The Reluctant Guest

by Rosalind Brett

  “Maybe you were even brought up to think correctly. But now that you’re becoming really adult, I don’t believe that refined girlhood of yours is going to help you much. Would you like to see where I live when I’m alone?” Without waiting for her reply, he bowed her out of the dining room and into a corridor that was as wide as a room and led down to a long window which looked out over the back garden. Halfway down the corridor he pushed a door wide, switched on lights and stood aside for her to enter. Ann found herself in an apartment which might have been in another house, so different from the rest was its atmosphere.

  The carpet was mid-grey and patterned with leaves in a lighter grey and veined with yellow. The chairs were modern; two black, two mid-blue and one scarlet which had a footstool to match. The walls were pale grey, adorned with a couple of pen-and-ink sketches of amusing café scenes, and in the recess beside the modern stone fireplace a fitted cocktail bar was revealed by the twist of a knob. In the other recess were loaded bookshelves. Through an archway another, smaller room was visible. It contained modern dining room furniture in startling colors; the floor was bare, gleaming parquet.

  “Quite breathtaking,” Ann commented. “Why did you furnish it like this, and then leave it?”

  “I’ve only just furnished it,” he said “I ordered the stuff in Johannesburg and it arrived the day before yesterday. I’d already had a man in to make a few alterations to the room and install the cocktail fitment.”

  “Then ... you’ll be spending quite a lot of time here. It’s official?”

  “That’s right,” he said offhandedly. “This was called the morning room because it faces east, and the dining nook over there was a sort of flower room; my mother used to nurse her cuttings in there. It leads out on to a side stoep which catches the sun all morning. I decided that though I have pride and feeling for the age and contents of the house, I couldn’t live that way. It’s good to entertain in the old manner sometimes, but I’ve become accustomed to having only two or three friends at a time, in a modern flat. So I combined the two ways of living. I think it will work.”

  “Yes, I should say it will,” said Ann stiffly.

  He bent to a table and opened a box. “Cigarette?”

  “Thank you.”

  When he had lit both cigarettes he said, “You might have looked a little happier when Theo asked you to marry him.”

  Ann had been anticipating something of this sort from the moment they had walked on to the terrace, but she was still unprepared with an answer. She looked away from him.

  “I’m never too good at dealing with the unexpected.”

  “I’ve noticed it. But was it unexpected? You’ve been under the same roof with Theo for more than a week now. He wouldn’t propose without—” a chilly pause—“without making a little love to you first, surely? And you’d have had to show a little warmth in return. After all, a proposal in public...” He stopped pointedly.

  Ann looked for an ashtray, saw him slide a leaf-shaped bowl across the table towards her, and used it. “It’s ... our business, isn’t it?”

  Storr didn’t dispute this, but she was aware of him standing there, just a little more steely than was normal.

  He said, “Elva tells me you’re playing rather hard to get—in a sweet, companionable way. She thinks you’re in love with Theo but won’t admit it till he’s sure of a job elsewhere, preferably in Cape Town.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I’m not sure, but if it’s true, it explains a few things! Theo’s taken a dislike to Groenkop; it’s strangely sudden. He asked me whether I knew of anyone who would finance him in a new venture; he contemplates starting up as a travel agent in a big town.”

  “He hasn’t said anything to me about it—only that he’d like to fly again.” Ann blew smoke once more and pressed out her cigarette in the bowl. “I’d rather discuss something else, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure you would.” His smile a little tight, he too disposed of a scarcely-smoked cigarette. “Do you hear from your people?”

  “Yes. I’ve had only one letter so far because they’re on a ship; I haven’t heard anything at all since Durban. They must be going up the East African coast now.”

  “Your mother all right?”

  “It seems so, thank you.”

  “What about you—would you say you’re having a good holiday?”

  “On the whole, yes.”

  “Where’s the snag—as if I didn’t know?”

  “You’re so clever, Mr. Peterson. I never need answer your personal questions because you know more about me than I know myself.”

