by Anne Hampson
'In love with her sister! Mother, are you serious?'
'Well, you're plainly interested in the girl, despite her disability.'
'It's owing to her disability that I am interested ..' Sara, guilt creeping in to do battle with her curiosity, began to move away. But the temptation was too great and she was once again giving way to her curiosity. '… my opinion that Irma… getting a raw deal from her sister.'
A raw deal! Sara's whole frame quivered with anger. To be condemned like this when she had made such sacrifices for Irma. It was true, of course, that Carl had felt contempt for Sara owing to her being in love with Ray, but it had never occurred to her that he could be blind to all that she was doing for her sister. Hot tears stung Sara's eyes as she walked away, towards the exotic flower border to which she had been proceeding when, on hearing her name, she had stopped. The sheer injustice of Carl's remark was something she could scarcely believe, and the more she thought about it the more she began to disbelieve the evidence of her own ears. And yet the words had been plain enough.
The border was reached, but its beauty no longer interested her; the tears were blinding her anyway, tears of self-pity and anger and several other emotions as well. For it could not be denied that the idea of Carl's having so low an opinion of her was so painful that, subconsciously, she was groping for the reason why this should be.
What was Mrs van der Linden's opinion of her? Sara knew without any doubt at all that she had made a good impression there. Perhaps she would argue with Carl, telling him that Sara was not like that at all. Would he take notice? Sara knew him well enough to be sure that, once he had fixed an opinion, it would take a great deal to sway him from it.
Sara's thoughts flitted about; she recalled her feelings when Ray had told her of Carl's offer, an offer made, Carl had later told Sara, in order that it would make several people happy. He had wanted Irma and Ray to be together, with Sara out of the way. Sara recalled also her own feelings with regard to Carl. They had changed, no use denying that… no use trying to convince herself that she was as indifferent to him now as she had been during those first few weeks she had been at the farm. But if he was affecting her emotionally what of her love for Ray?
It was all too much for her; she had come here in order to shed her problems and her unhappiness, had come to find peace of mind, just for a little while. Taking out a handkerchief, she dried her eyes and cheeks, determinedly giving her attention to the flowers. She could never forget those words she had just heard, but she could put them out of her mind for the present… or could she? How was she to act towards Carl? A deep sigh escaped her. Could she assume a friendliness in her relationship with him? Unless she wanted to upset his mother she must do just that.
'I shall be courteous and that's all,' she whispered, putting away her handkerchief and hoping that she had effectively removed all evidence of her tears. 'But, one day, I shall be free to tell him exactly what I think about him—and the conclusions he so cleverly comes to!'
He was with her a few minutes later, asking if she were ready. Never had she known so much difficulty in keeping her voice steady as she answered, 'Yes, of course.'
'Have you been waiting, dear?' Carl's mother was faintly apologetic. 'We were having a little talk over in the arbour. You should have called; we'd have heard you,' she added with a smile.
'I know—because I heard you!' returned Sara, but silently. Aloud she said, 'There was no hurry. I've been enjoying this beautiful garden.' She flicked a hand to indicate the dazzling border, the hibiscus bushes at the back, and the lovely palms towering above. 'It's so well established that it seems it must have been here before the house.' She spoke conversationally, not even glancing at Carl. 'Was it here before the house?'
'Yes, it was,' answered Carl's mother. 'The whole of the grounds were here before the house. Originally, there was a small homestead built of mud-bricks; it had a flat tin roof and four squat rooms with whitewashed walls. Down at the bottom of the garden was a windmill over the bore. From what, I can gather the owner ran the place as a small farm of sorts.'
'How interesting! That must have been a fairly long time ago, though?'
'It was many years before I myself came here. There would have been a lot more ground, too. Probably all these houses were built on the grounds of the original farmlands.'
'But you happened to get the One which had been put on the actual site, and so got the lovely gardens.'
'The gardens weren't like this then, but the foundations had been laid, in the form of all the established trees and shrubs.'
While this interchange had been taking place Carl stood, saying nothing, but watching Sara intently. His mother, noticing his fixed expression, said with a curious inflection in her voice,
'What are you thinking about, Carl?'
He shrugged and returned mildly,
'I was merely listening to your interesting conversation, Mother.'
'Sara's so appreciative of everything around her—but you must have noticed, of course.'
'Yes, I have noticed.'
'Mr van der Linden's gardens are incredibly beautiful, too,' said Sara. 'I've never seen any gardens to come up to them.' She was speaking into a silence that had settled after Carl's words, saying the first thing that came into her head.
'Sara will keep on referring to you as Mr van der Linden,' frowned his mother. 'Tell her, Carl, that she must use your Christian name.'
He glanced down into Sara's face, saw the colour rising in her cheeks and seemed to be amused by her obvious discomfiture.
'Yes, you must try to use it, Sara. As you will have learned already, we all use Christian names here. I shall use yours from now on.'
He had already used it… and Sara was freely admitting that she found a certain attractiveness in the way it rolled off his tongue.
'I don't know…' she began. 'It'll be difficult.'
