Seven for a Secret (39 page)

What a scene that was! Olam came, painted and be-feathered, and with him his followers. They carried spears and torches, as they had before.

First, on the advice of Karia, a gift was presented to Olam. It was a china figure of a tiger which Karia had produced. Olam accepted it graciously and presented Luke with a bone necklace on which was a carved pendant. This he placed round Luke’s neck.

Karia, Tamarisk and I, with the Havers, stood on the balcony and watched the presentation ceremony. Then, wearing the necklace, Luke came up the steps to the balcony, went into the house and came out, holding Jaco by the hand. Jaco, a little more plump than when they had last seen him, in radiantly good health and delighted to be at the centre of such attention, stood before them. Suddenly he leaped into the air, turned a somersault and ran out into the crowd.

There was a gasp of wonderment. Then there was silence as the men bowed their heads, lifting them after a few seconds to look at Luke, whom they believed to be the creator of the miracle. Poor Muriel, who had set the leg so expertly, was not considered by them.

She did not mind. I knew she had been very perturbed that Luke should have entered into such an agreement with one whom she thought of as a savage.

However, it had all worked out very well and we were deeply gratified.

We all went back to the mission hall, changed now by the vases of flowers which seemed to fill every possible space.

We sat down at the table and Luke began to laugh.

“It worked out wonderfully,” he said.

“Everyone played their parts so well, including young Jaco.”

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“This is the best thing that could have happened for the mission,” I said.

Luke was smiling at Tamarisk.

“There are other good things,” he said.

Then we were all laughing, perhaps a little too heartily, because we had suffered some frightening moments since this affair had begun. It was in fact the laughter of relief.

I could not help wondering what would have happened if something had gone wrong and Jaco’s leg had not healed. The same thought must have occurred to Tamarisk, for she said very sternly to Luke: “You must not in future swear rash oaths to medicine men, witch doctors or whatever they call themselves.”

The drama of Jaco’s leg had temporarily dominated everything about us and when it was over the days seemed empty. I realized I had been away from home a long time. When the ferry called I would hope for mail, but it took so long to reach us that any news letters contained would be very much out of date.

I was with my father a great deal. He liked to sit outside the house where I could see the sea and the men with their goods squatting on their mats, their eyes on the horizon, watching for the ferries.

My father told me that when he had first come here he had not completely lost his sight. He had had a blurred view of the sea and shore, so it was easy for him to picture the scene.

One day he said: “You are not happy here, daughter.” He usually called me daughter. It was as though he were revelling in the relationship.

1 replied: “You and Karia have been so good to me. You have done everything …”

“But we have not been able to do enough. Nor shall we ever be able to. Your heart is back in Harper’s Green. You know that as well as I do.”

I was silent.

“You must go back,” he went on.

“Nothing is ever resolved by running away.”

“You knew of this before I came,” I said.

“Aunt Sophie told you much about me.”

“Yes, I know. She never told me about the Barrow Wood incident. She no doubt thought that would have disturbed me too much. Sophie was always protective.”

“You should have gone back to her.”

He shook his head.

“No … not because I needed to be cared for. How could I have done that?”

“There is no need to ask yourself for reasons. She would have cared for you.”

“I know. But I could not do it.”

“She does not even know that you are blind.”

“No.”

“When I go back, do you mind if I tell her?”

“You must tell her. Tell her I am happy enough. Tell her that, although I cannot see, I have found much in life to live for. There are compensations from these afflictions. I can hear better than I ever did, I can distinguish footsteps, the inflections in voices. It amuses me to do that. Don’t let her pity me.”

“I won’t. I shall tell her that, in spite of being blind, you are not unhappy.”

“That is true. I could not ask for better care. Tell her about Karla.

She’ll understand. She knows me well. She knows in her heart that it would never have been right for us. I would never have conformed. I think you understand that now. “

“I think I do.”

“I have been a wandering rogue. I would never have settled until forced to as I am now. You have seen my life here. It is not bad, is it? The old man of the island.

No, that is Olam. But I am lord of all I survey, for I survey nothing.

That is life. Karia is right for me. She understands me. She is fond of me. We are alike in our ways. The moralist would say it is all wrong, but I have had a happy life. It isn’t fair, is it? Your poor mother! Such a good woman and such an unhappy one. “

“She settled her heart on the unimportant things in life. She mourned for the grandeur of the old days. That was what made her unhappy. It killed her in the end.”

My mind went back to that day when she was so angry because she was not to arrange the flowers. It was not even that she greatly wanted to; she needed to be acknowledged as the lady of the manor although she was not.

“Ah, you see,” he said.

“That is life, I suppose. We make our own way through it. What is right for one is not for another. Perhaps there is a lot of luck in it and I have been lucky. But here I am, blind, my careless youth behind me, and yet I have someone to care for me. Would you not say I am a lucky man?”

“Yes, I would, but perhaps you deserve your luck.”

He laughed aloud.

“That seems an odd sort of justice to me. I am as contented as I could be in the circumstances, spending the rest of my life in contemplation and living through the lives of those around me.

Perhaps it is not such a bad idea. Which brings me to you and your affairs. What are you going to do? “

“I have been thinking of little else.”

“I know.”

“I shall have to go back.”

He nodded.

“You must go. You love this man and you are capable of that true love, the faithful, everlasting sort. It’s the best, really. The other well, it is light, amusing, gratifying, exciting, but the lucky ones are those who find the true variety. I think you and your Crispin have it. Should you let all that slip through your fingers? I know I would

not. But perhaps 1 am not a good example for you to follow. You love Crispin. You should be with him. You should not allow obstacles to stand in the way of true love.”

“Crispin is determined to find a way.”

