Stormy Haven (27 page)

“
You
’
d prefer that to
—”
He concluded the sentence with
a resentful wave of his hand at the wanton loveliness that surrounded them.

“
It isn
’
t a case of preferences, Colin. For me, there
’
s nothing else. I
’
ve loved my time
on Mindoa, but I could never belong on the island.
”

“
Not even,
”
he asked almost inaudibly,
“
if you had a husband and home here?
”

There was no need to reply to that. With the right husband one could exist anywhere. She smiled at him gently. Since those early days with Ramon her knowledge of men had advanced considerably, and Colin presented no difficulties. When she had gone he would feel dull for a spell, and maybe a little cheated. But his plans for his own house and plantation would go ahead as inexorably as the seasons came and passed. And one day he would marry and have children to monopolize him as Denise did. Thinking about it, Melanie experienced a detached kind of envy.

“
Will you write to us?
”
he said.

“
Of course, regularly.
”

After a silence he shifted and leaned back with his weight on his arms.
“
Does your boat for England touch at Alexandria?
”

“
I shouldn
’
t think so. Port Said, then Malta, the agent told me. It
’
s an English liner, not one of the
Tjisande
class.
”

“
Would it worry you to see Stephen again?
”

“
Probably. I
’
m not a good hater.
”

“
I
haven
’
t answered his letter.
”

“
There was nothing to say, was there? You
’
d like to hurt him, but Stephen
’
s impenetrable.
”

He turned to stare at her.
“
Wouldn
’
t
you
like to hurt him?
”

“
One feels that way, and I
’
m not subhuman. But you can
’
t injure a person because his desires don
’
t line up with yours. In real love, one
’
s first concern isn
’
t selfish; it
’
s for the other
’
s happiness. I wish I could believe that sometime Stephen will find true happiness, but I should say it
’
s harder for the cynic to achieve it than for any other type in the world.
”

“
You mean he can
’
t submerge himself for long enough to look for it!
”

“
It isn
’
t that. Stephen has no trust in the emotions and even less in those who rouse them. He lives with his brain and so precludes the likelihood of emotional suffering.
”

“
I
’
ll bet he suffered over the knock he had to give you. Otherwise he
’
d have put an end to the engagement sooner.
”
Melanie did not explain that the engagement had been a myth. She was incapable of facing more complications. She seemed to be shatteringly tired most of the time, and debating Stephen
’
s complex personality was anything but restful. So she looked up into the leaves and thought,
this time tomorrow I shall be at sea.
I’
m glad.. .glad!

The rest of the day they spent with Lucille and Henry in an atmosphere of manufactured cheerfulness, and that night Melanie said goodbye to Colin.

“
Sure you wouldn
’
t like me to be at the boat in the morning?
”
he said miserably.
“
I
’
ll stand it, if it will do any good.
”

“
It won
’
t, Colin. I loathe farewells.
”

“
So do I. Well
...
goodbye, Melanie.
”

Inevitably there was a kiss before the car pushed off into the darkness.

Melanie undressed in John
’
s room, turned off the lamp
and got into bed. She let her memory drift back to the day of her arrival at the island; Ramon
’
s smooth, vital good looks, his overwhelming admiration as they sped in the launch to the shore. She recalled the de Vaux chateau, an unpolished semiprecious stone in a viridian setting, and Ramon dappled with gold as he murmured,
“
Till tomorrow,
senorita
.
I can hardly wait.
”

Eight months ago! That was all, yet Melanie was years older and wiser than the girl who had been excited and flattered by Ramon, jockeyed by Elfrida and alternately despised and teased by Stephen.

And what of the future? Well, she was better equipped to deal with it now than she had been eight months ago. Past that her thoughts refused to travel, except to assure her that she need never be entirely alone again. In the very last resort there would always be Mindoa.

The house stirred at its usual early hour next morning. The Indian nurse took charge of Denise during breakfast while the cases were being packed into the trunk of the two-seater. The box had to go inside, between Henry and Melanie.

Lucille did not go to the boat. Melanie had begged her not to; it would be less grueling to part on the house steps.

Denise, her wheaten hair shining in the sun, was entirely unruffled.
“
Bay-bay,
”
she said graciously.
“
Bay-bay, Mel
’
nie.
”

A hug from Lucille, a choked,
“
Au revoir
,
Melanie.
”

Then the house was left behind, and Henry was gruffly asking if Melanie was sure she had everything
—
as if he hadn
’
t asked it several times already.

The best of boarding a cargo vessel is the lack of formality and the speed of departure. The skipper doesn
’
t care to have his passengers aboard till the holds are loaded and battened, so the delay between embarking and sailing is negligible.

Henry dealt with the customs officer and went with Melanie to her cabin. He ascertained that she would have three companions, one bound for China and the others for France, and gave her some totally unnecessary instructions about how to proceed at Bombay. He hadn
’
t finished when the ship
’
s siren sounded.

“
That
’
s my cue for exit,
”
he said tritely.
“
Be sure to drop us a line at each port of call.
”

His big arm went around her, he kissed her
c
heek. She watched him stride down the gangplank, saw it hauled on deck. Ropes were flung out, guttural orders were given and the small dark seamen sprinted on bare feet to obey. The vessel was moving.

