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Authors: Kathryn Blair

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BOOK: The Man at Mulera
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Lou felt as if she had swallowed an ice cube. She had known for some time that there was nothing she wanted more desperately than Ross

happiness, but she had also known that his capacity for happiness and the quality of it that he needed were unlike that of other men. He was more demanding, more possessive, more shrewd about such things than any other man she had ever known; she was sure of it
.

Perhaps it was fortunate that Paula came back just then. Ross saw her seated, asked if his aunt had gone to bed.

Paula nodded her ash-blonde head and turned upon him a softened blue glance.

She

s all right, darling—just a little too old for the sudden change in climate. She says she feels fine.

Just a little
.
Lou was glad that Mrs. Acland had told no one else about that slight heart attack in England; it made her own relationship with Ross

aunt a shade more intimate than anyone else

s—even Ross.


Still, I don

t like keeping her here,

he said.

I may take a week off soon, and fly over to England. She might have that empty cottage on your estate for a while, Paula.


Well, I
...

The faint protest died, and Paula smiled again.

I did tell Jim Morda
u
nt he could have his mother there, more or less permanently, but I

m sure it could be arranged for Aunt Maud to take it for a few months, though I doubt if she

ll care to leave her flat
.
We

ll see, anyway.

She slanted a look at Lou.

Our young friend appears to be a trifle upset
.
What have you been talking about?


Nothing very disturbing. Louise can feel unsettled for other people.


But for herself, too,

said Paula sweetly, and with a pointedness that Lou could not ignore.

I

ve thought several times that she must be disappointingly in love.

Ross spoke with crisp incisiveness.

You

ve got it wrong, Paula. Louise isn

t in love—she

s simply trying very hard and finding it awfully exhausting. Care for a stroll?


It

s still very windy.


We

ll make it a drive, then.

He was standing, looking down at Martin with an arrogant smile.

I

ll eventually take Paula home, Martin. Stay with Louise for an hour. She

s a bit blue.

Lou

s vexation cooled, the anxiety Paula roused lost importance. She lay back in her chair and conversed with Martin Craddock, thought how peaceful it would be to love and be loved by such a man. When, some time later, he rose to leave her, she realized that for at least fifteen minutes she had pushed Ross and Paula well back into her mind.

For three days, little happened. Martin went off to Zomba, the wind died, and Ross put in hand the building of a new shed. Greg either stayed on the job or in his bungalow, and apart from a brief note in which he reiterated that he still wanted to marry her, Lou had no contact with him. She wrote back her thanks and regrets, hoped he would fix up in a good post when his trial term was over.

In the house, the constraint was noticeable only to Lou

s highly sens
i
tive mind; at least, that was her impression. Mrs. Acland was gentle and busy with her embroidery, Elinor smoked and looked up old copies of the Central African newspapers for clues to the business opportunities and Keith lost interest in the crocodile eggs and asked whether he couldn

t go over to see Mr. Gilchrist again. Ross, a little impatiently, told
him
he must wait.

Lou said tentatively,

I could take him, if you

ll trust me with the car again.

Ross looked dour.

You can use it; I haven

t had time to get it repaired yet
.

Which, presumably, was meant to imply that he wouldn

t be surprised if she scratched the other wing, and repairs might as well wait till it had happened. She flashed him a glance of hate, which he returned glossed over with ice. If anything, the atmosphere between them became more brittle.

But next morning Lou started out with Keith in the car. The air was cool and fresh and the glimpses of the Lake showed the crystal perfec
t
ion of the morning. It was a day freshly-made and innocent, and Keith burbled cheerfully about the Gilchrist house and its nature reserve garden. They found the thatched dwelling and the retired military
man
who had enclosed two hundred acres of his land in order to rear antelope and zebra, wildebeeste and many smaller species of game. They drove into the reserve and stopped at the river, where a sated lizard, four feet long, lay across a stone and idly watched the gauzy red insects and watersnakes and outsize spiders. From the opposite bank another hippo and her baby plodded into the river and cavorted, and during the silences there were other furtive and distant splashings. Crocodile and lizards, Mr. Gilchrist explained.

