by Hilary Wilde
"Petula," Elinor said before she could regret it, "I could baby-sit tonight if you like . . . They'll be dancing . . ." She was rewarded by the radiance of Petula's smile.
"You are a darling. Sam will be thrilled . . ." Petula said excitedly.
Elinor decided to tell no one what she was going to do. After coffee in the lounge that night, she disappeared quietly. Perhaps no one noticed her going but she was settled in the Keet's cabin at last, with several packages of bright scarlet crepe paper on her lap and an old black blouse. She had a whole evening in which to sew—not even Valerie would know she was going to the Fancy Dress Ball as a
gipsy. 'Why should she go as a drab Quaker . . . ?
The dress was finished and she was trying it on when Petula returned.
"It suits you beautifully . . ." Petula hissed in her usual whisper when the babies were sleeping. "Look—I've got some nice chunky necklaces and bracelets."
"I don't want my sister to know . . ." Elinor explained. "Could I leave the costume here?"
"Of course . . ." Petula told her warmly. "We had a lovely evening, thanks to you . . ."
Hurrying back to her cabin, Elinor felt absurdly elated. For a whole evening she had been engrossed in something and had not thought about Kit. At least, not much. Just to wonder now and then what sort of married life he would have with Alison. Alison had stated plainly that she did not intend to be buried alive on the station, she would expect an overseas trip every other year and frequent visits to Melbourne for the races. Perhaps that was what Kit would like . . .
"Elinor, where have you been . . ." a deep voice demanded angrily.
Kit was outside Elinor's cabin door as she got there.
He caught her arm roughly. "I've been looking everywhere for you . . ."
"You haven't got to keep tabs on me . . ." she told him. "I've been with . . ."
"Not Sam Keet this time . . ." Kit said significantly. "I saw him dancing with his wife. Who was
it this time . . . and why didn't you tell us? We've been searching the ship for you . . ."
"Oh, please, Kit. As you once said to me about Valerie, be your age. What harm could come to me?"
Elinor said crossly. "I wish you would stop snooping
"Look," he said angrily. "Listen to me, young woman. Your aunt asked me to look after you and I intend to do so. Tomorrow I shall expect an explanation and an apology . . ." With that he strode off.
Quivering with anger, Elinor went into her cabin and saw that Valerie was just starting to undress. Valerie looked up, smiling.
"You just missed Kit. He walked down with me to see if you were here. He's pretty mad . . ." she said cheerfully.
"I know," Elinor said grimly. "I saw him." An apology, if you please, she thought angrily. For what?
"You had him really worried," Valerie went on. "I think he thought you might have been gambling again . . ." She chuckled. "Poor Elinor. I have given you a bad name in Kit's eyes, haven't I? Just as well you didn't fall for him . . ."
If only she hadn't fallen for him, Elinor thought miserably, as she went to bed. If only she could hate him wholeheartedly—or despise him. Anything but this helpless love—this breathlessness she felt when he was near—this longing to touch him, to smooth down that wisp of hair, to love him. If only . . .
But the following day, the only person who referred to her absence was Hugh. "We were a bit
worried," he admitted as they walked round the deck, doing their daily 'mile'. "By the way," he went on, "I'm terribly sorry you're out of the Henry the Eighth group. It was all arranged that night of the charades, but I hate you being out of it."
Elinor smiled at him. "It's all right, Hugh, really it is. I've got a costume."
"So Alison said. She's lent you one, hasn't she? She said it was most suitable for you," Hugh went on.
Elinor's cheeks burned for a moment. "Did she? Yes, I think it will be," she added, smiling a little aware of Hugh's curious glance but refusing to allay his curiosity.
"It's the children's Fancy Dress party this afternoon," Hugh remarked as they completed another circle of the deck. They paused to look at the water. Small black objects were diving and jumping out of the water.
"Hugh . . . look!" Elinor cried.
"Porpoises . . ." Hugh said.
They watched them in silence as the sleek black animals cavorted in the water. Standing side by side, their shoulders touching, they were not aware of Kit and Valerie until they were standing beside them. Then both Hugh and Elinor were startled. Perhaps they showed it, for on both Kit's as well as Valerie's face was a look of apology.
