The House of Seven Fountains (7 page)

“And having spent three days in his company, what did you make of him?” Cara queried.

“We only had one or two casual conversations. He was reading most of the time,” Vivien said.

“Yes, that’s typical,” Cara remarked with a gleam of amusement in her slanting blue eyes. “If Stransom were to be marooned on a desert island with Venus he’d keep his nose buried in some learned tome. The story goes that some girl ditched him when he was young and callow. Now he treats us all with a kind of chivalrous disdain. Poor you, it must have been a dreary journey.”

“Miss Connell also met Julian on the way up from Singapore. It was he who brought her here this evening,” Mrs. Carshalton put in.

“
Really? From one extreme to the other. Julian is as susceptible as Stransom is immune,” Cara said carelessly. “Don’t be bowled overby Julian’s charm, Miss Connell, it doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Do you speak from experience, dear?” Mrs. Carshalton asked with a hint of malice.

“What a cat you are, Madge,” Cara said lightly, but Vivien noticed that her nostrils flared slightly, and there was a gleam of anger in her eyes.

The subject of their remarks chose that moment to extricate himself from an argument on the other side of the table and came and perched on the arm of Mrs. Carshalton’s chair.

“Hello, Cara. How’s your father?” he asked.

“Better, thanks. Enjoy your jaunt to Singapore?”

“Yes, it was a pleasant break. One needs to get away from this hole every so often.”

They both sounded so normal that Vivien wondered if she was imagining a veiled antagonism between them.

“I think it’s time I took you home,” Julian said to her. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired.”

“I am a bit sleepy,” she admitted, smiling.

“You must take it easy for the first week or so,” he advised. “People who try to keep up an English pace out here generally find themselves laid out with heat exhaustion.”

“Yes, the climate is frightfully taxing until you get used to it,” Mrs. Carshalton agreed. “We must keep an eye on her, Julian.”

“It will be a pleasure,” he said, taking Vivien’s hands and drawing her to her feet. “Good night, Madge. Night, Cara.”

“I hadn’t realized how stuffy it was in there,” Vivien said as they walked through the foyer and out into the night air.

“Were you bored?”

“
No, of course not. Why should I be? What a lovely girl Miss Maitland is. I wonder how she keeps that marvelous complexion in this climate.”

He laughed.
“
You’re the first woman to have a good word for Cara behind her back. Most of them are as jealous as the devil and delight in picking her to pieces.”

“That must be difficult. I’ve never seen anyone so attractive,” Vivien said sincerely.

“Mm, she’s quite an eyeful. Wait till you see her in a rage. Under that world-weary air she’s got a temper like a
w
ildcat,” Julian said, and his tone suggested that he had had personal experience of Miss Maitland’s rage.

As they reached the car, he said, “This time we’re going to have the hood up. I don’t want you to catch a chill on your first evening.”

Earlier, Vivien had had some misgivings about the homeward drive, for she was not familiar with the drinking habits in the tropics, and it had seemed to her that Julian had had a formidable number of double whiskies. But he appeared to be quite sober, and if anything he drove home more slowly than before.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said suddenly. “There’s something about you that intrigues me, but I can’t quite place it. What kind of life did you lead in England? Were you a career girl?”

“
No, I’m afraid not. When I left school I thought of taking up commercial art but, in the end, I just stayed at home and helped my aunt,” she told him, remembering the stormy scenes there had been when she had tried to persuade her aunt to let her train for a career.

“Very proper. I don’t approve of all this independence. Most girls are so busy carving out careers that they’ve no time to be feminine.”

“But then you’re not very serious about your own job, are you?” she said gently.

He grinned.
“
The way I look at it, life is for fun. Working too hard is a waste of energy. Look at these fellows who slave to make a fortune and then die of heart strain before they’ve had time to enjoy it. You know, I think that is the difference about you. You’ve got a brain. Beauty and intelligence. It’s a rare combination.”

He reached over and took her hand.

“It was certainly a stroke of luck that I happened to be in Singapore last night,” he said softly.

Gently, but firmly, Vivien disengaged her hand from his clasp.

