Welcome to Paradise (5 page)

“Why here?” she wanted to know.

H
e
r aunt waved a vague hand.

“Oh well. Once your uncle and I had settled here, I suppose the buzz went round. The world is full of people of our vintage, you know, dear, whose working lives have been spent in far-off hot countries—and who, when at last they’re due to go back Home, find they can’t take the British climate—let alone the taxes and lack of domestic help.”

“I suppose they’re all looking for a dream place?”

“That’s it. And Paradise seems to be the answer. It’s got pretty well everything, you know. Except, of course, excitement,” she added with her neigh of a laugh. “And most of us have had plenty and to spare of
that
in our lives.”

Incautiously, Alix exclaimed, “If Mr. Herrold has his way, you’ll probably get that too”—then bit her lip. Hadn’t she started this conversation to get away from thoughts of Herrold and all his works?

Her aunt stiffened again at the mention of her enemy.

“That creature
,
”
she growled, basso profundissimo. “You can see now just what he is. A steamroller. A bulldozer. He and his son, both alike, I’ve no doubt. Bulldozers pretending to have charm. Pfui! Don't let’s think of them or I’ll have indigestion. Come, Nelson, my lamb. Mother wants to give you your lunch.”

As she left the room a sudden thought made Alix smile.

All the same, she told herself shrewdly, Aunt Drusilla and Andrew Herrold
admire
each other—in an exasperated sort of way. If only I were going to be here—to see how their battle works
out...

Her spirits sank again. She realised with painful clearness how much she dreaded meeting Bernard, for better or for worse. Since it might be for worse
...

Effelina, coming in to clear the table, looked at her downcast face and asked shyly, “Miss Ellix sed today?”

“No, Effelina, I’m not sad. I hope you aren’t any more, either?”

The coloured girl smiled smugly.

“No, Miss Ellix. Meddam pay my husband fine. He coming out today.”

“That’s nice for you.”

“We going to get merried nex’ mont’. My two little shildem going be bridesmaids. I going to wear a wreat’ an’ weil.”

Alix said “Oh” again. Love and marriage seemed to be happy-go-lucky affairs for these people. “I hope you’ll be very happy,” she added.

“Heppy? I don’t know,” Effelina said vaguely. “But if we merried, my husband can help to keep the shildren. Their fathers don’ pay me nothin’. It heavy, Miss Ellix.”

“It must be,” Alix agreed sympathetically. Good heavens, she was thinking. Poor girl
...

But the satisfied sway of Effehna’s hips as she left with her tray reassured her. Effelina was going to be merried.

Lucky Effelina!

CHAPTER FIVE

A SMALL wind from the west was combing up the water into ripples when Alix and Nelson splashed through the shallows next morning. They had to wade out farther than the previous day before they could swim. Nelson snapped at the swarms of tiny fish; he grinned, water dripping from his eager jaws.

There was no sign of Richard’s boat. Alix wondered if it was perhaps the wrong sort of weather for fishing. Or had Richard taken her at her word, and wouldn’t come?

What did it matter, anyway?

Then why the disappointment that took some of the sparkle out of the morning? ...

As soon as the water was deep enough she flung herself at it and swam hard. Whenever she lifted her face, there was Nelson’s, anxiously wrinkled, alongside. His four feet worked with the effortless precision of pistons; he looked as if he could go on for ever.

She herself tired fairly quickly—she was out of practice, of course. Surfacing, she looked again for Richard’s boat, and thought she saw it, but far away, just leaving the jetty near which he kept it moored.

Long before it came near enough for her to be sure, another craft appeared, moving at high speed, with a great white moustache of water at its bows, from the seaward end of the lagoon.

It was a handsome white motor launch, driven by two powerful outboard engines. A red ensign fluttered at its stem, and at the wheel was a tall figure,
blond headed
, wearing khaki slacks and a brown suede windcheater.

Three natives sat up on the deck forward, gutting some very large fish, and tossing the gory fragments to the sea-gulls that wheeled and squawked round the craft.

The noise of its engines died down to a gentle hum as it drew near Alix. At a crisp word of command, one of the boys dropped an anchor.

“Good morning,” Eric Gore’s light voice called out gaily. “May I join you for a swim? I’ve been out all night, fishing.”

Alix called back, “You seem to have made a big catch. The water’s lovely this morning.”

But she was wondering, a trifle uncomfortably, what Richard would think when ... if ... he arrived.

Eric Gore went below, into the cabin, and came out a couple of minutes later in swimming trunks. He stood poised for a long moment on the counter, flexing his arm and showing off his excellent torso, then dived cleanly overboard and swam towards her.