“He will, and you are afraid of some side of his character which bothers you that secretive bit. Perhaps that is what makes him fascinating. After all, it is exciting to discover new depths in those around one. That is what makes new acquaintances so amusing. Perhaps some people grow tired of each other’s society because there are not enough surprises. You are still worried about the mysterious affair of the man in the shrubbery. You think Crispin holds some thing back from you. You suspect him of certain actions, perhaps, but whatever you think he might have done, you still love him, do you not? You have come here and learned that, whatever he has done, you cannot be happy without him. My dear daughter, that is enough. You love him.”

“So … you think that is enough?”

“We are talking of love … true love. It must prevail. It is the most important thing in the world.”

“So I must go home.”

“Go to your room now,” he said.

“Write those letters. Write to Crispin and Sophie and tell them that you are coming home.” His face saddened a little.

“I shall miss you. It will be dull without you. Karia will miss you. It has delighted her to have you here partly because of the pleasure it has given me, but she is fond of you and the merry Tamarisk too. Go and tell them that you are going home and will be with them as soon as possible.”

I put my arms about him and he held me very close to him.

“Tell Sophie that 1 am a blind old man,” he said.

“My adventuring days are over. Tell her about Casker’s. Tell her it suits me to be here away from all the old haunts.

Tell her I think of her every day and that she is the best I friend 1 ever had. ” I I left him then. I went to my room and I wrote the letters. They would be ready when the ferry called.

When I had written the letters I went to Tamarisk’s room, for I heard her come in as I was completing them.

I knew she had been to the mission.

“Tamarisk,” I said, “I am going home.”

She stared at me.

“When?” she demanded.

“As soon as it can be arranged. I’ve just written to them to tell them.”

This is sudden, isn’t it? “

“Not really. It’s been in my mind for a long time.”

“Why? What has happened?”

“I just don’t want to stay here any more. I want to be home. I’ve told my father. He understands.”

She looked at me steadily.

“I’m not going.”

“You mean … ?”

“I mean I’m staying here. I’m not going back to Harper’s Green with everyone looking at me and wondering whether I murdered Gaston.”

“They didn’t think that.”

“They seemed to sometimes. I’m not going anyway. I like it here.”

“But, Tamarisk, it’s just a novelty for the moment.”

“It’s no longer a novelty. It’s interesting-the mission, these people, the feather-headed witch doctor.”

“It’s all so remote. It seems far from everything that is real.”

“It’s real to me here, and in any case I’m not going. If you go, you’ll have to go alone.”

“I see.”

“Surely you didn’t think you could decide what you wanted and could just say to me, come on, we’re off.”

It wasn’t like that. “

“It seems like it to me. All right. You go. I’ll stay.”

“Are you sure. Tamarisk?”

“Absolutely.” She paused and then went on: “It might be a little difficult. I can’t stay here, can I? I’m here with you … as a guest.

If you’re not here, why should I be? There’s not much room at the mission. “

“I expect you could stay here.”

“Until I find something.”

“Find something? Where? You talk as though this is somewhere in England where landladies let rooms!”

“Perhaps Karia would let me have a room here. You’d have to travel on your own.”

“I can do that.”

“It’s rather unconventional.”

“I think,” I said, ‘that there are times when it is necessary to be a little unconventional. “

I could see that she was adamant. She would not leave Casker’s Island.

When I told my father, he smiled.

“That,” he said, ‘does not surprise me. “

Karia also took the news calmly. I wondered if she had discussed my situation with my father. I told her that Tamarisk was wondering where she could live when I had gone, and Karia immediately said: “She can stay on here. Why not?”

“She had an idea that she was a guest here because she was accompanying me and naturally would stay where I was. She thinks that if I am no longer here she should not be and she should find other lodgings. And where, she was wondering, could she do that?”

“I like guests,” said Karia, ‘and she is welcome here. “

“Just think,” said my father.

“We shall hear the news of the mission from the horse’s mouth, as it

were. She must stay here. I have something to tell you. I have written to a friend in Sydney an old friend whom I once knew very well. She has a son in London whom she visits from time to time. In fact, she is always looking for an excuse to cross the sea to him. I have suggested that she arranges 10 travel back with you. She will book the passages and you can travel together. Sibyl is amusing. You’ll like her.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I hope to hear from her by the next ferry. Then we’ll go into action.”

The ferry had arrived. I sat with my father looking down on it as it came in.

“I can picture it down there,” he said.

“All the excitement of arrival. There is sure to be a letter from Sibyl. It would comfort me a great deal to know that you were sailing together. She’s a very experienced traveller and I should like to think she would be with you. If she can’t, well, my dear, I suppose you wouldn’t be the first woman to travel to England alone. We should hear later on in the day, or perhaps tomorrow morning. They take a long time to sort out the mail.”

One or two passengers came ashore. I wondered if they had come for the day and would go back with the ferry. I imagined the salesmen rubbing their hands and placating the spirits in the hope of good business.

I heard the sound of wheels coming up to the house and went out to see what was happening. A woman was sitting in the cart, surrounded by several pieces of luggage. She was incongruously dressed in a blue silk gown which appeared to be in high fashion, and on her head was perched a straw hat dominated by what must be a mythical bird at least, I did not recognize it as belonging to any species I knew.

When she saw me she smiled warmly.

“I’ll guess you’re Frederica. I’m Sibyl Fraser. It’s nice to meet you. We’re going to be travelling companions, so we’d better get to know each other.”

She started to descend from the cart.

“It was simpler just to come,” she said.

“We can get the next ferry.

It comes in three or four days. That’ll give you time for last-minute preparations. I like enough time. Can’t bear to be rushed. “

“Come in,” I said.

“My father will be so pleased to see you.”

Karia came out, and I said: “This is Mrs. Sibyl Fraser, who has come to take me back to England with her.”