by Hilary Wilde
"Fun . . ." echoed Alison, her voice scornful.
"Well, Alison . . ." Hugh asked, stepping into the silence and leaning forward to offer Alison a cigarette.
Alison's mouth tightened. "I have never thought about it. Happiness comes from yourself. I have always been happy . . ."
Kit rose. "Like another drink, Alison?" he drawled. "You don't know what you are talking about—" His voice was faintly scornful. "You are the unhappiest woman I know."
Alison's face was suddenly very white. Her eyes blazed as she handed him her glass. "How can you say such a thing, Kit? It's not true . . ."
He stood before her, staring down at her. "I've known you all my life, Alison," he said in his slow, amused voice. "I have never known you really enjoy anything. Not a beautiful sunset—a flower—a good book—a play. Always you find something
wrong with it. You spend your entire time belittling things and people and complaining . . ."
If Alison had been white before, now her face was scarlet. "Kit . . ."
He sat down beside her, smiling a little. "Just think it over, Alison—" he said. There was a strange gentleness in his voice--it was almost a tenderness, Elinor thought, as she sat back and watched the little scene. Was he in love with Alison? She behaved towards him as if he was her property—in the way she had put her hand on his arm, the tone of her voice. Now she was looking quite upset as she stared at Kit who went on slowly in that fascinating drawl of his: "Listen to yourself, Alison, and see if you ever praise anything or anyone . . ." And then, quite quietly, he turned to Elinor and began to ask her questions as to why she and her aunt had never known of one another's existence.
Again Valerie answered, not giving Elinor a chance. "It was our mother's fault . . ." Valerie said, leaning forward, clasping her hands, her red hair falling over one eye. How young Valerie looked, Elinor thought, how very young, especially next to Alison Poole, who was sitting back now, her face stiff with anger, her mouth a thin line. "You see, Daddy was an Englishman—one of the bad boys of the family," Valerie added with a gay little laugh. "He was sent out to South Africa to make good . . . and he married a South African girl. He took her back to England to meet his family and she hated it . . ."
"Hated it?" Alison said very coldly. "What a queer thing."
Elinor's cheeks burned. "It wasn't so queer when you realise that she was only seventeen and had never been away from home before—" she said quickly. "And they were all horrible to her—" she added, almost fiercely. "They didn't like her and they made it plain that she was not good enough for their son and . . ."
Valerie chimed in. "I know Elinor doesn't agree with me but I think it was Mom's own fault. She was most frightfully sensitive and always imagined snubs and slights . .
Kit spoke very quietly. "I can imagine that any young bride meeting her husband's people for the first time might be sensitive. If the rest of the family are anything like Aggie, I'm not in the least surprised your mother felt strange and unhappy . . ." He looked at Elinor and gave a small smile. It was the first time he had smiled at her. "Aggie is quite a character," he went on slowly. "She has the proverbial heart of gold but she barks and never bites. Even after twenty-five years in Australia she still looks and talks like a typical Englishwoman. She is blunt . . ."
"I think she is extremely rude—" Alison said stiffly.
Hugh chuckled. "She certainly spares no punches, but all the same, she is a honey and I am sure you girls will love her," he said reassuringly. "I think Kit is right and maybe your mother didn't understand the family sense of humour."
Elinor had clasped her hands unconsciously. "It could have been that, I suppose. Mother was strange—once she had an idea, it became an obsession, and she was convinced the family hated her and she was too proud to give them a chance to snub her. I was ten years old when Daddy died and I can still remember the look on Mother's face when she wrote on the letters that came from England—Gone away, address unknown, and asked me to post them. I remember saying that we hadn't gone away, and she said that, to them, we had."
"I think it was wrong of her," Valerie said bluntly, "and unkind. To them and to us, don't you, Kit?" She turned to him eagerly and Elinor saw the quick frown that flickered across Alison's face. "Dad was so proud of his family, Kit," Valerie went on. "He was always talking about when he would take us home to see them. Even I can remember that."
Kit turned to Elinor. "Is that why you are so unhappy about going to Australia?" he asked gravely. "Because you feel it is disloyal to your mother?"