  “In one direction, I think I do. Somehow Theo hasn’t quite come up to expectations, has he?”

  “I like him as he is.”

  “But he’s not in love with you—anyway, not in the flowers and music and moonlight sense, as you hoped. Though I doubt if your conception of love really exists. Men are either evasive of the condition or they let themselves in for it good and strong. Only the feeble would be satisfied with what you’re willing to give.”

  Ann lifted her head. “You’re being insulting. I suppose I’ve offended you.”

  “If you’d step out of that apple-blossom skin for a moment, you’d see that I’m right. You can’t turn a man like Theo into a nine-to-five husband.”

  “I wouldn’t attempt it. Isn’t it time we went back to the others?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t quite finished.” He walked across to the striped curtains, pulled one of them aside and looked out for a second before turning with his back to the window. “I had a letter I wasn’t expecting from Johannesburg. It’s altered my plans; I have to go up there for two or three days. I thought of doing you a favor—taking Theo with me. As you know, we’re both pilots.”

  Ann felt her heart beat hard with a suffocating thud up near her throat “You mean ... you’d let him fly the plane?”

  “It’s what you were after, isn’t it?” he asked coolly.

  It was, but not like that. “He hasn’t flown for three years,” she said, her tones desperate. “Oughtn’t he to practise, or whatever it is, first?”

  “He’ll manage Skipalong Two easily enough,” he answered negligently. “I’ll be there, anyway. Aren’t you grateful?”

  Ann didn’t know what she was. Her own coolness had gone and she was a quivering creature striving hard to look unconcerned. She was thinking of the letter that had called Storr to Johannesburg, the large round feminine writing; and of Theo and Storr up in the sky in that small plane, Theo at the controls. And on top of that came the bleakness of Groenkop, with Storr gone, if only for three or four days.

  “Does Theo know?” she asked.

  “Not yet.” His glance was tinged with the smiling malice she was coming to recognize very quickly. “I thought I’d get your reaction first. It’s interesting.”

  She drew in her lower lip, let it go again. “Don’t take Theo,” she said. “Please don’t take him.”

  The smile went cold and taut “So now we know. It was a good way of finding out, wasn’t it? Let’s join the rest.” Without another word he went to the door, opened it and stood well back while she passed out into the corridor.

  If Ann hadn’t become numbed, the rest of that evening would have been unbearable. She talked with people without remembering what she had said, danced with Neville Braithwaite and one or two others, drank a nightcap of some sort and said goodnight to various guests as they drove away. Then she was out in the night, walking at one side of young Braithwaite while Elva walked at his other side. Theo had stayed behind for some reason. No, for a reason that Ann knew very well.

  She said goodnight in the cottage living room and went along to her bedroom. She felt sick and terrified, undressed while she listened hard for Theo’s return. But Theo didn’t return; through the rest of the nightmarish dark hours Ann was too wide awake to have missed his coming.

  Dawn broke, and with it came the usual confusion of sounds from Aaron in
the kitchen, and other sounds which Ann could not identify. She got up and went to her window, saw the morning mist with the sheen of sunshine over it, the bush flowers heavy with dew. Her head ached, her throat felt as if nothing would ever pass through it again. She heard a faint humming above the mist, strained to catch a glimpse of a dark speck against the sky. There was nothing; possibly she had even imagined the noise.

  She washed and dressed, looked at her heavy-eyed reflection and wondered why this should be happening to Ann Calvert, who had always led a blameless if rather tame existence under the parental roof. She thought, suddenly, that this was her chance to escape; she could take the train to Cape Town, install herself in the hotel at Newlands where no one would ever look for her.

  She went along to the living room, picked up a glass of orange juice from the table and took it out to the veranda. She viewed the soft melancholy of the morning, saw it parted by blatant sunbeams and was conscious of an unidentifiable but exquisite perfume. All her nerves seemed to touch surface, so that even her fingers on the glass had a sore, sensitive feeling. She drank, and there was a tenderness in her mouth, too.

