by Anne Hampson
Lena said nothing; she was not in the mood for talking anyway. The remainder of the evening could only be an anticlimax and she wondered how she would manage to get through it, caught as she was in this depressing state of bathos.
But, much to her astonishment, Kane was not totally absorbed with the glamorous Magda after all. He approached her as she mingled with those who were standing by the buffet tables, an empty plate in her hand.
‘Are you spoilt for choice?’ The cool but friendly voice at her elbow brought her round with eager speed, her heart leaping. Colour touched her cheeks, caressingly, and her lovely brown eyes lighted up. All this was spontaneous, out of her control. Kane, so tall and distinguished-looking in his outfit of navy blue and white, stood staring enigmatically into her face, taking in all the unaffected beauty, the smile that began quivering, hesitantly, before it blossomed out to something so attractive that he actually caught his breath.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she replied, fervently hoping that she was managing to keep hidden the tumult which raged within her.
‘Not hungry?’ in some considerable surprise. ‘You must be, after that sail out there, on the breezy river.’
She wondered what he would say if she told him that he himself was the real cause of her lost appetite. Instead she asked.
‘Are you intending to eat, Kane?’
‘Of course.’
Her eyes naturally flickered around. Where was Magda?
‘You’re… you’re eating with… someone else?’ He must know whom she meant, thought Lena, blushing as this struck her.
‘I’m eating with you,’ was the unexpected reply from Kane. ‘That is,’ he added with a hint of anxiety that was quite obviously feigned, ‘if you’ll have me?’
She smiled adorably.
‘I’ll love having you,’ she murmured shyly, and averted her head in order to conceal her expression from those perceptive eyes of his.
‘Well said.’ He took up a plate. ‘What about some of these savouries?’ he suggested, himself forking up a couple of meat pasties and a corn fritter to go with them.
Lena, still undecided, moved along beside him until she came to the sandwiches. She took two, and some garnishings of green salad.
‘Is that all?’ Kane looked severely at her. ‘You can always come again,’ he added, turning his head to seek for a table. ‘Over here.’
They sat near a window, looking out on to a garden which, despite its floodlighting, looked exceedingly forlorn and miserable. The torrential rain had ceased but the more gentle precipitation continued. Now and then the sky would be lit with the blue-white flash of lightning, and thunder would roll in the distance.
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ inquired Kane after a long—and not altogether comfortable—silence had dropped between them.
‘Yes, of course.’ This was the truth, but had he asked the question ten minutes ago she would have been forced to lie.
‘I see your old friend Rex was soon in attendance.’
Involuntarily, Lena shot him a questioning glance.
‘He invited me to dance with him, yes.’
‘He’s the most eligible young man around here.’
‘What about you—?’ This came out before she could prevent it and, confusion sweeping over her, she averted her head, taking a bite out of one of her sandwiches while nervously toying with a crisp green lettuce leaf.
‘Am I eligible?’ queried Kane in some amusement.
‘I—’ She stopped, irresolute, while she attempted to find something to say. She failed to do so and decided that candour was her only course. ‘I expect people here regard you as eligible,’ she said.
‘And I wonder how they regard you?’ he returned, deftly veering the conversation from himself. ‘You’re a most attractive girl, Lena.’
She coloured adorably.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured in quiet, demure accents.
‘If you were to find yourself a husband,’ he said slowly, ‘it would solve all your problems.’
Find herself a husband… So casually he had uttered those words, and as she repeated them to herself a spasm of pain shot through her whole body. Kane, it appeared, would prefer that she marry, just in order that she could remain here—and continue to be his friend. As to whom she married—well, that was a matter of total indifference to him, obviously.
Steadying herself against this indifference, she managed eventually to speak.
‘I have no intention of marrying for the sole purpose of solving my immediate problems,’ she replied, her tones constrained. ‘That would be the height of folly—’ She stopped a moment before adding, ‘I think you will agree with me about that?’
