Dangerous Friendship

by Anne Hampson

  ‘I have a white linen dress,’ began Lena doubtfully. ‘Will that do?’

  ‘It’ll do fine! It has pleats in the skirt, if I remember rightly?’

  Lena nodded her head. She would cut out some anchors from that dark blue material she had consigned to the shelf in her wardrobe. Stitched on to the wide collar of the dress, they should provide the ‘something nautical’ mentioned by the Yacht Club president in his note.

  ‘I’m quite excited about it,’ she was saying when, the meal over, the three of them were sitting, as usual, on the cool back stoep, drinking coffee. It was a clear starlit night with the quiver of a breeze coming from the direction of Kane’s forestlands. Earlier, while she was washing and putting on a clean blouse and skirt in preparation for dinner, Lena had watched the spectacular sunset of the veld, which held her spellbound, as always. After the splendour had faded in a final blush of pink there came the purple twilight, herald of the night and the long primeval silence that would spread across the bushlands and over the distant mountains.

  ‘Yes,’ said June, ‘I’m excited too. It’ll be something different.’

  ‘The function will be different,’ agreed Gerald, ‘but the people will be the same.’

  ‘That’s the nice part,’ declared June. ‘We know everybody.’ Glancing at Lena, she added, ‘And so do you by now.’

  ‘Yes…’ Kane and Magda would be there… The prospect suddenly losing its attraction, Lena had half a mind to make up some excuse and remain at home. She would think about it, she decided, realizing that her excuse would have to be a good one, for otherwise June would not accept it. Lena frowned to herself; living with June and Gerald was fine in almost every way, but always Lena had to keep in mind that she was, after all, their guest. And as such she was ever conscious of the fact that she must conform in almost every way to what June wanted, agreeing to every decision she might make. With a will of her own, Lena naturally found this would sometimes pall, and there had been occasions when the idea would run through her mind that, if she did decide to make her home in South Africa, she must eventually find a place of her own. However, with her feelings for Kane being what they were, and with no possible hope of his returning her love, she rather thought her stay here was not likely to be permanent.

  ‘What I should do,’ she told herself severely as she was riding to work in the sunshine the following morning, ‘is to be very practical about the whole situation and, knowing that Kane is not for me, put him right out of my mind.’

  So easy to say, but so difficult to carry out, especially as she kept on coming into contact with him, not only at the various functions and dances, but in the shop as well. He had been in twice the previous week, once to buy a periodical, the next time to buy some note-paper. He had remarked on the pretty cotton dress she wore, and actually teased her about the way she had decided to please him, by not wearing the dark colours.

  ‘Please?’ she had repeated with a little unconscious toss of her head. ‘No such thing!’

  ‘Liar,’ he had returned, leaving the shop before she had time to think up a further retort to make.

  ‘I almost wish he wouldn’t come into the shop,’ she was saying to herself one morning as she cycled along, waving now and then to a group of piccanins playing in the fields. Their mothers were working, backs bent, in the mealies and lucerne. They would straighten up as they heard their children shout out, then they too would wave and smile, white teeth flashing. Life could be good here, thought Lena—it had been good before she had discovered that she had given her heart to Kane.

  Arriving at the shop twenty minutes before it was due to open, she entered by the side door and, taking up a duster, made herself busy. Eventually Mr Cookson arrived to open the shop door and anxiously she scanned his face. He smiled and greeted her as if nothing had happened. Perhaps he had forgotten; it was generally accepted that the proprietor of the bookshop in Fonteinville was absent-minded.

  The day was to prove to be the busiest since Lena had taken up her post with Mr Cookson. She and her employer were serving all the morning and it was a relief when at two o’clock the door was closed. Having the next two hours to herself she went out, into the grounds of the Imapala Club, and strolled about among the flowers. Then she sat down under a tree, relaxed and restful, looking up at a clear blue sky framed between twigs moving in the breeze.

  Suddenly into the blissful silence a voice interrupted and, stiffening, Lena turned her head. She was not far from one of the open windows of the diningroom, and the voice she heard belonged to Magda. Lena could not see her, owing to the crimson hibiscus bush growing close by, but the girl’s words reached her plainly.