"I didn't mean to break up anything . . ." Kit drawled, his eyes cold as he looked at Elinor. "But we've got to have a dress rehearsal, Hugh. Mrs. Pomfret—she's being kind enough to do the sewing
of the costumes—" Kit explained formally to Elinor "is afraid they may not fit . . ."
"Sorry I've got to go . . ." Hugh said, smiling at Elinor, patting her hand lightly.
Alone, Elinor turned back to watch the porpoises. What a lovely time they were having in that beautiful blue sea.
Later she went down to her cabin to tidy up before lunch. As she opened the door, she saw Valerie sprawled out over her bed, sobbing bitterly.
For a frightened second, Elinor was afraid. How could she ask Kit for more money . . . and then she went inside and closed the door.
"Val . .. Val darling, what is it?" she asked.
Val shook her head. Her voice came through her hair that was untidily rumpled, hanging over her face. "I'm in love with someone . . ." Valerie sobbed, "and he doesn't know I exist . . ."
The relief that flooded Elinor was breathtaking. If that was all. Her legs feeling weak, Elinor sat down on her bed and leaned forward.
"But Val darling, you knew all along that he was going to marry Alison . . ."
"He is not . . ." Valerie began and then sat up, her face flushed and wet. "It's Kit who is going to marry Alison."
Elinor caught her breath. "I thought we were talking about Kit. Isn't it Kit you're in love with:"
"Kit?" Valerie's voice was scornful. "Kit is good fun but he's much too stuffy. Nothing romantic about Kit . . ."
Elinor stared at her. Valerie must be mad. To Elinor, Kit was the most romantic .. .
"Then who do you love, Val?" Elinor asked slowly.
Valerie threw her a look of hatred. "You know very well. You knew I liked him from the beginning and you've deliberately stolen him . . ."
"Val—what are you talking about? Who do you mean . . . ?" Elinor asked, thinking for a wild moment that perhaps Valerie meant the ship's Third Officer.
"Hugh . . ." Valerie said dramatically. "I love Hugh and you know what you've done to me? You've broken my heart. You stole him and now he has eyes only for you . . ."
"Val—you're wrong . . . Hugh and I are just friends, honestly," Elinor said.
Valerie stared at her. "And you don't want to marry him?"
Elinor tried to laugh. "Of course not!"
"Lift your hand and swear . . ." Valerie was half laughing, half crying.
Smiling, Elinor obeyed. "I swear that I am not in love with Hugh—nor is Hugh in love with me . .
She was nearly knocked over by Valerie's bear-hug. "Oh, how wonderful!" Valerie gasped. "I was sure he was in love with you. Oh, Elinor, you're so sweet to me. First you get that money I had to have and now you . . ."
"Say that Hugh doesn't love me . . . ?" Elinor said, laughing. "Oh, Val—what a child you are. First it was Max and then . . ."
"It was never Max—" Valerie said. "It was Hugh from the first moment."
"Then why are you always so cool and casual with him?" Elinor asked.
Valerie drew a long breath. "Because . . . because . . . I couldn't bear to have him think I was chasing him and then . . . then when I thought he and you . . ."
She jumped up, stretching her arms high above her head. "Oh, isn't life wonderful .. . absolutely wonderful . . ."
/> She began to sing as she washed her face and made-up. Elinor watched her, amused, tender, thinking for the thousandth time how quickly Valerie's moods changed. Now she was so sure she would win Hugh's love . . .
, But would she?
At lunch time, Elinor seized her chance to study Hugh's face. It was a mobile face, lean, handsome, full of humour. His face was amused when he spoke to Valerie, carefully composed if he spoke to Alison, and warm and friendly when he spoke to Elinor herself. She noticed also that Valerie was not behaving any differently; still very gay, making Kit laugh, ignoring Hugh. What did Valerie propose to do, Elinor wondered. Perhaps she could learn a few things from her young sister!
