Full Tide (2 page)

Fro
m
about nine o’clock next morning the hotel station wagon was frenziedly busy. In all, there were eight parties from this hotel due
to
embark o
n
the
Wentworth
by noon, which entailed eight journeys with luggage and passengers to the quayside.

It was a quarter to eleven before Lisa and Nancy got away, by which time both were pale with the strain of hoping the
i
r turn was next. There was more waiting to come, however, while officials dealt with their papers and released the luggage, but finally they were treading the wide gang-plank which led straight into the cabin deck.

They were enveloped in the peculiar ship’s odor of warm polished teak and malthoid flooring, and were guided by a steward carrying two of their smaller bags through several corridors of cabins before 'their own number turned up.

“Your trunk’s already in there, miss,” said the steward in homely cockney. “First meal is a cold lunch at one. We sail at four.”

“Four o’clock,” wailed Nancy when
he had gone. “Why don’t they get a move on?”

“It’s a big business, loading a ship with people and goods. We’re aboard, anyway, and it’s a neat little cabin
,”
Lisa consoled her.

Nancy was diverted. She examined the port-hole and the two bunks, one over the other. She got right inside the built-in wardrobe and claimed one of the dressing-chest drawers for the books she had brought to read.

Lisa unpacked the smalle
r
cases. She couldn’t get it
i
nto her head that
this small cabin in the great liner would be her home for the next three weeks. Like everything else which had occurred lately, it was too fantastic to be credible. Oddly, she recalled her farewell to old Mrs. Browne who scrubbed and polished in the Veness villa at Richmond.

“I’ll call and see you as soon as I come back,”
L
isa
h
ad
told her.

“
If
you come back,
”
the other had said significantly.
“I’ll
read your tea leaves this morning. You’ve got two bits of trouble ahead of you, Miss Maxwell, one small and the other large. I can’t say which will come first but they’re there, and I don’t doubt they have something to do with a man. You can trust the tea leaves.”

Lisa had not laughed for fear of hurting Mrs. Browne’s feelings, but privately she had scoffed. Tea leaves, indeed.
And what if she had happened to be a coffee addict? The old dear was just riddled with superstitions.

There had, of course, been the spot of nuisance over Nancy’s fall yesterday. That tall, interfering man had looked as if he might spell trouble for someone, but there was no way in which he could possibly impinge upon the life of Lisa Maxwell.

She meant to enjoy this trip, to make it something she would always look back upon with gratitude. There would be lots of other women on board, probably nice ones, and she had brought sewing and some reading matter as well as tennis shorts for the games. And she rather liked the idea
of dancing on deck while the ship cruised on through deep African waters.

The lunch
gong sounded, a musical bell-toned gong which caught Nancy’s attention
away
from the book in which she had just immersed herself.

“That sounds like a song.”

“It is,” said Lisa happily. “A famous one—‘come to the cookhouse door.’ The steward is a wit.”

For lunch one sat anywhere one pleased in the huge dining saloon. Tables would not be allocated till dinner that evening. While Lisa and Nancy ate cold chicken and salad, people were continually coming and going, most of them talking loudly and in that peculiar jumpy mood which precedes a long sea trip. Once England was left behind things would settle.

It was natural that
L
isa should spend the afternoon on the promenade deck, watching the last of the loading. Beneath the grey April sky Southampton Water lay like a misshapen sheet of lead shadowed by the outlines of ships and derricks. Others at the rail were exchanging last remarks in sign language with friends and relatives far below on the quay. A piano struck up and a violin joined in, playing popular music, and Lisa knew they were nearing the moment of departure.

Just how long the young man a yard or so away had been watching her, Lisa couldn’t have said. She had been gazing his way for some time, without seeing him, but a movement of his, accompanied by an understanding smile, attracted her—as it would have attracted any woman; for he was unbelievably good-looking and nearly as fair as Lisa herself.

Hurriedly she looked away, and for some minutes she was aware of every small incident among the dockers on the quay. Even so, it came as a surprise when, apparently without warning, the majestic
Wentworth
moved out in
leisurely fashion and a strip of water widened between its steel side and the shore. The musicians had trailed off into
Auld Lang Syne
.

“Feeling weepy?” murmured her nearest companion.

L
isa supposed he had the best of intentions, and she was naturally of a friendly disposition. So she nodded. “A little, but I shall be back in less than a couple of months.”

“You English will never admit to being sentimental, but deep inside you’re as silly as the rest of us.”

“
Aren’t you English?”

“Are you being complimentary? Doesn’t my bushveld accent betray me?”

“Not to me, but then I’ve never met the bush veld. I expect you’re of English extraction.”

“So I am, and English by education, too. My hom
e
is in Natal.” He narrowed the space between them to two feet. “My parents wanted me to fly back, but I needed the relaxation of a sea trip. I’ve been studying hard.”

H
e did not appear to be the sort to exhaust himself with learning: indeed, his air was that of a
man to whom all comes easily, even book knowledge. But such people are invariably pleasant t
o
know, and Lisa saw no reason to discourage him; after all, she wouldn’t be able to help meeting him sometimes. She peered over the rail.

“You can’t feel the least vibration. Isn’t it marvellous the way they manage these immense vessels?”

“It’s all a matter of timing by the Old Man himself. I
wouldn’t
be a ship’s captain for all the wealth in the world.”
He flashed white teeth
in a smile but his shudder was genuine. “Imagine being responsible for about a thousand lives
!
One’s own existence can be enough of a burden.”

This, from one so obviously carefree, brought a smile to
L
isa’s red lips, and when Lisa smiled she was more than merely pretty; she lighted up.

He was rather charming, she thought, and possibly a wee bit of a rake, with those careless good looks and the easy manner; which made him the more intriguing. After the years of semi-seclusion, Lisa was more than ready to be attracted and intrigued.

