Fair Horizon

by Rosalind Brett

  Because, at the moment, two months was a very long time, Karen demurred no further. She thanked him for the afternoon's pleasure and waved him off.

  On the whole, she thought, as she made her way up the path, the hours with Charles had proved disheartening. Before she had changed her tennis frock, Nova Lawson's voice was audible in the living-room and, when Karen came in, Nova smiled at her—a rather awkward, defiant smile, which revealed quite as much as it was intended to hide.

  She talked to Elizabeth and Justin and even deigned to notice Keith who, as a pupil, was expected to retire to a quiet corner with a book. When she got up to go, Karen rose. "I'll come to the gate with you, Nova. In fact, I'll drive you home, if you like."

  "Thanks, but I cycled. Do come a little way, though."

  Nova walked, one hand guiding the bicycle and the other in the pocket of her dress, and Karen strolled at her side, keenly aware of the homing birds, the first venturesome bats and the trees against the warm, living African sky.

  "Roy told me he'd spoken to you about . . . himself and me," Nova said into the silence. "I don't have to warn you not to take him seriously."

  Karen ignored the hardness of the other's tone. Purposely, she answered lightly, "I think he'll make you a splendid husband. You have similar interests and experiences, and a great deal to give each other. You do care for him, don't you?"

  "I'm not going to marry him," Nova said abruptly. "When I first came here, I vowed to have nothing at all to do with men. You altered that by inviting me to the farm and for picnics. For some reason, you and Roy didn't ring the bell together so he picked on me, the only other unmarried girl in the district." She shrugged. "That was no obstacle to friendship but marriage isn't based on that sort of foundation. Besides, I've no intention of marrying for years yet, if at all."

  "Perhaps not," Karen conceded reasonably, "and anyway it wouldn't be fair to take on Roy while you're still bitter over the other affair. Roy deserves better than that."

  Nova was annoyed. "You're on his side, of course. He needs a wife and you're going to help him to get one. I suppose you're disgusted at the change in my ideas . . . no handcuffs!"

  "Nova," Karen smiled into the closed face, "confess that you're piqued. In your own mind you're convinced that Roy proposed to you on the rebound from another woman but it isn't true. He hasn't seen Glenys for nearly two years."

  "He remained engaged to her!"

  "He was bound to a glamorous figure, not to a woman of flesh and blood. Remember this—Roy liked you when you dressed like a frump and treated him as a child. How, many men would stand for that? Why, even before he knew you, he was attracted by your photograph in your mother's lounge."

  Nova slowed, almost stopped. Deep colour dyed her cheeks. "He .. . told you that?"

  Karen nodded, and followed up the advantage. "Glenys has been a

  pasteboard myth with Roy for a very long time. Can you say the same about the man you once loved?"

  Nova responded rather heavily. "I don't know. That business in Cape Town was short but hectic. It finished with such a bump that my girlhood seemed to give out at the same time. Roy's brand of lunacy was putting me right. Then suddenly one night he kissed me, and everything changed. You wouldn't understand, Karen, but when a man you're fond of kisses you for the first time, you see just how close you've grown to him, you see the promise of Heaven, and it's terrifying . . . and beautiful."

  Karen's hands were clenched tight, her jaws stiff, but she managed a rejoinder. "I'm sure in time you two will be happy together, Nova."

  At the crossroads, they said good night and Karen turned back. It was difficult not to reflect a little bitterly upon the injustice of a Fate that distributed favours so unevenly. If she could only see Mark sometimes, hear the familiar tones of his voice .. .

  MID-WEEK, a large parcel arrived by messenger from Charles Williamson. It contained the bronze nymph offering a black bowl, which Karen had admired in his lounge, and was accompanied by a card which read:

  "A token of friendship, not of farewell."

  By great good luck or sound judgment, her mother's birthday gift, a fine row of graded pearls with a diamond clasp, arrived by air-mail on Thursday afternoon. On Friday, her birthday morning, Elizabeth presented a box of lingerie and Keith a work-box upon which he had obviously spent much care and thought. Karen knew better than to thank him more profusely than she thanked Elizabeth, but she was aware that his eyes shone with pride when she gave his contribution the place of honour on the small table which held the bronze nymph.