They watched the children parading for the Fancy Dress competition. All sorts of ingenious costumes, tiny angels, ballerinas, Hawaiian dancers with string skirts. Then came a small snowball, holding Petula Keet's hand. Sam followed close
behind, the baby on his shoulder, another little white
snowball. Seeing Elinor standing with her friends,
Sam waved and called: "Thanks a lot, Elinor . . ."
"What is he thanking you for?" Valerie asked at once.
Without thinking, Elinor told the truth. "I baby-sat for them twice . . ."
"You what?" Kit asked.
Startled, Elinor looked up at him and realised she had given away her secret. She gave a little shrug. "They were professional ballroom dancers before they had the babies and settled down," she explained "They missed dancing terribly because they couldn't leave the children so . . . so I said I'd baby-sit for them."
"And I thought . . ." Kit drawled slowly.
Elinor smiled at him and could not resist the opportunity. "You always jump to conclusions, don't you, Kit?"
She watched the white line form around his mouth and waited for his reply. When it came it was devastating.
"Rather childish to be so mysterious about it . . ." he drawled. "And not your style. You're the quiet simple type."
CHAPTER TEN
ELINOR REMEMBERED the unkind words as she dressed in Petula's cabin for the Fancy Dress Ball. She wondered whether Kit would say the costume was unsuitable, that she would make a better Quaker than a gypsy . . . would perhaps make one of his typical remarks . . .
She put her hands worriedly to her hair which she brushed vigorously so that it stood out round her face. It seemed that, in the last weeks, she had meekly accepted more insults than she had ever had in her life. Though, to be honest, they had not been meant as such. But to be told you are pathetic-looking, that you are dignified—a quiet simple girl—afraid of men . . .
Elinor gazed at her reflection. The black bodice fitted her slim form closely, the layers of scarlet pleated paper stood out around her. Petula had lent her black stockings and high-heeled shoes. Great chunky gold jewellery adorned Elinor's neck and arms. Her eyes shone excitedly, her cheeks glowed.
"I don't look like me at all . . ." she said in a surprised voice.
Petula laughed. "You look very nice indeed . . ." she said reassuringly.
Elinor took her place in the procession that had to march past the judges. The dining-room had been gaily decorated with red, white and blue streamers and paper decorations hanging from the ceiling.
Everyone had been given a funny cap. Kit looked comical in a policeman's helmet. They had had a hilarious dinner, Kit and Elinor being very formal and polite to one another.
No one had changed until after dinner, for most of the costumes were carefully kept secrets. In the lounge there was a wonderful buffet table decorated in red and white with a crown in the centre above a swan. How hard the staff must have worked to prepare everything, she had thought.
Now, as the procession formed, everyone was laughing and joking and staring at one another curiously. They would have to march past the judges as they sat in a gaily decorated verandah cafe, balloons hanging from the ceiling.
Looking round her, Elinor found it hard to recognise faces. There was a man in a white toga with a gold belt and sandals . . . There were three witches—a huge pink elephant formed obviously by a husband and wife who were quarrelling softly, Nell Gwyn, charwomen galore, and then Elinor, her eyes hidden by the black mask she had made, saw the Henry the Eighth group. She gasped a little. How well the costumes had been made . . . Kit, enormous in his costume, his cheeks puffed out, his face made-up, moved heavily, followed by his wives, one of them bearing her 'head' on her arm.
They were quite close to Elinor and it was amusing to hear them talking about her.
"I don't see her anywhere . . ." Alison was saying, looking very regal indeed.
"I suppose she is coming . ." Hugh said worriedly. He made a quite presentable-looking `queen'.
Elinor could see the quick look Valerie gave him. "She said she was," Valerie said.
"I lent her a costume . . ." Alison put in. "A very pretty one . . ."
Oh, it had been pretty enough. A demure grey dress, a great white collar. Something that would suit her, Elinor thought rebelliously.
As the procession began slowly to move, Elinor kept close behind a Sheikh in flowing white robes. The six judges were seated behind a table, making notes. As Elinor walked by the table, she rattled the small tambourine Petula had lent her, and swirled her full skirts .. .
