“It was me, honey.” His tones had taken an edge. ‘There’s no pleasing you, is there? You want it all to happen your way. You’d have liked him to come back and tell you all about it, to take you down to Cape Town and give you a rip-roaring week before he took over his duties. Too bad he was anxious to get cracking.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong. I couldn’t wish anything better for Theo. I just can’t believe he’d walk out on his sister like that.”
“I’ll see that Elva doesn’t need anything,” he said abruptly. “He knows that. In any case, she’s one of those women who can take admirable care of themselves.”
So Theo had told Storr nothing about his sister—nothing at all. Was it possible that he had felt there was still a chance of the marriage? Ann’s brain refused to go into the matter.
She said, “I’m really very pleased about Theo. Did he ... send any message?”
“Message?” His demeanour was sharp and unpleasant “He did give me a hurried note for Elva, but he asked me to explain to you and to tell you he’d write more fully. He wants you to stay on with Elva as long as you can.”
“She doesn’t need me.”
“Maybe not, but it would be a nice gesture, wouldn’t it? After all, she’s done her best for you.”
Ann slipped him a fleeting glance. It was what he believed; she could see that. Elva might be masculine in some ways, but she definitely knew how to juggle with words and facts to her own advantage.
“I’ll talk it over with her later,” she said. “Excuse me?”
“Why not?” he said in hard tones. “We aren’t getting anywhere.”
She hesitated a moment, realized that within the last minute or so he had become inflexible as a steel wall, and lifted her shoulders. Without speaking, she went out and down to the path, walked past his car and along to the pasture. She called the chestnut and saddled him, mounted and turned the horse down the lane and across the veld.
Ann never did remember the details of that morning very clearly. She thought about Theo, was delighted for him and hoped he was happy. She wondered how he would live and whether he would ever again make a home for his sister. Somehow she thought not; he had got away and he was hoping, desperately, that Storr would be the answer to the problem of Elva. Unless...
But Ann’s thought were too jumbled for sane reflection. She could only go on riding and gradually realize that there was nothing she could do. This was the end, and the sooner she left Belati the better.
She was out that morning for about three hours. As she made her way back to the Borlands’ house everything looked the same: somnolent and green close to the dwelling, and brown where the orchard was losing its leaves and the mealie stalks stood drying in the white sunshine. She unsaddled the chestnut and sent him into the pasture, walked slowly up the path to the house and into the living room, which was empty. She went through to the kitchen to find Aaron.
The African answered her questions with his usual wooden composure. The big master had stayed some time and then gone away in the car.
“I think he go to town, missus.”
“What about Miss Borland?”
He opened the old blue refuse bin and pointed to the fragments of a bowl which lay in the bottom. “The missus throw that at me. It hit the door.”
“Good heavens! Why did she do that?”
He shrugged. “She was mad with something—not me. When she gone I go to the other house. That stable-boy tell me the missus take the big master’s new horse and gallop away.”
Elva was worked up again, probably over Theo’s decision to remain in Johannesburg. Ann went into her own bedroom, got out her large suitcase and began to pack it. But even as she laid her belongings in the case she was nagged with worry about Elva. So much so that she could not remain there in that room, complacently packing to leave the place. Not that she felt complacent!
She went out into the garden, was half inclined to walk over to the big house to see if either Storr or Elva had returned. But Storr might be there alone by now, and Ann couldn’t risk that; she felt she never wanted to be alone with him again.
And then suddenly, to her relief, she heard pounding hoofs, and within a minute Elva came in sight on the big dark horse she had been watching and exercising for Storr during his absence. Elva slid to the ground and threw the rein over the panting horse’s neck. Her stare at Ann was insolent and surprisingly cool; she showed no sign of ill-temper at all.
“I suppose you’re packing?” she said.
“Yes, I did begin it, but I became a bit nervy. I was anxious about you.”
“How very sweet. There’s no need for anxiety, I assure you. I can handle any horse in the district.”
