No Greater Joy

by Rosemary Carter

  Finally it was time for the Roscoes to go. Fqr Alison, the parting was difficult. Timmy clung to her for a long moment, and she had to try very hard to keep her tears at bay.

  'Will you write to me, Alison?' he asked.

  'Yes, I will, honey.'

  'And you will be here next year?'

  'We'll have to see about that.'

  She gave the little boy a warm hug, and even managed a smile as the car drove away.

  'That was hard for you,' said Clint, his arm around her shoulder once more.

  'Yes, it was. I'm going to miss Timmy. I'll send him a postcard when I get back home.'

  If this parting was hard, how was she going to survive the parting with Clint? It was going to be sheerest hell.

  'Clint,' she asked, 'why did you let Timmy think I'd be here again next year?'

  'Won't you be?'

  'Of course not. I'll have my stables by then. I can't possibly be in two places at once.'

  'Could be I was mistaken, then.' But he didn't look as if he felt in the least in the wrong. His eyes were sparkling and his grin was so wicked that Alison looked at him suspiciously.

  But there was no time to pursue the subject. Another departing family had claimed Clint's attention, and Alison had work to do in the stables.

  Gradually, the bustle of activity began to lessen. Most of the campers had left, and those who remained were in the process of leaving. A big van was parked near the games tent, and two men were busy loading into it all the equipment that would be going into storage until next summer. For the counsellors there was work a-plenty. Dinner and dancing at the hotel seemed a long way away.

  The sun was already setting when Alison had to go to one of the store-rooms. It was locked, and apparently Clint was the last one seen with the key.

  She looked for him everywhere. Finally she decided to try his cabin. She was about to knock at his door when she was caught by a movement at one of the windows.

  And then she saw them: Clint and Virginia. Virginia's hands were clasped around Clint's neck, Clint's arms were around Virginia's waist. He was smiling down at her. They were talking, but the window was closed and Alison could not hear what they said.

  Alison's feet were rooted to the ground. She was like a statue, frozen, totally incapable of moving.

  And then Clint bent his head and kissed Virginia. Pain knifed Alison's chest, and it was like no pain she had ever felt in her life. Briefly she closed her eyes, and for an awful moment she thought she would faint. But mercifully, movement returned to her body a few moments later. She fled the scene without a backward glance.

  The van that was being loaded with things for storage was still outside the kitchen tent. Alison spoke to the driver.

  Then she ran to her cabin and pulled her suitcase from the top of her cupboard. It didn't take her long to pack. She was like a robot, moving mechanically from drawers to suitcase, doing what she had to do, all the while keeping her emotions tightly in check. If she allowed herself to cry, she might never be able to stop.

  Only when she'd finished packing did she go to look for Mary.

  Her friend was horrified. 'You can't just leave!'

  'I must,' said Alison flatly.

  'The farewell party, Alison. The dinner at the hotel...'

  'I can't go through with it, I was so sure you'd understand.'

  Mary looked distressed. 'Maybe there's an explanation.'

  'Yes, there is, and it's simple,' Alison said grimly. 'Clint isn't a one-woman man. Virginia tried to tell me that once, and she was right. I'm the stupid one, to be surprised. I knew from Jenny that they'd been close, and I saw the way things were with them at the hotel that night.'

  'That night wasn't a date, Alison. They were just discussing camp business.'

  'I know that. But it doesn't change what happened just now.'

  'You could try talking to him,' her friend suggested.

  'No. Oh, God, Mary, when I think of how close I came to letting him...' Alison paused a moment. On a harsher note, she said, 'I have to get going.'

  'Don't go, Alison—not like this,' begged Mary.

  'I have to. I really can't face the party. Not after seeing them together.'

  'Couldn't you just stay for tonight? Clint doesn't know that you saw him. Nobody need ever know. And tomorrow you could leave with the rest of us.'

  'You're asking me to put on a brave face?'

  'Something like that.'

  Alison considered the idea—but only for a moment. 'I hate the thought of leaving without a word. But I won't be able to pretend tonight—not when I'm tearing apart inside, every nerve, every sinew. And then later...'