Caught on the wrong foot by his unexpected understanding and the sympathy in his voice, Elinor's eyes filled with tears. "Yes . . ." she murmured, hoping he would not see the tears.
"I think Mom was disloyal to Daddy," Valerie said quickly. "Oh—might as well talk to a stone wall—" she said, her voice exasperated. "Elinor is just like Mom. Once she gets an idea into her head. Look, there we were, Mom had died and we hadn't a
penny in the world but what we earned and, dear knows, that was little enough. We didn't know what to do . . . we couldn't pay the rent of the flat—we were desperate. Yet when I said we should write to England for help, Elinor was about as stubborn as a mule," Valerie said fiercely. "What else could we do? Daddy would have wanted us to do it, so why
.. Elinor talked a lot of tripe about pride and so on and how Mom would feel, but what I say is, one must eat and surely pride of that sort is very silly
"You are, quite obviously, a realist," Hugh said lightly. "Some more sherry, Elinor? No? Val? Alison will, I know . . ." He took the glass and thin began to steer the conversation into lighter channels. Whether he did it by accident or design, Elinor did not know, but she was grateful for the chance it gave her to get herself under control again. Whenever she thought of her mother, she was filled with this feeling of desolation. She and her mother had always been so close. Sometimes it seemed to her that Valerie hardly missed their mother—but then Val had always been a little difficult, restless, defiant. In a way, Elinor sympathised with Valerie, for their mother had been very possessive and also intolerant, quick to dislike their friends, to discourage the girls making any. Elinor had accepted the situation because of her deep pity for her mother, always ailing, always unhappy, but Valerie had a different nature.
The second gong sounded and the two girls went into the luxurious bedroom of the suite to tidy up. Valerie grabbed Elinor's arm.
"Isn't he absolutely super—smooth . . . out of this world?" she whispered excitedly. "That's the man I was telling you about . . ."
Elinor experienced a familiar feeling of apprehension. Was Valerie falling in love with Kit?
"He knows it . . ." she said rather sourly. "So arrogant and . . ."
Valerie looked startled. "I wouldn't call him arrogant . . ." she began, and stopped talking as Alison came to peer into the mirror, to pat her immaculately groomed golden hair, to look with cold indifference at the silent girls before she left them.
There was quite a hum of excitement as they went into the dining salon, Elinor noticed. The stewards appeared from nowhere, fussing round Kit, shaking napkins, handing the beautifully decorated menus, hovering . . . So this was what happened when you were very wealthy, she thought, a little bitterly. Nice work if you can get it . . . Wasn't that what Hugh had said? How very different the two cousins were, she thought, looking at Kit's grim, unapproach-able face and then meeting Hugh's friendly twinkling eyes with an answering smile.
The food was delicious and Valerie made no bones about enjoying it.
"Isn't it scrumptious, Elinor?" she would say.
Or : "Oh, boy—cap I really have a second helping?"
The cool wine they drank with the meal was also
very pleasant and Elinor found herself enjoying her-
self very much indeed, especially as she was lucky enough to have Hugh next to her. He was so easy to talk to and he shared himself between the two sisters, keeping them amused, making them feel happy. Kit was silent
and Alison had an aloof air as she played with a salad as if food bored her.
After coffee in the lounge, there was dancing. Alison walked, her hand on Kit's sleeve, as she talked to him earnestly, enclosing them in a world of their own, shutting out Hugh and the two girls who followed them. Hugh was teasing them, making them promise to dance at least once with him before he lost them to younger, more handsome men.
"I think you're handsome . . ." Valerie said in her outspoken way, and then she looked startled and almost afraid for a moment as her face coloured vividly.
Hugh chuckled. "Thank you, Val—for those few kind words. I know I'm no Adonis . . . like my cousin Kit."
"I think you're better looking than Kit . . ." Valerie said. "Don't you, Elinor?"
Startled, Elinor stared at them and then at Hugh. In a way, Valerie was right. Kit was handsome in a vibrant, overwhelming way. Hugh had a more gentle face, lean, almost aristocratic. The sort of face she would have imagined that the Scarlet Pimpernel would have had, the hero of her childish readings.
