Dangerous Friendship

by Anne Hampson

  He shook his head, his eyes wandering vaguely from Lena’s pale and troubled features to the arrogant face of the girl on the other side of the counter.

  ‘It’s too late for that, Miss Sanborn,’ he muttered, opening the parcel with slow, cumbersome movements. Both girls watched silently as he took out the book. ‘It looks all right to me,’ he pronounced, his worried frown disappearing like magic. ‘What’s the nature of your complaint, Miss Sanborn—?’

  ‘Inside, Mr Cookson,’ interrupted Magda rudely, and without affording him the chance to open the book she snatched it from his hands and flipped back the first few pages. ‘There!’ She pushed the book at him, heard him gasp as he turned to his assistant.

  ‘It’s ink, Miss Ridgeway… from your fountain pen.’

  Swallowing convulsively, Lena shook her head.

  ‘I know I use my fountain pen to fill in the labels which I attach to the special orders, Mr Cookson, but I didn’t get ink all over the inside of the book like this.’

  ‘Your pen leaked,’ broke in Magda. ‘That’s plain for anyone to see.’ Turning to Mr Cookson, she said, ‘Perhaps you consider it was natural that she should try to hide what she had done? I personally would have owned up at once, being quite prepared to pay for the book.’

  The old man sighed.

  ‘All I can say is that I’m sorry, Miss Sanborn, and that of course I shall not include it on your account—’

  ‘I should hope you wouldn’t!’

  ‘As for a replacement…’ Again he shook his head. ‘That isn’t possible until the New Year, as you must understand, Miss Sanborn?’

  ‘All I understand,’ she told him icily, ‘is that the person for whom I was purchasing that book is not going to get his Christmas present!’

  ‘Yes… well, for that I am deeply sorry,’ repeated Mr Cookson with another despondent sigh.

  Lena received her notice with equanimity, since she had half expected it even before this latest piece of malice had brought her even lower in her employer’s estimation. The fact that she had to leave was not important in itself, since she had almost become resigned to the idea of returning to England after Christmas. What was important to her was that Magda would be sure to spread it around that she had been dismissed for incompetence—for defacing a book and then selling it—this to avoid having to pay for it.

  ‘If you’d like me to leave at once,’ she said to Mr Cookson that evening as she tidied up the shop prior to going home, ‘I’ll do so.’

  ‘No… I can’t get anyone else in, and I am very busy, as you know.’ He looked sadly at her. ‘At first, Miss Ridgeway, you were so very efficient and trustworthy that I had no anxiety whatsoever in leaving you in charge. In fact, I thanked Mr Westbrook more than once for persuading me to take you on.’

  In the act of putting some heavy volumes away on a shelf, Lena turned, the books in her hands.

  ‘Mr Westbrook recommended me?’ She had suspected this, she recalled.

  The old man nodded his head.

  ‘Not only recommended, but almost bullied me into taking you on—Oh, not in any nasty way, you understand? But he stood here in my shop and I soon realized that he wasn’t intending to leave until I’d given him my promise that I’d give you a trial. And, as I said just now, you proved to be excellent. I can’t think what’s happened to change you. It’s a pity, and Mr Westbrook’s not going to be pleased, but I can’t have these complaints keep coming in, can I?’

  ‘They’ve come from one person only, Mr Cookson.’

  ‘True. But they’ve been valid complaints.’ He looked intently at her. ‘I’m wondering if you have a grudge against her, Miss Ridgeway?’

  Lena put the books away, then turned again; she was pale and her pulse was speeding. She felt almost sick with dejection, yet she answered him calmly, amazed at the steadiness of her voice.

  ‘No, Mr Cookson, I have no grudge against Miss Sanborn. It’s she who has a grudge against me. However, you, as the proprietor of this establishment, have the right to dispense with my services, as you are doing.’ She paused a moment. ‘Mr Westbrook’s book’s here. I promised to deliver it?’ She stopped and looked at him, a question in her silence. He nodded his head.

  ‘Take it by all means, Miss Ridgeway,’ he said.

