Hurriedly she looked away, and for some minutes she was aware of every small incident among the dockers on the quay. Even so, it came as a surprise when, apparently without warning, the majestic Wentworth moved out in leisurely fashion and a strip of water widened between its steel side and the shore. The musicians had trailed off into Auld Lang Syne.
“Feeling weepy?” murmured her nearest companion.
Lisa supposed he had the best of intentions, and she was naturally of a friendly disposition. So she nodded. “A little, but I shall be back in less than a couple of months.”
“You English will never admit to being sentimental, but deep inside you’re as silly as the rest of us.”
“Aren’t you English?”
“Are you being complimentary? Doesn’t my bushveld accent betray me?”
“Not to me, but then I’ve never met the bush veld. I expect you’re of English extraction.”
“So I am, and English by education, too. My home is in Natal.” He narrowed the space between them to two feet. “My parents wanted me to fly back, but I needed the relaxation of a sea trip. I’ve been studying hard.”
He did not appear to be the sort to exhaust himself with learning: indeed, his air was that of a man to whom all comes easily, even book knowledge. But such people are invariably pleasant to know, and Lisa saw no reason to discourage him; after all, she wouldn’t be able to help meeting him sometimes. She peered over the rail.
“You can’t feel the least vibration. Isn’t it marvellous the way they manage these immense vessels?”
“It’s all a matter of timing by the Old Man himself. I wouldn’t be a ship’s captain for all the wealth in the world.” He flashed white teeth in a smile but his shudder was genuine. “Imagine being responsible for about a thousand lives! One’s own existence can be enough of a burden.”
This, from one so obviously carefree, brought a smile to Lisa’s red lips, and when Lisa smiled she was more than merely pretty; she lighted up.
He was rather charming, she thought, and possibly a wee bit of a rake, with those careless good looks and the easy manner; which made him the more intriguing. After the years of semi-seclusion, Lisa was more than ready to be attracted and intrigued.
It was perfectly natural to leave the rail and walk with him along the deck towards the bows, and it added to her sense of well-being to feel a guiding hand at her elbow. She had almost forgotten how extremely agreeable masculine company could be.
They talked casually, desultorily. His name was Jeremy Carne, and he was due next month to enter the Durban branch of a motor car manufacturer as technician.
“Has the ring of death, hasn’t it?” he said serenely. “But nothing is entirely unendurable when the sun shines, and it mostly does in Africa. I bet you won’t want to leave Durban.”
“Perhaps not, but I’m not the kind to hanker for what I can’t have. I’m determined to see all I can while I have the chance.”
“All alone?”
“Probably.”
“Not career-crazy, are you?”
“No.” Her glance at him was curious. “Why?”
“Career girls frighten me; you have too many of them in England. I’d like to be around when you’re seeing the sights. If you can still tolerate me after three weeks on the boat I’ll show you some fun.”
“And I’ll be duly impressed. It’s a bargain.”
A spirit of happiness had entered into Lisa. Southampton was already far behind, and over to the left lay the gentle green shore of the Isle of Wight with the familiar Needles white against the turgid sea. Last summer she and Nancy had spent a fortnight on the island, playing on the beach and in the waves, wandering through churches and scraping sand from Alum Rock into little test tubes. Next time she saw the Needles she would be a more grand personage, a woman who had travelled to the Cape.
“You’re disconcerting,” said Jeremy. “At this moment you’re not with me at all, and I can’t say I care for being so completely left in the cold.”
“I’m up among the clouds and they all have rosy linings.” She gave a brief laugh and tucked a floating tendril behind her ear. “Don’t you love the feel of the sea?”
“Not the way you seem to. Do you like dogs?”
“Who doesn’t? At Richmond we had a lazy old Airedale who was like a benign grandfather about the house.”
“I’ve a couple of puppy bull mastiffs.”
“In Natal?”
“No, here on the ship. I got them for my mother. I’ll take you along to see them in the morning. They’ll slobber all over you.”
