The Man at Mulera (6 page)

She quelled a smile.
“
You
’
re well aware of your own attractions, Mr. Gilmore! Let
’
s leave it at that
.
”

“
You
’
re scared,
”
he jeered softly, but said no more because Keith came into the room. Ross reached out and ruffled the boy
’
s fair hair.
“
Well, old chap, how are you
this morning?
”

Keith leaned confidingly against his knee.
“
I
’
ve broken the sail of my boat, Uncle Ross. It
’
s in the veranda.
”

“
I
’
ll take it with me and mend it
.
By the way, you left a couple of your books on my bookshelf. They
’
re out in the car—go and fetch them.
”

“
I don
’
t want them,
”
said Keith, not moving.
“
I like the
sand-pit best
.
”

Lou caught Ross
’
glance and tried to hold it
.
But he looked down at the child, said very evenly,
“
Go and get the books, Keith—at once.
”

Keith blinked and straightened. With a slight tremor in his tones he said,
“
I don
’
t want them, Uncle Ross. I don
’
t want any books at all.
”

Lou said quickly,
“
But go and get them from the car, darling. They are yours, and Uncle Ross took the trouble to bring them to you. Even if you don
’
t want to read them you must bring them in.
”

Keith went. Ross leaned back and asked sardonically,
“
Had some trouble?
”

“
You
’
d like me to say yes, but I haven
’
t
.
I know how Keith feels about his books. He
’
ll get over it in time without forcing.
”

‘I
suppose in your text-books there
’
s an explanation for a child
’
s sudden dislike for things he used to treasure?
”

“
There
’
s no need for sarcasm,
”
she answered.
“
Keith
’
s trouble isn
’
t obscure. His mother used to read his books to
him
and subconsciously he avoids being reminded of her. He
’
ll come round.
”

“
His father made the sand-pit but apparently he still enjoys it
.
”

“
It
’
s not unnatural for a boy to have been more attached to his mother. And anyway, it
’
s possible that Dick only directed operations at the sand-pit and had a couple of totos to do the work. I myself had the galvanized tub sunk out there the first day we came.
”

Ross got up and pushed his hands into his pockets. With an annoying
smile
he asked,
“
Are these the tactics you
’
re going to use with him all the time? If they are, you
’
ll get in the whale of a mess. He
’
s turned five—ready for expansion in several directions. You
’
re trained
in
kindergarten stuff—why not knock some of it into him?
”

“
I
’
m going to teach him,
”
she said with exasperation,
“
but I have to do it my way
!
At the moment he doesn
’
t want to learn, and I think it
’
s all bound up with books and his mother. He himself doesn
’
t understand, of course, but we can understand for him.
”

Ross lifted his shoulders.
“
Even a child has to come to grips with his little world. You can
’
t do it for
him
and putting it off will only make things worse.
”

“
I
’
m not putting it off!
”
she exclaimed.
“
I
’
m merely handling things in my own fashion.
”

“
Looks to me like giving in,
”
he said tolerantly.

“
Well, it isn
’
t. Instead of reading him a story at night from his own books, I make one up—always about the same little boy who is really himself. I
’
m finding out all the things he
’
s never done and one by one I shall get him busy on them, so that he
’
ll have plenty to occupy his mind without being reminded of what he used to do. I
’
ve ordered new books from Blantyre, and I
’
m experimenting to find out what he
’
s good at
...
”

A door slammed. There was a brief silence and Keith ambled into the room. He sighed.
“
That
’
s that,
”
he said.
“
Daniel
’
s burnt those books for me.
”

Lou looked sharply at Ross. She saw his mouth move as if he were about to utter some forceful rebuke, but no words came; instead, a derisive smile was turned her way.

“
You
’
re move, Louise,
”
he said softly.
“
Show us how it
’
s done.
”

She drew in her lip, got down beside Keith.
“
Darling, we don
’
t bu
rn
books—not even books we dislike. We give them away. As you grow too old for certain books we
’
ll send them to the mission for little children who haven
’
t any at all. Remember that, won
’
t you? We mustn
’
t destroy
anything,
because there
’
s always someone who would like it
.
”

“
Those old picture books?
”
asked Keith witheringly.