“Yes, I know. I ... I wasn’t really thinking about the horse—only about you.” Ann saw the strange little veil come down over Elva’s mid-blue eyes, and she felt her own mouth go dry. “There’s nothing to be angry about, Elva. Theo is getting what he wants—don’t you realize that? He’s been longing to fly again, and he’s lucky enough to have a second chance.”
“Theo?” The boldly handsome face looked genuinely blank for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Oh, Theo—I wasn’t thinking of him. He’s run out on us, hasn’t he? A great chap, my brother. It seems he doesn’t want to marry you or to have anything more to do with his sister. You’ve got your mother and father, though, haven’t you? You can hurry back to them and be safe.”
“Won’t you go up north to Theo?”
“No, I won’t. I’m not a beggar.” Her mouth was tight, as if control of it were difficult. “He’s finished with me—said so himself.”
“He said that—in a message?”
“In a letter,” she bit out “Like to read it?”
A ball of paper was thrust into Ann’s hand, but she shook her head. “It wasn’t meant for me—I don’t want to read it Elva, please be reasonable and think how good this is for Theo. It’s what he’s been needing for a long time—”
“Oh, of course!” said Elva, with such a fury of bitterness in her eyes that Ann shrank a little. “You’re the cause of all this—do you know that? If you hadn’t come here Theo would have been content to go on as we were. He wouldn’t have dared to ask Storr for another chance in a plane—but you asked Storr for it; the letter says so. You’re the reason I have no brother ... you, the gentle, trusting little thing from England!”
“You’re being foolish, Elva. If you care for Theo you’ll be glad he has this chance to get back into a job where he was happy. He’ll never let you be lonely...”
“That’s all you know. You should read what he advises in that letter. He says I ought to marry Piet Mulder!” She threw back her head and gave a cracked laugh. “That was all he could suggest! He wrote things that shattered every hope I’ve ever had and finished by tamely stating that I could marry Piet. I just wish he’d been here, saying it to me—but he wouldn’t have had the courage. A letter is so easy!”
“What do you mean—shattered every hope?”
“Oh, come,” said Elva tautly. “You spoke with Storr and cleared out straight after it. You had your disappointment, too, didn’t you?”
By now, Ann was almost as strung up as Elva, but she did realize the importance of keeping as level-headed as possible. She indicated the white line of foam round the neck of the horse. “Isn’t it bad for him to stand here while he’s sweating? Shouldn’t he be rubbed down?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to do it.”
“But you should. There’s no stable-boy about, and you got the horse into this condition. The poor thing could take a bad chill.”
“If you’re so concerned for Storr’s possessions, rub him down yourself.”
“You know I can’t handle him—but I’ll help you.”
For a moment Elva looked as if she would walk away and leave Ann to make her own decision. Then, apparently, she changed her mind. She reached for the rein, made a sound to the horse and a sign to Ann, and walked the animal ov
er to the wooden stable in which Theo’s grey spent his nights; the stable was empty now. Inside, Ann took the saddle and hung it up, reached down a blanket and threw it over the horse’s back. Elva did nothing. She leaned against the door-frame, an uncanny expression in her eyes, and watched the restive movements of the horse’s hoofs.
“If you won’t read that letter," she said, “I’ll tell you what’s in it. Theo wrote it quickly, just as Storr was leaving, but he remembered to put in the most important points. He said that Storr is going to marry someone named Chloe De Vries—and that he thought you knew about it.” Her tongue stole out to moisten her lips. “That’s way you don’t mind leaving, isn’t it?”
“Elva, please don’t argue about it in here. Let’s get the horse settled and go indoors. I’ll make some tea ...”
‘Tea!” Again the hoarse laughter, and now the fanatical look came into Elva’s expression. “This is my third bid for some kind of happiness—do you know that? Third time lucky, I told myself; I’d have a husband, plenty of cash and time to travel. It was worth waiting for—but I’m too late. Someone else got in first I’m finished, haven’t another chance, and yet I did everything I could think of, except tell Storr that I loved him. I didn’t tell him because ... well, because I don’t love him. I wanted to marry him, but to love Piet. Piet is the only person in the whole world who’s ever loved me for myself.”