It was perfectly natural to leave the rail and walk with him along the deck towards the bows, and it added to her sense of well-being to feel a guiding hand at her elbow. She had almost forgotten how extremely agreeable masculine company could be.

They talked casually, desultorily. His name was Jeremy Ca
rn
e, and he was due next month to enter the
Durban branch of a motor car manufacturer as technician.

“Has the ring of death, hasn’t it?” he said serenely. “But nothing is entirely unendurable when the sun shines, and it mostly d
o
es in Africa. I bet you won’t want to leave Durban.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m not the kind to hanker for what I can’t have. I’m determined to see all I can while I have the chance.”

“All alone?”

“Probably.”

“Not career-crazy, are you?”

“No.” Her glance at him was curious. “Why?”

“Career girls frighten me; you have too many of them in England. I’d like to be around when you’re seeing the sights. If you can still tolerate me after three weeks on the boat I’
ll
show you some fun.”

“And I’ll be duly impressed. It’s a bargain.
”

A spirit of happiness had entered into Lisa. Southampton was already far behind, and over to the left lay the gentle green shore of the Isle of Wight with the familiar Needles white against the turgid sea. Last summer she and Nancy had spent a fortnight on the island, playing on the beach and in the waves, wandering through churches and scraping sand from Alum Rock into little test tubes. Next time she saw the Needles she would be a more grand personage,
a woman who had travelled to the Cape.

“You’re disconcerting,” said Jeremy. “At this moment you’re not with me at all, and I can’t say I care for being so completely left in the cold.”

“I’m up among the clouds and they all have rosy linings.” She gave a brief laugh and tucked a floating tendril behind her ear. “D
o
n’t you love the feel of the sea?”

“Not the way you seem to. Do you like dogs?”

“Who doesn’t? At Richmond
we had a lazy old Airedale who was like a benign grandfather about the house.”

“I’ve a couple of puppy bull mastiffs.”

“In Natal?”

“No, here on the ship. I got them for my mother. I’ll take you along to see them in the morning. They’ll slobber all over you.”

The wind was chill, the sky still ail uncompromising grey. Lisa turned up the collar of her coat, and auto
m
atically they strolled round to the lounge entrance.

“I must go to the cabin,” she said, “and prepare Nancy for the shock of having to take supper at six with the bairns.”

Jeremy cast her
his confidential smile. “Will you come back to the lounge?”

She shook her head. “I intend resolutely to set about unpacking the trunk.”

“So I shan’t see you till dinner?”

“That’
s
right,” she said lightly. “Can you bear it?”

“
I’m not sure. I feel as if I’ve known you for ever. I
hope I shall.”

“
How sweet,” she said demurely, recognizing flattery but quite willing to hear it. “Goodbye for the present Mr. Carne.”

“Jeremy,” he amended softly. “So long, Lisa.”

Lisa was humming as she reached the cabin deck and took the wrong turning, and she smiled at the steward who
put her right as if losing her way on the ship were, the best sort of joke.

Nancy was sitting on the floor of the cabin
,
the inevitable book open on her knees. Lisa could see by the pictures that she had picked on an old favorite, the story of a ballerina, so for several minutes she concentrated on hanging away frocks and suits. Then she bent and tickled Nancy’s neck.

“You’ll have to wash and change your frock. Supper is at six.”

“Mmmm?” Nancy tore her gaze from the printed word.
“
Isn’t that horribly early?”

“Not horribly. You see, the staff have to work through till half-past eight or nine; they’d be even later if the children didn’t start away at six.”

Nancy went quiet for a moment, her fingers curling over the edge of the book. “Children?” she echoed finally.
“
Do you mean I’m supposed to eat with all the other children on the boat?”

“
That’s the arrangement. The chief steward told me.”

“
Every
meal?”

“So he said.” Without looking at the child, Lisa spread a clean frock of Nancy’s over the lower bunk and looked out a pair of socks. “It’s better than having to eat with the grown-ups, and I’ll go down with you the first time or two.”

There was a long silence while Nancy sat utterly still and Lisa, battling with the desire to soften the knowledge that if she did she was lost, stood staring from the port-hole at the heaving ocean.

Lisa at last said matter-of-factly, “No one will take the least notice of you, and if you feel unfriendly you can ignore the whole lot. Just eat your food and get out.”

The use of the word “unfriendly” was a strategic move on Lisa’s part. From experience she knew that while Na
n
cy was not averse to being called “shy,” anything which reflected upon her candid personality was not to be endured. However, Nancy was also conversant with Lisa’s tactics.

“It isn’t unfriendly if you don’t talk to others till you’ve seen them a few times, if I have to go to supper with them I shan’t say a word to anyone.”

“That’s a wise decision. By the time you do wish to say a word it will probably be a kind one, and you’ll be glad you waited.”

Nancy threw her a look of exasperation. “You always turn things to make me feel a cad. I still won’t say a word at supper!”

Lisa grinned to herself. “Fine. You’ll be able to listen all the better. You can wash now.”

To her surprise, Nancy, when she was ready, elected to seek her supper unaccompanied. But Lisa insisted on going with her as far as the saloon door, and as she turned back to the cabin she quelled a thrust of anxiety. Children of ten were normally self-reliant, and Nancy was exceptionally level-headed in most directions. Over the past three years she had shed many inhibitions, and now she could hold her own with those of her own age and younger.

The bustle of preparing for the trip had also had its effect, but the biggest and best reason for the swift improvement in the child’s outlook was the overwhelming certainty that her father wanted her. Unwittingly, Nancy
w
as expanding with pride in the glorious reality that
Daddy—
her
Daddy—wanted her in Durban to live with him. She loved Lisa with a confiding ardor, but Lee didn’t belong, as Daddy did.