The Pool of Pink Lilies

by Joyce Dingwell

  `There's no sign of any recurrence, nor will there be, I think, but she is below par.'

  `But that is Holly,' pointed out Greer.

  `Who says so?' he asked almost abruptly. 'Her doctor in Sydney? Tell me about him.'

  `Doctor Jenner was kind and considerate and—'

  `And an old friend of the family's,' he finished, 'emphasis on old.'

  `Doctor Holliday—'

  `Call me Terry, please, Greer.'

  `Terry, I don't understand you.'

  `Perhaps I don't understand myself at this juncture, and believe me I have all the pride in the world for our Doctor Jenners, but time has not merely marched on this last decade, it has flown. Men have been on the moon, and—'

  `And?'

  `We'll see.' He smiled at her. 'The question is — will you let me see?'

  `See what?'

  `See your sister Holly through this breakdown. Will you leave her here?'

  `I had rather gathered,' Greer said dryly, 'that that had been arranged.'

  `Vasco? Yes, he's a great one at arrangements. But it would be no good unless you were here as well. I've only spoken briefly with my patient, but she is devoted to you.'

  `I love her dearly,' Greer admitted.

  Another silence. Another marauding bird.

  `How can I stop?' Greer broke the silence helplessly. `How can Holly? We have no money.'

  `Her case interests me. A doctor asks interest before reward.'

  `Very well, then, that eliminates Holly, bit what about me? I can't stop here just for her company, I have to do something.'

  `What did you come to do?'

  `I don't know,' she admitted wretchedly. 'All I was told was a "kind of post". I suppose that sounds silly to you — a girl to bring her sister with her to India on a promise like that. But Holly was so set on India. She lived it, breathed it. And when Doctor Jenner said—'

  `Yes, Greer, what did he say?'

  `That I might as well bring her. Why not? After all—' Greer's voice cracked.

  When she looked up at Terry Holliday he was in a world of his own, his lips were pursed thoughtfully, his eyes stared at the marauding birds, but she knew he did not see them. He said an odd thing, she considered, for the subject they were discussing.

  He said as he had said before: 'Handle With Care.' `Doctor? I mean Terry?'

  He came back to the garden again. To her. 'Look, for several weeks at least she must remain here,' he appealed, `There is nowhere else in Bombay for her to go. There are hospitals, yes, and fine ones, but there are more patients than can be accepted unhappily, and when it comes to the nursing homes that you are accustomed to in Australia—' He shrugged. For the girl's sake you must give me two weeks, Greer.'

  `I can't,' wretchedly. 'You see when we went out to the flat my Uncle Randall has . . . had . . . he – he wasn't there. His new wife only spoke to us briefly, but I knew at once that— No, Terry, the only thing left is for us to return to Sydney at once, while we still have the fare.'

  `That I forbid,' he said sternly. 'I may have no control over you, Greer, but over Holly in her present state, yes.'

  `You're not her doctor,' Greer reminded him gently. She liked this young man.

  `I am now. Your sister was fully conscious and fully aware before I came out to talk to you. She has put herself entirely in my care. And after all, though she looks a child she is—'

  `Over twenty-one.' Again Greer said it. She was thoughtful a moment. It was true, she knew, that Holly as a woman had every right to say what she would do, but –but—

  `Can I see her?' she asked.

  `Briefly only. At this stage all I want for her is complete – complete – rest. Then after you see her I believe the Senhor has some words to say to you. Greer—'

  `Yes?' She looked up at him.

  `For your sister's sake, agree.'

  `Agree?'

  `Come and see the patient.' He had got up and was leaning over to help her. A silent servant approached and took up the tray. Greer followed Terry Holliday into the house.

  The Indian nurse had Holly comfortable against cushions, and as Greer came in she silently disappeared. Looking around, Greer saw that Doctor Holliday had not followed her to his patient. The two girls were alone.

  At once, as always with Holly, the tears welled up. 'Oh, Greer, I'm so sorry.'

  `Darling, don't be foolish, you couldn't help it, it was entirely my fault taking you out.'

  `But I wanted to come,' wailed Holly, 'I wanted to get out of that place. Oh, Greer, don't say we have to go back again!'

