Mayenga Farm (18 page)

Was Jackie a shade too innocent-seeming? Yet what could she possibly expect to gain from a rift between her parents? Rennie gave it up.

"I had to slip along to tell you, Ren. We've loads of friends in town, but none of them is so sympathetic a listener as you. Isn't it heavenly to think we shall always live close to each other—till you marry, that is? You're so expert in housekeeping that I shall always be dropping in to see you, and begging you to put me wise about everything. Kent knows I'm a hopeless cook."

A treacherous sword pierced Rennie's heart.

"His boys are . . . well-trained," she said,

"I suppose so, or he wouldn't keep them. What a man he is for law and order." Her head went on one side as though she were visualizing something. "The whole house is too formal. I shall have multi-colored cushions in the lounge and brighten up that blackwood dining-room with pink muslin curtains and frilly electric fittings. And don't you adore those plastic materials with comic patterns for the bathroom? Men haven't the least idea how to make a house look cosy and inhabited, I told Kent so only last night."

"Did he agree?"

"He laughed, and admitted the place needed softening touches. We had some fun with paper and pencil, rearranging the furniture."

"Do you love him very much, Jackie?"

"Darling," said Jackie, with a brilliant smile and a blink of black lashes, "we're crazy about each other, but we won’t make a public announcement till my father and mother have settled their differences."

"So you're ... terribly happy?"

Jackie’s response was heartwhole and spontaneous. "Happier than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I’m just aching to get married."

Rennie forced the requisite smile, the banal wishes that Jackie was waiting for, and then she called George and ordered tea. Soon, Adrian came sauntering into the stoep, and Michael, his straw-toned hair harassed, his shaggy eyebrows pulled all ways, groaned his way into the open air and cursed his foggy brain and the heat.

Sedately, Jackie greeted him, let her eyes rest for a moment on his untidiness, and then she turned pointedly to Adrian and asked—of all things—how was the cow!

It was not till Jackie was leaving that she burst out contritely: "Ren, darling, I quite forgot. I heard about the ghastly fire. What perfectly dreadful, luck. As though it isn’t bad enough living on a farm, without having the wretched stuff burn up on you and lessen your profits. Kent’s been helping you, hasn't he?"

"Yes."

Jackie raised a scarlet-tipped finger to tickle Rennie’s chin.

"Keep it on a business footing, sweetie-pie. Don't make Jackie jealous." She waved to Adrian and Michael, and got into the sports car. "So long, everyone. See you all a week tomorrow at the Carlton."

She was gone, and Rennie went back to fold her linen and pile the cups back on to the tray. Michael, as though in an imaginative trance, stared out at the acacia hedge and moved his lips, shaping a sentence. Rennie did not look her father's way.

She put the needlework into a drawer in her bedroom, and stood beside the Dolly Varden, seeking its edge for support. Jackie in bridal white with Kent at her side. An altar decked with glorious African flowers; sonorous music and solemn, heart-shaking vows. Kisses and congratulations, Jackie in Kent's arms....

Rennie dabbed her handkerchief to her lips, looked at, without seeing, a bright stain where she had bitten through the skin. A fine

sweat dewed her temples, but she wasn’t trembling. On the whole, she told herself, she had taken it remarkably well.

All that mattered now was that no one should guess that Rennie Gaynor had fallen irrevocably in love with Kent Bradfield.

CHAPTER TWELVE PERHAPS it was fortunate for Rennie that Mr. Morgan came out to the farm the following morning. He arrived in his handsome, if rather outmoded, navy blue car, and, to save himself exertion, drove right up to the foot of the steps. Previously, the old bookman had resisted Rennie’s attempts at hospitality. Motoring outside town, he said, filled his lungs with dust and pollen, causing him sleepless nights.

Today, however, he appeared to have forgotten the threat to his health, for he beamed as he panted into the stoep, and bent interestedly to peer at the title of the book which Rennie had just laid upon the table.

"How sweet of you to call," she said, at once placing a chair for him. "Sit down, Mr. Morgan, and I’ll send for my father."

"Don’t trouble him yet, Rennie." As he carefully sank down his tone was expansive. "I'm not averse from young feminine company. Yes, my dear, I will have a cup a coffee."