  In the afternoon, he rode to Grassa while his mother and Karen prepared as much as possible of the dinner. News had reached the farm via Jimmy that Mark had come back overnight, and Keith was loath to lose a single chance of visiting the bridge during his last days there.

  With Keith out of the way, his mother and Karen prepared butter-curls and whipped cream, and decorated the trifles, which were returned with speed to a dim, tiled shelf in the pantry. Keith returned and dragged a crumpled envelope from his trouser pocket. Elizabeth opened it and smoothed the sheet. After a minute, she glanced at Karen. Her smile had gone; anxiety came into the dark eyes. "What a nuisance," she said quietly. "Mark Howard is back for four days. He says his larder is depleted and asks if it is convenient to come to dinner each evening, starting tonight."

  A full minute elapsed before Karen replied jerkily, "That means an extra place this evening. Oughtn't we to warn him we're entertaining?"

  "I told him," Keith chimed in cheerfully. "He said twenty-two is a wonderful age."

  Elizabeth crumpled up the note and flipped it into the waste-bin. "Run

  along and wash," she told him "There's an iced cake for tea."

  There was no discussion, not even an exchange of conjectures. Mark's generosity to Elizabeth and Justin could not be rewarded by the refusal of a few meals. Karen's nerves were humming like taut wires. Everything but the fact that she would soon see Mark again, slid away in a nebulous background. Four evenings with Mark. Dreamily, she watched Keith dispatch his three slices of cake. Later she changed into cream linen, over which she tied an apron before relieving Elizabeth in the kitchen.

  Hot and dishevelled, Elizabeth spared a moment to turn in the doorway and offer a compliment. "I'm glad you chose to wear that frock. It goes so well with your tan. Makes you look healthy and natural. Don't go near the oven in it, though; the veal's spitting like a dozen cats."

  "You haven't left much for me to do."

  "Perhaps it's as well," with a comical quirk of the lips. "You're not seeing much lower than the stars tonight. I do hope everything's going to be lovely for you."

  "You're a darling," said Karen impulsively. "Take plenty of time over your bath and leave the rest to me. I'll get Keith to bed so that you can slip in and say good night when you're dressed."

  AT a quarter to seven, Roy and Nova drove up with the Winchesters. Then came the Hardings and Roy's friend, and another young couple

  newly settled in the district. When Mark entered unconventionally by the french window, Karen and Roy were busy pouring cocktails. A full glass was lifted from Karen's fingers.

  "Thanks," Mark drawled mockingly. "That's what I call service. Here's to you, Kitten. May you have a year of surprises—pleasant ones."

  Her heart performed its familiar plunge, her lips quivered faintly, while her gaze moved swiftly over his face and the thick chestnut hair. It was the first time he'd called her Kitten since .. .

  "Are these your gifts?" He indicated the small filled table. "I see Charles has spread himself. So you'd told him it was your birthday?" Carelessly, he placed a square packet among the rest. "I got that for you some months ago and have hung on to it ever since. No, don't look at it now. Pour me another drink and tell me how you propose to spend the twenty-third year of your life." His tone and expression, while gentle and indulgent, held an indefinable quality that set her tingling more than ever.

  Elizabeth announced dinner and Justin s
erved wine. Later, he proposed a toast, to which Karen smiled acknowledgment.

  In spite of the chill air, after dinner Mark and Justin withdrew to the veranda, just outside the door. Karen could see them, Justin seated in a grass chair and Mark perched on the wall nearby, deep in some discussion. Once Mark looked back into the room, his gaze roving till it rested on Karen, where it paused, before he went on talking.

  When it could be managed unobtrusively, she picked up his gift and slipped into her bedroom. Within the cardboard carton lay a small box of beaten yellow metal, the inside faintly burnished and the outside crusted with semi-precious stones. Closer inspection showed that the metal was gold, fashioned with primitive tools by a native, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship.