  Then a man came whistling through the orchard, and when he was close enough she saw it was Neville Braithwaite. His young face looked serene, his hands were dug into his pockets and he walked as if the air itself were lifting him and pushing him on.

  “Hi,” he shouted, from at least fifty yards away, and then kicked a stone about a mile to demonstrate the soaring state of his spirits.

  “Good morning,” she said, when he reached her. “Have you been left behind?”

  “Did you know?” he said with chagrin. “I thought I’d surprise you. The boss left me here to keep an eye on you and Elva.”

  “Yes? Has he ... been gone long?”

  “I drove them up to the field and saw them off. Just arrived back. How will I do as a guardian?”

  She summoned a faint smile. “We’ll stand it. Theo didn’t come back all night.”

  Neville Braithwaite shrugged. “That was Storr’s idea. He thought you two women might worry if you knew he was off in the plane early this morning. Actually, you’ve no need to worry at all. Old Theo is a natural in a plane.” Just as Elva was a natural on a horse, thought Ann hollowly. She felt tired, but relieved that she was not to be entirely alone with Theo’s sister.

  “Had breakfast?” she asked.

  “A sketchy one, with Storr and Theo—I got up later than they did and had to hurry. I could go some toast and coffee if you’ve any to spare.”

  “Come right in. It’s what I’m going to have myself.”

  They had finished the toast and were drinking second cups of coffee when Elva came through from her room, dressed in the riding breeches and a shirt. She lifted a brow at Neville, shouted through to Aaron for porridge and eggs.

  “Thought you’d be getting ready to fly away,” she commented, as the young man seated her. “Phew, what a night it was! I haven’t been to that sort of party since Storr was here more than eight months ago. I’m late.”

  “The land will wait—that’s one thing you can be sure of with land,” Neville said. “I came over to tell you that Theo has gone with Storr to Jo’burg. I’m staying till they get back.”

  “The deuce you are!” Obviously the information was not entirely agreeable to Elva. She poured some coffee clumsily. “What’s the idea?”

  “Seems Storr had to go, and he thought Theo would like to go too. Nothing more to it.”

  “What’s so important up there in Johannesburg?”

  “Some woman, I suppose.”

  She sat up, rigidly, fixed him with a sword-like stare. “What woman?”

  “Hey now,” he said, genuinely alarmed. “I didn’t mean anything. It’s just as likely to be something to do with the organization. I was joking.”

  “Then don’t joke!”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked apprehensively at Ann, added casually, “Well I’ve delivered my message. Like to come out for a walk Ann?”

  It was the most sensible thing to do. She stood up without too much haste and wandered out with him. They lingered in the garden, not speaking, while Ann looked over the newly-dug flower bed and at the heap of weeds the land-boy had already collected from the lawn. Then they strolled down into the orchard.

  At last Neville asked, “Did I say something I shouldn’t?”

  “It did seem that way, didn’t it?”

  “Is Elva sweet on Storr? I can’t believe it.”

  “In a way,” she said, “it would be better if he stayed up north.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “It’s the only answer you’ll get, I’m afraid.”

  He shook his head, thought for a minute or two and shrugged. “I give up. Did you expect a message from Theo?”

  “Was there one?”

  “No. He said you’d understand.”

  “I think I do.”

  They were almost through the orchard when he said, “Storr told me that he’d promised his cousin he’d go over there before returning to Johannesburg. Actually, he’s coming back, but he said you and I could go over and explain that this absence is only temporary. And I have to get his foreman to help Elva, if she needs it.”

  “He remembers everything, doesn’t he?”

  “That’s the sort of chap he is. A bit wearing for most of us, but he never expects anything of us that he wouldn’t do himself.”

  They came within sight of the big house, and Ann slowed She asked offhandedly, “Don’t you really have any idea why Storr had to go up to Johannesburg this morning?”

  “None at all. I came down to save him the trip. I think Chloe De Vries must have sparked off something in that letter.”