‘I’ve offended you, haven’t t?’ he said, bypassing her question.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Her voice caught and she turned away. How easily this man could affect her mood, bringing her happiness one moment and sheer undiluted misery the next. Of course, he was not to know how painfully his words had wrenched at her heart, much less was he to know that the only man she would be glad to marry was Kane himself.
‘If I’ve offended you it certainly does matter. I’m sorry, Lena.’
She shook her head.
‘There isn’t anything to apologize for, Kane.’
Gently he took her plate from her.
‘It’s obvious that you don’t want this,’ he said, and placed it on top of his empty one. ‘Come on, let’s dance!’
This was better, she thought, as she slipped into his arms. The music was a waltz, slow and haunting. Once, she caught the invidious glance of Kane’s girlfriend, but somehow it flowed off her without leaving any impression. This moment was far too precious for any intrusion to be allowed to mar it.
‘We’ll go outside,’ said Kane as they reached the open window. ‘The smell of the veld after rain is one of those things that I never like to miss.’
‘The appreciation of nature again,’ she murmured, totally at ease now as she stepped out, first on to the verandah and then down into the garden itself. ‘The stars are coming back,’ she added, looking up into the velvet sky.
‘They were there all the time,’ he teased.
‘You know what I mean.’ She fell into step beside him as he strolled away from the sounds of music coming from the ballroom. ‘Oh, but it’s beautiful now that the rain’s stopped!’ She inhaled deeply, taking in a heady draught of pure cool air. ‘I shall miss it all if I do decide to go home,’ she could not help saying on a little dejected note.
‘There’s really no need to think of that, Lena.’ He spoke softly, and with a sort of grim concern that filled her with a deep yearning for him, for the bliss of his arms about her, the ecstasy that would result from the touch of his lips on hers. How she envied Magda!
‘I’ll not think of it just now,’ she promised immediately. ‘The night’s far too enjoyable to spoil it by worrying about the future.’
‘It’s enjoyable for you, too?’ Again that soft tone, but there was something else in it which she failed to understand.
‘Too?’ she repeated, her senses responding to the implication of this one small word. ‘So you are happy, too, it would seem?’
He glanced down into her face and said,
‘I’m happy, yes.’ He paused a moment, and then, a most curious inflection in his voice, ‘Tell me, Lena, were you glad it was my boat you boarded this evening?’
The unexpectedness of the question took her completely by surprise, and she was some seconds in replying.
‘Why, yes, of course I was glad, Kane.’ He said nothing, appearing to be considering this and after a moment she added, ‘I felt—at first, that was—that I might be inconveniencing you.’
‘In what way?’ he inquired disconcertingly.
‘You weren’t expecting to have me on board, for one thing.’
‘Do you think that made any difference?’ He looked down at her and smiled. ‘Surely you know I wouldn’t mind having you on board?’
She flushed enchantingly and shook her head, convinced that even if Magda had been there with him he would still have welcomed her, Lena, on to his launch.
‘Yes, I did know that you wouldn’t mind.’
‘It was a pleasure, I assure you, my dear.’
My dear… This was not the first time he had used these two words. They did not mean a thing, yet she derived a certain degree of pleasure from hearing them.
Having reached an avenue of ancient oak trees they stepped into a tunnel of incalculable gloom. Soon all was inky blackness, and instinctively Lena moved close to her companion who, on sudden impulse, took hold of her hand and held it tightly as they walked along in silence.
Lena quivered at his touch, wishing she could curl her fingers lovingly around his, but instead she was forced to keep a cautious restraint on her emotions, lest she give away her secret. She supposed she could have pulled her hand away, but the temptation to be close to him was far too great.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Kane’s voice, strangely vibrant, and with an inflection that was almost tender, broke rather gently into her musings and she turned her head, lilting it automatically to cast him a sideways glance. In the blackness all she saw was the indeterminate line of his profile.
‘It was nothing of importance,’ she lied.