The wind was chill, the sky still ail uncompromising grey. Lisa turned up the collar of her coat, and automatically they strolled round to the lounge entrance.
“I must go to the cabin,” she said, “and prepare Nancy for the shock of having to take supper at six with the bairns.”
Jeremy cast her his confidential smile. “Will you come back to the lounge?”
She shook her head. “I intend resolutely to set about unpacking the trunk.”
“So I shan’t see you till dinner?”
“That’s right,” she said lightly. “Can you bear it?”
“I’m not sure. I feel as if I’ve known you for ever. I hope I shall.”
“How sweet,” she said demurely, recognizing flattery but quite willing to hear it. “Goodbye for the present Mr. Carne.”
“Jeremy,” he amended softly. “So long, Lisa.”
Lisa was humming as she reached the cabin deck and took the wrong turning, and she smiled at the steward who put her right as if losing her way on the ship were, the best sort of joke.
Nancy was sitting on the floor of the cabin, the inevitable book open on her knees. Lisa could see by the pictures that she had picked on an old favorite, the story of a ballerina, so for several minutes she concentrated on hanging away frocks and suits. Then she bent and tickled Nancy’s neck.
“You’ll have to wash and change your frock. Supper is at six.”
“Mmmm?” Nancy tore her gaze from the printed word. “Isn’t that horribly early?”
“Not horribly. You see, the staff have to work through till half-past eight or nine; they’d be even later if the children didn’t start away at six.”
Nancy went quiet for a moment, her fingers curling over the edge of the book. “Children?” she echoed finally. “Do you mean I’m supposed to eat with all the other children on the boat?”
“That’s the arrangement. The chief steward told me.”
“Every meal?”
“So he said.” Without looking at the child, Lisa spread a clean frock of Nancy’s over the lower bunk and looked out a pair of socks. “It’s better than having to eat with the grown-ups, and I’ll go down with you the first time or two.”
There was a long silence while Nancy sat utterly still and Lisa, battling with the desire to soften the knowledge that if she did she was lost, stood staring from the port-hole at the heaving ocean.
Lisa at last said matter-of-factly, “No one will take the least notice of you, and if you feel unfriendly you can ignore the whole lot. Just eat your food and get out.”
The use of the word “unfriendly” was a strategic move on Lisa’s part. From experience she knew that while Nancy was not averse to being called “shy,” anything which reflected upon her candid personality was not to be endured. However, Nancy was also conversant with Lisa’s tactics.
“It isn’t unfriendly if you don’t talk to others till you’ve seen them a few times, if I have to go to supper with them I shan’t say a word to anyone.”
“That’s a wise decision. By the time you do wish to say a word it will probably be a kind one, and you’ll be glad you waited.”
Nancy threw her a look of exasperation. “You always turn things to make me feel a cad. I still won’t say a word at supper!”
Lisa grinned to herself. “Fine. You’ll be able to listen all the better. You can wash now.”
To her surprise, Nancy,
when she was ready, elected to seek her supper unaccompanied. But Lisa insisted on going with her as far as the saloon door, and as she turned back to the cabin she quelled a thrust of anxiety. Children of ten were normally self-reliant, and Nancy was exceptionally level-headed in most directions. Over the past three years she had shed many inhibitions, and now she could hold her own with those of her own age and younger.
The bustle of preparing for the trip had also had its effect, but the biggest and best reason for the swift improvement in the child’s outlook was the overwhelming certainty that her father wanted her. Unwittingly, Nancy was expanding with pride in the glorious reality that Daddy—her Daddy—wanted her in Durban to live with him. She loved Lisa with a confiding ardor, but Lee didn’t belong, as Daddy did.
Lisa determinedly put Nancy from her mind for half an hour. Earlier she had learned from the stewardess that tonight evening dress was optional, but from tomorrow onwards it would be essential. Her heart had plunged at this latter information, for she possessed only two evening gowns, and visualized an endless vista of alternate evenings in white and aquamarine. What she could do about it was obscure at the moment, but tonight, at any rate, she could wear the black frock with a nipped-in waist and three-quarter sleeves. Dinner, she believed, was something of an affair on board ship.