'Nonsense, child,' laughed Carl's mother. 'Well, off you go! Enjoy yourself and don't hurry back; I've several letters to write after I've had my rest, so you've n0 need to be anxious that I'll be lonely.' With that she turned and walked away, her tall stately figure most impressive as she crossed the velvet lawn before becoming lost to view as she entered the shrubbery on the far side. Carl looked at Sara, and prevented an awkward moment by saying, in his calm and confident manner,
'My things are already in the car, so we can be off right away.'
She nodded distantly and fell into step beside him as he strode to where the long white car was parked in the drive. He opened the door for her, closing it when she had got in. They were soon on their way, the car's engine purring smoothly under the influence of Carl's foot on the accelerator. Massive oak trees towered on either side, their branches meeting over the road, providing a welcome shade from the fierce rays of the early afternoon sun. Presently they reached a region of open country, and then a sprawling suburb cleverly laid out with winding roads bordered by tasteful villas surrounded by a wealth of trees and flowering shrubs, and commanding a panoramic view of the cerulean sea down below. It was a restful, idyllic scene and in spite of the lingering elements of indignation and anger Sara felt relaxed both in mind and body and the problems of Irma and Ray and Sara's own unrequited love seemed to have become indistinct, and even unimportant. Not that Irma's plight was unimportant, but the emotional side of it all had suddenly become less tormenting in that Sara found she could actually thrust it all away and give her mind to the pleasant atmosphere which surrounded her.
Carl was driving at a leisurely pace and this added to her sense of peace. She had always derived an exceeding amount of pleasure from trees, and as she stared ahead she felt that nothing could be more charming than the long avenues of oaks, or the picture of the horizon glimpsed through the waving tops of the eucalypts. Quaint Dutch houses raised their heads above the scattered groves of wattles that had been planted to fix the soil on sandy flats, while to the east a low range of hills formed an undulation of green velvet caressed by the s
un's rays. Sara spoke impulsively, saying what was in her mind and forgetting, for the moment, the antagonism she felt towards the man at her side.
'It has a sort of Hobbema flavour, hasn't it?'
He turned, slanting her a glance of surprise.
'Strange you should say that. I've always thought so myself.'
'You have?'
Carl nodded.
'The wooded aspect, the pastoral scene———— ' He flung out a hand to indicate the thickets with the low hills beyond. 'Hobbema's water-mill is all that's missing.'
'Yes; he often did include a water-mill in his paintings, didn't he?'
'That's right.' Carl looked around, as if taking in the scene again. 'I didn't know you were interested in the Dutch painters,' he commented at length.
'I'm not, but I've seen exhibitions, like most people. I was particularly struck by Hobbema—I expect it was the sheer lack of anything dramatic. Peace and tranquillity seemed to float out at you.' Sara slanted him a deprecating glance. 'Perhaps you have other impressions of his work?'
'No, as a matter of fact, I haven't.' The trace of a smile softened the hard outline of his mouth for a moment. 'Apparently we have at least one thing in common,' he said.
'Apparently.' Sara's tone was expressionless. 'We appear to have the same ideas regarding this particular man's work.'
For a long moment Carl said nothing. Then he murmured, an unfathomable inflection in his voice,
'You interest me in the way you use the words peace and tranquillity. Are you finding peace and tranquillity here?'
'Here, with your mother, yes.' The car was descending all the while, coming from the plateau down to the shore. A beautiful bay and a semi-circle of turquoise sea dappled with sunlight met her gaze as the car turned on to a long straight road.
'You're happy about your decision to come, then?'
'I couldn't be otherwise with your mother as my hostess.' She supposed words like these would please him, though she had no wish that he should show it. 'I've been made most welcome, just as you told me I would be.'
'Mother's thoroughly enjoying your company; she's said she intends to invite you to come again.'
Sara said nothing; she was staring ahead at the scene which was new, Carl having driven to the beach by a totally different route from that used by Joshua. To her left rose a rock prominence, with low mountains stretching away from it, and on the horizon a ship moved gently against the clear azure sky. Palms swayed here and there, lofty silhouettes of grace and charm.
At last the car was driven right on to the sands, and parked beneath a trellised cover which had been erected specially for the convenience of those who came to the beach in their cars. The bathing huts were close by and Sara went off to change, an assortment of emotions stirring within her. It was a long time since she had had the exclusive company of a man in a purely recreational atmosphere. In fact, since her meeting with Ray she had never wanted to make friends with anyone of the opposite sex. Ray had won her heart and she had been in that particular state of mind where the possibility of falling in love with anyone else was so remote that she had seen no profit even in cultivating a friendship.
Now, however, she experienced a degree of pleasure at the prospect of spending an afternoon on the beach with Carl, this in spite of those words which she had so recently heard him utter. It was illogical, she supposed; she ought by rights to be wishing him miles away… but she wasn't.
She came from the hut, clad in her swimsuit and swinging a gaily-coloured towel in her hand. Her wrap was draped casually over her shoulders; it was very short and afforded no cover at all at the front. She saw Carl's eyes darken with interest, felt her heart give an excited little thud.
'I see you've managed to get a tan already,' he observed. 'Mother did mention that you and she had done some sunbathing.'