The heat, in that jungle enclosure, was exhausting. The man drove them back to his house and gave them fruit drinks piled high with ice, and then he saw them into the car, bade them come again and waved them off.

Keith dozed on the way home. Lou drove at moderate speed and wished she could stay out all day. More than
anything
she was in need of a day of unblemished tranquillity. Yet she was longing for something to happen.

As it turned out, the rest of the day was more than mildly disturbing.

She left the car under its usual wide tree, took Keith

s hand and went indoors with him. They washed together in the bathroom, and Keith decided he would prefer to eat in the kitchen, if no one minded. Lou saw him seated near the fan, watched him start on Scotch eggs and grilled tomatoes, and then made her way to the living-room.

Ross was there, taking a drink. He poured something for Lou and gave it to her. He looked across at Elinor, who was smoking and drinking lemonade near the open french door, said offhandedly,


My aunt is having lunch in her room. I think I

ll have
mine
in the study. Excuse me?

Elinor lifted her shoulders.

Why shouldn

t we all spread through the house? Would you rather eat alone, Lou?


I

m not hungry.


Nor I.


Then I

ll stay and make you eat,

said Ross savagely.

I

m damned if
I’
ll have a couple of starving women on my hands!

Elinor looked surprised. Lou hurriedly drank from her glass.


It was terribly hot in the nature reserve,

she said.

I

m sorry if
...”

He gestured to cut her short

Relax, for heaven

s sake. Where

s Keith?


He

s eating in the kitchen.


Then we

d better
...

He stopped and listened to the crunching sound of a car on the gravel, strode across to the window which gave a view of the drive. Lou watched him, saw him stare intently, cast a glance back into the room and then walk out into the porch.
She heard him speaking, and the voice of another man, and for some reason she turned and gazed at Elinor. Elinor, who was dead white and very still, cigarette crumpled so tightly into h
er
fist that she did not feel the bu
rn
.

They came in, Ross and a slenderly-built man of thirty-eight or forty. Lou transferred her stare to the tight, teak
-
brown face, saw the greenish-hazel eyes focus sharply upon Elinor as Ross spoke to her.


Friend of yours, it seems—a Mr. Randall,

he said suavely.

Traced you here, all the way from Hong Kong.

Elinor hadn

t moved and she wasn

t even looking at the newcomer, she looked as stiff and disjointed as a figure strung by wires. Mr. Randall

s teeth were obviously very tightly clamped, but otherwise he gave nothing away.

Ross spoke again.

Help yourself to a drink, Randall. I

m sure you and Elinor have things to say to each other. Come along, Louise. We

ll lunch in my study after all—the two of us.

Dazedly, Lou felt her arm gripped, her whole body guided from the room. Could this visitor be an answer to her longing for something to happen?

 

CHAPTER NINE

T
he
man in travel-creased khaki drill stood there for some moments before he permitted himself to speak. Then he pressed a hand over darkish hair which was streaked here and there with grey, lifted a rather rugged-looking chin and said, his voice uneven with emotion.


I had to come, Elinor. It

s been a long time, but I

ve found you.

By now, Elinor was completely in command of herself. She dropped the crushed cigarette into an ashtray, wiped her hands with a handkerchief. Whatever the strain she might be feeling, none of it showed in her cool half-smile.


You

re a long way from Singapore, George.


A long way.

He paused, looked drowningly at the tray holding bottles and glasses.

Do you mind if I avail myself of Gilmore

s offer of a drink?


Why should I?


Please, Elinor. Don

t sound so uncompromising. You haven

t called me anything that I haven

t called myself during the past months. You didn

t give me
time
to
take
things in.


Have your drink, George.

He poured, doggedly, took half a glass of whisky at a gulp and came to sit on a chair that faced her. He leaned forward, earnestly.


You shouldn

t have run away, Elinor. If you

d given me just a few days!


Would that have made things any better? You were shocked to discover that I

d been
dishonest...”


Don

t!