  'Later?' Mary prompted.

  'Clint said he'd come to my cabin after the party.' Her lips quivered. 'You can see why it's better if I leave now. It's not even as if I have any work left to do. God, I was a fool to let myself fall in love, Mary! It's such sheer hell.' She glanced at her watch. 'It's time to go.'

  'The last train has already left,' said Mary.

  'From our little station, yes. But the van is going into town, and I'll be able to find transport there. I may have to wait a while, and make some connections, but one way or another I'll get home.'

  There were tears in Mary's eyes. 'I was hoping you'd be back next year.'

  'Isn't it funny, Clint said something of the kind to Timmy,' said Alison sadly. 'Let's make this a quick goodbye, Mary. I don't want to cry.'

  They hugged fiercely, and then Alison went to the van with her suitcase. She made sure nobody saw her go.

  She stared out of the window as the van left the camp grounds. The highest mountain peaks were still light, but the lower slopes and the valleys and the river were grey and shaded. Once a widow bird flew across the road. For whom was she grieving? Alison wondered.

  Somehow she had managed to keep her tears at bay until now, but suddenly it was all too much for her. Not caring what the van-driver thought of her, she put her hands over her eyes and wept.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THERE WAS nobody at the station to meet Alison's train. Nor had she expected anyone, for as far as her family knew she was only due home the next day.

  It had been a long trip back from Bushveld Camp. Alison had been fortunate enough to have a compartment to herself for part of the way, where she could allow herself the luxury of a few more tears. But after a while the train had begun to fill up, and she had dried her eyes and looked unhappily out of the window.

  By the time she reached the village she had made at least one decision: she would speak to her father that very evening about acquiring her own stables. He might know if there was something—not too expensive—for sale. If he didn't, Alison would begin to make her own enquiries tomorrow. She would be content to start with something very modest, and gradually she would begin to build it up.

  Leaving the dusty station-yard, she was about to walk to the village post office, where she could phone home for a lift, when someone said, 'Alison?' A tentative voice.

  She. swung round. Raymond was standing not three feet away from her, Edna beside him.

  Such a short while ago she would have felt uncomfortable; now she was able to say, quite easily, 'Hello, Raymond... Edna...'

  Raymond had an intensely embarrassed expression on his face. 'I heard you'd been away,' he said awkwardly.

  'I've been working at a children's camp in the Drakensberg. I've just come from there.'

  He looked down at her luggage. 'Can we give you a lift home?'

  'Alison's probably expecting her family to pick her up.' This from Edna. She was standing close at Raymond's side, and now she tucked her left hand possessively through his arm. On the fourth finger sparkled a huge diamond.

  She wants me to see the ring, Alison realised. Unexpectedly, she was amused.

  'Thanks for the offer,' she said, 'but Edna's right—I know Dad will be around to pick me up.'

  'Well, if you're sure...' said Raymond.

  'Quite sure.' Alison pic
ked up her suitcase. 'By the way, congratulations to you both on your marriage.'

  Raymond looked startled, Edna's eyes were narrowed with suspicion.

  After a charged moment, Raymond said, 'Thanks, Alison.'

  'I hope you'll be very happy together.'

  'We will be,' Edna said firmly, the suspicious look deepening. 'Daddy's given Raymond a marvellous promotion, and we've just bought a house.'

  Alison smiled. 'That's wonderful!'

  'Alison...' Raymond took a step towards her. 'I hope there are no hard feelings.'

  'Raymond!' Edna looked daggers.

  'This has to be said.' He was unexpectedly firm. 'Alison and I have been friends all our lives. And I...I'm not proud of the way I behaved.'

  'No hard feelings,' she reassured him. 'Not any more. We had fun growing up together, being each other's best friends. That's the part I want to remember.' 'We did have fun.' There was a dazed look in „ Raymond's eyes.

  'Whatever happened afterwards—well, let's not forget what we used to have,' added Alison.

  Edna's hand tightened on Raymond's arm. 'You don't have to listen to this,' she said harshly.