While she ran indoors to prepare it, he gave indulgent attention to her reading matter. It pleased him that she had chosen a love-story; he didn’t care for the type of young woman who never read except to improve herself.

Rennie slipped back into her position at the table. "My father will be along soon. He’ll be pleased to see you here at last."

"I hope so, because I want his help." The small eyes shone in his ruddy countenance. "Gravenburg has reached a milestone, Rennie. Believe it or not, we are now to have a public library. To me, it’s like a dream materializing."

Automatically, Rennie said, "I’m so glad," and strove to cast her thoughts back to other conversations on the subject. How remote everything had become—everything but the farm and her own heartache. "Tell me about it."

"We have the building, if you remember — my own brother willed it to be used as a town library — but the trouble has been to accumulate enough cash to fill it with shelves and books. Over the last year various activities have brought in about a thousand pounds—a useful amount but not nearly enough. At that rate it would have taken us five years to make a start. So a couple of weeks ago we opened subscription lists in the clubs and the two hotels. The response was so good that last night a few of us older ones got together and decided to form a committee. I’ve come this morning to invite Adrian to a seat on that committee."

Loath to dispel the pure pleasure in the friendly old face, Rennie used the pause to remove several objects from the table, and to set it at a more convenient angle.

"I’d like him to accept," she said, "but I doubt if he will. You see, he’s busy on the farm and terribly tired in the evenings. And he and Michael still work together. At the moment, additional duties would only worry him."

"Oh." Mr. Morgan sounded nonplussed, as if he hadn’t visualized a refusal. "I’d been counting on Adrian. He knows the book-lending business from cover to cover, and I was sure he’d give us a hand."

Recent experience had made Rennie sceptical. "Giving a hand," she thought, was hardly the phrase to describe what a committee of sportsmen would expect from the only member among them who had complete knowledge of librarian-ship. But she knew that her father would happily and voluntarily have yielded himself to the task. It did seem a pity that he should be tied to uncongenial physical labor for mere money. When she was off guard a bitterness sometimes rose in her against Kent for his high-handed interview on her behalf with her father. Now, Adrian never for an instant permitted himself to forget that he was the provider and Rennie his dependent.

"He’d be pleased to help in the selection of books," she commented, and was relieved to hear the houseboy’s approach through the hall.

The cups had just been set out when Adrian turned up. Pouring coffee, Rennie watched him and noticed, as he exchanged remarks with Mr. Morgan, that the lines at his mouth took an upward slant, and his fingers locked together in front of him in the way they often did when he was engrossed in something pleasant.

He said. "This is great news. I’ve insisted all along that a town the size of Gravenburg should have a public library. How much money have you gathered?"

The bookseller warmed again. "A little over three thousand, and a few more hundreds promised. Incredible, isn't it, in a fortnight? We're not asking for financial aid from you, Adrian, nor would we accept any of your precious collection of volumes. But we do need your advice and counsel. The decision to beg you to join us was unanimous."

"I'll do what I can—answer your queries about a lending system and prepare a list of indispensable literature; as to modern fiction and biography, you know more about the townspeople’s tastes than I do."

"But will you join the committee?"

"I wish I had the time. I shall be more free later on, when we employ a foreman again."

"This is urgent. We've already planned a meeting for this evening." Animatedly, he leaned forward. "Come to the first discussion, and then resist our appeal if you can!"

Adrian looked across at Rennie, his expression calm and reassuring. To Mr. Morgan he replied: "I’m sorry. For a while now the farm must come first. In any case, my free hours are promised to Michael Rogers." Humour glinted from his eyes. "What about enrolling Rennie? She's as conversant with library methods as I am."

Both Rennie and Mr. Morgan stared at him. Then the old man gave a chuckle of laughter.

"Why not indeed! For the time being she can keep your seat for you, Adrian. She’s just what we need to put life into our debates. At present our only woman member is the mayoress, a person of large heart and dimensions but little learning. What do you say, Rennie?"

"That you’re both crazy."

"Not a bit of it. You’ll delight every one of ’em. I'll send my boy out for you after dinner."