Henry was still there on the jetty with the sun-drenched island behind him. He stood beside the car, his hand raised. Melanie waved once. Her throat burned, her eyes ached and her body was a drained shel
l.

Goodbye, Henry
...
Lucille. Goodbye, Mindoa.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The
Meridian
steamed out of Bombay on an afternoon that was pearly with heat. She was large and stately and unmistakably British. The captain was impeccably attired and in tropic whites the officers looked dashing and romantic. But their conversation revealed a
“
little woman
”
at home, or cherished parents. They harked nostalgically back to Sheffield or Birmingham or Maida Vale, but freely admitted there was no career to equal their own.

The
Meridian
steamed out of Bombay on an afternoon that was pearly with heat. She was large and stately and unmistakably British. The captain was impeccably attired and in tropic whites the officers looked dashing and romantic. But their conversation revealed a
“
little woman
”
at home, or cherished parents. They harked nostalgically back to Sheffield or Birmingham or Maida Vale, but freely admitted there was no career to equal their own.

Melanie shared a cabin with a retired civil servant, a large woman who for many months had enthusiastically circled the world but could pick on no finer place to settle than Eastbourne.

“
So bracing, you know,
”
she said,
“
and I
’
ve always had an affection for Sussex. Hampshire is too far from London for one who is putting on the years, and
I
do
so enjoy a concert. Do you find pleasure in good music?
”

This was asked in a tone of slight reprimand, as if Miss Hogg had small respect for the tastes of the younger generation. Melanie answered warily, but the older woman
’
s breezy tactics soon uncovered her English past.

“
A music teacher, eh? That
’
s capital. Can you play the
Moonlight Sonata
?”
Giving Melanie barely a second in which to nod and no time at all for the qualification that it was eighteen months since she had last touched piano keys, Miss Hogg beamed.
“
We
’
ll insist on a real ship
’
s concert, not one of those dreary things that wind up with jigging to this soporific sucrose rubbish they call dance music.
”

“
I don
’
t carry scores around with me,
”
Melanie protested weakly.

“
They
’
ll have plenty on board,
”
stated the woman decisively.
“
Leave it to me.
”

Miss Hogg was undoubtedly a woman of character. Before the ship docked at Aden the notice board bore the
announcement of a
“
social evening,
”
which passengers were invited not only to attend, but also to ensure its success by their own musical and histrionic efforts; intending performers were requested to write their names on the list and to give some indication of how they proposed to entertain. With a sinking sensation Melanie saw her own name at the top of the list in a firm, feminine hand, and beside it,
“
Pianist. Beethoven, Chopin, etc.
”

The grand piano in the lounge attracted Melanie as light draws at the buried seed, yet the crowd that gossiped there repelled her. But one morning, very early, she found the lounge empty and sat gingerly and unbelievingly with her fingers wandering in an ecstasy of freedom over the keyboard. It was like coming home
... if one had a h
o
me. The half dozen people who came in remained, quietly, to listen, and Melanie blissfully played on, unaware of her exclusive and appreciative audience.

At Aden she went ashore with Miss Hogg. They visited the street of tourist shops, and Melanie recognized the one in which she had bought the mementos for Elfrida. Lower down, threading the crowd, was the very Arab who had demanded two pounds ten for the block of carved amber; he still wore a dirty burnoose and an ingratiating smile.

Melanie was not the kind to wallow in a spate of sentiment. She recollected the details dispassionately, knowing that you don
’
t cure an ill by turning a blind eye to it.

The voyage through the Gulf of Aden and the Red Sea was made vaguely pleasant by the untiring Miss Hogg. She was full of odd and interesting snippets of information, and a determined deck-walker at all hours of the day. The tropics, she considered, weren
’
t nearly as fearsome as the travel books made out; like others, she had discovered that though her body craved inaction, her brain was clearer and more inventive in the heat.

“
Besides, in the tropics you meet peculiar people. There
’
s a leavening of dull ones, I grant you, but in any crowd you
’
ll come across someone who
’
s had impossible experiences. The tropics breed rare types of everything. Look at the trees and flowers! Poinsettias growing like weeds among elephant grass—lobelias tall as trees. And the animals! I believe that everyone should travel
—
get out and see things. It
’
s the best kind of education in the world!
”
She talked incessantly and with gusto, and never repeated herself. When the concert she had fostered took place she acted the role of
commere
with zest and intelligence. Even in introducing Melanie she made allusion to the
“
divine brow
”
of Beethoven, and went off into a merry description of an incident in the private life of Scarlatti, culled from heaven knew where. This plain, stoutish person had become the most popular member on board.

Despite the warnings of other passengers, Miss Hogg—and therefore Melanie—made a tour of Port Said. Miss Hogg was disappointed. The place looked pleasant enough in the sun, with its palm trees, blue-domed mosque and clean avenues running up from the quay to the main part of the town. There were beggars and touts, of course, and shops piled high with gaudy trinkets, nylons, perfumes and leather-work decorated with Egyptian symbols, but nothing, as Miss Hogg regretfully remarked, to point it out as more of a
“
cesspool
”
than any other port. No doubt men saw more than women.