  ***

  It was almost dusk when Lena turned her bicycle into the long, tree-shaded drive leading up to Koranna Lodge. She had just been on the point of closing the shop when two people entered and she was kept another half hour while they waded, with dilatory indecision, through a stack of children’s books. They left without having made a purchase, leaving Lena to begin tidying up all over again.

  That she was looking tired and despondent was only to be expected; that Kane should immediately notice was also to be expected since, right from the first, he had evinced an inexplicable interest in her appearance.

  ‘Something wrong?’ he inquired, his keen eyes examining her pale face, the tired lines beneath her eyes and the quivering of her mouth.

  She shook her head, loath to speak about his girlfriend. And yet on the other hand she felt she owed it to him to explain, since it had been he who had got the job for her in the first place.

  ‘I—I’ve got the s-sack—’ Without warning the tears came, released by the emotion within her and the concern portrayed in her companion’s eyes. ‘I’m so sorry…’ She searched around in her pockets for a handkerchief—then passed a hand across her cheeks.

  ‘Here.’ Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he gave it to her. ‘Come and sit down.’ His voice was taut; she glanced up to see the uncontrolled movement of a nerve in the side of his neck. Having settled her comfortably in a chair he went off to get her a drink. On his return he held it out to her.

  ‘What is it?’ she quivered, shaking her head. ‘I only came to bring your book.’ She frowned and gave a sigh. ‘I’ve left it in the basket on my bicycle,’ she told him. ‘I’ll go and fetch it—’

  ‘Sit where you are,’ he commanded. ‘The book can wait. Drink this; it’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘It’s brandy,’ she said accusingly, and would have pushed it away, but the expression in those grey eyes was warning enough and prudently she took the glass from his hand and put it to her lips.

  ‘Wise girl,’ he said tautly. He stood over her for a long silent moment, watching her with the burning liquid, his expression unchanging as she pulled a face with each sip she took. ‘Now,’ he said at length, ‘what’s all this about your dismissal?’

  ‘I was expecting it. I told you I was. I didn’t know that you had got me the job—at least, I wasn’t sure, not until today when Mr Cookson told me. I must admit, though, that I had an idea—’

  ‘Never mind that,’ he broke in curtly. ‘How did it come about that you received your notice today—I take it you did receive notice?’ he added almost harshly. She nodded, suspecting that had Mr Cookson not given her notice, but had instead dismissed her instantly, he would most certainly have heard from Kane. The idea that he would champion her did give a lift to her spirits, but it was not of such magnitude that it showed.

  ‘Yes; he gave me a month’s notice, but I shall ask him to release me before that,’ she added. ‘You see, I’ve decided to return to England.’

  Silence… so profound and tense that she felt she dared not be the one to break it. Kane seemed to be so deeply involved in some thoughts of his own that he was a million miles away from her.

  ‘You’re… going back to England.’ He turned away, and stood facing the open window, his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his denims. Lena put down the glass, her eyes never leaving his broad back, silhouetted darkly against the purple twilight which was falling like a gentle cover across the drowsy bushlands. She saw the lights of the native village, the tableau of the mountains, their changeless eminence as awe-inspiring as the timeless veld itself; she saw the line of kopjes, crowned with cacti, the last pearl-grey rays of the sunset fading, low and soft behind the
m. The silence seemed to sharpen, to hold both Kane and herself in a state of deepest tension and uncertainty. He spoke at last; she knew he was carefully choosing his words as he said, without turning round to face her, ‘When are you thinking of going?’

  ‘It’ll be best for me to leave as soon after Christmas as possible.’ Her voice broke, but she did not think he had noticed. How foolish she had been in falling in love with such a man, she thought as she continued to stare at his back. If she had remained heart-whole then she might have sought for another post and, having settled in it, she would then have begun to find herself a nice little place in which to live.

  Well, she realized with a long and shuddering sigh, it was not to be.

  ‘You haven’t yet explained how your dismissal came about?’ Kane turned at last, his brooding eyes meeting hers and noting the tears that still hung on her lashes.