"Yes, I think you are," Elinor said slowly.
"Well . .. well . . . I am covered with confusion : . ." Hugh joked as he led them to a table on the verandah café, the floor of which had been cleared for dancing.
The small orchestra was tuning up, people were strolling in to find a table to sit at. Through the windows, they could see the ocean as the ship rolled very slightly.
Elinor danced first with Hugh. "Sorry I'm not a Victor Silvester," he said cheerfully, "but I've got a gammy leg. Hurt it on a motor-bike when I was young and foolish."
"It's hardly noticeable . . ." Elinor said. She had been nervous about dancing, for she had done very little, but Hugh was so easy—easy to talk to, easy to be with. You were not afraid with Hugh, somehow. "Is Alison Kit's cousin?"
"In a way, but then, in a way, she isn't," Hugh said as he danced her round the floor. Not many couples were dancing yet. Kit was dancing with Valerie and Alison was talking, her face a white mask of annoyance, with a very good-looking tall officer. "It's all rather complicated," Hugh went on. "Kit's aunt married a man who was later divorced by her and he remarried and they had Alison. Well, when he and his wife were both killed in a car smash, Kit's aunt adopted Alison. I think she has always loved her husband and having Alison was like having a bit of him. Anyhow that was the way it was. So Alison isn't a blood cousin, if you know what I mean, but they've been brought up as cousins."
"Why did she deny it, then?" Elinor asked curiously.
Hugh chuckled. "You noticed that? Well, our dear Alison is afraid Kit's mother will trot out the old story about cousins not marrying . . ."
Elinor felt as if her heart had stopped. "Are they engaged?"
Hugh chuckled. "Well, they are and they aren't, if you know what I mean. Alison thinks they are but Kit just says nothing at all. If he is going to marry her, he'll do it in his own time and way. He's a dark horse, is Kit. Never can seem to tell what he's thinking about. His mother and Alison don't hit it off, at all. You'll like his mother. She's a dear . . ." his voice softened as he spoke.
The dance was over and he took her back to the table. When Elinor was asked to dance by Kit, she went into his arms with mixed feelings. In spite of herself, she was apprehensive lest she dance badly or trip over his feet and yet she was conscious of a thrill, to feel his arms round her, the touch of his firm hand. She closed her eyes tightly as she danced, telling herself it was nonsense to feel like this about such a man . . . a man who was more or less engaged to be married . . .
Kit danced stiffly but very well. Elinor found herself able to follow him without difficulty. Once he apologised.
"I'm afraid I don't dance very well," he drawled in that arrogant way she was beginning to expect. "I don't get much practice, for I never go to dances if I can get out of it."
She looked up at him. She had to look up a very long way.
"You don't like dancing?" she asked.
"On the farm I'm much too busy," he said curtly and she felt snubbed. "Now Hugh, he's different." he went on. "Hugh practically lives in night-clubs." His voice was tolerant, affectionate.
Valerie was swinging by them, laughing gaily, smiling provocatively up into the face of a young ship's officer. For a moment, Elinor frowned worriedly and Kit's arm tightened round her.
"Surely," he drawled, "you're not worried about Val?"
Elinor's cheeks were hot for a moment as she looked up at him defensively. "I am, sometimes. After all, I am responsible for her and she is so young and she does the silliest things without thinking . . ."
He executed a neat turn, deftly avoiding a couple as they danced past. "So do you . . ." he said.
Elinor was startled. "I do?"
"Don't you?" he drawled. The music stopped and they were near the door that led to the deck. His hand on her arm, he led her out of the crowded café and to the cool deck. They leant on the rail and watched the shimmering water as it seemed to dance in the moonlight. "You speak to strange men on the train . . ." he drawled.
Startled by the unexpected attack, she swung round to stare up at him. "I .. . honestly, I really thought on that train that it was Val . . ."
He went on slowly: "You practically fall into their arms in dining-cars . . ."
She looked at him sharply, wondering whether he was being funny. Or was he seriously blaming her?
