Full Tide

by Celine Conway

  By now she had reached the deck rail, just in front of Mrs. Basson, and murmured a polite “Good morning.”

  “Well, Nancy! What have you been doing with yourself?” came the immediate query. “No swim today?”

  “Perhaps ... later,” answered Nancy vaguely. “Have you seen Lee?”

  “No. When did she vanish?”

  “Quite early. She went to see the actress and didn’t come back.” With youthful inconsequence she dismissed the matter. She flipped a stubby pigtail over her shoulder and enquired seriously, “Do you think my father is wealthy?”

  “A doctor?” Mrs. Basson made no sign of being disconcerted by the sudden change of topic. “He may be comfortably off. Why—are you thinking of the pony you’re going to ask him for?”

  “No. I was wondering about Lee.” Artlessly, she tacked on, “She hasn’t much money and she has a horrid time worrying over evening clothes. I hope my father will buy her two beautiful frocks so that she’ll have a splendid time on the way home.”

  "That would be grand,” said Laura Basson, quietly watching the small, intelligent face which was half-turned to the sea. Carelessly, she put a question, “You’re fond of Lisa, aren’t you? Would you like her to marry your Daddy?”

  Nancy’s stare became fixed and startled. Then her face crumpled with merriment and she gave her rare, hearty little laugh. “Daddy’s nearly fifty! Lee would think that very funny—so would my Aunt Anthea.”

  “What about you? Do you think it funny?”

  Nancy considered, then said more gravely, “I’d like to keep Lee with me always, but I wouldn’t want her to be my stepmother. Lee is fun, and stepmothers aren’t. I’m glad,” she ended with solemn passion, “that my father hasn’t married again.”

  She shifted her weight to the other foot and took to examining the plump Dutch woman at her loom. What a lovely pattern the bright colors made, and how wonderful, at the end of the voyage, to be able to show the roll of woven material as something she had made while everyone else played or got bored. Nancy inspected the plain features of the weaver and found them expressionless except for a dimple which had a mole at its side.

  She wished Lee would hurry up because she wanted permission to go and see Snippy and Tubs. Maybe she wished extra hard this time, for Lisa did turn up, walking along the deck with her short, light stride to halt at Mrs. Basson’s side with a smile. Nancy barely allowed time for the greeting before begging, with more than necessary earnestness, to be permitted to go aft and exercise the puppies. She went off at a run, and Lisa naturally took her place at the rail.

  Mrs. Basson’s upward look held a kindly curiosity. “Have you had an upsetting morning?”

  “Upsetting? Not particularly.” Lisa’s fingers went quickly to her hot cheeks and her smile was strained. “That’s not quite true, but ... well, I can’t talk about it. You don’t mind?”

  “My dear, my only interest is in dispelling the darkness in your eyes. You’re a happy person, Lisa, so it’s noticeable when your smile tightens up.”

  She spoke of other things, wanting, while she did so, to banish the hurt which peeped elusively from Lisa’s face? She had, known for several days that something big was happening to Lisa, and at first she had slightly rejoiced. Jeremy Carne was not nearly good enough for the girl but if he lit the occasional small stars in her eyes and caused the clear, inward glow, then Laura Basson had not much against him.

  But gradually it became apparent that Jeremy kindled no fires. Lisa laughed and played with him and at the meal table they were the best of friends, but he had no power over her, nothing in him which created a need in Lisa and after all, that was the essence of love—the need which budded simultaneously in two people. Then who was the man, Mrs. Basson asked herself, well knowing that there is a certain look in a woman which can have only one cause.

  Separately, she had eliminated the other young men on board. She had watched Lisa on deck, in the pool and in the lounge, and done some slow speculating. Many times she had seen Lisa enter the dining saloon, her quick glance at the big round table and the delicate pink which had risen under her skin when Captain Kennard chanced to meet the glance and return her a nod.

  Surely Lisa had passed the stage of girlish hero-worshipping? And surely ... surely she was much too bedrock to let her feelings run so dangerously away with her. For it was certainly dangerous to let a man like Mark Kennard unleash one’s emotions. He was too self-contained, too capable, in his withdrawal and impenetrability, of inflicting imperishable scars.