  ‘It was just a combination of circumstances,’ she faltered, troubled as to how she was to keep Magda’s name out of this conversation.

  His brows lifted interrogatingly.

  ‘What sort of an explanation is that?’ he demanded, in the most peremptory tones he had ever used to her.

  She averted her head, feeling rather like a child who had been severely admonished.

  ‘I’ve made several mistakes,’ she began, when he interrupted her to say that he was not at all impressed by this kind of admission.

  ‘I shall see Mr Cookson,’ he decided.

  ‘Oh… no! There isn’t any reason why you should, Kane.’

  His grey eyes were hard, his voice challenging as he asked,

  ‘There isn’t? Why?’

  Disconcerted by this direct question, she could find nothing to say for a space. Eventually, however, she procrastinated by telling him that it would only embarrass her if he should decide to question Mr Cookson regarding his reason for dismissing her.

  ‘I’d much rather you left things as they are,’ she ended, sending him a beseeching glance from under her long silken lashes.

  ‘Probably,’ with a hint of asperity, ‘but as I am far from convinced that you have made these mistakes you mention I intend to investigate the matter for myself.’

  She looked troubled, thinking of his distress when he discovered the perfidy of his girl-friend.

  ‘It really isn’t any of your business, Kane,’ she said, a hint of apology in her tones.

  He lifted an eyebrow, his whole manner one of uncompromising authority.

  ‘On the contrary, it is very much my business. I recommended you for the post and I have a right to know what you did to fail me—’

  ‘Fail!’ she broke in before she could prevent herself. ‘No, Kane…’ And then her words trailed off to silence as she realized what she had done.

  Perceptively he said,

  ‘So you didn’t fail me? I didn’t for one moment believe that you had.’

  She bit her lip, vexed with herself for her impulsiveness.

  ‘It’s best that you allow the matter to drop, Kane.’

  ‘Best for whom?’ he wanted to know.

  She looked directly at him, her gaze clear but troubled.

  ‘For everyone concerned,’ she said.

  ‘And what do you mean by “everyone”?’ he questioned, causing her to frown and shake her head and accuse him of trying to tie her in knots. ‘Nothing of the kind,’ he denied in quiet yet authoritative tones. ‘I’m merely trying to get some sense out of you. However,’ he added with a hint of impatience, ‘it doesn’t seem as if I’m going to have any success.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘I’ll take you home in the car.’

  ‘In—?’ She stared uncomprehendingly at him. ‘But why should you?’

  He looked at her in some amusement now.

  ‘The answer’s simple, Lena. I want to take you home in the car.’

  She shook her head, the bewildered expression still in her eyes.

  ‘I don’t understand you, Kane,’ she told him, a note of complaint in her voice.

  His face became tense, unsmiling.

  ‘I don’t understand myself,’ he responded curtly, and then, noticing that she had emptied her glass, ‘Are you ready?’

  Meekly she rose, aware that it would be a relief to be taken home in the car.

  ‘It’s been so hot and tiring today,’ she murmured, scarcely conscious that she spoke aloud.

  ‘It has indeed,’ he was swift to agree. ‘I shall ask June to see that you go to bed immediately you’ve had your meal.’

  ***

  ‘If you ask me,’ said June in a strangely knowing tone of voice, ‘there’s something mighty interesting afoot tonight.’ She and about thirty-five others were the guests of Kane at his Christmas party. It was being held in a large wooden shed which had been originally built for the purpose of entertaining. Dinner had earlier been put on for twenty guests; they were now dancing to recorded music coming from four loudspeakers set up in the corners of the large high building. The remainder of the guests would be arriving shortly, those who preferred to have dinner at home, but who were more than willing to swell the numbers later, when the dancing and the real fun started. For dinner, which had been served in the spacious dining-saloon of Koranna Lodge, they had eaten delicious shrimp remoulade followed by salad served in satin-wood bowls. After that, from pewter plates, they had eaten roast turkey with all the trimmings one would find on an English table at Christmastime. Sweets and fruits had followed, all being washed down with excellent wines from Kane’s extensive cellar. Coffee and liqueurs had then been taken on the stoep, under shady vines, with coloured fairy-lights interlaced between the foliage. For Lena, who had never experienced anything like it before, it was exciting, as was all that followed afterwards.