“
Even those. It
’
s babyish to destroy something because you don
’
t like it I love books, so you can give me those you
’
re tired of.
”

“
Grown-ups don
’
t read picture books.
”

“
I like any kind
.
I
’
ve actually ordered some new picture books.
”

“
For you?
”

“
I
’
ll let you look at them if you like. But don
’
t forget—toys and books that belong to you are very special because they
’
re
your
’
s
,
and you must treat them well.
”

Keith nodded, looked up at Ross and then at Lou.
“
All right,
”
he said, and moved across the room. He hesitated, added,
“
But I
’
m glad Daniel burnt those two books, anyway,
”
and went out.

Ross smiled a maddening smile, said suavely,
“
I doubt whether it worked, little one, but it was a good try. Next time he behaves that way put the sand-pit out of bounds for a day or confiscate his gun. You can
’
t
talk
a child into understanding.
”

“
You can,
”
she said firmly.
“
Laugh your head off if you like but my methods will get results.
”

“
I hope so, honey; you give yourself such a grim time over it.
”
He took a long lazy stride towards the door.
“
I
’
ll have to leave you now. We
’
re short-handed at the drying ground and even the promise of a bonus hasn
’
t jolted them.
”

‘
Try some child psychology,
”
she suggested.

“
You could be right,
”
he said, grinning.
“
So long, Louise. Keep the books dusted!
”

Lou waited till every sound of him had died before, still quivering slightly, she went outside. For some reason she had to think of something else, very quickly.

She found Keith at the pit. He sat alone with his feet in water and sand, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. She slipped down beside him, felt tremendous heat settle over her even though that part of the garden was thickly shaded.

She said idly,
“
Can you see those thin green flies on the tree-trunk? I
’
ve counted seven.
”

“
Nine,
”
he said dreamily.
“
I counted nine. And five of them make a big letter A.
”

“
Yes,
I
can see it
.
If you lean to the left it looks like a wobbly H.
”

After a moment
’
s silence he said,
“
Will you help me to make a trailer for my lorry?
”

“
Of course,
”
she answered.
“
We
’
ll make the wheels from cotton-reels and paint it red!
”

“
Red,
”
he murmured ecstatically.
“
I do like playing with you.
”

Lou was comforted. Keith wasn
’
t a complicated little boy. He was just a child who had been suddenly left without parents and now found a little difficulty in adjusting himself. She would help him with all the love and understanding she had.

Dressing to take tea with the District Commissioner was rather
exciting.
Lou put on a blue glazed cotton which was figured in black and white; the top was plain and tight-fitting, the skirt billowed in gathered tiers, and somehow she looked young and merry and vulnerable at the
same
time. Being a child of the wilds, Keith had no party clothes, but he looked small and delightfully boyish in clean fawn shorts and a short-sleeved white shirt. It was he who introduced to Lou the A.D.C. who called for them.

“
This is Peter,
”
he said.
“
He catches rainbow trout.
”

The young man hastened to complete the introduction.
“
Peter Whyte,
”
he said.
“
How do you do, Miss Prentice?
”

At first he seemed to find difficulty in speaking. He gazed at Lou, hurriedly pushed Keith into the back of the car before seating her at his side, and fumbled the gears excruciatingly before they worked.

As they moved away Lou said cheerfully
“
This is the first ride we
’
ve had since coming to the bungalow. You know, I
’
m still amazed at the mountains all round us. I
’
m quite sure this is even more beautiful than Switzerland!
”

“
We don
’
t get snow,
”
he replied carefully.

“
No, of course not. But the colors here are richer, I should
think,
and you have so many cedars.
”

“
We have about a thousand different kinds of tree
s
.
”

“
Those plantations on the hillsides are cedars, though, aren
’
t they?
”

“
Yes, they grow so well.
”

She nodded.
“
I
’
d love to know all about the trees, and I
’
m hoping to see the Lake some time.
”

“
If you live in Nyasaland,
”
he said,
“
you can
’
t avoid the Lake. It
’
s two-thirds of the country.
”

“
Like a sea.
”
She indicated an expanse of pale shimmering green in the distance.
“
What is that?
”

“
Rice. It
’
s only just been planted—that
’
s why you can see the water it stands in. Rice thrives in the swamps.
”

“
Rice, cotton, coffee, tea,
”
she murmured happily.
“
I don
’
t wonder you men love it here.
”

“
Some of us do,
”
he said cautiously,
“
but it can be darned monotonous. Not that I
’
m grumbling. The D.C. does his best for us.
”

“
Tell me about your rainbow trout. Is it true they taste of mud even after they
’
re cooked?
”

Perhaps Lou had deliberately chosen to word her question that way; for Peter Whyte she couldn
’
t have done better. He led off indignantly against whoever had told her that, insisted that there were no finer cooked fish in the world and promised to take her to his favorite fishing spot
.
He had by no means finished with the subject when they drove along a neat road between about a dozen white houses and pulled up in front of the most pretentious. It was a white stucco dwelling with thick brown thatch and a veranda along the front, and its small garden was hedged in with oleander and hibiscus. A tremendous rust-red bougainvilia covered an archway beside the house and the paths were bordered neatly with zinnias in shades of pink and mauve.