“It
was
only last night,” she said with slight emphasis.

They drove in silence for some minutes, and she wondered uncomfortably if he was angry at the mild rebuff. Well, if he was, it was just too bad, she told herself with a touch of asperity.

“Has anybody been warning you against me?” he asked.

“Of course not. Why?”

“Oh, it was just a thought.”

He lighted a cigarette and in the flare of the lighter she saw that he was frowning. She remembered what Cara had said about not taking him seriously. Did that count as a warning? It occurred to her that if
she was going to be friends with Julian she would have to be honest with him. Any pretense, however trivial, could only lead to complications.

“There’s something I should tell you,” she said quietly. “If you noticed a difference about me it is because I’m not a very sophisticated person. I’ve led a rather sheltered life and
...”
she paused, searching for the right words to explain her feelings.

“And you’re not used to casual hand holding with comparative strangers, is that it?” Julian finished for her.

A slow blush crept up her cheeks, and she was grateful for the darkness of the car.

“Yes. I expect it seems rather ridiculous to you, but I can’t alter myself. I’m not sure that I want to,” she added.

“I’m not sure that I want you to, either,” he said, and the laughter in his voice was gentle. “Well, now that we know where we are, is it all right if I come calling tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll show you the house and the fountains
,
”
she said eagerly, immensely relieved that the awkward moment had been smoothed over so successfully. As they reached the house Vivien saw a large bundle of white cloth on the veranda “What on earth is that?” she said to Julian in a rather apprehensive voice.

“Your watchdog. One of the gardeners probably.”

“But surely he won’t spend the whole night on the floor like that?”

“Of course. It’s part of his job. Judging by his snores he’s perfectly comfortable.”

“We’d better not disturb him, then. Good night, Julian. Thank you for looking after me.”

“Till tomorrow. Good night, Vivien.”

She watched him drive away, his taillight like a fiery eye in the shadow of the trees. Then, tiptoeing past the recumbent form of the watchman, she switched out the veranda lights and crept to her room. Ah Kim was curled up on a camp bed outside the door, and although Vivien had never suffered from night terrors, it was reassuring to know that the little
amah
was within call.

Vivien opened
her
eyes
and gazed perplexedly at the unfamiliar ceiling. Then, remembering where she was, she threw back the sheet, swung her legs to the floor and felt for her slippers. The room was bathed in a shadowy green glow, but as she drew up the slatted blinds the brilliant sunlight of a tropical morning flooded through the windows. The clock on the red lacquer bureau showed a few minutes past seven.

Running her fingers through her tumbled hair, she crossed to the wardrobe, and as she opened the doors a musky scent drifted out. Later she discovered that all the cupboards and chests in the house were lined with camphorwood, which was a protection against moths and cockroaches and gave everything stored in them an elusive fragrance.

When she had washed and brushed her hair and put on the pink gingham dress, she opened the bedroom door and slipped quietly onto the veranda. There was nobody about, and she wandered across the courtyard.

The fountains were silent, but the pool glistened in the early sunshine. She was gathering up some velvety white petals that had fallen from the frangipani tree during the night when there was a loud splashing sound from somewhere nearby. Remem
bering the swimming pool and wondering who was taking an early dip, she walked through the archway and across the lawn to the diving board. A widening circle of ripples stirred the water beneath the top board, but at a cursory glance, the pool seemed empty. Then the glitter of metal caught her eye, and she saw that someone had left a cigarette case on the grass. A sound from the far end of the pool made her swing around just in time to see a dark head surface for a second and then disappear again in a flurry of spray. Now that she knew where to look she could see a vague brown shape moving toward her. As it came nearer she saw that it was a man. A few feet from the edge he rose to the surface, gripped the handrail and swung himself up onto the tiled surround.

It was Dr. Stransom.

For a long minute they stared at each other in mutual surprise. Then the doctor’s eyes narrowed angrily.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I
...
I’m staying here,” she stammered. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t that obvious? What do you mean—staying here?”

Stung by this unfriendly reception, she said, “This is my house now. Mr. Cunningham left it to me.”