  ‘No, thank you, Kane. I won’t have a sweet. Oh, but I was so thrilled when you sent Benjamin round with that note, inviting me to take lunch with you.’

  ‘Coffee, then?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘I see you’re wearing your bracelet and the earrings. They look charming.’

  ‘But of course I’m wearing them, darling. Surely you’ve noticed before?’

  ‘Have I?’ Kane sounded a trifle bored, Lena thought, rising and noiselessly moving away.

  ‘I wear them all the time. It was sweet of you to Lena heard no more. She had no desire to listen to Magda talking about the expensive gift she had received from Kane.

  Yet her thoughts remained on the conversation all the way back to the shop. It was very strange that Kane should make that sort of reference to the present he had given to Magda. It seemed so totally out of character.

  Lena was still thinking about it when, at half-past four, she glanced up to see Magda entering, looking, as always, perfectly cool and immaculate, with not a sign of perspiration on her high wide forehead, not a hair out of place, not a crease in her dress.

  ‘I’ve come for my book,’ she told Mr Cookson, flashing him a smile. ‘Miss Ridgeway said it would be in today.’

  Frowning, the old man looked from one girl to the other.

  ‘It won’t be in until Monday or Tuesday of next week,’ he began. ‘I don’t know why Miss Ridgeway told you to come today.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you to come today,’ said Lena, puzzled that the girl should have made a mistake like this. ‘I said it would be in early next week, if you remember?’

  ‘No, I certainly do not remember.’ Heaving a deep sigh, Magda turned to Mr Cookson. ‘I’ve made another wasted journey,’ she complained. ‘You know, Mr Cookson, just how far I’ve come. It really isn’t good enough—’

  ‘You’ve come into town specially to collect your book?’ broke in Lena, her eyes fixed intently on Magda’s face.

  ‘Of course I have!’

  ‘Why, you—!’ Lena pulled herself up just in time. Staggered by the blatant untruth, she had almost called the girl a liar. ‘I did say early next week. Miss Sanborn,’ she added frigidly. ‘I couldn’t possibly have promised your book for today, simply because I knew it wasn’t expected until next week’s delivery. Mr Cookson had already told me this.’

  Even as she was speaking Magda was shaking her head.

  ‘No, Miss Ridgeway!’

  Lena’s eyes kindled with anger.

  ‘I’m quite sure—’

  ‘I’m terribly sorry, Miss Sanborn,’ broke in Mr Cookson hastily. ‘My assistant hasn’t been here long, as you know, so I hope you’ll forgive her mistake.’

  ‘I didn’t make a mistake,’ insisted Lena angrily. ‘I—’ She stopped, not only because her employer was again about to interrupt her, but also because Kane had suddenly appeared in the doorway. It flashed across Lena’s mind that either he had been looking in the window, or that Magda had come on before him because he had met someone to whom he had stopped to speak. He was looking from Lena’s flushed face to Magda’s cool one, a puzzled expression in his eyes.

  ‘I’m sure the mistake was yours, Miss Ridgeway,’ her employer was saying, having glanced up at Kane and then returned his attention to Lena, ‘since Miss Sanborn would ce
rtainly not have come in today for her book if, as you maintain, you told her it would not be here until next week.’

  Fuming inwardly, Lena moved, and began to sort out a pile of books which were lying at the far end of the counter, all of which had labels pushed into them, as they were special orders.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ inquired Kane in his quiet, finely-modulated voice.

  ‘No, Kane darling,’ silkily from Magda as she flashed him a dazzling smile. ‘It’s nothing really. Just a mistake on Miss Ridgeway’s part. She told me my book would be here today, and it isn’t. As a matter of fact, it won’t be here until next Monday or Tuesday.’

  Kane’s eyes flickered strangely.

  ‘I thought I overheard Lena insisting that she hadn’t made a mistake?’ Sending Lena a questioning glance as he said this, he was obviously expecting her to make some comment. She stubbornly kept quiet, keeping her attention on the books she was sorting out.