They were met in the porch by the D.C. himself. He greeted Lou, gravely shook Keith
’
s hand and told him he could go through and find a servant to take him to the aquarium

He saw Lou seated well back in the veranda, offered cigarettes and sat down.

Peter Whyte hovered hopefully.
“
Need me, sir?
”

“
I don
’
t
think
so, Peter. You might get all the files ready for the morning and then call it a day. I
’
ll leave at five.
”
As the younger man reluctantly departed, Martin Craddock grimaced and turned to Lou.
“
I have a day out tomorrow. There
’
s a piece of land which has been in dispute for three years. Every few months I have to go through the farce of hearing the evidence and stating a verdict, simply because two brothers won
’
t agree as to where the division should come.
”

Lou was interested.
“
Don
’
t you stipulate where the land divides
?”

“
Regularly. But one or other of them shifts the posts and we
’
re back where we were. The African loves litigation, and I
’
m sure they only keep the dispute going for their
own entertainment. Luckily, I
’
m a patient man.
”
He put an ashtray on the wide arm of her chair.
“
Mind waiting a bit for tea? My sister was out to lunch, but she
’
ll be back at any moment
”

“
Waiting here is a pleasure. I wish I had a bicycle.
”

“
A bicycle?
”
he echoed in faint alarm.
“
Even where there are tarred roads women don
’
t ride bicycles in this country. Can you drive?
”

“
Yes, but even if it were possible to hire a car it would be too expensive. Mr. Gilmore has a spare one as well as the estate car and a lorry, but I don
’
t think he
’
s likely to offer it for my use. He said that if I want to go anywhere he
’
ll send a car with a driver, but there
’
s no fun in that. I want to explore, not to be guided.
”

His glance lingered on her eager expression.
‘
You
’
re plenty of time; we
’
ll arrange something. Does the heat upset you at all?
”

“
It
’
s pretty much, isn
’
t it?
”
she said cheerfully,
“
but then you have to suffer a little discomfort for most things that are worth while. It doesn
’
t really bother me. I suppose you
’
re completely hardened?
”

“
I get a mild dose of malaria now and then—but I
’
ve had nothing else in eighteen years of Africa. You get into a condition of mind that doesn
’
t change very much; it
’
s a state of acceptance of whatever comes along.
”

“
But that
’
s bad
!
I like to be able to erupt when something happens that I don
’
t care for.
”

“
And fly into seventh heaven when you
’
re happy?
”

Her grey glance was frank and exuberant
.
“
Certainly! In their own ways both ups and downs are the spice of life.
”

“I
suppose they are, to the very young. Actually, I was rather
a
sober young man, and I don
’
t believe I ever knew
a
girl like you.
”

“
You probably knew dozens but being young and ambitious yourself you weren
’
t a bit interested.
”
She leaned forward.
“
What is that biblical-looking tree down to the right?
”

“
Pomegranate. The servants eat the fruit
.
At the back we
’
ve some tamarinds and bananas and
a
few coconut palms. Like to see them?
”

“
Please! Unless you
’
re tired?
”

As he stood up he gave her a mock frown.
“
I may be dull and unexciting but I
’
m not that old.
”

“
Anyone can be tired,
”
she said.
“
And to me you
’
re anything but dull
!
You preside at African courts, direct the people to better ways of living, shoot lions, solve problems and look after white people as well. When I get back to England I shall be awfully proud of having known you!
”

“
I must admit you
’
re good for my ego,
”
he said, as they went down the steps,
“
but don
’
t talk about going home.
”
A pause as they passed through sunshine into the shade of the orchard.
“
What did you think of Peter Whyte?
”

“
He seems nice but a little callow.
”

“
He
’
s twenty-eight.
”

“
As much as that? Will he be a District Commissioner
someday?
”