‘You don’t mind being out here with me… in the dark?’
The question startled her, as several of his questions had startled her of late. He was a most strange man, she concluded, wishing she could understand why, on some occasions, he would be coolly impersonal, on others, warm, as a good friend should be, and on other occasions, almost intimate… as he was now.
‘I—I h hadn’t th-thought much about it,’ she replied at length, having been prompted by a repetition of his query.
He laughed softly, and to her amazement she felt his fingers curl round hers. As always, when she was alone with Kane, there intruded the image of Magda. This time it brought with it the inevitable question: why wasn’t Kane with the girl? True, at these functions it was usual for everyone to mix, rather than for a couple to keep together in intimate isolation. But that Kane should have brought her out here instead of his girlfriend was a circumstance which Lena quite naturally found most puzzling.
And what of the girl herself? What were her feelings at this time? She had seen Kane and Lena dancing together; her eyes must inevitably have sought for them as the dance progressed. So she would know that both were missing from the ballroom… and she would quite naturally conclude that they were together.
Kane’s fingers still held Lena’s even when they emerged from the darkness of the avenue, his hand falling to his side only when, having walked towards the clubhouse, they could be seen by the people within. Reaching the veranda, Kane stopped, and stood for a long moment gazing down at his lovely companion, taking in the teased condition of her hair, the flush of her cheeks, the full, slightly parted lips. Noting the flickering of his eyes, Lena did wonder if he were finding her attractive, and because it was such a pleasant thought, a lovely smile fluttered to her lips. Kane’s whole manner seemed to change; it was as if he froze within himself. He turned away, and she knew that this action was deliberate, made because he no longer had any desire to look at her. Why should this be? she asked herself. Suddenly she wanted to question him, to ask what was wrong, but a terrible little lump settled in her throat, obstructing the words she wanted to speak.
‘We’d best be going inside.’ Kane’s cool impersonal voice was like a dagger in her heart. ‘We’ve been out here far too long.’
‘Are, there you are!’ exclaimed Magda, as Kane and Lena stepped from the veranda into the brilliantly-lighted ballroom. ‘The Van de Westhuisens want us to join them at the bar. It’s Maria’s birthday and they’re opening a bottle of champagne.’ As she spoke Kane had turned aside, to answer a question being put to him by Mr Burnett. Seizing the opportunity, Magda sent Lena a glance of sheer hatred. ‘Keep away from Kane,’ she just had time to say before he turned again, the president having moved away. ‘So we’d better be going, darling.’
‘Of course.’ He turned a set unsmiling countenance towards Lena. ‘Please excuse me,’ he said and, tucking Magda’s arm into his, he went with her to the bar.
CHAPTER TEN
With less than a week to go before Christmas the shop was more busy than ever, people coming from far and wide to collect books they had previously ordered, or to browse through those which Mr Cookson kept in stock. In addition to books, many other commodities were offered for sale at this time of the year—from small toys and games to decorations for the home and lights for the Christmas tree.
‘I can’t get used to the fact of high summer being in December,’ Lena said ruefully to Mr Cookson when, the temperature that day having reached a hundred in the shade, she was experiencing the utmost difficulty in maintaining a cool appearance as she busied herself with the customers.
‘No, it must be very new to you, being used to Christmas coming in midwinter.’ Turning away to serve a customer, he left Lena to serve Rex, who had just entered with his sister. Lena chatted with them, as was her normal practice as she served the customers. In addition to buying several books, Rex bought gifts for the tree and a couple of games for the child of a friend of his. As several people were browsing around Lena did not notice Magda until she heard her voice, slightly raised, asking Mr Cookson how much longer she would have to wait.
‘Miss Ridgeway appears to be spending the whole of the afternoon on one customer,’ she added on a querulous note. ‘I hate complaining about anyone, but I do consider I have a complaint on this occasion.’
Lena and Rex exchanged glances.
‘What’s got into her?’ he asked, frowning.