  Mark said that he had bought it for her some months ago. Why hadn't he given it to her then? Through a natural reluctance to bestow an expensive gift upon a casual friend? Then, why had he bought it for her in the first place? Quenching an idiotic impulse to touch her lips to the metal, Karen thrust it into a drawer and returned to dance with the others.

  Mark had come in, but apparently he considered the space too confined for activity, for he lounged in an armchair. Elizabeth went over and spoke to him. He rose from his chair and tried to insist on her taking it but she shook her head.

  Mark sank down once more, pulled Elizabeth to sit on the arm of the chair and, for a few minutes they remained thus, chatting and laughing, the best of friends. 'Jealousy of one's own cousin,' thought Karen, 'is painful and humiliating.' What had happened that she could no longer approach him with similar ease and confidence?

  Mark suffered little from such repressions for, after a while, he got up and wound his way across the room to where Karen sat, and bent over her. "Come outside," he whispered peremptorily. "I want to talk to you."

  She obeyed. Had Mark commanded her to walk a tight-rope she couldn't have said no. But out in the cool, heady darkness, he seemed in no hurry to break the rustling silence. In fact, it was Karen, treading lightly half a pace ahead of him along the path, who spoke first. "I love the little gold box, Mark. It is native work, isn't it?"

  He nodded, "When I first acquired it, I felt sure you'd like it. Afterwards, I doubted." With one of his abrupt changes, he added, "You weren't going to ask me to come this evening, were you?"

  "You were in Nairobi. Naturally we counted you out."

  "But you knew quite early today that I had returned."

  "I—we thought you might not care to come."

  "You might have given me the chance to refuse. After all, we've been close neighbours and friends for some time now."

  "Not recently," she returned with spirit. "In fact you've avoided the house whenever you could."

  "I'm sorry if I've seemed offhand," he told her bluntly, "but this last month there's been plenty on my mind. I've had to make a decision which will affect my whole future."

  "You've made it?" Involuntarily Karen had stopped and was gazing up at his face in the darkness.

  "Practically," he said crisply. "Interested?"

  She was seized by a panic of foreboding. She couldn't bear ill news—not

  tonight. Mark wouldn't know how she both dreaded and longed to hear his news. She managed a shrug. "I hope you'll tell me—some time."

  As she moved he gripped her arm, tight. "Don't run away," he said sharply.

  "I wasn't going to. The air's rather cold."

  "We'll sit in my car for ten minutes."

  So she sat with him, entranced and motionless, waiting for whatever else he had to say, and vaguely aware of a discord within him that reached out, ready to hurt. This was like the moment of silence before the breaking of a storm.

  " half an hour ago," he said, "Elizabeth told me that you're thinking of returning to England."

  His expression was dark, unreadable. Quickly, her glance turned away towards the black silhouettes of the trees. "It had to come," she answered. "I'm no longer needed here."

  "So you are deserting?" he remarked softly, tauntingly.

  "I can't stay on indefinitely with Elizabeth."

  "She's not happy about your leaving. I rather gathered," he said deliberately, "that there was some suggestion of girlish heartbreak."

  "Did Elizabeth say that?"

  "I gathered it," he emphasised, "and not entirely from Elizabeth." Karen's utter stillness convicted her.

  "Bad luck," he said grimly sarcastic, "and an open confession of poor taste on the part of the young man, if I may say so."

  The young man? her brain echoed stupidly. He thought—what did he think? "There's a misunderstanding," she said, low-voiced. "I can't explain, but there is."

  "Are you in distress of some sort?" he demanded swiftly. "Do you need help?"

  A resentful, bitter emotion shook Karen. He could suppress the cynicism in a flash if he imagined her in financial straits. "I wouldn't come to you if I did," she was stung to retort.

  That provoked him; it might even have stabbed, the way his hand closed over the wheel. "We haven't much in common any longer, have we?" he observed coolly. "Perhaps it's of little importance if our ways are to diverge very soon. I apologise if my coming here has spoiled your birthday; it was quite unintentional."

  The trembling in Karen was like the pounding of the sea. His closeness was subtle torture. Presently she was able to say, "They will be wondering where I am. I must go in now."

