The whispering Palms

by Mariska

  From the Falls, of course, Virginia went less often to Buenda, but on the afternoon of their house-warming party she decided there were one or two things she needed, and set off sharp at two. Lesley was in the kitchen dropping tiny fish-balls into a pan of sizzling oil when she left, and she had just drained the last few when Martin Boland drove up in a car even more aged than Neville Madison's. Lesley saw the young man through the open side door, and at once she withdrew the pan of fat from the stove and went round to meet him on the path. He gave her a worn-looking smile. "Hallo!" he said. "Sorry I'm late. The bus isn't as good as I thought she was."

  "Late?" she echoed. "Are you . . . did Virginia invite you?"

  "No. I invited myself. I sent her a note to say I'd be coming this afternoon. Didn't she tell you?"

  "I don't think she could have got your message. I've heard nothing about it."

  "She got it all right; the boy came back and reported that he gave the note to Virginia, personally." His voice went suddenly harsh. "Do you mean she isn't here?"

  "I'm afraid she had to go out." Martin looked like a man who has had the ground sliced from under his feet, and to excuse Virginia to him would only make the matter worse. "Come in and have some tea."

  He followed her heavily. "No tea, thanks." He sank down into a chair. "I don't quite know what to do. I shouldn't burden you with all this."

  "I'd rather you did, if it helps."

  "Well, I've seen Virginia a few times in town, and on each occasion I asked her to have dinner with me, so that we could talk. She refused. I mean nothing at all to her. I'm beginning to realise that. I have to leave tomorrow morning, and I was determined to see her alone before I go. This seemed the only way. I'd decided that if she turned me down flat I'd get back to England as soon as I could."

  "That's best, really." She spoke carefully, trying not to sound as if she were urging him. Hesitantly she added, "You could wait here till she

  comes back, but I rather think she'll be late, and we have people coming for cocktails at six. Would you . . will you come to our party tonight? A buffet supper at eight."

  "What's the good?" he shrugged hopelessly. "She doesn't want me." He heaved himself upright and let out a sigh. "I won't hang around begging for sympathy. I may meet Virginia coming back. If I don't . . ."

  He didn't finish the sentence. Lesley knew, with a frightened certainty, that he was living through a kind of death—the death of every hope. She went with him to the car and gave him her hand, but neither spoke a word. The engine wheezed, he swung the wheel and was off down the rutted road.

  LESLEY returned straightaway to the kitchen to continue preparing

  the snacks, but her mind went winging after Martin Boland, and her heart was wrung with the futility of his love for Virginia. It was desolating, the knowledge that a man could love a woman so much that he was willing to throw up everything on the slender chance that she would marry him. But Virginia had right on her side, too, if she was not in love with him. She ought to have treated Martin more fairly though.

  It was after five when Virginia came back.. She dropped a packet on to her father's knee and a kiss on the top of his head. "A new tie for you, darling. Wear it tonight with the dark grey lounge suit."

  "Won't they come in dinner-jackets?"

  "Some will and some won't." She turned to her sister. 'What are you wearing, Lesley?"

  "Does it matter?"

  Virginia's chin took a sharp tilt and she said coolly, "I don't care for that tone. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, and I don't want anything to spoil it. What's the matter with you—self-righteous because I didn't stay and help you with the snacks?"

  Mr. Norton got to his feet. "Lesley's tired, and so am I. I'm going to take a bath and rest till your friends arrive."

  Virginia did not move. She stayed near the table, the fingers of one hand resting lightly upon it. Her head was still thrown back, and the green eyes glinted with vexation. When her father had gone she looked across at Lesley and said, "All right. I know all about it. I met him as I was leaving Buenda."

  Lesley answered quietly, "I hope you were honest with him at last."

  "Yes, I was honest! The nerve of him, coming here in that rattling tin-can!

  England he did have a decent station wagon to make his rounds in."

  "That's probably the reason he can't afford anything better here. Practically every penny he's got is tied up in England, and you should have seen to it that he stayed there. If you'd been truthful with him from the beginning . . ."

  "When I need your opinion I'll ask for it!"

  Lesley was suddenly hotly furious. She sprang up from the chair and

  faced her sister across the table. "You knew when you went out that I'd have to deal with Martin this afternoon, and you didn't even throw out a hint—just left everything to take its course. You're selfish and a coward, Virginia. You evade situations you can't handle, and thrust other people into unpleasant positions rather than face up to something which you yourself have manufactured."

  Temper flared in two spots in Virginia's cheeks. "When you're through with being a fishwife you can go and change. One of us has to be ready."

  "I'm not through. You've treated Martin abominably. If you couldn't keep him in England, you should at least have had a long talk with him as soon as he got here, instead of which you've just laughed him off, as if he were a casual acquaintance you'd picked up in Buenda. He came six thousand miles to see you, and you've ignored him."

  "He took that risk. I made him no promises. If you've fallen for him, why don't you go south with him and console him?"

  "Oh, stop it! You've done enough damage, without putting a cheap interpretation upon anything I might say. Martin's decent and you've treated him shabbily, that's the whole point. If I'm sorry for him, it's because I happen to be human."

