The House of Seven Fountains (11 page)

“Anyhow, even if you said you wouldn’t go to the club, there’s no need to stand by it. Everyone loses their temper and makes a rash statement occasionally,” he went on more cheerfully.

“But I didn’t lose my temper, and I mean to keep my word.
”

“Oh, come now, you can’t be serious. The club is the center of everything. It would be absurd to cut yourself off from it because of a silly tiff with Madge. As a matter of fact the army boys have a first rate Naafi club where the drinks are half the price of ours.”

“It isn’t that aspect of it that I mind. After all, I wouldn’t refuse to dine at the Ritz because lots of people can’t afford to go there. I just don’t care to make friends with people like Mrs. Carshalton.”

“She’s a bit of a witch, but harmless enough in the main,” Julian said.

“Is she? I’m sorry, but I don’t think people who have her outlook are harmless. She seems to think Asian people are a lower form of life. She was also extremely rude about my godfather.”

“Hang it all, Vivien, she was probably telling the truth. After all, you never knew him yourself. He was a terrific crank. Anyone will tell you that.” Julian was beginning to get impatient.

“Do you think I should have hired a second
trisha
for Ah Kim?” she asked directly.

He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s a bit of a crush for two people to ride in one.”

She sighed. He was a past master at evading awkward issues, yet the point must be settled if they were going to continue their friendship.

“Mrs. Carshalton also made some veiled remarks about young Englishmen flirting with Chinese girls because of the shortage of English ones. I gather she included you. If you can flirt with Asians, presumably you don’t object to my being friendly with Chen and Ah Kim,” she said frankly.

A flash of annoyance darkened Julian’s good-looking face.

“Why the hell can’t that woman keep a still tongue? She’d blackguard an archangel,” he muttered irritably. “You didn’t take her seriously, did you? I mean to say, I’ve danced with Chinese girls at the local cabaret and that sort of thing, but there’s never been anything in it.”

Vivien expelled an exasperated breath.

“Oh, Julian, haven’t you grasped yet that I like the Chinese? If you were engaged to an Asian girl I wouldn’t regard you as a social pariah. But I’m not going to change my mind about the club, so if it will make it difficult for us to go on being friends I wish you would say so. I shall quite understand. After all, you live here and you don’t want to antagonize the others by mixing with someone of whom they disapprove.”

Ignoring the last part of her remarks, he s
mil
ed and possessed himself of both her hands.

“If I were engaged to a Chinese woman, would you come to a dance with me on Saturday
Week?”

“Hardly. You’d be taking your
fiancée
.” She tried to withdraw her hands, but he held them more tightly.

“Then I’m glad I’m not engaged to one of your Asian lovelies. As for the other business, if you are going to be shunned then I shall be only too happy to share your exclusion. Actually, it isn’t at all likely that you will be an outcast from the happy band. If Madge is feeling spiteful she may succeed in turning some of the diehards against you, but the younger set aren’t likely to take it very seriously.”

His pressure on her hands tightened, and his smile was difficult to resist.

“Now let’s forget this storm in a teacup and talk about something more interesting. Have you missed me while I’ve been in the wilds?”

Julian
stayed
for an hour, and then Vivien said he would have to go as she was expecting the doctor and wanted to shower and change before he arrived. He bade her a gay farewell, inviting himself to lunch the following day to “speed her recovery” as he put it.

When he had gone she called Ah Kim to help her to the bathroom. She was still smiling at his infectious nonsense as she limped indoors, one arm around the
amah’s
shoulders.

“I may as well wear one of my new dresses,” she said some time later as she sat at the dressing table enveloped in a large towel while the Chinese girl brushed her hair. Ah Kim was fascinated by the honey gold color, so different from her own jet black mane. She insisted on brushing it and twisting the ends around her fingers to encourage the curl.

Catching the familiar word “dress,” Ah Kim nodded vigorously.

“
Tuan
doctor come.
Mem
make pretty. Doctor nice.
Mem
like?” she inquired.

“Yes, I like the doctor,” Vivien said, unable to explain that she knew very little about him and so far their encounters had not been entirely amicable.

By the time she was dressed in a full-skirted dress of lilac cotton with a low square neck and tiny puffed sleeves, Chen was tapping at the door to say that dinner was ready. Vivien took a final look at her reflection in the pier glass. The dress was the prettiest she had ever possessed, but it was not only that that improved her appearance. Already her skin was beginning to tan and the golden bloom accentuated the green flecks in her eyes and the paleness of her hair. Without conceit she knew that she looked far more attractive than she had ever done in England.

D
inner was a gay meal. The boys seemed to be in high spirits (she did not guess that this was because Chen had recounted her affray with Mrs. Carshalton, who was known to all the servant fraternity as a mean and captious employer) and Chen produced a bottle of wine to accompany the delicious chicken fricassee.

Vivien was dawdling over her black coffee when, for the third time that day, a car approached the house. The engine sounded as if it had only just managed to climb the awkward twisting gradient of the driveway, and she guessed that it belonged to Dr. Stransom, who looked the type of man to cherish some antiquated and temperamental vehicle even if he could afford one of the gleaming fishtail Cadillacs favored by the rich Chinese.