  'Alison's right, honey—we did have a wonderful friendship.' And to Alison, 'You're very generous.'

  Alison smiled at them both. 'I meant what I said—I hope you'll be very happy together.' And she knew that she meant it.

  And then, before Raymond could ask her if she had a new love in her own life, she walked away.

  Twenty minutes after she had phoned her father, he arrived in his truck to fetch her. He hugged her fiercely. 'It's good to have you back, Alison. We thought you weren't coming till tomorrow.'

  Alison managed a smile. 'There was a change of plans.'

  The rest of the family were equally delighted to have her home. In no time at all Alison's mother had whipped up a meal, and they all sat together in the big kitchen, eating and catching up on one another's news.

  Alison told them about camp—about Timmy, about the counsellors and the horses and the trail-rides. Not a word about Clint.

  'Your employer... Mr Demaine. What was he like?' her mother asked at length.

  'Very nice.' Through her pain, Alison tried to speak the words lightly. She saw Lynn give her a thoughtful look. '*

  'I thought he would be,' said her mother. 'So good- looking, but with an honest, open face. I liked him.'

  Alison knew she had to change the subject. 'The counsellors were nice, too. One in particular—Mary. We became very friendly.'

  'Mary!' exclaimed her mother. 'How stupid of me, I almost forgot. A girl called Mary phoned—she wanted to speak to you.'

  'Mary phoned?' Alison was surprised. 'Did she leave a message?'

  'No, though I did ask. When I told her Dad had gone to the station to fetch you, she said she'd phone back.'

  Dear, concerned Mary! Probably wanting to make sure that Alison had got home safely.

  They had almost finished their meal when the telephone rang.

  'It's Mary again,' said Lynn, who had gone to answer the call.

  'Mary!' said Alison gladly into the telephone.

  'Alison? Oh, Alison, I'm so glad I reached you!' There was urgency in Mary's voice.

  In a second, Alison was tense. 'What's wrong?'

  'There's been a bit of an accident.'

  Clint! Alison knew it even before Mary said his name. In a second the blood had drained from her cheeks.

  'Alison, it's Clint. He's hurt.'

  'Oh God! Is he...' Alison could not bring herself to say the word.

  'He's all right—I should have said that right away. I'm sorry, Alison, I didn't mean to scare you like that.'

  'How bad is it?' White-knuckled, Alison gripped the phone.

  'The doctors seem to think he has concussion, and a couple of ribs maybe fractured. He...he's unconscious.'

  'Unconscious? That's terrible! Mary, what happened?''Well, actually...' Mary's voice had changed somewhat, 'it seems he was running.'

  'Running? I don't understand... Where is he?'

  'In hospital, in the town. I thought you'd want to know.'

  'Yes, of course!' Alison put her free hand to a suddenly throbbing head. 'When did it happen?'

  'Yesterday. I'd have phoned you earlier, but I didn't think you'd have got home until now. Alison, will you come and see him?'

  'I'll be there the moment I can,' she promised unsteadily.

  Lifeless fingers dropped the receiver back in its cradle. Alison's face was very pale as she turned to Lynn, who had come up behind her. 'It's Clint—Clint Demaine. He's been in an accident. I have to go to him!'

  'Alison...?' There was a question in her sister's face.

  'Yes, I love him. I love him so much that I don't know what I'll do if he...' She stopped. 'But Mary said he's all right. He has to be all right!'

  Alison's father took one look at his daughter's face when she returned to the kitchen and told her parents what had happened, then said that he would drive her to the mountains himself. They set out almost immediately.

  It was a long journey, the same one she had taken all those-weeks ago with Clint. It was late afternoon when they left the village, so it grew dark quite soon, but they went on driving. And all the way Alison thought about the man she loved, and prayed that he would be all right.

  It was early dawn when they reached the hospital. Mary and Virginia were waiting for her, looking tired, as if they'd spent the night keeping vigil.

  Quickly Alison introduced her father. Then she said, 'Tell me about Clint!'

