The Primrose Bride (2 page)

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Authors: Kathryn Blair

BOOK: The Primrose Bride
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Now Karen was conscious of the unfamiliar weight of the gold band on her finger, conscious also that the real beginning was slightly ahead, when she and Andrew would set foot together on Nemaka, the chief of the Leaman Islands. Those heavenly weeks when he had stayed at Welhayes, taught her to ride and drive, led her among a few sophisticated friends in London, complimented her on her dancing and her taste for simplicity in dress, her keen ear for music and affection for the classics
...
they were the dream now, and marriage the reality. He might seem self-sufficient, but in his consideration for her, his lazy good humor and his generosity, he was a dear. If he sometimes seemed a stranger it was because she knew so little about his work and the way he lived. And if she felt a little odd about things it was because
...
well, why not face it? It was because they had been so surrounded that he hadn

t been able to ... to really kiss her, since
the
wedding. A honeymoon might be a mixed blessing, but at least it allowed one to become adjusted, without witnesses. It had been good of Andrew to arrange things so that his colleagues would believe the marriage a week or two old. He was the most kind and understanding man in the world.


Fasten the belt,

he said now.

Here, let me do it for you. We

re
right
above the Nemaka coastline. In a minute you

ll see the airfield and the government buildings—they

re only a mile apart.

He smiled.

Thrilled?


Tremendously. Queasy too.


Poor sweet, but it won

t last.
Must
n
’t
spoil a ten-thousand-mile trip at the last minute.

He leaned across her towards the window and nodded at a coconut-fringed
beach.

My house is just behind that bay, among the trees. We

re
actually
nearer to the sea than any of the others. The harbor is round the corner from the bay—we get interisland boats two or three times a week, and a liner from the mainland calls every fifteen days. The Government has a six-seater plane for local travel, and if anything larger should be needed we charter it. Islands aren

t cut off these days, but so far the Leamans have stayed clear of tourists. You

ll soon learn about everything. We

re right down now. Be touching ground in a second.

They did, with a faint bump. The plane sl
o
wed and came to rest; the engines faded and for a moment there was a strange hush among the passengers in the small plane. Then came sighs of relief and questions, men and women flexing their stiffened limbs. Only Andrew and Karen were leaving the plane for good; the others were officials and agents stationed on other islands.

The heat, as Karen stepped into it, was heavy and brilliant, but walking uncertainly at Andrew

s side across the grass to the small building she felt a cool breeze. By the time darkness fell, at about six, Andrew had told her, it was nearly always cool and slightly breezy. The evenings were exhilarating except in the humid season.

Dark-skinned officials in white greeted him with obsequious respect, bowed to the mem and looked startled. A government car was quickly brought to the exit of the building, their luggage stowed. They drove away, along a lane that had been cut through crowded coconut palms;
the sky was a scorching blue band overhead and the only other people on the hard red road were cyclists who carried anything from a bunch of green bananas to a mountain of cooking pots. Within a few minutes the sea was visible on the right, the car made an abrupt left turn and there was the house, a long white dwelling thatched with palm and screened from its neighbor by a tangle of poinsettia and flame vine. Home, thought Karen, a strange leap of elation in her throat. Andrew

s home, and hers. This was where they would really learn to know
each
other.

He had the luggage unloaded, slipped his key into the lock and opened the door of the house. Then, easily, and with the teasing smile of a man who does the sentimental thing half against his will, he lifted Karen and set her down inside the long, dim living room.


There you are, Mrs. Eliot,

he said.

It

s been regularly aired and dusted and it

s all yours—till we get moved to some other bunch of islands. You have good taste—you can do as you like with the place.

It did need new curtains and a couple of well-placed low tables, and perhaps a few bright cushions on the dark brown divan, but just then Karen saw nothing through the blur of happiness. She turned to him, pink lips parted, her eyes brimming with all she was feeling.


Andrew, we

re really here,

she said huskily.

It

s really happening!

He took her by the arms, lightly.

Haven

t you believed it? I was hoping you had. When you

ve been here a couple of months you

ll know there

s nothing so real as this place ... not even England. Feel all right now?


I feel splendid.


You look it too.

He gripped her arms briefly, and let them go.

I

ll have to get after the servants. We

ll need food and the boiler going. If I shove your cases in the bedroom you can start unpacking. I

ll see that you get a cup of tea as soon as possible. Would you like to find the other rooms yourself? There aren

t many.

She caught his sleeve. A coin of scarlet in each cheek, she said quickly, shyly,

This is the first time we

ve been alone. Do you realize that?

He slipped an arm across her shoulders and kissed her lips.

I didn

t want to frighten you,

he said softly,

and
p
leasures are often the more acute for being deferred. I

ll
b
e back.

She followed him into the bedroom, smiled happily as he left her, and then wandered across to the window he had opened on to a dark little veranda. The veranda posts and the edge of the thatch framed a vivid little picture of wild orchids about the foot of a massive tree; a parakeet stirred the still beauty and was gone. Karen hummed happily and turned to her unpacking. She filled one wardrobe with the smart little frocks Andrew had insisted on buying for her, the high-heeled sandals, the light jackets. She surveyed the room, and decided it must have been the guest room. There were twin beds covered in pale green, a scarlet bedside lamp, white mgs and gleaming mahogany. She peeped into the room next door, and knew it had been Andrew

s. It was very like the larger room but there was only one bed, and a couple of photographs adorned the dressing chest. One of them showed Welhayes to advantage and the other was of a group of men and women in tropical kit. Andrew was one of those people; he stood there looking tall and handsome and uncaring—himself, in fact.