  Virginia had regained her cool composure. She knew, none better, the value of a clear head in an argument. She surveyed Lesley's pale face, the distress in the soft blue eyes, and her smile became tinged with contempt. "It was a pity you didn't attempt to console Martin," she said. "He was in a mood to fall for a sympathetic sister. You won't see him again—he said he was setting out at once."

  "Was he upset?"

  "I don't know." Virginia gave a regal shrug. "I explained that I'd avoided him because I wanted to save him pain. He said he'd guessed I was in love with someone else. That was all."

  Lesley said huskily, "You're not in love, Virginia. You want Fernando because he's different, because he's rich and good-looking. You've never before met a man as handsome and strong as Fernando, and it gives a fillip to your vanity to be admired by such a man. You think that being married to him would set you apart from other women, that they'd envy you."

  "It's true, isn't it? You yourself envy me, don't you, Lesley? You have a sneaking regard for him, a pure schoolgirl adoration which, by the way, Fernando wouldn't be able to find a scrap of use for."

  Lesley turned away, her mouth dry. "It's Martin we're concerned with. Are you going to let him depart like this?"

  "What in the world do you expect me to do?"

  "Expect?" For the first time Lesley's tones were bitter. "I don't expect anything—from you. I hate saying this, Virginia, but you're the most callously cold-hearted creature I've ever known. I doubt if there's a woman anywhere who'd treat a man as you've treated Martin, and I only hope that Fernando finds out in time."

  SHE was unprepared for what came next. Virginia had moved swiftly round the table, grabbed her arm and swung her about. The emerald eyes were sparkling and narrowed. "Look here, Lesley! If you breathe a word of this to Fernando or anyone else I'll make you sorrier than you've ever been in your life. I've tried to get along with you here, but you won't have it. You hate me for coming between you and Father. You hoped to get your little claws on his money without my knowing, but I was thinking one jump ahead of you all the time. You'll have what's due to you and no more."

  Lesley blazed,
"Money! That's all you think of. Do you suppose I don't-see what's at the back of every move you make? The pair of slippers you bought Father last week, the tie today—and dozens of other trifles. You're trying to buy his goodwill with his own money. For my part you can have the lot. I loved Amanzi when we lived there and were trying to farm, but the minerals discovered there are tainting everything. I'll never enjoy that kind of money!"

  "Very well. Leave it for others who will And for heaven's sake keep your -thoughts about it to yourself. And don't flatter yourself that you have Father on your side. Even a moron could see which one of us he prefers!"

  It was the final sentence that shattered Lesley. Before she had been appalled by the fact of two sisters quarrelling with such bitter earnestness, but those last few words were like sharp knives thrown with an exact aim. They were so true. Her father was bewitched by Virginia's mature beauty, deceived by her carefully calculated acts of affection. With apparent good-humour, Virginia occasionally picked a hole in Lesley's housekeeping but Edward Norton never bothered to defend his younger daughter except with a smile; he wasn't to blame, because he probably thought that was all that was necessary when dealing with sisters. No, Lesley didn't blame him in the least. He had a perfect right to love Virginia better. All the same, the knowledge, made stark in words, stripped part of her life of its meaning. He and Virginia were all she had, and if he didn't want her love, either . . . She squared her shoulders as if easing a burden. "I'm going for a walk," she said.

  "You can't. They'll all be here in less than an hour."

  "I'll be back." She heard Virginia call something after her, noticed without it registering, that the light, clipped voice was a little less peremptory than before. But she went on down the path and round to the other side of the wild banana which formed a ragged screen, to take the footpath which led down to the river. When she had walked along the bank for about ten minutes she sat on a round rock and watched the reflections of the gold and blue sky in the fast-running water. The choking sensation in her throat had eased, but tears lay like lead weights behind her eyes. Yet she did not feel like weeping. It all went too deep for that. She thought of Martin starting out in that old vehicle of his with an empty heart, driving towards a new job that he didn't want but was bound to take because he had signed a three months' agreement. Poor Martin.

  Unexpectedly the water lapped up and over her feet and ran into her sandals, cool and startling. Involuntarily she stood up, and it came to her that it would be lovely to bathe, to lie on the water and feel the sun on her closed eyelids while the evening breeze fanned over the river. The next best thing was a canoe trip. She had seen canoes tied up at several points, and she knew that she must have a quiet half-hour on the river if she was to recover from the scene with Virginia. Yes, it was the only thing which would help her through the evening's party. She turned almost blindly and half-ran round a bend in the river, to fetch up sharply at a moored canoe. It took only a few minutes to untie the rope, to jump in and push off with a paddle. The river glided underneath. She shot out into midstream where the water was placid, and watched the withdrawal of the sunset and the quick magic of nightfall in the tropics. And with darkness came thoughts of Fernando. He would be there at the house tonight, charming and suave towards Virginia, but merely kind to Lesley. Why in the world did she have to fall in love with Fernando del Cuero, she wondered desolately. She hadn't consciously thought about Fernando in any personal connection till it was too late. His smile had tightened her heart, his voice had plucked a chord within her, his integrity had made her foolishly proud. And at last she had looked at him and known he was the only man in the world to whom she could ever belong. The image of Virginia rose between her vision and the trees at which she was staring. Virginia could have any man who interested her, because she was wheaten-haired and green-eyed, and possessed the sort of face and figure that roused passions, though she had none herself.