She bathed and came back to dress, to find Nancy curled in the top bunk with her book. Neither mentioned the supper, but Nancy did emerge twenty minutes later to observe, “I asked a steward if he knew of Mr. Kennard and he nearly strangled with laughter and said there was no Mr. Kennard on the ship.”
“That’s a blessing,” said Lisa absently, as she pressed the silver-pale curls into a becoming halo. “Are you sleepy?”
“Not yet. Can I have my bath in the morning?”
“If you like. Be very careful when you get down, to put on your pyjamas. I’ll come back as soon as dinner is over.”
She braced herself and went from the cabin. Others were wandering along the corridors and pausing in a sort of railed-in balcony to stare down at the brilliant picture of the dining saloon. Lisa paused there, too, and saw the white napery, the cutlery and glassware, and a sprinkling of well-dressed men and women already being served. Some of the tables bore baskets of jonquils and hothouse flowers which had been sent to passengers to wish them Godspeed. She knew a pang of envy, yet she would not have changed places with any other woman.
She felt a faint pressure behind her shoulder and heard Jeremy Carne say, “Hello, there. I’ve been hoping you’d show up soon. Is one permitted to comment upon your exceeding loveliness? You’re perfect!”
Her grey eyes shone round at him. He wore a lounge suit and the wheaten hair was slickly subdued without looking oily. His eyes, as she was now aware, were a sherry brown, and they added to his attractiveness; as if an addition were necessary! She was so pleased she had already made his acquaintance, not because he was handsome and admiring but because he was a man, and being escorted by him would help her over the stage fright. Gladly she took the arm he offered.
Seemingly, Jeremy had already had dealings with the chief steward, for they were at once led to a table for two which half sheltered behind one of the massive white pillars. Flowers adorned the table, a profusion of pastel-tinted sweet peas which, Jeremy said, were not nearly good enough but were the only blossoms left in the ship’s emporium.
An excitement ran in Lisa’s veins. Just faintly she could feel the swaying of the ship, and from the orchestra, across the saloon in their palm-enclosed dais, came the strains of Simple Aveu. Chatter and laughter, the clinking of cutlery and glass, the appetizing smells of food, the fragrance of the flowers, the taste of a good French wine and the undeniably interested glance of the airy Jeremy were a heady combination to a girl accustomed to the drab monotony of the Veness household.
As Jeremy touched his glass to hers, Lisa’s eyes were diamond-bright. The finely-tucked pink georgette which made a tiny foam at the neckline of the black frock quivered about her creamy throat. Her lips were sweetly curved and smiling.
“You really are wonderful,” Jeremy said. “I wouldn’t swop you for any other woman on the boat—not even for one of the elegant ladies at the Captain’s table.”
“Where is it—the Captain’s table?”
He gestured to the right and slightly behind her. “Not far away. Didn’t it hit you in the eye as we came in? It’s the only round table in the place and has more space about it and more flowers to the square inch than any other. One of those sitting at it is a lord, and another a famous actress.”
Unwilling to miss a single item, Lisa turned just enough to glimpse one or two glitteringly-gowned figures at the important table. She had intended her look to be a fleeting one and impersonal, but then she hadn’t expected to meet a pair of cool blue eyes.
Shock rendered her nerveless. There was no mistaking, those wide, uniformed shoulders, the thick dark hair, the firm mouth which, even smiling, was formidable.
The head inclined as if he were politely acknowledging her presence aboard his domain, and the mouth drew in, mockingly, as though he had spoken across the dozen or so feet between them. Lisa knew he was taunting her with having so soon succumbed to a “shipboard Romeo.”
She turned back, said quite evenly, “He’s young for a captain.”
Jeremy nodded. "But I’ll bet he’s as tough as the older ones and even more impregnable. I’d desert rather than serve under him!”
Somehow, the scintillating scene had lost some of its lustre for Lisa. Captain Kennard. Yes, the title suited him. One could imagine the seamen and ship’s officers straightening up at the mere mention of his name. Respect tinctured with fear.