  Disturbed by her own imagining, Mrs. Basson talked desultorily about the other passengers. But she was thinking what an awkward task it was to hand out unsought advice, and how unlikely it seemed that such advice would be followed. For the first time since the stark period after her husband’s death she found herself exclusively concerned with someone else. Yet, upon mature reflection, she realized there was almost nothing she could do for Lisa.

  As Jeremy Carne joined them her head lifted. What an amazing good-looking man he was, and how endearing that way of his of sliding a hand into the crook of Lisa’s arm and gently squeezing. He was fond of Lisa; no doubt about that. She could make something fine of him if she wished.

  Jeremy leaned down and said charmingly, “Mrs. Basson, may I carry off Lisa? We’ve a frightfully important discussion ahead of us.”

  “By all means. Be sweet to her, Jeremy!”

  He promised airily and drew Lisa away. Laura Basson’s thoughtful gaze went after them. She would have given a good deal to listen in, unseen, to the “frightfully important discussion.”

  Jeremy, as he led Lisa to a couple of chairs which pointed away from the sun deck and cornerwise faced the sea, was the blithe person Lisa had met that first afternoon on the Wentworth.

  “Darling, you’re tired,” he said. “Astra did that to me, too, at the beginning, but she doesn’t any more. I’ve got her measure. Are you comfy?”

  Lisa nodded and nudged back into the couple of cushions he had placed for her. She would be glad to sort out her feelings in words, she felt.

  “You might have warned me what I had to expect,” she said on a sigh.

  “I meant to before bed last night, but you disappeared.” Was it only last night—this morning, rather—that she and Mark had sat together for those fleeting minutes in the surgery, drinking tea and talking? It seemed a whole world away.

  “Never mind. I didn’t do so badly with Astra. She doesn’t shake me as she might a man.” She looked his way. “You didn’t think I’d accept her offer, did you, Jeremy?”

  “Candidly, no—not right away. But I’m hoping very much to persuade you to accept it, Lee. If you do, it will be marvellous for both of us. Don’t you see,” he said eagerly, “what wonderful times we’d have? Astra’s a worker and she’ll expect plenty of hard graft from both of us, but it will be thrilling sort of work, of a kind neither of us ever anticipated we’d be fit for.”

  “And it; would last just six months;” she reminded him. Slowly, she asked, “Didn’t you wonder why Astra should haul me in? After all, I’m not trained in secretarial duties and she must have realized I’d far rather watch a play than act in one.”

  “She wants you for the same reason she picked on me. Think how much easier it will be for her to arrive in South Africa with a primed leading man and a secretary who' knows exactly what will be expected of her. You could do that job on your head, Lee!”

  “I shan’t try. Astra will have to look elsewhere for a secretary.”

  He did not flood her with protests, as he might have done a week ago. Daily contact with Astra had lent him poise and a degree of patience, and he had been prepared for opposition. Lee, the sweet thing, was prejudiced.

  “You’re the girl who was longing for things to happen,” he jeered lightly. “Here you have an opportunity of a six months’ well-paid job in the grandest country in the world and you’re too scared to take it.”

  “Not scared,” she answered levelly
. “My feet are on the ground, that’s all. If you’d had to earn a living since you were seventeen, you’d be less impressionable, too, Jeremy.” She paused. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that by turning me into a paid help she loses your parents their strongest ally? If I join her you’re bound to.”

  “Of course I am! You make it appear that she’s full of intrigue, but she’s really only behaving sensibly.”

  “In her own interests! She thinks her money and reputation can perform miracles—that she can take a fancy to a fair, handsome young man and buy him as a foil to her own type of beauty and clever acting ... and that obstacles to his acquisition can be bought over as they crop up. Probably I’m the first obstacle she hasn’t been able to buy.”

  Jeremy leaned closer, took her wrist in his hands and stroked it. “Don’t get heated up, darling. Do you know what Astra said to me yesterday? She said you were bright and pretty and just old-fashioned enough to make a splendid wife. She accused me, very good-humoredly, of being in love with you.”