  Lesley came out of her bitter dreaming to find herself clutching the paddle in both hands with a fierce intensity, her teeth clamped so hard that her jaw ached, and her eyes closed fast against pain. "Fernando," she said aloud hoarsely, and the small echo of her voice along the river snapped the bad spell.

  She couldn't see the face of her watch, but she knew it must be six-thirty or more; Virginia would be furious at being left to deal with Solomon and the guests. But Lesley couldn't hurry. Her will felt drugged, and her wrists were stiff and awkward as she dipped the paddle and made for the bank. The worst of it was that she could not be sure which part of the river she had drifted into. She could hear the monotonous roar of the Falls mingling with the insect chorus, but she could see no lights, and surely there should be some from the other bungalows. The trees were thick here, though, and .. .

  She gave a gasp, then cried out. The canoe, as though pushed by some giant hand, had sped forward in a zigzag course, and now, without any apparent help, was hurrying towards the Falls. She had been drawn into one of those treacherous currents. What an utter idiot! Now what could she do? Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, discovered one relieving fact. The current was sweeping her diagonally across the river. Presumably at some point it would change, but if, before it did, she could catch at an

  overhanging branch, she stood a chance of pulling herself to the bank. It was the wrong bank, of course, but that had little significance compared with her present predicament. There was no room for fear in her; she had somehow to stand up and hold herself ready.

  Miraculously she was on her feet, keeping her balance. Arms upraised, she caught at the first branch which came within reach, and felt thorns sink deep into the flesh of her palms. She clung for a moment, then with a mighty wrench the canoe was dragged from under her and she was left dangling from a bending bough, her feet in the speeding water. After that there was only one thing to do. Unable to bother about the spears which pressed into her hands at every move, she manoeuvred herself along the branch till her feet found the mud of the river bed. Stumbling and gasping, she reached out with blood-covered hands for the great, arching roots of the tree which had saved her, and clung. For a while she ceased to think; all her effort was in regaining her breath. But gradually those gasping breaths became shallower and more even, and she was able to look about her in the darkness. The river was high from the rains. Water ran inland among the tree roots and rubber plants; the growth was impenetrable. Even the strongest swimmer would have difficulty in crossing the river just here, and the only bridge she knew of was Fernando's pontoon below the Falls: to get to that she would have to penetrate this jungle and make her way round the end of the gorge. A frightening task in daylight, and impossible at night. Weakly she climbed up to where those buttressed roots curved out from the tree-trunk, and lay back against the smooth bark.

  VIRGINIA wore sea-green that evening and a diamond clip in her hair. At ten minutes to six the house was lit up, and on the whole the

  living-room and veranda looked cosy and pretty. Gigantic poinsettia flowers drooped in an exotic red mass from a gourd on the veranda, and inside the room smaller jars held big orange and yellow daisies.

  Virginia went to the door of the small bedroom and pushed it open. "Lesley, I can hear a car . . ."

  But her sister wasn't in there. The bare room was dark. Virginia drew back into the corridor, her mouth pulled in. But her annoyance was tinged with a faint worry. Would Lesley have gone to Fernando? Surely not. Lesley was not the type to spill family troubles outside. No, she had taken a walk, and doubtless gone too far before turning back. She would be here soon.

  The guests' cars came one after the other, some from Buenda and others from the local settlement. Neville Madison came up with Fernando, and Virginia, when she saw the two men enter from the porch, thought what a contrast they formed, the one thin and jaded, his whole being as slack as if he were weary to the bone, and the other taller, immaculately turned out, and so much more interesting-looking. He had the instantaneous

  effect of making one f
eel a woman, whereas Neville was definitely and solely an opponent.

  Mr. Norton poured the drinks and answered Fernando's query: "Lesley was a little tired. I expect she slept late. She won't be long."

  The French doors were wide open, the guests flowed between the living-room and the veranda, and one of the electrical engineers took charge of the gramophone There were talk and laughter and music. Then a woman said, "What's happened to your sister, Virginia? I don't believe I've seen her at all."

  Evenly Virginia replied, "She's about somewhere."

  Inwardly she seethed. A second glance into Lesley's bedroom had shown it as tenantless as it had been an hour ago. What wretched behaviour, to sheer off when she was most needed. She wouldn't have believed it of Lesley. Sharp at eight, Virginia opened the door on the laden dining-table and trolley. The guests ate standing, sitting, and lounging against walls, and as soon as one dish was emptied a heaped one took its place.

  Fernando saw that Virginia had enough to eat, and it was he who carried out their cups of coffee and found a bench near the wild banana hedge. With a smile he said, "Your party is admirably organised, Virginia. You and Lesley must have lavished much thought upon it."

  She let him take her empty cup. "You're enjoying it?"

  "Very much. I have never seen so many people gathered happily together in one small house." Casually he added : "I always thought your sister, robust. Your father tells me she has such a bad head she must stay in her room. Is that so?"