“You can still have Piet, Elva. I’m sure he’d make you feel happy and wanted.”
Elva shook her head, and with the movement the heavy coil of wheat-colored hair came tumbling down. She looked wild and strange. The horse whinnied and blew through his nostrils, lifted his head jerkily. Ann picked up an old towel and began to wipe his coat, but she was trembling so much that she hardly knew what she was doing. There was an acrid steam in the dark stable that made her feel sick, but somehow she went on moving, so that she would not have to look at Elva.
“I think the horse will be all right if we shut him in to cool off,” she said thinly. “Aaron can let Mr. Peterson know we have him here.”
But Elva didn’t move from her position near the narrow doorway. “So it’s Mr. Peterson now. We have to be well-bred at all costs, don’t we? You’ve never learned to tell your secrets, so that when you’re disappointed no one but yourself need know. You shed a few graceful tears in your bedroom and then it’s all over. Well, I’m not like that. When I want something I go after it with all I have, and if I don’t get it, I act, drastically!”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Ann said quickly. “If you’d been in love with Storr I’d be sorry for you. As it is, you’ve lost nothing at all.”
“You and your milk-and-water philosophy! You make me sick. If you hadn’t come here...”
“No one wishes I’d stayed away more than I do myself! I came at your invitation, and I stayed on because you and Theo wanted it.”
“You promised to help me, but instead, you found out things and kept them to yourself. You knew I hadn’t a chance, but you sat back and laughed!”
“No,” said Ann wearily. “I heard gossip, that’s all. In any case, what had you to offer Storr? You admit you’re not in love with him.”
“It’s not your business. But the way you’ve behaved is mine. You’ve driven my brother away from me...”
“I don’t believe that! Theo has proved that he regards you as his responsibility.”
“Responsibility! I belong to myself.” She stopped, and pushed a hand over her face and round her neck under the sheaf of hair. Her mouth was queerly pulled to one side. “Nothing ever comes right for me. I want and choose my moment, but I’m wrong every time. And I’m not like you. I’ve no parents I can run to, no home I can hide in till I’m healed and ready to start a new chase.” She lifted her head as if its weight were insupportable. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come here. I’m sure of it.”
“Nothing could stop Storr marrying the girl he’s chosen!”
“If we’d known about it earlier...” Her voice tailed off. Ann shivered. She saw Elva’s hand move once more to the nape of her neck, and she remembered that other time, when Elva had confessed to getting a pain there every time she became worked up.
“Let’s go into the house, Elva. Please,” she whispered. “We can rest and talk sensibly there. Do let’s go.”
Elva closed her eyes for a few seconds, opened them with an effort. She smiled a ghastly smile. “You’re not going into the house again—ever. And you won’t look quite so pretty next time those parents of yours see you. You’ve stolen everything from me—remember that.”
Her tones slurred. She reached for a small sjambok which hung on the wall and brought the thong smartly across the horse’s forelegs. The beast reared in that confined space and she leapt back into the open air. The next second she had slammed both halves of the door and Ann was alone with the plunging horse.
Ann’s first reaction was one of utter panic and immobility. By the light that filtered through cracks in the wood she could see the horse snorting and turning, trying to find her in the darkness. She pressed back against the wall, and dazedly decided to edge round it towards the door—till she remembered that the lock was a Yale, and she was here till someone let her out ... or till the horse, in its swift fury against the whip, beat her to death. For he was kicking madly with his hind hoofs, battering at the one brick wall which divided the stable from the shed.
She shrank towards a corner, but found it packed with straw. The horse’s head swerved and the great shining eyes saw her. He reared again, to a terrifying height, and let out an eerie war cry. Ann was trembling throughout the whole of her body; she could stand no more.