He swallowed, audibly.

If only I could explain how I felt that evening. I

d been on top of myself all day because I

d decided to wait no longer before
asking
you to marry me. You
...
cared for me; I did know
that,
Elinor ... has it ever occurred to you, since then, that you told me in the most brutal way you possibly could? You didn

t wrap it up or even lead up to it. You slapped it at me at the very moment of ...
well...”

“I’m sorry
,

she said coldly,

but it was the only way I could tell you. I wanted your natural reaction, not something I

d nursed along. You were disgusted and I don

t blame you. After that I couldn

t stay in Singapore. I got out the very next afternoon.


I know. I learned it the following day, when I found your apartment already occupied by someone else. I was frantic and did my best to trace you, but you hadn

t left by any of the normal routes.


I did it the cheap way—got the job of driving some children to a mission up-country. After that I kicked around for a bit before
making
tracks by easy stages to Hong Kong.


I did trace you there eventually, but I was too late. You

d left for Nyasaland. If you hadn

t told me about your brother here I might never have caught up with you.


Perhaps that would have been best
.

He looked at the sharp lines of her face, at the strangely opaque eyes; then he noticed that her hands were clenched on the
ar
ms of her chair, and his whole expression softened.

Will you listen to me? I do deserve a hearing.


There

s quite a lot
.

He drew in his lip, and his eyes had the troubled dryness of a man who has not slept well for some time.

I was shocked at what you told me—I admit it I turned away from you and walked out I roamed the streets for several hours and then went home. The jolt was unbearable, and for a couple of days I couldn

t work or think very clearly, but I knew one thing—I still wanted to marry you.


That was awfully noble, George. What sort of marriage would it have been?


You

ve been hurt,

he said gently,

and it

s natural that you should take it out on me, because I deepened that hurt, terribly. I haven

t forgiven myself for it but I

m going to ask you to forgive me. Before I go any further, will you marry me, Elinor?


No,

she said flatly, looking out of the french window at the gardenias.

You loved me once and you pity me now. You
’ll
spend the whole of your married life regretting that I was not as other women but forgiving and cherishing me in spite of it
.
Your intentions are lofty, but I couldn

t live with them.

She reached for her cigarettes and he struck a match for her, watching her with puzzled intensity. Patently, he was not a man who knew a great deal about handling emotions, whether his own or another

s; maybe that was one reason why Elinor

s confession back there in Singapore had shaken him so badly. Another reason, of course, was his own age and integrity; it had taken him several days to accept the fact that the woman he had placed above all others had once slipped low in an endeavour to marry spectacularly.


You have to believe me, Elinor,

he said stubbornly.

Because you disappeared I

ve had a long time for reflections. And I

ve kicked myself a thousand times a day. We

ve never talked about it—you realize that?


Talking won

t obliterate the past
.


It can make it unimportant. That mistake you made—it was youthful and in a way understandable. You were feverish to get what you wanted, and in your own mind it was borrowing, not taking. If you made the marriage you were after you

d have repaid your father over and over again—that was how you regarded it
.
But your father was strait-laced, and he thought too much of money. If you

d stolen someone else

s husband or their honor, you

d have got away with it. But it was the great god, Money, and the fact that you

d lightheartedly lifted some of your father

s to buy stunning frocks was too much for him. It

s strange how much money matters to some people.

She flashed him an unreadable glance.

Don

t forget that I did it because I hoped to marry someone rich and tilted.


But you also thought you were in love with the man.


I suppose I did.

She drew at her cigarette, knocked ash from its tip.

I don

t believe he noticed that I didn

t turn up for that week in the country, and he married about three months later.


You were punished then. Why do you go on punishing yourself now?


After only a year or so away from England I wanted to go back, but I daren

t. If Dick had remained there I might have tried it but he married and came here, so I went on wandering and working.

He said quietly,

And then you met me.


That

s right
.
If I

d been honest with you at the beginning you would gracefully have dropped away. So I wasn

t
.


Because you found you ... cared for me?

BOOK: The Man at Mulera
7.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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