The Reluctant Guest (11 page)

For a few minutes Ann wondered about Elva’s long stay in England and that suspect fall from a bedroom window. What a strange, reckless creature she must have been
...
might still be. It didn’t bear thinking about.

They found the hotel bright with music from a gramophone, joined several dancing couples and recaptured some of the friendliness of their earlier acquaintanceship. The glamour was missing, though; in its place Ann was conscious of an understanding of Theo which bordered on compassion. For a lighthearted debonair and handsome young man he had really had a little too much to endure. While she was here she would help him all she could.

T
he following weekend there were two or three social events. On Friday evening one of Theo’s friends gave himself a birthday party at the hotel, and on Saturday there was a picnic near die river, arranged by Mrs. Newman.
Ann
had received a warm note of invitation to the picnic, and she accepted at once, only to discover later that neither Elva nor Theo had received a similar note. Apparently Sheila Newman’s courage had not quite risen to extending invitations to people who had previously refused them. However, Ann enjoyed the picnic, met several entertaining people and ended the day at the Newmans’ house. It did her good to be away from everyone at Groenkop for so long.

Elva had brought the chestnut gelding to the small pasture in which the grey and the roan spent their leisure, but it was not till Sunday morning that Ann tried it out. With the rein tighter than usual, she rode slowly down to the little tin church where the Africans, decorous in best suits and clean frocks, sat in a circle on the glass and listened to a very black priest. When the service was over and she had the place to herself, Ann looked through a window into the church. The benches were plain but varnished, the altar narrow and covered with a crisp white cloth edged with lace. There were carved wooden candlesticks, a pot of crimson Barberton daisies, and below the altar a crude but magnificent mosaic depicting a huge gold cross being borne along by a number of dark-skinned saints. It was a primitive and peaceful building, too small to be used for normal services.

Ann got back into the saddle, felt insecure for a moment because the gelding was broader than the roan, and then pushed the horse to a canter. She sat easily, and thought about the letter she had received yesterday from her mother. They were at Durban for five days, while the ship reloaded, and they wished Ann were with them; they hoped to receive a letter from her at the next stop up the coast. It worried Ann that her mother had not mentioned her own health, and yet she was sure that if anything were even slightly wrong with it her father would write. Perhaps she was letting her general uneasiness become concentrated on the one point.

The gelding moved gracefully over the hillside, making for the road. A jeep rocked along down there, raising a lethargic cloud of dust, and half a dozen natives,
carry
ing
beribboned sticks and wearing brilliant cloths about their heads, danced to their own chanting and turned across the veld. The sun glared over a scene which was peculiarly African; low brown and green mountains, occasional umbrella trees, a huddle of thatched huts on a hillside, a piccaninny herding his father’s handful of assorted cattle. Then, as Ann reached level ground, a long and sumptuous estate car appeared on the road; it slowed and stopped, and Ann’s heart did just the opposite.

Storr swung out and came round the car, took a few paces across the grass to where she had reined in. He looked extraordinarily tall and broad-shouldered and tanned, and the smile he lifted gleamed whitely with mockery and a hint of malice.

He spoke politely. “Good morning, Miss Calvert
.
Care to descend?”

The trouble, Ann thought vexedly, was that she could never forget their last meeting as easily as he appeared to. At least, he didn’t so much forget it as dare her to remember it. The glint in his eyes was certainly reminiscent.

She dropped to the ground, was instantly put at a disadvantage by his extra ten or twelve inches. “It’s a lovely morning,” she said perfunctorily.

“Perfect, and you decorate it charmingly.”

Making her aware, of course, that she was wearing riding breeches for the first time in Belati. Perversely, she
was glad she had departed from the uniform sufficiently to wear a green silk blouse.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” she commented.

He nodded. “My matey mood. How do you find the gelding?”

“Responsive and well-bred.”

“Sounds like a description of the perfect woman. Have you anything arranged for today?”

“I don’t
think
so. Theo did say
...”

“Then how about going with me to see my cousin? You remember, I told you about her—-she’s married and has four-year-old twins.”

“Oh, yes. She’s the one who’s loved.”