  `Darling, you couldn't be moved even if you wished it. Doctor's orders, Holly.'

  `Doctor Terry.' For a moment Holly was quiet. Her eyes smiled at something. Greer had a fair idea that that something was someone; after all, the doctor was an exceedingly handsome young man. But she couldn't help wondering how Vasco Martinez would consider this. Not very favourably, she thought shrewdly, even though the doctor was a very close friend. Already Vasco Martinez had shown by action and word his gentleness to Holly. Greer remembered reading once how the young fair English type of beauty appealed very much to the Portuguese, and Holly was very fair. Also, to a strong man fragility is irresistible, and Vasco Martinez was an extremely virile type.

  She looked down at Holly, at the pale soft hair, the blue eyes, and knew a moment of envy. I should have been born a fair frail lady, she regretted, instead of nutbrown and healthy, and then I could have had strings to my bow, too. But the moment was brief. She was happy for her sister. Only ... a slight frown ... it could be

  difficult if both men continued the same way as they had obviously begun. Vasco Martinez would never be one to stand down.

  `You like the doctor, Holly?'

  `He's wonderful. I felt I could talk to him at once. I mean, Greer, Doctor Jenner was kind, but Terry . . . well . . . Greer, I told him things I didn't even know were in my mind.'

  An interest in psychology: Greer remembered Terry Holliday telling her this of himself. 'It is entwined so inevitably with health,' he had said.

  `Terry wanted to know what I did with myself at home all day. I mean before the illness.' Holly was looking unwaveringly up at her sister. 'I had to tell him nothing. You know, I really have been a spoiled baggage, Greer.'

  `Honey, you weren't fit enough to work.'

  `Yes, but . . .' Holly's voice trailed off.

  Presently she spoke again. It was in a serious tone.

  `Greer, I feel if I stop here as Doctor Holliday wants me to that I can come out of all this. This – this wretchedness, I mean.'

  `But, darling—' Now it was Greer's voice that trailed off. She did not want Holly to lose hope, that was the last thing she wanted, but was it fair to let her build up so extravagantly when Doctor Jenner had said 'Let her go . . . Why not? . . . After all . .

  Even though the old doctor might not have meant what Greer had suspected he could mean, the bitter disappointment when Holly did not 'come out of all this', as she had just expressed, could do more harm than good.

  `I – I feel awakened,' Holly was saying. 'Let me stop awake, Greer. I can only feel it if you remain near me. I depend on you. I always have.'

  `Watch-girl,' smiled Greer. 'Darling, I can't promise you until I speak with Mr. Martinez.'

  `Senhor Martinez.'

  `Yes. But I promise you whatever it is he has to say,

  even if I don't care about it, I won't let you down. And now, even though you say you feel awakened, I want you to go to sleep. Doctor Holliday says you must have complete rest. Will you try, Holly?'

  `I believe I'm slipping off now,' Holly murmured drowsily. 'Thank you, Greer.'

  Greer sat a while beside her. It was not very long before her sister slept. She got quietly up and tiptoed to the door. At the door she passed the Indian nurse who smiled shyly at her. Outside the door Senhor Martinez waited.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ONCE more the cool firm fingertips were under Greer's elbow. This tim
e she was guided along a hall, up another lordly flight of stairs, then down a second passage. At the end of the passage Senhor Martinez bowed her into a room.

  Obviously from its walls of books it was a library, but also from the desk, a study or office. Greer thought she had never seen quite so substantial or rich an office in her five years of secretaryship. The desk itself was mammoth, she felt inadequate seated at the opposite side to the large swivel chair. But, she noticed, it did not diminish in any way the stature or undoubted importance of Senhor Martinez.

  He sat back at his leisure, taking out another cheroot and clipping the end. He lit it. A spicy aroma weaved around Greer. He raised his brows, apparently, if a little tardily, asking her approval, and she nodded back. All this time he still regarded her.

  At length he said, 'You have seen your sister?'

  `Yes.'

  `And before that you spoke with the doctor?'

  `Yes.'

  `Then what have you to say?'