  ‘My assistant did deny making the mistake,’ put in Mr Cookson, plainly becoming uncomfortable as he glanced towards the door, hoping no one would enter while this little scene was being enacted. ‘I suppose it’s only natural that she should deny it, but I myself am convinced that she did make the mistake.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ interposed Magda with another dazzling smile. ‘It was not as if Miss Ridgeway did it deliberately, Mr Cookson. Personally, I think you’re being somewhat hard on her.’

  Lena gasped, while her employer stared at Magda as if unable to believe his ears.

  ‘But you seemed annoyed and angry, just now—’

  ‘Angry?’ she echoed. ‘Indeed no. I think I was most understanding about the whole thing.’ Magda avoided Lena’s wide contemptuous gaze. And well she might, thought Lena, aware of what the detestable girl was about. All this spcciousness was for Kane’s benefit; she wanted to deceive him into believing that she was acting with the utmost tolerance towards Lena. ‘As you yourself said, Miss Ridgeway’s not been here long; she’s naturally not used to the business, and in these circumstances I’m willing to overlook the mistake—and so should you,’ she added almost censoriously.

  Kane strolled along to where Lena was standing.

  ‘Do you happen to have a book of mine in that little pile?’ His voice was soft, and almost gentle. ‘I ordered it about three weeks ago.’

  Lena shook her head; she was full up, with tears at the backs of her eyes.

  ‘No,’ she said huskily, ‘it isn’t here.’

  ‘But,’ interposed Magda sweetly from where she was standing at the other end of the counter, ‘you haven’t looked.’

  Kane frowned at her but made no comment.

  ‘I’ve only just been through them,’ said Lena, ‘to find a book ordered by another customer.’ Acutely conscious of her employer’s stare, she went through the pile of books again. ‘No, Kane, there isn’t one here for you.’

  ‘Not to worry, Lena, I’m not waiting for it.’

  ‘I can drop it off at your house when it comes in,’ she offered. ‘I have to pass the end of your drive on my way home from work.’ Her eyes moving to Magda’s face, Lena encountered a stare of ill-disguised antagonism, and knew her offer had been the cause of it.

  ‘You’ll do that for me.’ Kane’s regard was kind, understanding. ‘Thank you very much, Lena.’

  She looked mistily at him.

  ‘It’s no trouble.’

  He sent her a slow smile, as if to convey sympathy, and also the message that she must not worry too much about what had happened. She wondered if he believed that she really had made a mistake. Not that it mattered, she told herself. Magda meant so much to him that his opinion of her, Lena, was of no importance whatsoever.

  ‘I shall wait for you to deliver it, then.’ These added words seemed unnecessary; Lena had the impression that he was still attempting to convey sympathy. This she did not want, emotionally upset as she was both by the displeasure of her employer, and by Magda’s spite, which had been the cause of that displeasure. Sympathy from Kane could release the valve that held her tears in check.

  Magda and Kane left the shop but stood outside, looking in the window. Mr Cookson went into the back room, leaving Lena standing by the counter, the pile of books still in front of her. The window had a sort of fanlight above it, which was partly open. Lena stiffened as she heard the silky voice of Magda as she said,

  ‘But, Kane, can you trust her to deliver the book for you? She’s far from efficient, from what I can see. If I hadn’t been meeting you for lunch, I’m afraid I’d have been more than a little annoyed at coming all this way for nothing…’

  As Lena heard no more she surmised that the couple had walked on, away from the window. Far from efficient… Never in her life had Lena been called inefficient. What was the girl trying to do? Lena was asking herself as she rode home that evening.

  It never occurred to her that Magda might be intent on bringing about her dismissal.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘What a blisteringly hot day it’s been!’ June spoke grimly as she poured out cool drinks for Lena and herself. ‘I don’t know how you managed to work in that shop. I’ve been lying down for most of the afternoon.’

  ‘I must admit the heat affected me,’ returned Lena, gratefully accepting the glass held out to her by June. ‘It wasn’t only the heat,’ she added, ‘but the steaminess of the atmosphere; it was so oppressive.’ This was caused, she knew, by the low-lying cover of bulbous clouds which had been hanging about for several days.

  ‘If only those clouds would drop their moisture,’ sighed Gerald a few minutes later as he joined the two girls on the stoep. ‘We certainly need all the rain that’s locked up in that dark sky.’ His eyes wandered over the fields of thirsty crops. ‘It must come some time, that’s one consolation. It can’t remain up there for ever.’