He smiled. “That’s right. Come and see how it works.”

“This morning?”

“Right now. I’ll get rid of the horse for you.”

And he did. He called to an African who had just wobbled past them on his bike, used a stream of kaffir and dropped some coins into cupped palms. A minute or so later the grinning cyclist was back on the saddle with a rein in one hand, and the horse walking idly beside him. “Well, that’s taken care of,” Storr said. “Hop in.”

But she hesitated. “Are you always able to turn a situation to your own advantage?”

“That one was easy,” he said negligently. “It only concerned the horse. You’re a rather more tricky proposition. Why don’t you want to go with me—because you’re not quite sure what to expect?”

“No, it isn’t that
.
You might frighten me a little, but I’d trust you.”

“How very sweet. After you’ve warned me like that I couldn’t possibly harm you, could I? Get in, little one, before I spank you.”

She said firmly, “I really don’t
think
I should go with you.”

“In case Theo objects?”

Ann was more worried about
E
lva’s reaction, but knew
i
t wouldn’t do to say so. “Were you going alone?”

His grey eyes narrowed. “If I hadn’t met you, yes. But something told me I
would
meet you.”

“You actually
want
me to go with you? It’s not just a sudden masterful decision?”

His smile was tantalizing. “It’s a bit of both, Pretty A
n
n. You challenged my beliefs about marriage, and I’d like to show you one where they’re successful. After all, if you flatly disagree you owe me at least a chance of proving my point
.
”

He sounded suave and provocative, but Ann allowed herself to be convinced simply because it was what she wanted at that moment more than anything in the world. He looked big and protective, infuriatingly self-assured; he hadn’t an ounce of tenderness in him, and yet as he stood there, looking at her shining hair and resting a glance on her curved red lips, she knew a compelling need to do as she wished; just this once, she pleadingly told her protesting conscience.

And then she was in the front seat of the estate car and Storr was putting on speed as they passed from loose gravel to the hard rocky road. She felt the tailored collar of the blouse flapping at the side of her neck, the wind through her hair and across her warm cheek, and exhilaration ran along her veins like a flame through sere grass.

“The green shirt is quite a touch,” he said lazily. “Makes your eyes look soft and doe-like, which is how a woman’s eyes should look.”

“Always?”

“No, on Sundays.”

Involuntarily she laughed, and her tension eased. “What about the rest of the week?”

“I’ll get out a chart for you.” A pause. “How are things going now?”

“In the house? Quite well.”

“Do you find yourself growing fonder of Theo?”

“Must you be sarcastic? As a matter of fact I do like him more than I did. But I’m not falling in love with
him
.
”

“So there’s a distinction? Tell me about it
.
”

“No. How far is it to your cousin’s house?”

“It’s a farm—mixed. About fifty-five miles from Belati West.”

“Good heavens. I can’t go that far with you!”

“Why not? We’ve done about ten miles already.”

“It’s after eleven!”

“So what? We’ll have lunch with Hazel an
d
Vic. I told that boy to let Elva know you might not be back for some hours.”

“Lord knows what she’ll think of me!”

“Stop being so formal. This isn’t Cheltenham.”

Ann
gave up, asked interestedly, “Have you been to England?”

“Of course. I went to Cambridge and then into the R.A.F. for two years. That was when you were a small girl with a hanky pinned inside your blazer and a neat little lunch in your pocket.”

She laughed again, and it was a tonic. “What sort of little boy were you?”

“Just like the rest, I guess. I didn’t go far from Belati till I went to college. In the holidays we’d go hunting with friends and cousins, and we’d sleep out night after night. It was a rich, untroubled existence.”

“You sound nostalgic.”

“I don’t feel it, particularly—not for myself, anyway.” He nodded out at a mealie patch set in stony g
r
assland. “You wouldn’t think there was much about this part of the country to get into your bones, would you?”