Lena, pale but composed, looked at Magda and said politely,
‘Have you come to collect your book?’
‘If it’s here, yes.’
‘It’s been here since Tuesday.’ She looked at Rex, who, with his sister, was examining a set of coloured lights. ‘Do you mind if I serve Miss Sanborn?’
‘Serve her by all means,’ he recommended, and it was in a voice which the girl could quite easily pick up. ‘And let her go,’ he added, this time in a whisper. But as she was watching him intently Magda knew that: he had said something which he had not intended for her ears. Her mouth set tightly and her eyes, moving from Rex’s profile, stared arrogantly into Lena’s. Stooping, Lena took the book from under the counter, wrapped it up and, handing it over, waited to take the money.
‘It goes on my account,’ snapped Magda, looking superciliously at her.
‘Very well.’ But Lena glanced at Mr Cookson, just to make sure this was correct.
Nodding his head, he opened a drawer, extracted a ledger, and handed it over to her.
‘You enter it in there,’ he said, returning his attention to his own customer.
‘I take it that you’ve examined the book, just to make sure it’s in perfect condition?’ Magda’s voice had an imperious ring that served to make Lena’s hackles rise.
‘Certainly I have, Miss Sanborn,’ she assured her coldly.
‘So long as I have your guarantee, Miss Ridgeway,’ she said and. turning, left the shop.
‘A nasty piece of work if ever there was one,’ declared Rex disgustedly. ‘I wonder what made her adopt an attitude like that?’ He looked curiously at Lena. ‘It’s more than plain that she doesn’t like you,’ he said.
‘She’s never liked me.’ Automatically Lena produced another box of fairy lights, slightly larger than those at which Rex was looking. ‘What about these? They seem to be better value for money to me.’ Her words were as automatic as her actions, for she could not get Magda out of her mind. It was obvious that she was insanely jealous of Lena’s friendship with Kane—yet she need not have been, thought Lena broodingly. The friendship was purely platonic, and likely to remain that way until the time when Lena decided to leave the country. After that—well, she di
d not expect there would be much correspondence between Kane and herself. He would be too busy to write, or perhaps he would decide that it was just a waste of time anyway, seeing that Lena would not be visiting South Africa again.
She gave a deep sigh, and for the rest of the day she was unable to shake off her dejection.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’ she was saying as she cycled home in the sunshine. ‘I feel that something dreadful is hanging over me.’
She was soon to know, her first customer the following morning being Magda, who was returning the book. Mr Cookson was not yet in the shop, but the girl demanded to see him, her tone so loud and imperative that it was bound to reach him in the room behind the shop where he was having his breakfast.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lena’s eyes were on the parcel which Magda had under her arm. ‘You say you’re not willing to have the book.’ She held out her hand, but Magda refused to relinquish the parcel.
‘It’s in a disgraceful condition!’ Magda’s glance was haughty and accusing. ‘You said it was perfect, that you’d examined it!’
‘And so I did examine it.’ Lena’s nerves were tensed; she had no doubts at all that some damage had been done to the book, which was a most expensive one, and which certainly could not be replaced before Christmas. ‘There was nothing at all wrong with it.’
A sneer curved Magda’s lips.
‘Except what you did—either by accident or design, Miss Ridgeway!’
‘You believe that I would damage a book?’ Lena shook her head. ‘How little you know me, Miss Sanborn. The very fact that someone has gone to all the trouble of writing it, and probably painstakingly going over it again and again—this is more than enough for me to want to treasure a book. I would never deliberately deface one.’ She thought of her own modest library; every book was almost as new, even those she had read over and over again.
‘Naturally you’ll make excuses,’ snapped the girl, her arrogant eyes raking Lena contemptuously. ‘But you know what you’ve done—Ah, Mr Cookson,’ she said, turning as he entered the shop. ‘Take a look at this book!’ She threw it on to the counter in front of him. ‘I’m certainly not paying for it! You can order me another—but only if you can get it before Christmas!’