  She had been dancing with Kane, then with Rex, and now she and June were at the bar. This was a small curving affair made of light-coloured wood. A white-coated servant was there, ready to attend to the requirements of the guests.

  ‘Of course there’s something interesting afoot,’ agreed Lena in response to her friend’s declaration. ‘The whole thing’s interesting. I’ve never seen anything so lavish in my life.’

  ‘It’s lavish enough. I wasn’t thinking of the party itself, though. It’s—well—something in the air, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘Something in the air?’

  June nodded, but now seemed reluctant to add to what she had said. However, up came Rex with the news, given sotto voce as he stooped and put his head between the faces of the two girls,

  ‘It’s rumoured that Kane’s going to announce his engagement tonight!‘

  ‘He’s…?’ Lena’s heart turned painfully. ‘Who—who told you, Rex?’ She had to sound calm, interested, but not too interested. She hoped she was not as white as she felt, hoped the trembling sensation within her was not reflected in any nervous movement of a nerve or muscle.

  ‘It’s all over the place. Murmurings and whisperings; looks and stares in Magda’s direction. Expectancy—all the guests at fever pitch as they wait for the great announcement!’

  Lena turned her head, to find Kane and Magda. He had danced with the girl several times already, but he was not with her now. She was dancing with Stephen, and the last dance had been with Phil Thorsby. Where was Kane?

  ‘Come and dance with me,’ invited Rex, and as Gerald came at that particular moment to claim his wife for the waltz, Lena went off with Rex.

  ‘I hear you’re leaving the shop,’ he said after a hesitant moment. ‘Is it true?’

  Lena nodded and said yes, it was true.

  ‘I’m going home after Christmas,’ she added.

  ‘You are?’ Rex held her from him. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Lena. I feel as if we might have got to know each other a lot better, given time.’

  Faintly she smiled.

  ‘I feel obliged to return to England,’ she said. Only three days ago she had had word from Mrs Poulton, saying definitely that she could not have the children, but pointi
ng out that, put into care, they could be separated. They would most certainly be unhappy, she had ended as a parting shot.

  ‘For any particular reason?’ inquired Rex. ‘I mean, I’d understood from Gerald that there really wasn’t any necessity for you to return, as you’re quite alone in the world?’

  ‘I have three young stepbrothers,’ she told him.

  ‘You have—?’ Rex broke off as the music stopped. Lena managed to escape, relieved that he had not been given the opportunity of asking any further questions.

  She looked around, saw Kane, immaculate and inordinately attractive in a white tropical suit, his skin bronzed and shining, his hair, thick and wavy, brushed back from his low, aristocratic forehead. His eyes lighting on her, he smiled and came right across the floor towards where she stood, a trifle pale, her heart still unsteady from the news which Rex had just a short while ago imparted.

  ‘Dance with me,’ said Kane imperiously, taking her arm before she could speak.

  She danced close to him, savouring every precious second—because before very long her heart would be breaking. How could she stand there, with the other guests—all of them so gay and happy—and listen to the announcement of Kane’s engagement to Magda? How could she join those who, crowding round the happy pair to congratulate them, offered sincere wishes for their future happiness.

  ‘I will not,’ she cried to herself vehemently. ‘I will not stay and witness the scene!’ She would say she was feeling off colour. Yes, that was it! Gerald would drive her home and then come back. It wouldn’t take him more than a few minutes…

  ‘May I say how very lovely you look tonight, Lena?’ The soft voice broke into her plan and she gave a small start. She looked up, her eyes shadowed so deeply that a sudden frown appeared between his eyes.

  ‘Thank you, Kane.’

  ‘Your hair suits you this way.’

  ‘Thank you, Kane.’

  ‘Did you make this dress yourself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s delightful.’