  This Greer thought, was going rather too quickly. She said so.

  'On the contrary, I am making rather unnecessary preliminary conversation. Rather I should have said at once which room would you prefer, one near your sister, or one, as the doctor advises, on another floor?'

  `The doctor advises—' she echoed, puzzled.

  `Terry has a theory,' Vasco Martinez shrugged. 'But it is still theory, senhorita, and you are quite free to choose.'

  `I have not yet said I'm staying here,' Greer reminded him coldly.

  `No,' he agreed, 'but your sister is stopping, it is now a medical order.' As she did not comment he asked, Did you tell her just now you were leaving her?'

  `No. I mean ..

  `What do you mean, Senhorita Greer?'

  `Because of her indisposition I assured her I would not let her down, not, anyway, until—'

  `I see,' he cut her short. 'But you did not mean what you said?'

  `Of course I meant it. And of course I will remain while she is like she is now, but ... A pause. Then, and wretchedly, 'But I can't remain too long, senhor, and I can only pay you a small amount. You see when we came—'

  His face had darkened perceptibly when she had spoke of payment, but as she started to explain 'when we came' he evidently put aside his anger and instead leaned forward to insert a question.

  `Ah, yes,' he said. 'When you came. Tell me about that. Tell me why you came.'

  `I think I am entitled to an explanation, too,' she put in. 'Why did you meet us this morning at the ship? You did not know us; we did not know you.'

  `That is true.' Another weave of smoke. 'But we both knew – Randall Perry.'

  `Uncle Randall,' Greer barely whispered. Her face took on a pinched look. She felt she knew the story now, that old, old story, the story always attached to her mother's brother. Uncle Randall had defrauded this man and by some means the Portuguese had learned of their arrival and had hoped to—

  'Oh, no.' His voice came in swiftly and intuitively as it always ... and infuriatingly that fact impressed itself on Greer ... came in. 'I would scarcely have brought with me a small boy if my intention had been that, Senhorita Greer.'

  This time she did not pretend not to follow his reading

  of her and she said, 'Then why did you come?'

  `I had been to see Mrs. Perry, your uncle's wife. She told me of her husband's absence, then, also, of your approaching arrival.'

  `Then you only did a courtesy?' she probed.

  `I would like to say so,' he admitted honestly, 'but no, it was not entirely that.'

  `Then?'

  `Now you have me at a disadvantage.' He smiled suddenly and she was a little disconcerted at the singular sweetness of his smile, all the stern formality seemed to fall away. For I didn't come only for a courtesy and I admit it. On the other hand I did not come as undoubtedly you have been thinking, and that is for possible salvage. Is salvage the word?'

  `Yes.' She flinched, but she still managed to ask sensitively, 'Was it much? Uncle Randall's debt, I mean?'

  `It was enough.' But he shrugged as though it no longer mattered a great deal. 'As a Portuguese business man I was displeased, senhorita, but never so displeased that I would seek out two young girls.' He sat if possible even straighter in his chair.

  `Yet actually that's still in question, isn't it?' parried Greer. For you still haven't said why you came to the Fairadventure for us.'

  There was a silence, it was quite a long silence. Then the Portuguese said rather impulsively, if this formal man could be impulsive, 'Do you believe in—' He paused.

  `Yes?' she asked.

  `Fate. Destiny. Something at your elbow guiding you?'

  Greer certainly believed in the last. Hadn't those cool firm fingertips guided her today? She also believed in the first. She had seen the sudden feeling in this man as he had looked at Holly. Yet she had also, uneasily, seen another face, the doctor's face. She bit her lip, then hoped that the little movement went unnoticed.

  He was waiting for her to answer. When she didn't, he

  shrugged and went on.

  `I thought I would go down and see the young ladies. Yes' . . . at a direct look from her . . . 'there Was a suspicion that they could be similar people. If another wrong to someone else could be avoided, I thought, I would see to that prevention. But when I saw for myself I realized how absurd it was, how impossible. I hoped nothing showed in my greeting of you and your sister.'

  `Neither in you nor in Chandra. You still haven't explained that.'