The bathroom was fairly new, but it had gone off a little. The white tiles had yellowed and a few were missing, the metal of the windows had rusted and the rubber flooring had cockled. The damp side of the house, apparently; the room would have to be repaired at intervals—it had probably gone off badly through the house being locked up.

She washed in rust-colored cold water, changed from the
s
traw-yellow suit into a flowered frock and used a little make-up. Then, as suddenly as if a curtain were drawn, it was dark, and a lamp sprang alive in the veranda. There were voices speaking quietly, the whisper of bare feet,
the
opening and closing of doors. Karen braced herself to go into the living room.

A plump, ginger-haired man in white greeted her.

Well, this is the most stunning surprise. So you

re the bride! I

m very happy to meet you.

And he pumped her hand and beamed.

Andrew explained, with a tolerant expression,

This is Dr. Mears, Karen. Jake Mears and his wife are our nearest neighbors—right next door.


Good neighbors too,

stated the doctor,

even if Andrew does discourage us fairly often. But you

ll humanize him for us, I hope. No man should be as set on his career as he is, and there

s nothing like a pretty wife to take a man

s mind off his work. You are to be congratulated. Andrew.


Good-looking, isn

t she?

Andrew commented, as he gave her a tiny mocking wink that deliciously quickened her pulses.

Excellent judgment on my part.


Don

t pretend to be cold-blooded about it—not with me, anyway. I

m only too happy you

ve fallen in love with someone so appropriate in every way.

The doctor no doubt meant well, but a moment

s silence followed this remark.

Then Andrew said,

Sorry I can

t offer you a drink, Jake, but my cabinet is bare till tomorrow. Bring your wife for cocktails tomorrow evening.


I

ll be glad to, but this evening you must have dinner with us. Your boys won

t get down to cooking right away, and we always have plenty. If you

re ready, you could come now, for a drink and a chat before we eat. Molly can hardly wait to meet Mrs. Eliot.

To Karen

s surprise Andrew said,

We

d like that, Jake. I

m a bit sticky. Talk to Karen while I get into clean things.

Karen felt a little tightened up as she watched him go. Then she realized that dining with the doctor was possibly the most sensible thing to do, and certainly it would be the expected procedure. It didn

t matter that she had hoped to open a couple of tins and somehow conjure a cosy meal for two; there would be plenty of time for
that. It
was just that
...
well, she had had an awfully long wedding day—fifty-odd hours of it—and she wanted to
g
et it over. Dining with friends on one

s wedding night
must be
unique; and it was an instance in which Karen did not want to
be
unique. She wanted to come to the end of the strain and uneasiness, the slight but inevitable feeling of aloneness.

Dr. Mears talked paternally. About England, television, books, the theatre, pottery and porcelain, and gardens. And somehow, Karen was able to converse as if she had known
him
a long time. Andrew came in, looking suave and very dark in
a
white dinner jacket which was fresh from the polythene container in which it had hung for several months. He had swiftly and completely assumed his Nemaka personality, and for a second Karen had the panicky conviction that he was no longer the Andrew she knew. But his smile and the slant of his head as he spoke went some way towards dispelling her doubts. He was still her beloved.


Thanks for waiting,

he said.

Shall we go?

It was no more than eighty yards from one house to the next, and Mrs. Mears met them as they entered her living room. She was about forty-five, had once been an enchanting nurse and was now maturely pleasant-looking with fading
chest
n
u
t hair, brown eyes
that
twinkled and a firm chin.


Well, how lovely this is!

she exclaimed.

Ever since Tony received Andrew

s cable I

ve been trying to imagine Andrew

s chosen woman. I knew you

d be slim and good to look at, but it was Tony who wanted to bet that you

d be fair and blue-eyed!


Who exactly is Tony?

asked Karen, to gloss her self
-
consciousness.

Andrew said casually,

Tony Horwell, Copra Inspector for the islands. We happened to start out here together.


But Tony hasn

t gone up in the world,

put in
Mrs.
, Mears,

and no one could prevent Andrew from getting to the top.

She let out a long, contented, breath.

I couldn

t be happier for you, my dear. Congratulations, both
of
you. Do sit down and let

s drink to you!

It was not an exacting evening. Mrs. Mears was placid, the doctor genial, and though Karen

s appetite was small
she did manage to
tr
y the three or four courses which were served by a well-fed houseboy. The Mearses would be good neighbors, she thought; not pushing, but helpful if needed. Mrs. Mears seemed to sense Karen

s feeling of inadequacy; her talk was interspersed with reassuring comments.

They had coffee and more conversation. Mrs. Mears thought Karen might like to see the rest of the house, which was slightly different from Andrew

s, and the two women went on a tour of inspection. Finally, the doctor

s wife waved a hand towards her bedroom.


Tidy up and cool off, if you want to. There

s ice-wa
ter
in the vacuum jug on the dressing table. I always keep a dim light in here during the evening, but you can switch on the table lamp.


Thank you very much.

Alone in the semi-darkness, Karen dabbed her hot brow with a hankie soaked in ice water, dried off and put on some lipstick. Her pulses were hammering a little, but perhaps the heat could be blamed for that. It could also have bees the heat which made her want to walk away into the dar
k
ness and lose herself.

It had been too much; her wedding, fifty hours in a plane and no sleep, and then this evening, making small talk with strangers while Andrew ate and drank and smoked as if he had been married for ten years. He was doing it for her sake, of course; they were supposed to have been married for about a fortnight. But now it was getting quite late
...

Her thoughts halted. There were voices beyond th
e
thick curtain; the french door must be open. Men

s voices, one the doctor

s and the other belonging to someone younger, someone she hadn

t met.

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