Chen
hurried to the door. When he reappeared he was followed not only by the doctor but by several strange Chinese.

“Good evening. How are you feeling?” Dr. Stransom asked, coming toward her.

“Much better, thanks,” Vivien said, looking askance at his unexpected entourage.

“They were plodding up the driveway, so I gave them a lift. They are the parents and grandparents of the boy you rescued this morning,” he said, in answer to her unspoken question.

“Oh? What do they want?”

“To thank you. They have five daughters and only one son.” Vivien smiled at the four Chinese and said to Chen, “Will you ask them to sit down.”

He nodded. “There is rice wine in the store if the
mem
wishes to offer hospitality,” he suggested.

“Yes, of course, and whiskey for the doctor.”

Chen spoke to the family in Cantonese and with the exception of the boy’s father they sat down. No one spoke until Chen returned with the drinks. Then, bowing over his glass of wine, the father made a short speech that Chen translated as an expression of lifelong gratitude, which the English
mem
had inspired by saving the life of their most valued child.

Then, to Vivien’s embarrassment, the boy’s father stepped forward, took a small paper parcel from the breast pocket of his cotton jacket, unfolded the wrapping and handed her a jade amulet on a fine gold chain. It was obvious from his smiles and gestures that he meant her to accept it as a token of their gratitude.

“But I couldn’t possibly accept anything so valuable,” she said helplessly, looking at the doctor for a way out of the situation.

“You must or they will be offended. The man is a goldsmith. He made the chain himself and the jade probably belonged to his wife,” he said quickly.

When, through Chen, Vivien had thanked them for their present and praised the beauty and fine workmanship of the ornament, both parties toasted each other’s health and the little deputation prepared to leave.

“Chen, it’s such a long way to Mauping on foot and the grandparents look very old and frail—would you drive them to their house? I must see them out. Could I lean on you?” she added to the doctor.

With his strong arm supporting her, she watched her visitors depart, waving their pocket handkerchiefs in excited farewell.

When the car had rolled around the bend and out of sight, the doctor said, “The lanterns in the courtyard don’t give enough light for me to see your leg. We’d better use the study. There’s a strong bulb in the desk lamp.”

In the study, he said, “You didn’t tell me you had saved a child’s life this morning.”

Vivien colored. “The driver should be prosecuted for tearing
around town at such a speed,” she said in a gruff little voice.

“He probably passed his test by the simple expedient of tucking a ten-dollar bill into the examiner’s receptive palm,” he said with a cynical grin. “I thought I advised you to stay in bed today.”

“I know. But I hate lying down unless I’m really ill,” she explained.

For a moment she thought he was annoyed with her for disregarding his instructions, but he said, “I’ll go and wash my hands. Tuck up your skirt, will you?”

At the doorway he stood aside for Ah Kim to bring in his bag. Vivien folded her skirt back and unpinned the bandage, rolling away the outer layers.

When the doctor returned he was grinning.

“What’s the joke?” she asked.

“Chen has just regaled me with an account of Madge Carshalton’s visit.

“He shouldn’t gossip,” Vivien said repressively. “It wasn’t funny.”

He pulled up a stool and adjusted the table lamp so that it shone onto her leg.

“Your ears should be burning. I imagine you are the chief topic of conversation at the club tonight,” he said, unwinding the rest of the bandage and carefully removing the outer pad of lint.
“
Hmm, no sign of it going septic yet. You must have a nice clean little bloodstream. Did Mrs. Carshalton warn you that your reactionary views would undermine British prestige?”

“Yes. She threatened to have me thrown out of decent society.”

He laughed, his teeth very white against the tanned skin.

“As the Malays say—
tid’apa.
Loosely translated it means not to worry.”

“I’m not. I didn’t come out here to ingratiate myself with people like that.”

“Why did you come?” He finished his work and signified that she could replace her skirt.

“Because it was e
v
idently what my godfather wanted.”

He stood up and absently helped himself to a cigarette from the box on the desk.

“I won’t touch your ankle at the moment. By tomorrow we shall be able to tighten the strapping. Is it fairly comfortable?”

“It throbs a bit. Nothing much.”

“I’ll give you a mild sedative in case you can’t get to sleep. Okay, Ah Kim, you can go now.”

When they were alone Vivien said, “Dr. Stransom, I know you don’t approve of my coming here, but since I have, and since you were my godfather’s friend, I would like some advice.”

“What makes you think I don’t approve?” He was leaning against the desk, his arms crossed against his chest, the cigarette held between the lower joints of his first and second fingers. She noticed that he had an unusual habit of shielding his mouth with his hand when he took a draw.

She shrugged. “You’ve made it fairly clear.”

“Because I didn’t welcome you with open arms?”

“I didn’t expect you to do so.”

“No?” He arched a quizzical eyebrow and the line of his mouth was mocking. “Hadn’t you heard that unmarried girls are scarce in these parts, with consequent effects on their popularity?”

“I never thought about it,” she returned frostily. “It doesn’t seem to have occurred to you that there might
...
that I might
...
”

“Be already attached? Are you? You don’t wear a ring.”