"But, Mr. Morgan... "

"Think a little, Rennie," her father interrupted. "This will give you a chance to make new contacts of the right kind. It’s what you’ve had to do without since living at Mayenga. You'll get immense enjoyment from the committee meetings and be able to offer constructive ideas. After all, you were more intimate with the filing and indexing than I was and you had contact with the readers. You could give the sort of help such a scheme requires."

Rennie hesitated. Since Jackie's visit yesterday she had been in the grip of a strange apathy. It wouldn’t last, of course; it was merely a temporary relief from pain, and when the pain returned she would be grateful for demands on her mental and physical energies.

"Very well," she said quietly. "I’ll come this evening, Mr. Morgan. At any rate, my father will get a kick out of hearing about the proceedings at second hand."

Presently Mr. Morgan headed his ponderous vehicle out to the road, and Rennie was left moodily contemplating the distant boababs while Adrian smoked his first pipe of the day and lay back in his chair sharing the vista with her. She guessed that he was immersed in the library project; before the coming of Michael he had often scribbled notes for such a scheme.

As though divining the trend of her thoughts, he said: "I'll find that exercise book which I filled with high-falutin' notions about a book-lending centre for Gravenburg. You may hit upon a bedrock suggestion here and there."

Rennie murmured agreement. George slouched across the garden to pick fruit for the dessert dish, which reminded her that soon she must go in to see about lunch. Suddenly, she wished intensely that a single extravagance were permissible: a meal at an hotel and a long ride through the bush after it. Then she recalled that next week they were due to dine with the Catons and the wish died. What a good thing that her appointment tonight was at Greenwood's Hotel and not at the Carlton.

She had pushed back her hair and gathered together her book and a pile of mending when Michael braked the car inside the gate.

"Hello," he called, as he loped up. "I passed our elderly bookseller on the way here. He called out something about good news and said I must escort you this evening. What was he babbling about?"

Rennie explained. She did not remind him that these days her father was only free for him in the evenings. Why shouldn’t Adrian be allowed a few hours of complete relaxation and solitude?

"Might be fun," Michael conceded. "I have an affection for Greenwood’s, in spite of the grim atmosphere of the place. Remember how we met in the deserted lounge?"

She smiled. "You looked so shaggy-browed and tenacious that my heart dipped right into my shoes."

"You and Jackie changed my life that night."

In no mood for reminiscing, Rennie took a last glance over the chairs and table and made a decisive move to go inside. "Life’s odd, isn’t it?" she remarked, without interest "Please yourself about tonight, Michael."

Extraordinary how cold and withdrawn she felt from the everyday chores in the house. From habit, that evening, she bathed and changed into a fresh frock, and carefully made light use of cosmetics. At dinner she ate her normal portion. Custom is a stout spar in an unfriendly sea.

Amiably astounded at the prospect of several hours alone, Adrian settled comfortably with a couple of volumes beside him on the chesterfield, and contentedly waved Rennie and Michael off to the meeting. During the afternoon Rennie had read over her father’s notes and jotted down those suggestions entailing small expenditure. She hoped that the elderly committee would regard her as a negligible addition to their number and gently ignore her, but considered it safer to be prepared for the opposite. Desultorily, in the back of Mr. Morgan’s car, she debated the points with Michael, and his blithe agreement with every one of them gave her confidence.

The lounge at Greenwood’s had an air of subdued busyness. The old colored wine-waiter hobbled between the bar and two tables surrounded by some of the town’s sportsmen and business men. Mr. Morgan effected introductions, Rennie sipped a cocktail and was eventually escorted to the large stuffy room reserved for board meeting and other conclaves.

Across the broad table from Rennie sat the plump and friendly mayoress and, just as the proceedings were about to be opened, the chair next to the mayoress was taken — by Kent Bradfield.

This was something with which Rennie had not reckoned, though, with fatal acceptance, her whole being steeled to his presence. What more natural, after all, than that Kent should be brought in to leaven the preponderance of yachtsmen and bowling-green enthusiasts?

"Good evening, everyone," he said. "Sorry to be late." And with a half-teasing, diagonal smile: "Well, Rennie. I understand you're our most important member."