  How dense men could be, she thought with exasperation. Couldn’t he see that Astra had been preparing him for a struggle? The actress had not undervalued Lisa’s sincerity and partisanship, and she had naturally considered how best to circumvent them. By pointing out Lisa’s virtues to Jeremy she was paving the path for his persuasions and at the same time yielding him the assurance that she would never stand in the way of the friendship.

  “You’re awfully blind,” she said, “or else you simply refuse to look six months ahead. Be sane about this, Jeremy. Six months is long enough to spoil you for any other kind of living. If you had to turn to engineering the wrench would be tremendous and you’d resent it dreadfully. You might never get over the bitterness of it.”

  “You’re the heaviest of wet blankets, Lee. It’s quite on the cards that I’d be a success.”

  '“A theatrical success in South Africa doesn’t rate very high elsewhere. How could it, when the white population is so small? For regular engagements you’d have to go to England, where you’d find yourself in competition with men from the Academy and the repertory companies.” Her tone hardened. “Astra knows all this much better than I do, but she won’t put it to you. She’s not accustomed to being thwarted, so your hesitation has made her all the more determined to have you. She didn’t really intend to arrive in Johannesburg with a leading man—you happened to be on the ship, she had the whim to train you, and now she refuses to face the failure of her own plan.”

  “My darling Lisa,” he said with a hint of vexation, “your logic is like a flight of stone steps—it has nasty edges.”

  “And it leads,” she replied steadily, “to the fact that Astra Carmichael will cheerfully ruin your future so long as she gets what she wants.”

  “Sometimes,” Jeremy said with moody exasperation, “I wish I’d flown home as my people asked, instead of coming round by sea. I’d have been spared this, and I like to believe I’d have run into you somehow in Durban.”

  “It doesn’t do any harm to fight a few temptations.” Which was horribly trite, but she could not rise to anything wiser.

  “I’d sooner avoid them.” He let out a sharp breath. “Don’t seem to have got anywhere, do we?”

  Lisa opened her eyes and sat forward. “We’ve done well. I wouldn’t work for Astra for a hundred pounds a week, and you’re wishing you’d never encountered the woman. That’s not bad.”

  He gave her a sideways, half-smiling grimace. “Don’t make up your mind you’ve won, because you “haven’t. I’ve no intention of making an enemy of Astra Carmichael. Tonight we have the play-reading, and tomorrow is the last day before Cape Town. My best plan is to keep her guessing for a few days.” He smiled wholly now, with nonchalance and a trace of belligerence. “To be honest, I’m still guessing myself. I’ve a good mind to kiss you, Lisa Maxwell, just to bolster my self-respect.”

  He did kiss Lisa, leaning over to press his mouth to her cheek. Then, a trifle self-consciously, he stood up, extended a helping hand and linked his arm companionably with hers.

  They were late for lunch; so late that the saloon was half empty. Mark’s chair, Lisa noticed with a twist of the heart, was pushed under the table and a vase of flowers stood where his place was usually set. He must have had lunch brought to the big, many-windowed cabin on the bridge.

  Straight after lunch she and Nancy got down to an arithmetic test, after which Nancy was allowed to go to the children’s film show, while Lisa and Jeremy played their deck-tennis final and won.

  There was talk of a big night tomorrow, before the Wentworth docked at Cape Town the following morning. Those who possessed fancy dress were requested to wear it, and others were to put themselves out to be at their most sparkling. Apart from its being the gayest night of the trip, the sports prizes would be presented and a concert given by the passengers themselves with the aid of the ship’s orchestra. The children would have their own particular treat in the afternoon.

  Dispassionately, Lisa inspected her three frocks. The stain on the aquamarine not only refused to be sponged out; it had spread and darkened. The black, which she would be wearing this evening, was anything but festive though it suited her hair and skin. Which left only the white, and that had been worn so often with and without the ruby silk bolero that she felt she must be known by it. Oh, for the length of rainbow georgette which by now had doubtless passed into the possession of some other tourist.

