amused, drawling voice behind us enquired.
    ‘Oh, there you are, darling.' Hester spun round, colouring the pretty shade of her dress. ‘Why, you, of course, James.’ Deliberately, she stood on tiptoe and just managed to place a quick kiss of greeting on his chin.
    For the first time ever, I actually saw the young Head of Chancery blush.
     
    Somehow or other, but by no doing of mine, we were swept into the last taxi together. Morag and Alex Ashford had to see everyone settled, so technically did Hester. Naturally Mr. Fitzgerald stayed close at her side. But I was a somewhat extraneous addition. Yet, in his damnably disconcerting way of being inhumanly human, James Fitzgerald set himself out to be kind.
    ‘It’s Madeleine’s first trip up. Let her sit at the window —right-hand side,’ he said to Morag. And turning to me, ‘The scenery’s spectacular. You might as well get your money’s worth.' Whether or not that was a subtle reference to a large deduction for the dress that was shortly coming my way, I didn’t know. But he gave me a funny little smile, teasing and oddly boyish and yet in no way diminishing his peculiar natural