Blindly, she dived past those pawing hoofs and flung herself under the manger with her face to the wall. She felt a blow behind her right shoulder, another on her left forearm, was aware of pain rushing out in waves, and knew that it she didn’t grip something her senses would leave her. She found the strut supporting the manger and curled an arm about it. At length the horse quietened. Ann slipped down full-length on the floor and lay very still.
CHAPTER EIGHT
STORR had lunched at the hotel in town that day. He had discussed the fencing and planting of his new acreage and promised to take on a couple of redundant land-boys from the man who had sold it to him. At about two-thirty he had left his companions and driven back to Groenkop. As he came into the house he was met by his houseboy, a Xhosa who had a good command of English.
“Master, Aaron came from the small house,” he said. “He say no one eat lunch there.”
Storr was sorting through some mail he had brought from town. “Well, maybe neither missus was hungry,” he commented. “There’s a bundle of magazines for Miss Borland; you may take them over, if you like.”
“But no missus is there, master.”
“You mean they’re out—both of them?”
“Aaron say he not know—they did not come for lunch, that is all. Only one horse is gone—the grey one. Aaron say the young missus come home and speak to him, but she disappear”—a snap of the fingers—“like that.”
“How could she disappear? She’s probably in the garden.”
The boy said, a little apprehensively, “Master’s new horse also is not here. The older missus take him after the master had left this morning.”
Storr’s expression sharpened. “My horse? If you’ve heard something tell me at once! What’s happened?”
“Not know, master, but Aaron say there was big row with older missus this morning; she throw things at him. He thinks also that the master’s new horse is there in the stable, now. It kicks, he says.”
Storr pocketed the letters, slipped out of the house and into the estate car. In three minutes he was at the cottage, shouting for Aaron from the living room. The boy came at a hurried scuffle.
Storr waved a hand towards the table set for two. “No sign of missus?” he demanded.
Aaron was not accustomed to dealing with Storr. He shook
his head, bewildered. “They not come for lunch, baas. Young missus was here, then she go.”
“Haven’t you seen Miss Borland at all?”
“No baas, but I heard a horse gallop down the lane, away from the house. Think maybe there is a horse in the stable—locked in.”
Storr strode along the corridor, looked into the bedrooms until he saw Ann’s case, half filled, on the floor. Then he swung about.
“Find the stable key!” he barked, and loped out of the house.
At the stable he listened. The horse was in there, moving uneasily, but there was no other sound. He looked about him quickly; the horse could wait.
He saw footmarks in the dust; a small shoe, he thought smaller than Elva’s. But it was possible that Ann came often to the stables, and there had been no rain to wash out tracks. Aaron panted up, his dark face glistening.
“No key, baas. The stable is never locked.”
“Never? Are you sure of that?”
“Quite sure, baas. Always Mr. Borland puts on the little hook to stop the locking of the door because he has no key.”
“Who would have locked it today?”
“The wind?” asked Aaron hopefully.
“There isn’t any.” Storr put his ear to the door, called, “Anyone in there?”
No reply of any kind. Damn the horse. He turned towards the garden, and would have started to run had his eye not been attracted by a tiny white shirt-button that lay close to the foot of the stable door. No one but Ann wore shirts with that smooth kind of button, and it hadn’t lain there long; it wasn’t even dusty.
Storr’s face had lost color. “The door’s heavy,” he said a little thickly. “Help me break a hole in the wall.”
It didn’t take long because, like most things belonging to the cottage, the stable had been allowed to decay. Storr smashed through one panel with his shoulder, and the rest was easy. He peered into the dimness, saw the mettlesome horse trampling a blanket and beyond him, close to the wall...
He wrenched the planks aside, shouted to Aaron that he must make the hole as big as he could, and himself crawled through into the stable. Without even looking at the horse he slipped round towards the still figure which lay in a peculiarly bent position under the manger. He moved her, and his jaw went rigid. The left arm was bruised and scored, the right shoulder of the white blouse had a three-inch circle of blood. Her face was parchment-pale, but a pulse fluttered in her throat.
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