  Mary glanced at Virginia. 'Would you mind very much if I talked to Alison alone?'

  'No, of course not.' Virginia looked unusually subdued as she turned to Alison's father. 'You must have had a tiring journey out here, Mr Lenox. Can I go and get you some coffee?'

  Alison had no time to wonder about this new civil Virginia, no mind to, either. All that mattered was Clint.

  'Where is he?' she asked tersely, when she and Mary were alone.

  'Down the passage, in a private room.' Mary touched Alison's arm. 'I'll take you to him in a minute, but first I think you should know what happened.'

  'Couldn't we talk later? Right now I just want to see Clint.'

  'There's something I think you should know before you see him. Besides'—Mary gave a tired smile—'you don't look too good yourself. You got here so quickly, did you stop to eat or rest?'

  'Not for long,' Alison admitted.

  'Well then, I think you should have something.' And, as Alison made a move to protest, 'You'll be no use to anyone if you flake out next. There's a little visitors' room along the passage. You can eat while I talk.'

  Only when Alison was seated in a deep armchair, with a cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches on a small table by her side, did Mary talk.

  'Clint went after you,' she told her.

  Alison almost dropped the cup she was holding. 'He did what?'

  'You'd been gone a while when he noticed that you were missing. We were all so busy until then, getting ready to close up the camp, that nobody knew you were gone. It was already quite late when Clint said it was time to call it a day and go to the hotel.'

  'The farewell party...'

  'I kept wondering when to tell him about you. I thought I'd wait till the time seemed right—but in the end things took a different course. Clint went to your cabin.'

  'Why?'

  'I don't know. Anyway, he realised that you'd packed and gone. He came out looking frantic.'

  Alison stared at her. 'Frantic?'

  'You should have seen him! His eyes were wild, and his face was so white that I thought he'd faint. He was one distraught man.'

  'I really didn't think I was hurting him,' Alison said painfully.

  'He sent for me. He demanded to know what the hell was going on. I suppose he realised that if anyone knew where you'd gone it would be me.'

  'What did you tell him?'

  'That you were getting a lift into town with t
he van.'

  'What... what did he say to that?' Alison's voice was unsteady.

  'When he'd finished swearing, and my goodness, does that man know some choice words!'—there was mischief in Mary's smile for the first time—'he said he was going after you.'

  'Did he think he'd be able to stop me?'

  Mary nodded. 'Yes, I think so.'

  'I see...'

  'He shot the Porsche out of the camp grounds at one heck of a speed. I suppose he was determined to get to you before the train left.' 'He went into another car?' Alison asked through stiff lips.

  'No, it wasn't a motor accident, I thought I told you that on the phone.' Mary reached out a sympathetic hand. 'He got to the station, Alison. We're not sure whether Clint thought you were on a train that was just leaving, but for some reason he started to run. And then, according to a witness, he hit a slick of oil and slipped.'

  'Oh, no!' Alison explained.

  'He was running so fast that he fell quite hard, and he must have hit his head on the ground. Fortunately, someone recognised him, and contacted the camp.'

  'Is he still unconscious?' Alison whispered.

  'Yes, it's odd. He hasn't opened his eyes or said a word since the accident.' Mary hesitated. 'The doctors don't know why.'

  Alison had had a few sips of coffee and eaten one of the cheese sandwiches Mary had brought her. It was as much as she was going to have.

  She stood up abruptly. 'I want to see him now.'

  Clint was lying all alone in a small private room. A nurse stood by his bed, writing something on a chart. When Alison opened the door and peeped inside, the nurse glanced at her enquiringly.

  'You must be Miss Lenox? Your friend said you'd be coming.'

  Alison looked across at the Figure lying motionless in the bed. 'How is he?' she asked unsteadily.

  'Not too bad, considering the knock he took. It could have been a lot worse.'

  'Mary said he hasn't spoken...'

  'No, he hasn't. For some reason he just lies there. We don't know why. We're all hoping he'll respond to you.'The nurse threw her a compassionate look. 'That's why we're letting you see him now, even though it's not visiting hour.'