  `Do childish pranks ever need explaining? The boys were playing Maharajahs . . . didn't you ever play Kings or Queens? Chandra was the princeling at the time, so when he persuaded me to join in, I agreed, but only with the stipulation that it was to be Subhas's turn next. Tell me, did he make a convincing young mogul?'

  `Very convincing.' She had to laugh.

  `So convincing you would say he could be one?' There was something intentional in his voice that Greer could not understand.

  `What do you mean, Mr. Martinez?' she asked.

  `I go too quickly. That is to come afterwards. Let us first finish with you. Why did you come here, please? To India? Bombay?'

  `On my uncle's invitation. He offered a' – she paused –'a kind of post.'

  `You did not know your uncle?'

  `Oh, yes, I knew him.' She knew her voice was grim. `And yet you came to such a man for a "kind of post" ?'

  `It was Holly. He spoke with her first. He enchanted her with his Indian talk. I knew it wasn't right, but –but— Oh, that's all I can explain.'

  To her surprise, for she had expected criticism, he said quite gently, 'I understand, child. You came thinking it would please her, then when you arrived at the flat— Tell me now about that.'

  `Arlene ... Uncle's wife . . . was abrupt and inhos-

  pitable. She was going out. She stood at the door of the room and advised us not to settle. When she left I simply turned and took Holly out – foolish, I know, she should have rested, but—'

  `Don't distress yourself.' Again assurance instead of criticism. Greer felt she could not follow this man. But then, of course, the gentleness would be because of Holly. `It was one of those destined things,' continued the Senhor quite seriously, 'just as it was destined that I go down to the ship, destined that I take the car later down that lane.'

  She looked at him curiously. 'You said just now you were a business man, yet you speak of destiny. Also, aren't Portuguese noted for their formality, their conventional outlook? How does a pagan thing like destiny creep in?'

  `I am Portuguese, yes, but I have lived a number of my years in India, and India, as you will soon see, senhorita, is entirely different. You could go out of my gate now, but little more than a few yards, when a sand-diviner will stop you, or a reader of the palm, or a person who looks into the eyes and tells. Perhaps I do not believe all this, nor credit destiny, but I can tell you this, if India bewilders, it also enchants, it casts a spell. You are never only your own c
ountry, never entirely, any more.'

  `All right,' Greer spoke with crispness that was an effort, but already the languorous warmth, the spicy unreality that was India was creeping into her, making her feel less her own country, too. 'We admit Fate.'

  He gave her a sharp look, evidently suspecting a sarcasm, but he left it at that.

  `You have explained, I have explained,' said Greer. `But it doesn't explain now. For instance, how long Holly will be? How I can stop while she takes that long?

  Because,' he put in before she could go on, 'you have no money. It is that you are going to say, isn't it? Now will you listen, please.'

  She listened, then looked at him incredulously.

  `Attend two small boys? But I'm neither nurse nor teacher. I was a typist, Mr. Martinez, I liked to say secretary, but actually all I can do—'

  He was holding up his hand for silence, and she complied.

  `Already there is an Indian nurse, an Australian tutor. No, you are not required for either of these things.'

  `Then I can hardly credit it would be for companionship,' she said.

  `No,' he agreed. 'But you have not mentioned what you have already told me you are. I mean' . . . impatiently ... `as well as that typist.'

  `What do you mean, senhor?'

  `The watch-girl. Senhorita Greer, I wish you to watch for me. Well, not for me perhaps but for the grandparents.'

  `Of one of the boys?' She recalled the conversation by the pool.

  `You know?'

  `I know nothing. I don't understand.'

  `It is simple... and very sad.' He exhaled a moment. Then he told her.

  `Terry Holliday, British as you can see, Yaqub Gupta, Indian, and I attended classes in England together. I was senior to them, but we were still very close friends. A trinity, you might say. Right?' As she nodded he went on, `Yaqub Gupta was the father of one of those small boys.'

  'Was...' She remembered this man earlier replying to her wish to see the child's father that, sadly, it was impossible. She waited now.

  `Yaqub married early, as is the way in India. Lalil, his very beautiful young wife, in time gave birth to a son.' `Chandra? gubhas?'