  In the lounge before dinner she had a quick cocktail with Mrs. Basson. Together, they went down to the saloon, and the older woman remarked on the heightening of the atmosphere as the distance narrowed between the ship and what was, for three-quarters of the passengers, the end of the voyage.

  At the entrance to the saloon Lisa paused precipitately. Mark stood there, having a word with the obsequious chief steward.

  Her pulses raced, her nails curled tightly into her palms as he saw the two women and bowed.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Basson .... Miss Maxwell.” Conventionally polite, with the faintest of smiles for Mrs. Basson, though he seemed to look through Lisa rather than at her.

  The women parted. Jeremy materialized at Lisa’s side and escorted her to their table. Lisa sat down, her whole being cold and unquiet. What had she expected: a knowledgeable glance, a special smile? No, Mark, was too circumspect for that. But he needn’t have behaved as if she weren’t there. She had done nothing to deserve that.

  She forked at fish, tasted a mouthful of chicken and some ice cream. She listened to Jeremy’s raillery and tried hard to focus her attention, but all the while her ear strained above the music for the, small noises which would mean that Mark had finished his dinner and was leaving his table. In the end it was she and Jeremy who left first. Casually she looked towards the round table and saw Mark speaking to Astra in his pleasantest manner. Accidentally, it seemed, he raised his head and stared, deliberately unseeing, at Lisa. Then the dark head bent again and he smiled a reply to a remark from his companion. The sudden hurt of it was almost more than she could bear. A premonition of unhappiness greater than any she had ever known struck her like a whiplash, and as they mounted the staircase she stumbled.

  Jeremy caught at her arm. “Steady, there. What’s the rush?”

  “It’s nothing. Oughtn’t you to be preparing for the big moment?”

  “The play-reading?” he said easily. “I’ll manage that all right. I’ve certainly had enough practice? Let’s have coffee in the deck lounge.”

  “I don’t want any coffee, Jeremy. Will you please let me go on deck alone?”

  He was concerned. “Poor old girl, can’t I do something for you? Are the Cape rollers making you feel seedy?”

  “No! I’m not seedy. Just leave me alone.”

  “Very well, my sweet,” he said in, injured tones. “I’ll see you later.”

  She walked past him and down to the end of the port deck, with her lips compressed and her head back. What a fool she was, to read dislike and even contempt
into Mark’s expression. Not so many hours ago they had chatted together over cups of tea, while the rest of the ship slept, unknowing. They had been friends, not captain and passenger. You don’t forget that sort of shared experience so soon.

  But Mark meant her to forget it. He regretted his visit to “Hospital Row” and wished to make sure that she read nothing into their quiet half-hour together that might be worth remembering. There was no doubt at all that his treatment of her in the saloon had been coldly premeditated.

  Well, he needn’t worry! She wasn’t an unbalanced adolescent who might read impossible things into a situation which has been only unconventional. She was as capable as any other woman of disguising her sensitiveness with cool indifference. At least, she would be in a few minutes, when she had recovered from the shock. It had been a shock, she reflected soberly.

  Draggingly, for one habitually light in her movements, she went back up the deck towards the main lounge. Inside, they were moving the easy chairs to face the many people were already seated, but Mark stood with the old peer and another man at the other side of the lounge.

  A youth said, “We’ve reserved a few front seats among the poobahs, Lisa. You’d better bag one before someone else does.”

  She managed a smile, worked her way along the lounge to the first semi-circle of seats and eventually sank into a chair next to the English governess of the Indian girl.

  The governess looked up from her book and gave a brief nod, then lowered her head and went on reading. Other people took their seats but two or three to the left of Lisa remained unoccupied. Soon the lights went out, dimming the main part of the lounge but leaving the dais brilliantly illumined.

  The thin young pianist belonging to the band played a tender little piece which brought an ache to Lisa’s throat. Just as it finished she felt Mark take the seat on her left, and heard him say evenly, “You’ll be pleased to hear that the boy with a temperature is much better tonight. He was able to answer Barty’s questions and it seems the doc’s diagnosis was right. The youngster had undulant fever about three months ago and this bout is a kind of relapse. He’ll soon be on his feet again.”