  Yes, it must come some time, thought Lena as she went off to her room to get ready for the event at the Yacht Club. She wondered if the great deluge would arrive while the race was on, and could imagine everyone losing interest as they ran for cover.

  At seven o’clock they were on their way, Gerald driving the station wagon along the road skirting the river. Eventually a glare of light appeared—the glow from the clubhouse.

  Finding a place to park the station wagon, Gerald then led the girls through the crowd towards a less congested place on the river terrace, and here they stood, looking down on to the gay scene of graceful yachts and numerous small craft, all with lights glimmering fore and aft. From the clubhouse itself bunting fluttered in the breeze, with small, multi-coloured lights adding a further touch of gaiety.

  ‘Baas—a drink, please?’ The waiter held out a tray and the three helped themselves to drinks.

  Within minutes they were joined by the Yacht Club president and his wife, and the five of them chatted while watching the activities of the yachtsmen making final preparations for the race.

  ‘I’ve made arrangements for you all to watch the race from the launch of a friend of mine,’ Mr Burnett informed them.

  ‘You have?’ June was delighted. ‘That’ll be fun!’

  ‘When you’ve finished your drinks I’ll have one of the stewards take you across to the jetty.’

  As many other people had the same idea of watching the race from boats, there was quite a number of them moored both to the jetty and the bank. Also, there was a concentration of people here, all jostling about, and somehow Lena found herself separated from her friends, and from the steward. Vexed with herself for paying more attention to the nautical activities going on than in keeping close to the steward, she swung round again and again in an endeavour to find her friends.

  Time passed; the crowd began to thin. Many launches were moving away, into the darkness of the water, their lights twinkling, laughter and chatter coming from their decks.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she sighed. ‘What a flop this is going to be! And it isn’t as if I really wanted to come.’

  Which of those launche
s carried June and Gerald? she wondered, in no doubt at all about her friends having boarded the launch on which provision had been made for them. They would take it for granted that the steward would find Lena and accommodate her elsewhere.

  With another deep and hopeless sigh Lena was just about to go along to the clubhouse and seek out Mr Burnett, when a voice from behind her said with a touch of relief,

  ‘There you are, Miss Ridgeway! I’m afraid your friends have already sailed off. They didn’t want to, but as I promised to find you and see you safely aboard another launch, they agreed to go.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Lena looked up in the darkness, trying to read the steward’s expression. It was not possible, but she guessed that he was not too happy at the trouble she had caused him.

  ‘If you will come this way, please?’

  Feeling extremely foolish, Lena stepped along beside him, wondering whose launch she was to find herself in. Left to herself, she would much rather have written off the idea of watching the race from a launch, and gone along to the balcony of the Club and watched it from there, along with the president and his wife, and perhaps one or two other people she knew. However, she could not put the steward to more trouble; he had obviously asked someone to take her aboard, and therefore she had no alternative than to accept. The steward walked briskly, and in silence. Reaching the jetty again, Lena stared down at the dark outline of a launch.

  ‘This is it.’ The steward sounded a trifle impatient, she thought as she meekly came up beside him. ‘Wandering Dawn—’

  ‘Wandering Dawn!’ she flashed, her heart leaping. This was Kane’s boat. ‘I can’t—’

  ‘Careful how you go.’ The quiet yet commanding voice of Kane cut her short. ‘Give me your hand.’

  ‘I… oh, Kane, I really am sorry…’ Her voice slackened; the touch of his hands sending exciting tremors through her whole body. ‘I don’t want to put you to any inconvenience,’ she managed at length. He said nothing; his hands still supported her, warm and strong and—she thought in some amazement—just a trifle possessive in the way the fingers moved, as if they had a right to enjoy the feel of her flesh through the thin cotton material of her dress. She tingled under his touch, caught the tantalizing odour of a masculine body lotion, felt his cool clean breath on her cheek… and then she was beside him on the deck, her heart thudding at the nearness of him. But cruelly into this dream there intruded, as always, the image of Magda. ‘I don’t want to inconvenience you,’ she said again. ‘You want to be alone with—’ She glanced around. Where was the girl?