“Race you to that buoy over there,” he cried. For a few yards Alix swam hard, then she gave up, panting. Eric Gore swam as expertly as—she gathered—he did everything else. He turned and came tearing back to her at high speed.

“Tired?” he asked concernedly. “You mustn’t overdo things at first, you know. Look, I’ve got a flask of coffee on board. Come and have some, won’t you?”

Alix hesitated.

Richard’s boat lay at anchor now, a little distance away. She could see that he had brought two rods, and was baiting them both. His back was towards her, and looked unconcerned—if a back can express emotion, she thought with a little grin.

Eric Gore’s hand was on her bare shoulder. He had started to propel her towards the launch.

No
, she thought.

“Thank you, Mr. Gore,” she said. “I’d love to see your launch some time. But not now. I’m just going to have a lesson in casting.”

She saw him glance over at Richard, sitting there in the dinghy, not looking their way. A look of—surely it couldn’t be menace, though that was what it looked like—appeared for an instant in the ice-blue eyes. Then he was pulling himself lithely aboard his boat. Smoothly, and loud enough for Richard to hear, he said, “I’ll take you outside with me, one morning this week, for some
real
fishing. I guarantee you’ll find it exciting. We’ll fix a date on Tuesday, when you come to Northolme, shall we?”

“Oh, I’m afraid I shan’t be able to come,” Alix told him, treading water. “I’m flying to Salisbury on Wednesday. I shall be on the bus on Tuesday, going to Port Elizabeth.”

She saw a look of extreme chagrin cross his face.

“You’re going away? Why?”

“A change of plans.” What business was it of his?

“But I thought
...
Look here, you can’t possibly travel by the bus. If it weren’t for this meeting, I’d drive you over myself. You must let me send you in my car. My driver will take you. I must insist..

“You’re very kind, Mr. Gore,” Alix said coolly. “But I’ve booked my seat on the bus. It’s the ‘Luxury’ bus
—
my aunt says it’s most comfortable. Look, I must go now. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Without waiting to hear his reply—or to see the look of furious annoyance he directed at Richard’s back
—
she swam hard towards the dinghy. She said breathlessly, “I’ve come for my lesson, Richard, after all.”

“Good,” he answered pleasantly, turning round and giving her a pull over the stem.

“Thanks,” she said, and sat down in the stem sheets, lau
ghin
g up at him suddenly happy and at ease.

Richard had suffered a sharp shock at finding Alix with Eric Gore. But he had no intention of spoiling what slender chance he might have with her by a display of jealousy or petulance. As the launch raced off up
-
lagoon—

“Nice-looking craft that, isn’t it?” he observed equably. “Powerful too. But don’t you be persuaded to go outside unless it’s a dead calm day. The swell out there can be devastating.”

“And I’m not a foolproof sailor, by any means.”

“Aren’t you?” He was foolproof himself, but didn’t choose to diminish her by saying so.

Nelson, who had unaccountably vanished while she was with Eric Gore, now reappeared and exhibited every intention of coming aboard.

“Go home, Nelson. Home,” Alix told
him
in a firm voice.

But Nelson had other ideas. Lifting his lip in a canine grin that said “Nothing doing,” he swerved and set off for the other side of the lagoon. “Back when I’m ready,” said the flick of his ears, so plainly that they both laughed. The laughter seemed to bring them closer. Richard said, “That’s a real dog. Got character. Knows his own mind.”

“He’s usually
much more obedient than that.”

“Obedient—but not servile. He rightly sees no reason for going home now. Can’t stand a servile dog. You must meet mine. A Labrador. Finest dogs there are,
I
think.”

“Oh,
yes.
We have one at home. He’s old now, and a bit lazy. But he’s—well, one of the family.”

They talked dogs for a moment longer. Richard was busy with the rods. He looked up to say, “So you’re going, Alix?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Val told me.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

“Why, Alix?”

Funny, when Eric Gore had asked “Why?” she had resented the question as an impertinence. But when Richard asked, she couldn’t prevent the colour from flooding her cheeks.

“We thought—my aunt and I—” she began, stammering a little, “I should get on with things. Not—not hang around
...”

No, it was too thin. She could see from the way his eyebrow had gone up in that ironic question mark, that he didn’t believe her.

He said gently, looking at her with love, “Alix, something has happened, hasn’t it? You’re not
...
sure any more, are you?”

Now how in the world does he guess that? she wondered, disturbed. Her colour paled again. She returned his searching look with all the serenity at her command.

“Nothing has happened,” she told him steadily. “And I’m quite sure. Look, Richard, I don’t think I feel much like fishing this morning. I’m rather cold—perhaps I’ve been in the water too long. D’you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind. Come on. We’ll go ashore.”