It was difficult to know, when a man had that dead-pan sort of face, when even the twinkle in his eyes that might give you a clue could not be seen because he was steadfastly staring at the water.
"That was an accident," she said.
"I'm not doubting you for a moment," he drawled in his maddening way. "But another man might have taken it for an invitation."
"What nonsense!" she said, trying to sound indignant.
"Seriously," he went on gravely, "I think you need protection far more than Valerie does. Her natural gaiety is its own protection and she loves life, is honest and without guile. Also her head is screwed on all right. No, Elinor, I don't think you need worry about your sister. I'm much more concerned about you . . ."
"Me?" she cried. His remark really stung her. "Please, Mr. Anderson, don't worry about me. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself and I refuse to be a nuisance to you . . ."
"You're wasting your breath arguing with me . . ." he said quietly, his drawl more apparent than ever as he took her arm. "I intend to keep an eye on you, make no mistake about that!"
CHAPTER THREE
AT BREAKFAST next day, Elinor and Hugh were alone at their table. Hugh jumped to his feet when he saw her, his thin face friendly as he greeted her.
"Kit has his breakfast in his cabin," he said cheerfully. "That poor mutt has been up writing letters since the crack of dawn. Who'd be a wealthy sheep-farmer!"
Elinor carefully considered the menu and gave her order to the steward.
"Orange juice and . . . and a cereal and then sauté kidneys."
Hugh chuckled. "How nice to meet a girl who doesn't diet."
"I'm lucky," Elinor told him honestly. "I don't have to."
Hugh helped himself to marmalade. "The fair Alison has only black coffee and half a grapefruit. Is life worth living?"
"I suppose it is," Elinor said thoughtfully, "when you are as beautiful as Alison."
"Do you think Alison beautiful?" Hugh asked. "I find her much too cold and stiff. She always looks as if she has found a bad smell . . ."
Elinor dissolved into laughter. Somehow Hugh made everything such fun. He went on: "Now I call your sister beautiful. Maybe not strictly but she has that air of vitality, of loving life . . ."
"Yes, Val is lovely, I think," Elinor agreed warmly. "She is a darling."
Hugh smiled: "I can see that. She's very young, isn't she?"
"Seventeen .. ." Elinor said. "I think it's very young .. ." She sipped the coffee slowly. "Kit doesn't think so . . ." Somehow she always called him Kit in her mind but she found it almost impossible to call him th
at to his face. He had scolded her the night before for being unfriendly, had told her she must call him Kit or he would be offended.
"Oh, Kit . . ." Hugh, shrugged as if Kit's opinion was unimportant. "I suppose Val is sleeping off last night's gaiety? She had a good time?"
Elinor's eyes shone. "She enjoyed every moment of it—I had practically to drag her to bed."
"And you?" Hugh's voice was suddenly grave.
"Well, I did and . . I didn't . . ." Elinor said slowly, twiddling a fork on the shining white cloth to avoid looking at him. She thought of the evening after Kit had taken her back to the verandah café. Shortly afterwards he had vanished from the scene and although she had plenty of dancing partners she had missed him, and had been very conscious of the fact that Alison, too, had gone. She had thought of them together—of Kit taking Alison in his arms, kissing that beautiful, disdainful face . . . Now she looked up suddenly, meeting Hugh's enquiring look. "Hugh—why does Kit dislike me so?"
He was very startled. "Kit—dislike you? What on earth gave you that idea?" he demanded sternly.
Her cheeks were hot. "Nothing I do is ever right . . ." she said. "I do try not to annoy him but . . . well, last night, he told me I was very young and silly and that I needed looking after far more than Val . . . I certainly don't . . ." In spite of herself, the words rushed out indignantly as she saw Hugh beginning to smile. "I'm three years older than Val and I have been working since I was sixteen and . . . well, I can look after myself," she finished defiantly.
Hugh folded his napkin slowly. "I think Kit is right. You do need someone to look after you. But in a loving way. You need someone to care what you do . .. to want your happiness."
"I . . ." It was Elinor's turn to be caught off balance as she stared at him, not knowing quite what to say. "Oh, Hugh . . ." she gasped.