“I’m not engaged.”

“Or
...
attached?”

This time her heightened color was caused more by annoyance than confusion. He had an infuriating flair for turning any conversation to his own advantage.

“No,” she said flatly. “Anyway, that is quite beside the point.”

“I thought you weren’t.” He eyed her reflectively.

“What do you mean?” The question was involuntary, the instinctive feminine reaction to such a statement. She realized her error too late.

The doctor looked amused.

“Merely that you don’t look as if you had experience of that febrile condition known as love. Now, what’s the advice you want?”

For some seconds she was too angry to answer him.

Then she said crisply, “Have you any idea why my godfather left me all this?”

He crushed out his cigarette and thrust his hands into his pockets.

After a pause he said, “As far as I know John had no relations. Presumably you were the only possible connection.”

“Yes, but how did he know that I wouldn’t arrange for it to be sold?”

“You didn’t sell.”

“I was almost forced to,” she said, half aloud.

“What swung the balance?”

“This feeling—a strange kind of inner conviction—that he meant me to come here. Do you think I was wrong?”

“No. If he had intended otherwise he would have ordered the sale himself and left you the profits.”

That makes two people, both outsiders, who support my decision
,
she thought.

“But why? What did he intend after that?” she asked.

He moved to the window and stood with his back to her, looking out at the dark garden.

“John lived here for nine years. He had always been a wanderer, but something about this place held him. Maybe he just couldn’t face arranging the sale.”

“It would have been more reasonable if he had left it to you,” she said, watching his head and shoulders for the faintest sign of reaction.

He swung around, but his dark face was unreadable.

“I already have a house,” he said briefly.

She was about to point out that the House of Seven Fountains could scarcely be regarded in terms of living accommodation when some instinct stopped her. She played with the strap of her watch for a while, her thoughts revolving around possible reasons for her strange inheritance.

“I wish I knew what to do,” she said at last with an involuntary sigh.

“That would seem straightforward enough. The place is yours. Why not live here?”

“It isn’t as simple as that. You see my godfather left me a
certain amount of capital, but not enough to maintain a house of this size for more than a few months. That is why my relations were so much opposed to my coming here. They said it was a wild goose chase, and the obvious course was to sell. It’s all very puzzling. If only Uncle John had made his will more explicit.”

He returned to his lounging position against the desk. “Poor kid, it is quite a sizable problem for you to cope with.
”
Vivien nodded. “I was hoping you might know the solution, Dr. Stransom.”

He studied her speculatively for some seconds.

“You had better call me Tom,” he said abruptly. “You mentioned relations. Are your parents dead?”

She explained briefly why she had lived with the Sinclairs, unaware that the flatness of her tone told him more than her actual words.

“There is a picture by my father in the drawing room,” she ended. “The one in the alcove.”

“Yes, I know it, but I hadn’t connected the name,” he said. “You know, I think it would be a good thing not to worry about all this for a while. When you’ve been here longer the situation may clarify itself. It is never much use looking to the future.”

“I suppose not,” she agreed uncertainly. Then, changing the subject, “You haven’t been to the pool since my first day here. I hoped you would go on using it.”

“I intend to, but I’ve had a series of early morning calls all this week, which is why I’ve had to miss my usual dip.”

“Oh, I see. Is your practice a very large one?”

“It isn’t a practice in the usual sense. There is only one other G.P. in town, apart from the Asian doctors at the hospital. Dr. Gillies deals with nearly all the Europeans and I try to tackle all the cases that the hospital can’t take.”

“That sounds like a very large assignment,” she said.

He shrugged. “More than half the cases I see are unnecessary in the sense that they would never have occurred in countries where there is a higher standard of sanitation and general hygiene. In England, for instance, most people have an elementary idea of first aid. If somebody cuts a finger and there isn’t a bandage in the house, they know enough to swab it with antiseptic and bind it up with something reasonably clean. Out here a filthy rag is generally the extent of their efforts. The result, nine times out of ten, is blood poisoning. A lot of cases are caused by deficient diet, and, of course, prenatal care is in the very early stages.”

She listened to him with interest. “Yet I suppose the difficulties must make the work more satisfying in some ways,” she said thoughtfully. “I mean you are redly needed here. So many doctors in England have to waste their time over neurotic women and gouty old men who’ve been overeating all their lives. I believe that an astonishing number of people regard the National Health Service as no more than a form of free entertainment. They dash around to the doctor with the most trivial complaints.

He gave her a rather odd look. “Yes, so I’ve heard,” he said slowly. “We certainly don’t have that sort of nonsense to put up with here. It’s the devil’s own job to get some of the people to call the doctor before it’s too late. Hello, I hadn’t realized what time it was. You should be in bed. I’ll be over in the morning to see to your ankle. Sure it’s comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Right. I’ll be off then. No need to call Chen. I know my way. Good night, Vivien.”

“Good night
...
Tom.”

With a smile and a sketched salute, he was gone. Some time later Vivien rang the bell for Ah Kim. Somehow her talk with Tom Stransom had made the future seem a little less complex.