He wiped a trickle of water from his forehead and raked back his tousled hair.

“It seems I’m trespassing,” he said stiffly. “Cunningham gave me permission to use the pool. I was not aware that the new owner had arrived. I won’t intrude again.”

Before she could answer he had picked up the cigarette case and was striding toward the shrubbery.

“Dr. Stransom!”

He swung around, his tall strongly muscled body glistening. Vivien moved toward him.

“Please don’t go. There is no reason why you shouldn’t continue to use the pool,” she said diffidently.

When he did not reply she went on. “Mr. Cunningham was my godfather. Didn’t he tell you he had left me the house?”

“We never discussed the subject,” he said briefly. Then his glance shifted to a point beyond her. Turning, she saw Chen coming across the grass with a tray. He set it down on a wicker table beneath a striped umbrella.

“Good morning,
mem.
Good morning,
tuan
.”

“Good morning, Chen. How did you know I was out here?”

Vivien asked, seeing that the tray bore a coffeepot, a single cup and saucer and a dish of sliced pineapple.

“
I did not know,
mem.
This coffee was for the
tuan
doctor.
”

“Oh, I see. Well, if you would bring another cup perhaps I can share the doctor’s coffee.”

“Yes,
mem
.”
Chen bowed and returned to the house. “Won’t you sit down, Dr. Stransom?”

He hesitated for a moment and then gave a slight shrug and sat down.

“This must seem very odd to you,” he said. “I’m afraid Chen does not realize that the situation has changed. You see, the club pool isn’t open at this hour and while your godfather was alive I used to drive over for a swim and a cup of coffee on my way to the surgery.”

“I don’t see anything odd about that,” she said gently. “It seems a very sensible arrangement. You don’t have to stop it because I’m here.” She poured out the coffee and handed the cup to him.

“You have it. I’ll wait for the other cup. May I smoke?”

“Of course. I wish I had known you were my godfather’s friend on the journey.” She sipped the hot creamy coffee. “I’m afraid I behaved very stupidly in Rangoon and made a bad impression. I hope you won’t hold it against me,” she said, coloring slightly.

“I’m not the arbiter of social success in Mauping, Miss Connell.”

“Perhaps not, I wasn’t thinking of it in that way. It’s just that all this is quite new to me, and I should like someone to ask for advice if I need it.”

“You will find plenty of people only too ready to advise you,” he said dryly.

“Possibly, but not necessarily sound advice.”

“What makes you think my advice would be sound? You didn’t appear to regard it with confidence in Rangoon.”

She bit her lip. He was making it very difficult for her. “I’ve apologized for that. I’m told you were one of the few people who knew my godfather well. Presumably you had similar viewpoints. I want to do what he would have thought right.”

The conversation was interrupted by the return of Chen with another cup and a second dish of pineapple. Vivien smiled her thanks.

“
I don’t think he likes me,
”
she said worriedly, when he had gone.

“He doesn’t know you yet,” Dr. Stransom said. “Hello. Here comes old Seng. He hasn’t wasted much time.”

Following his glance, she saw that an old Chinese man was peeping furtively out of the shrubbery. After a quick reconnaissance he emerged into the open, a suitcase in one hand a large cloth bundle in the other.

“Seng is a barang man—a traveling salesman,” the doctor explained in answer to her questioning look. “He comes around once a month and I suppose he got wind of your arrival and put you at the top of his list. Shall I get rid of him?”

“Oh, no, please, I’d like to see what he has for sale. Why was he so cautious about coming out of the bushes?”

“Because he’s an old robber and Chen would have sent him packing. Don’t blame me if he fleeces you.”

Some feet away from them the man deposited his baggage on the grass and came forward bowing obsequiously, his broad grin displaying a prominent set of
gold rimmed
teeth.

“Morning, missy. Morning,
tuan
.
You like to see very nice tablecloths, ivory, porcelain, ladies’ underwear—yes? All very cheap, very good stuff.”

“Yes, please,” Vivien said, disregarding the doctor’s look of cynical amusement.