She took up her glass and sipped. The soup arrived, a marvellous cream of chicken, and it was followed by delicious sole, tender meats and a selection of vegetables and sweets. By the end of the meal Lisa was still trying to convince herself that there was nothing remarkable about Mark Kennard being the master of the Wentworth.
It was just what the arrogant creature would turn out to be!
CHAPTER TWO
The second day, the Wentworth ploughed through heavy weather. The waves were mountainous, washing over the lower decks and sending spray well up and over the promenade deck. Cups and glasses slid to the floor, chairs slithered about the saloon and passengers were warned to keep away from the companion-ways and not even to walk in the alleys unless it was necessary.
Mrs. Herst, the plump, middle-aged stewardess, poked her blatantly red head into Lisa’s cabin and wanted to know how they were getting along.
“Not queasy, dear? How’s the child?”
“We’re not sick,” Nancy announced with dignity. “My Aunt Anthea gave us special tablets. We’ve only a dozen because they’re rare, but we’ll spare you one if you like.”
The woman chuckled. “Bless you. I’ve done this trip more times than I can remember, and in leaky old tubs, too—not floating palaces like the Wentworth. My other women passengers are just giving up without a struggle. They’ll keep me busy, I can tell you.”
“Can I help?” offered Lisa. “I’ve worked in a hospital.”
“Have you, now! Not a nurse, I’ll bet.”
“No, but I’m not afraid of sickness. I was in the offices and on the rota of spare-time nursing assistants, I’ve had Y.A.D. training and I’ve got Nancy through several childish ailments. Do give me a call if you need help.”
“Thanks, Miss Maxwell. I noticed how good you were at boat-drill this morning. It’s not many passengers who can get into a life jacket so quickly and without fuss.” When she had gone Lisa, her chair firmly wedged between the lower bunk and the dressing chest, tried to read. Nancy, in her top bunk, managed admirably, and half an hour passed in comparative quiet. Then the steward brought a cup of tea.
“This is one of those alleys you have nightmares about when you’re on shore leave,” he said cheerfully. “Mrs. Herst has seven women ready to sign their wills, and one of them is
Astra Carmichael. Ever heard of her, miss?”
Who hadn’t heard of Astra Carmichael! The sparkling actress-producer who had made her name all over again in Vale of Tears. Lisa remembered that the play had closed a few nights ago, after a two-year run.
“Is she holiday-making?”
“Only during the trip—that’s why she’s travelling by sea. It said in the paper that she has six months’ contract in South Africa. At the moment she’s sure she’ll never see land again.”
“What a pity.”
Lisa thought of the tiny yellow tablets which Anthea. had insisted were only for her own and Nancy’s use. She wished she dared take one to each of the women who were laid out, but Anthea had always made a point of preventing sickness in Nancy, and with her wide medical experience she knew more about the child’s constitution than Lisa. However, as Nancy had said, they could spare just one and Lisa felt that that one should go to the actress who had worked tirelessly to entertain the public and must now be suffering from a degree of strain as well as the wretched sea-sickness.
“Which cabin is Miss Carmichael’s?” she asked.
“The end one. It’s as big as a stateroom and has a private bath. There are only four like it on the ship. Not thinking of paying her a social call, are you, miss? She’s one of the awkward kind.”
“If she’s awkward with me I’ll back out,” said Lisa. “I’ll take the plunge, anyway.”
With the minute phial of precious tablets enclosed in her palm she went out and along the corridor, conscious that the steward watched her lurching progress with detached interest. She knocked smartly at the polished teak door, caught a feeble moan which might have indicated an invitation to enter or a request to stay out and pulled down the handle.
Lisa had seen pictures of Miss Carmichael and had formed an impression of intellectual good looks allied with a wonderful vitality. Had she searched now for the vivid personality lauded by public and critics she would have been disappointed. But Lisa was a normal, considerate soul, and she was willing to believe that even famous actresses are homely off the stage.
Full Tide Page 2