“Yes, I think I would. At first, the veld seemed so endless, the low mountains so numerous that I thought it a little dull. Then I began to notice the ludicrous shapes of some of the mountains. There’s one just the other side of town that has a cone of stone rising from its summit like a steeple, and another that’s like a pyramid, and even on your land there are some hills which are perfectly round and terraced and others with odd-shaped outcrops and growths. And the veld is surprisingly full of interest
—
you’ve only to rest somewhere to find miniature flowers and pretty leaves. And there’s something about the views in the early morning and an hour or so before sunset...” She broke off self-consciously, and shrugged.

In a curious tone he said, “You’ve got the times exactly right. It’s the way the light glances across the hills, in the
morning on one side and in the late afternoon from the other.” Then, rather abruptly, “Like a cigarette?”

“Yes, please.”

He gave her the packet and the lighter from his shirt pocket, and for a minute or so she was busy placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it, as well as her own. By now, she was no longer thinking of the Borlands or even of Groenkop. She was watching the slowly changing scene beyond the window, soaking it up with a pleasure she would not have thought possible.

They had come lower, and there were orchards to left and right, and thickets of acacias and pine trees by the roadside. They drove through a somnolent town where the streets were lined with shrubs and a garden full of palms and canna beds surrounded an elegant town hall, and out again into country where trees were profuse and a wide muddy river watered the farmlands.

“It’s due to the difference in heights,” Storr said. “This is about fifteen hundred feet lower than Belati—a sudden drop which completely alters the vegetation. Like it?”

“Yes, it’s a little like the Cape—not so lush, but you feel it could be. I haven’t travelled much in the Union
—
not at all out of the Cape Province—but I’m continually being told the country is a land of contrasts.”

“It is. Natal is sub-tropical except near the mountains, then there’s the Wild Coast which is often steaming hot in the middle of winter, and higher up there’s the Free State, where you wither in summer and freeze in winter. The Transvaal itself has several climates—all due to difference in levels. Wherever it’s low you get water and heat.”

She nodded. “I had a letter from my mother yesterday. They’d come along the Natal coast and were docked at Durban. She said it was wonderfully warm.”

He smiled tolerantly. “Did she tell you how much she misses you?”

“Yes. And why shouldn’t she?”

“Why not indeed? Do you wish you were with them?”

“Not at the moment, but I’d like to do the trip some time.” She paused. “I hope it’s doing her lots of good.”

“You came out for her health, didn’t you? What’s
wrong with her?”

“Nothing specific. It’s just that she gets everything rather worse than anyone else. If she cuts herself it turns septic, she bruises badly and even an ordinary cold becomes pneumonia. We wrap her up in cotton wool, of course, and our house is air
conditioned, so that we can shut it up in damp weather.”

“How long has she been so vulnerable?”

“It was about three years ago that we began to worry. The doctors called it debility and gave her injections and capsules. In the end, my father got the job in Cape Town. She’s improved tremendously—doesn’t catch things nearly so quickly—but when she did get her first cold just at the end of the summer it became a light touch of pneumonia in no time.”

“Bad luck.” He let a long moment elapse before adding, “If you get worried about her while you’re here, let me know. Our planes call at most of the ports and I could get a message or anything else through for you within hours.”

“Why, that’s
...
that’s awfully kind!”

He gave her the mocking smile. “I’m a kind sort of guy—sometimes.”

“And at other times?”

“
At other times, my child, I occasionally feel that people should be kind, or at least friendly, towards me. When they’re not, I’m apt to get a little hot.”

She thought of the violent chase across the veld to a hilltop with his arm clamped about her, and changed the topic. “Is it far now?”

“We’re almost there.”

“I look a little odd, to go visiting.”

"Not in these parts. In any case, whatever you wear you always have a clean-cut, impeccable appearance.”

“You said that as if you don’t approve.”

“It’s a bit irritating, but I’ll stick it. Here we are—left fork
...
and a left turn. That’s the house, just ahead.” The farmhouse was long and white, its steep roof covered with shingles which had been bleached by the sun. At the right a hedge screened off a garden, and on the
other side a lawn sloped down and round towards stables and outbuildings. From the line they were travelling a drive ran up and round to the fro
n
t of the house, between a row of pollard pines and a wide veranda whose graceful arches were hung with pink and purple bougainvillea. Through the curtain of hanging flowers Ann could see an amusing cocktail bar right there in the veranda. Next to it, sliding glass doors revealed a tiled dining terrace and lounge. It was a house built to make the most of outdoors.