  Before her fingers could grasp the handle, he was on the drive and slipping the door open for her. Her vision blurred. She stumbled, was caught by the shoulders in a vice that bruised. For an unending moment, his eyes, narrow and glittering, moved over her face, studying her. Then his arms dropped to his side. "Tears," he said harshly. "He isn't worth it."

  Blindly, she turned and ran up the path to the house. In the lighted room she felt Mark behind her, heard him say, "Elizabeth, I've been thinking. I can't spare the four days down here. I must get back to Nairobi and send someone else to straighten up at the bridge. You won't have to share any more meals with me."

  "Aren't you going to take a break now that the job's completed?" "Not just yet. I'm winding up at Nairobi."

  "Winding up?" Justin whistled. "Closing your office?"

  "Yes, and selling the house." He gave a metallic laugh. "It does a man good to burn his boats once in a while and start afresh."

  "Are you leaving Kenya?" demanded Elizabeth.

  "Perhaps. You must keep the farm going for me. I may decide to build a house on it some time. If I can, I'll come down and see you again before I go. In any case, I'll write." Five minutes later, with no more than a nodded good night to Karen, he drove back to Grassa.

  CHAPTER VIII

  NEXT day, when she could reason more clearly, Karen told Elizabeth of her plan to leave Kenya almost at once. "You've been kind and I've

  loved it, but obviously I can't go on living here with you."

  "I know how it is," Elizabeth replied. "Regrets are futile but one can't help having them. You're quite sure you wouldn't like to try for a post in Nairobi?"

  Karen shook her head. "There's nothing there for a girl like me. One day I'll come out and see you again, Elizabeth."

  "Of course you must!"

  Both knew it for a conventional promise.

  Having reached a decision, Karen felt easier. The worst of being a woman was that when you loved, it seeped into every corner of your life. The only way to lessen her sort of pain was to cut herself off entirely from the source of it, which she intended doing with the utmost speed and the least possible ostentation.

  On Monday evening, Roy and Nova came to the farm together. No need to question why: both were flushed and smiling. "We're going to be married," Roy said. "I'm driving into Nairobi tomorrow for the licence.;'

  Amid congratulations, he left most of the talking to Nova, who was by far the more composed. "Roy would prefer not to wait till the holidays, so we are arranging an early wedding," she said. "We want you all to come—Keith, too. And, Karen,
I'd like you to be my bridesmaid."

  "That's sweet of you, Nova."

  "Not a bit. We both feel we owe you a great deal." Calmly she went on explaining their plans, betraying herself only when her glance met Roy's, and clung.

  "We'll help in any way we can," said Elizabeth briskly as they went out. "The sewing-machine. is completely at your disposal." Elizabeth had to be brisk. Emotional undercurrents affecting people she was fond of always made her miserable, and this was particularly the case with Karen. Bother Roy and Nova, why couldn't they have waited a while before appearing at the farm so pleased with themselves and full of marriage talk. As though poor Karen hadn't enough on her mind without being badgered to smile and hold the flowers at someone else's wedding.

  For the hundredth time since last Friday's party, her thoughts went back to Mark's announcement. From rumours gathered previously at the Winchesters', she knew that he and Inga were often together in Nairobi and that, in the Swedish woman's set, their engagement was taken for granted. Not only had Inga been clever enough to catch Mark, but seemingly she had also had her way regarding the move down to South Africa. It must have needed diabolical cleverness to wring all she wanted from a man of his kind. On the other hand, it was patent to those who knew him that, if Mark ever allowed himself to love a woman, there was nothing he would not do for her sake. Elizabeth had so desperately wanted everything to come right for Karen, but who could possibly have foreseen this calamity?

  NEXT day, Charles Williamson came over to say goodbye. He stayed for only a short while and, when he left the farm, he referred once more to seeing Karen in Nairobi. She smiled. When the time came, she would write him a line of good wishes and farewell.

  The Mombasa shipping agents to whom she had written could offer nothing for six weeks but suggested that their agents in Nairobi might be able to fix her up almost as cheaply by air. Planes were returning to England so light that reduced fares were often available. Karen decided to make inquiries when she went up for Nova's wedding.