They went into the sea and Carl left her, swimming strongly towards the far end of the bay where rocks rose sheer from the narrow shore to the plateau above. The sea was calm, a misty turquoise blue with golden channels meandering through it and little white rolls of foam caressing the sandy beach. The sky was sapphire, clear and bright, with here and there the vaguest hint of a feathery wisp of cloud coming in on the seawind and melting away in the soft warm air. Sara, content to take things more easily than Carl, lay floating on the water, her gaze dreamily fixed on the cliffs, her mind marvelling that she had thrown off those hurtful words as if she had never even heard them, and now she was fully relaxed, revelling in the atmosphere of peace that washed over her.
When eventually she and Carl were on the beach she was still in that relaxed state, and so enveloped in it that she could not have felt any animosity against Carl even had she tried.
He asked her why she had not swum out, farther from the shore.
'Are you afraid?' he added, eyeing her curiously.
'No, but I felt like taking life easy.'
A small silence and then, 'Are you really enjoying this break, Sara?' He seemed faintly anxious, she thought. Anxious for her? That hardly went along with those words he had uttered about her.
'I'm very contented, yes,' she answered, bringing her knees up under her chin and hugging them with her arms.
He lay back then, exposing his body to the sun. Sara stole a glance at him, appreciating as always the perfection of his features, the long lean frame, sinewed and bronzed. She found herself comparing him with Ray, and knew a little access of vexation that Carl should be so superior in every conceivable way. True, Ray was exceptionally handsome, but there was not the strength of character in the lines of his lace which she saw in Carl's. Ray's eyes were big, and long-lashed, yet they did not possess the frankness that seemed always to characterise Carl's expression, be he staring with that look of lazy boredom or showing a keen interest in what was being said or done. Ray's body, too, was unfavourably compared with Carl's as Sara reluctantly admitted that he carried some excess weight, whereas Carl carried none at all. Suddenly Carl spoke, causing Sara to jerk at the question,
'What the devil are you scowling for?' and he raised himself at the same time, to regard her with a frowning expression in his amber eyes. 'Whatever your thoughts, they're far from pleasant.'
She coloured, glancing away, unable to find an immediate answer. Eventually, though, she managed to laugh lightly and tell him that her thoughts were her own.
'I feel it's time we were getting back,' she added. 'We seem to have been out for hours.'
'Changing the subject, eh? Yes, we have been out for hours—three. Mother stressed that there was no hurry, but if you're bored with my company we'll move.' The voice was crisp; the eyes had hardened a little. Sara felt her spirits sinking.
'Of course I'm not bored with your company,' she denied. 'I don't know why you should say such a thing.' Her voice was low, her lovely eyes limpid as they looked into his.
A tense moment ensued, with Carl's gaze seeming to be both critical and thoughtful. Sara, her eyes fixed on his face, waited for him to speak, aware that she was hoping his touch of ill-humour had gone.
'Are you sure you want to go back?' he queried at last, and she instantly shook her head, because his voice had lost that crispness, and because those amber eyes were no longer tinged with hardness.
'Not really,' she answered. 'It's so very pleasant here.'
'Contrary wench,' was Carl's surprising response. 'What is it that makes the female mind so perverse?'
She had to laugh.
'Are you trying to analyse me?' she asked, a quiver on her lips.
'So Mother's been busy, eh?' Carl's own mouth twitched with amusement. 'I did warn you. I expect she's read your character and you've never noticed her subtle cleverness.'
'I did, as a matter of fact,' returned Sara with honesty. 'But I couldn't do anything about it. I'd already answered her questions before I remembered to be careful.' 'So you intended to be careful?'
'After your telling me she'd analyse me I naturally resolved to be careful.'
'I wonder what she learned about you. I must ask her.'
'I feel that she has formed a rather more favourable impression of me than you have,' she returned, faintly surprised that she had been bold enough to utter words such as those.
Carl's straight dark brows lifted a fraction.
'How do you know what kind of impression I've formed of you?' he demanded abruptly.
She almost wished it were possible to tell him that his words to his mother had been overheard, and that she knew full well what kind of impression he had formed of her. But she refrained, naturally. In any case, she had no desire to spoil this most pleasant interlude, to destroy the contentment she was enjoying for the first time since coming out to Africa.
'Perhaps,' she said, contriving a smile, 'I've sensed that your opinion of me isn't very high.'
An awkward moment followed; Sara wondered if she had embarrassed him. But his manner remained cool as he said, 'And perhaps, Sara, your senses lead to the wrong conclusions.'
She looked at him, startled.
'You're telling me that I'm wrong in believing that your opinion of me is low?' He would be lying were he to say yes, she was wrong in believing his opinion of her was low.
'My opinion of you,' he replied with studied deliberation, 'is exceedingly high.'
'High?' She stared blankly at him, as well she might, with his words about her giving Irma a raw deal ringing in her ears. 'I don't believe you, Mr van der Linden !'
'You——— !' It was Carl's turn to be startled. 'Well, that's forthright enough! So I'm a liar, am I?' He seemed angry but was suppressing his feelings admirably. Sara suspected that no one had ever called him a liar in his life before.