  She had angled for the name, yet when it came she winced slightly. She bent and picked up an acacia pod, ran thumb and finger over the hard surface and dropped it, as she asked, without expression,

  “What sort of person is she—Miss De Vries?”

  “Bright and curvy, a good dresser, tons of pluck, and expensive.”

  “That’s descriptive, if rather brief. Do you like her?”

  “I might, if I could get near her. She moves among the magnates—knows her way about. She learned to fly to please Storr.”

  Ann nodded, as if she were unsurprised, said evenly. “My holiday is seeping away, and I don’t have much to show for it. I’m thinking of leaving tomorrow.”

  He stopped dead, his boyish face concerned. “Look here, I can’t let you go. Storr said you might suggest it and that I was to stop you. I’m not the big he-man at this sort of thing—I can only tell you you can’t go.” Then he smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the best time I can while Theo’s away. If all goes well—and it’s bound to—he’ll be in rip-roaring spirits when he gets back, and the rest of your holiday will be marvellous.”

  She gave him the smile he wanted. “I don’t know what it is about Groenkop, but I never get my own way in this place. Shall we go over to see the Wenham’s today?”

  “Sure. I’ll see the foreman and bring the car over to pick you up. Unless you’d like to stick with me?”

  “No, I think I’d better talk to Elva. See you in about an hour?”

  They parted, and Ann walked back through the orchard to the cottage. Elva had finished her breakfast and was smoking a cigarette while she leafed through some papers at one of the shelves of the renovated bookcase. She glanced across at Ann.

  “I’m glad you didn’t bring that young idiot back with you. What did he say about this flight of Theo’s?”

  “Only what he told you.” To ward off a question about her own knowledge of the flight, Ann said quickly, “Theo wanted a chance to fly again. He has it.”

  “He’s bound to fumble.”

  “You said that as if you hope so. Storr is up there with him!”

  “They’ll get through, because of Storr, but Theo may make a mess of it, just the same. Why should he want to fly again? He has this idea of startin
g a travel agency, and if he chose Cape Town you could live near your precious parents. You’ve no reason to want him to fly!”

  Talking to Elva was often like communing with a robot. She had fixed notions and plans, a fanatical disregard for human needs and foibles, even those of her brother. About Ann, apparently, she had no ideas at all; she saw her only as a convenient appendage of Theo’s.

  Ann went to the table and began piling the plates. “Do you mind if I go with Neville Braithwaite to the Wenhams’ farm? He has to give them a message from Storr?”

  Oddly, Elva smiled. “Not a bit. Stay there for lunch, if you like. I’ll take some out with me so that I don’t have to bother about getting back around one. With Theo’s stint to do, I’ll be busy.”

  Ann didn’t mention the Groenkop foreman; Elva could deal with him when he arrived. She watched that bewildering smile on the other girl’s lips, wondered if she knew about the modern apartment in the big house, and tried to decide just how much Elva would benefit if Theo did transfer himself to Cape Town.

  Elva went out, lithely, like a young man. A few minutes later the roan galloped away down the lane. She’d gone without her lunch. Ann found Aaron, told him to make some sandwiches and packet them; if the missus didn’t turn up to elevenses he was to go out and find her.

  She walked about the house, feeling bereft and lonely. Yet already she, was reconciled to staying here, using up the month as close to Storr as she could get. It was ridiculous, painful and foolhardy, but she could please herself, couldn’t she? It was her holiday. Thank heaven, though, that she was normally coolheaded. When she did get away from this place she could become the suave and distant young woman who handled small children in the saddle, soothed anxious parents and typed out accounts. She had to.

  Ann made her bed and Elva’s, dropped soiled clothing into the linen basket and changed her slacks for a skirt. By that time Neville Braithwaite was outside, pressing the klaxon.

  The few hours with the Wenhams were busier than when Ann had visited them with Storr. The children were there, of course, and they appropriated Neville and wanted to know if the new plane was faster than the old one, whether he had ever dropped by parachute and what he could do if he suddenly found while flying that he had no petrol. Neville answered facetiously, and they giggled and pounded him.