“Nothing like Groenkop, is it?” said Storr.

He was about to say more, but it had to wait. As the engine died a pandemonium began, or perhaps it had been going on all the time. Dogs were barking, children shrieking, and a black and white horse came galloping round the house, missing the estate car by inches as it raced past and down into the formal garden.

The next to appear round the
corner
of the house was a diminutive child in shorts and a blue blouse, her white p
o
ny-tail flying in the breeze, and straight behind her came her replica, except that it was a boy with a white crew-cut. Meanwhile the dogs had come and gone, five of them, and a woman of average build in slacks and a terry shirt, her brown hair fringed and slightly ragged, brought up the rear.

The little girl screamed, “It’s Storr!” and took a flying leap into his arms. The next moment the boy was there too, and Storr was saying severely,

“Where do you think you are—at home?”

This amused them enormously. The children rocked with laughter and slid down him, peeped into the car and turned a long wide stare upon Ann.

“Well, it’s about time!” the woman said. “You’ve already been at Groenkop for about a week. And you’ve been away so long it’s a wonder the children recognized you.” She turned a brown smiling face to Ann. “You must be Chloe.”

“Wrong girl,” said Storr smoothly. “This is Ann Calvert, who’s staying with the Borlands
...
my cousin, Hazel Wenham.”

“Oh
...
Ann,” Hazel echoed, as if memorizing it. “Well, it’s nice to see you both. Ann, meet Fern and Timothy. Let’s go up for refreshment, shall we?”

“What was all the noise about?” asked Storr. “Wasn’t that Prince who dashed down into the garden?”

“He’d be flattered to know you remembered him. He’s been behaving badly for three days. The twins found some puppies abandoned in the bush—wild dogs, I think—and we keep them in one of the sheds, next to a leopard cub that Vic brought home. Prince has taken a savage dislike to the puppies and he won’t leave them alone. We chase him off, and ten minutes later he’s back again, hoofing at the door of the shed.”

“I should think so. Any self-respecting horse would take exception to wild dog whelps. You should have drowned them.”

“You’re still a brute. They’re sweet things. Come in and sit down. Fern, do go and find Daddy, will you?”

The child sprinted away on bare feet, closely followed by her brother. Ann sank down into a
modern
basket chair that was upholstered in foam rubber, and she looked about her at the golden wood of the dining table, the black stonework of the floor, the zigzag of a hundred colors in the curtains. The whole living-terrace was a dream of smart decorating and comfortable living—not costly but attractively full of life.

Storr was saying, “Fern still leads Timothy by the nose. Doesn’t he ever assert himself?”

“Why should he?” his cousin answered placidly, as she crossed to the cocktail bar. “He doesn’t have to think at all; she does enough for both of them. Once in a blue moon he demonstrates that he’s physically the stronger, and that seems to be enough. He’s like me.”

Just fleetingly, Storr’s sardonic glance collided with Ann’s. Determinedly, she looked away, at the great branches of bougainvillea.

Then Hazel said, “Be a dear and get me some ice, Storr.
Here’s a jug.”

He vanished through a door, and Hazel teetered a little,
smiling
pleasantly down at Ann. “You’re new, aren’t you?
New to the country, I mean. You look a bit large-eyed, as if you can’t quite focus. That’s how I was when I went to London.”

“I’ve lived here eighteen months!”

“Really? Then perhaps you’re as I used to be—not too clever at taking things in your stride; you grow out of it
.
I’m sorry I called you Chloe.”

“That’s all right. It’s a pretty name.” Then Ann heard herself asking rather quickly, “Who is she?”

“I’m not sure. In Storr’s letter from Johannesburg, just after he got back from the tour, he said he might be bringing one of his colleagues and the man’s daughter, Chloe, to Groenkop for a visit. Maybe he means later.” Hazel dismissed the matter with; “You know how it is if you have a bachelor in the family. You’re always matching him up with someone. What do you like to drink?”