He helped her over the side, swam beside her, waded with her through the shallows and walked to the grassy point.

“I shall be leaving on Tuesday,” she said, and held out her hand. “I don’t suppose I’ll see you again, so I’d better say goodbye now.”

“Au ’voir,
A
li
x,” Richard said, taking the hand in his. She pulled it away with a little laugh, not at all mirthful, called to Nelson who was sitting on his haunches, virtuously awaiting her pleasure, and hurried away towards the house.

Her heart was beating a tattoo. Had she really heard Richard say, almost inaudibly, as she turned away from him, “I love you so much.” ?

Actually Richard
had
muttered the words, though not for her ears. He knew he was probably being a fool, letting himself fall deeper and deeper into love with another man’s girl. But he was unable to help himself. He had found in her face everything that he asked for in a woman—vivacity, intelligence, sweetness and zest. No use telling himself she was just another pretty but unremarkable girl. He loved her. He was afraid he would always love her.

With the penetrating intuition of love, he hadn’t been convinced when she said that nothing had happened to make her change her plans. He sensed an uncertainty in her that hadn’t been there that first day. It strengthened his
·dete
rmin
ation
not to give up—yet.

As for the other man—Bernard—Richard thought he deserved to have to fight for Alix. He had gone away and left her, instead of taking her with him, refusing to let her out of his sight. It’s Bernard who’s the fool, thought Richard, laying plans as he made his way back to his boat.

It was a point of view, right or wrong. It was certainly Richard’s.

Only when Alix had showered, and was towelling her wet hair, did she remember her promise to sleuth on her aunt’s behalf—about which she had done nothing whatever. The fact was, she had never once thought of it. She hoped her aunt wouldn’t be disappointed.

But Lady Merrick, at breakfast, was complacency itself. It seemed that she had seen through her binoculars the meeting between her niece and Eric Gore. And then Eric, the moment he had reached home
—
only a few minutes ago, just before they sat down to breakfast—had telephoned.

“But
why,
Aunt Drusilla?”

“He’s so upset that you’re going, dear. As you won’t be able to go to Northolme on Tuesday, he wants us to go there this evening. Early, to look over the farm. Then stay on for dinner.”

“You didn’t accept?”

“Of course I did, my dear. I wouldn’t miss one of his superb dinners for anything. He told me he’d tried to persuade you to let him send you to P.E. in his car, but you’d refused. Silly child—so much more comfortable.”

“I didn’t want to be under an obligation to him,” Alix said, her voice trembling with vexation.

Lady Merrick stared.

“Why ever not?” she asked. “I told you he was taken with you. He doesn’t usually put himself out like this
—
when the Braines’ daughter was here he could hardly be induced to invite her for a game of tennis. You should be flattered,” she finished with her cheerful neigh.

Alix gave up and tried to smile. She couldn’t bring herself to spoil her aunt’s obvious pride and pleasure by being obdurate.

“I’d better go up and look out something to wear, then,” she said. “Cocktail dress, I suppose?”

“Yes. Your prettiest, please, dearest.”

Alix said, “All right, Aunt Drusilla,” docilely, and left the room.

But actually she felt far from docile.

She could see, only too plainly, the way her aunt’s mind was working, and everything in her that was loyal to Bernard and the future they had planned together rebelled against it.

Obstinately she told herself that she was not, repeat not, going to get involved with Eric Gore. Or with anyone else in Paradise.

She was going to marry Bernard. They were going to start a farm, build a house, work up a plant nursery. Later on they would start a family.

They would live happily ever after.

Please God
...

When she had chosen her dress—a green silk which would need pressing after having been packed so long in her air-case—Alix took it downstairs and gave it to Effelina, who was an expert laundress.

“It pretty,” Effelina said admiringly. “Miss Ellix goin’ to look like doll.”

Alix laughed and went off to do the flowers she and her aunt had cut last evening, and left soaking in a bath of deep water. She was good with flowers and loved doing mem. She could always make them stand up and face the right way instead of flopping together in a huddle. Her aunt, after watching her arrange one bowl, had handed over to her. She was no good at all with flowers herself.

Alix had already begun to feel she could settle down easily enough into the Paradise routine. Lunches, little dinners, tea and cocktail and Bridge parties—diversified, for the men, by nine-hole golf, croquet, bowls, carpentry and eternal messing about with fishing rods and boats; and for the women by housekeeping, light gardening, and meeting in each others’ drawing rooms to gossip while working devotedly for the many charities of the district, nearly all directed at the sadly indigent coloured population.

Simple, agreeable, peaceful activities; the normal relaxations and preoccupations of elderly people with no serious worries about money, and time on their hands.