Much later when the prizes were announced, Elinor was amazed to find she had won third prize. The Henry the Eighth group had won first group prize and, as the names were called out, and Elinor took off her mask, she smiled at the astonished faces of her friends.
"I thought you were coming as a Quaker . . ." Kit said, his face looking strange and almost frightening in its disguise. Elinor lifted her small chin and smiled at him. "I thought I would surprise you!"
"You might have told me," Alison put in coldly. "Someone else might have liked to borrow my costume . . ."
"You look lovely, Elinor darling," Valerie said eagerly. "I think you were clever to make it. I hadn't an idea. When did you do it . . .?"
"When I was baby-sitting .. ." Elinor said.
"Good for you," Hugh told her and took her arm. Elinor saw the quick shadow flit across Valerie's face and felt sorry for her. She smiled at her sister and tried to reassure her, but Valerie turned away, her shoulders drooping a little.
It was a very gay, enjoyable evening. Most of the uncomfortable costumes were soon discarded and Kit returned, his handsome self, immaculate in his white jacket and black trousers, his face ironical as he saw that Elinor had kept her costume on.
"You look .. quite different . . ." he told her as they danced.
It might have been the glass of champagne Hugh had insisted on her drinking to celebrate their prize winning, or the knowledge that she looked pretty for once, but she had courage enough to smile up into his dark eyes and say: "Is it an improvement?" saucily.
He danced for a moment in silence and then drawled: "In some ways, yes. You look . . . alive."
She tried to hide her dismay. "Don't I always look alive?" she asked in a voice that was meant to be gay.
"No . . ." he said, after he had considered .the question. "You usually look either scared or confused or worried about something. Tonight you look as if you are enjoying life . . ."
"I am," she told him, and her gaiety was real this time. She let herself relax in his arms, giving herself up to the joy of dancing with him, pushing aside her worries about Val's happiness, her own unhappiness
at knowing the wonderful voyage was drawing to an end and soon ,she would be thousands of miles away from Kit. Would he ever remember her, she wondered.
When they joined the others, Elinor noticed that Valerie, sitting next to Hugh, was looking rather bleak. Alison was speaking in her clear arrogant voice, looking as elegant and regal as the queen she represented:
"Of course Hugh is right . . . gambling is a mug's game . . ." she said.
Hugh was putting out his cigarette, leaning forward to do it.
"It seems so senseless to me—but then betting
on horses does, too . . ." he said slowly.
"That is quite different," Alison told him. "You breed horses to race—you know their ancestry, you train them . .. It's not just like throwing down cards—there is skill attached .. ."
"So there is in playing cards," Kit drawled. He glanced at Elinor and, for a moment, a warm, sweet smile flashed across his face. "I'm sure we've all, at some time or other, lost money at cards until we became wise enough to leave them alone."
Elinor realised with a shock that Kit was trying to reassure her, comfort her, 'save her face'. She flashed him a quick grateful smile for, after all, he believed she was the one to be so foolish as to lose all that money—and then she looked at Valerie's unusually downcast features and, for a moment, felt sick with anxiety. Was Val going to be hurt . . . badly hurt?
Now Hugh was dancing with Valerie—he was always very pleasant to her sister, but he did treat her as a very young girl, Elinor realised. Was that all Valerie was to him, she wondered. What hope had Valerie of making Hugh love her . . . ? Probably Hugh had a girl he loved in Sydney . . .
"Shall we dance?" Kit asked and Elinor came back to her surroundings with a start, seeing that Alison was dancing with her diplomat. Elinor met Kit's amused eyes. "Where were you?" he asked.
She blushed. "I was thinking about Val . . ." she admitted.
As they circled the floor, he frowned down at her. "Don't you think you fuss about Val too much?" he asked in what was, for him, a gentle voice. "Val is well able to take care of herself . . ."
Elinor looked away quickly, unable to hide the little smile that came before she could stop it. If only Kit knew . . . He was always praising Val's common sense and ability to take care of herself. If he knew that it was Val who had lost thirty-five pounds, Val who was in another 'mess' but would not talk about it.
"Your mother is much better . . ." Elinor said, trying to steer Kit away from the subject of Valerie. "She tells me she can stand, now."