The Widening Stream

by Rachel Lindsay

  Loris gave a last look at the pale moon shedding its ghostly light on the deserted deck and knew that as long as she lived she would never forget the beauty of that moment. Then Brett took her arm and they walked slowly towards the companionway.

  In the hustle and bustle of departure next morning Loris could not get away to find Brett, for Melanie was so excited at the prospect of seeing Dickson that she was of little help, and Loris found herself battling alone with passports, tickets and Customs officials. She caught a glimpse of Brett once in the distance, but although he tried to make his way towards her he was lost in the crowd of passengers who were disembarking. When their luggage was ready and checked the two girls stood together on the quayside, but although Melanie darted forward at the sight of any tall, fair young man, Dickson did not appear. It was only when they had almost given up hope of being met that an elderly couple came towards them.

  Melanie ran to greet them and a few moments later returned excitedly to Loris. "It's Dickson's father and mother, Loris! I recognized them from their photographs. They say Dickson can't meet me, so they've come instead. Isn't it kind of them to fly all the way from California?"

  Mr. and Mrs. Loftus came up and introduced themselves and Loris was relieved to find they were a friendly and cordial couple. The woman was plump and handsome, her grey hair elegantly dressed, but it seemed to Loris that she smiled with an effort and there was the same look of strain on her husband's face.

  With Mr. Loftus to help them with their luggage they were soon speeding in a cab through down-town New York, and Melanie looked excitedly out of the window.

  "Look, Loris, there's Sak's, and Bergdorf Goodman! Isn't it wonderful to see places you've heard about for so long?"

  But Loris was hardly able to take in the brief glimpses of the great stores and skyscrapers which flashed by, and several times looked covertly at Mr. and Mrs. Loftus, who were sitting silently in the back of the cab. For some reason she could not fathom a nameless foreboding began to tug at her and she was thankful that in the excitement of their arrival Melanie had not questioned them too closely about their son.

  Suddenly Melanie turned to Mrs. Loftus. "Mummy said we'd be staying in New York at the Plaza for a few days. I didn't know it was so far from the harbour. Isn't the driver taking us the wrong way?"

  Mrs. Loftus seemed to hesitate. "Well, my dear, as Dickson couldn't come and meet you, my husband and I thought it would be a pity if you were to stay in New York just now. We knew you'd rather come here with Dickson later on, so my husband got us reservations on the afternoon plane for Los Angeles."

  "You mean we're flying straight out to California?" In an exuberance of high spirits Melanie gave the woman a resounding kiss. "Oh, I'm so glad, Mrs. Loftus! I'm dying to see Dickson. Not that it wasn't sweet of you to meet us instead," she added hastily, "but I was so looking forward…"

  "I expect Dickson's been detained on business," Loris interrupted, seeing the girl's lips tremble. "I'm sure you won't mind waiting another few hours before you see him, will you?"

  Grateful for Loris's tact, Mrs. Loftus gave her a brief smile. "That's right, Melanie—Dickson was detained. He's waiting for us in California."

  Satisfied with this, Melanie looked out of the window again, and Loris regarded Mrs. Loftus in silent inquiry. The older woman gave her a little nod and whispered: "I'll speak to you when we get out of the cab."

  That something was wrong was obvious—something to do with Dickson—and Loris felt her nameless fears crystallizing. It seemed to her as if the journey would never end, but at last the cab reached the airport, and drew up at the entrance to the section marked 'Pan-America'. They got out, thankful to ease their cramped legs, and Melanie, clinging to Mr. Loftus's arm, went off with him to see about their departure.

  It was then that Mrs. Loftus turned to Loris, her face drawn and agitated. "I can't tell you how grateful I am for helping me to answer the child. I'd never have had the courage to tell her."

  "Tell her what?" Loris asked apprehensively.

  "That Dickson couldn't meet you because he's—"

  She broke off and half turned away to regain control of herself, then went on more steadily: "Dickson was involved in a car accident ten days ago. We didn't wire the Powells because it didn't seem serious enough for you to change your plans. He rested up for a few days and was supposed to get up for the first time the day you were due to sail. We had lunch as usual that day and I couldn't understand why Dickson didn't come down, because he never liked to lie in bed unless he had to, so I went upstairs to see if anything was the matter." She pressed a handkerchief to her lips and Loris saw that her hands were trembling. "I found him lying on the floor. At first I thought he'd fainted or fallen over. But he was all right—he was quite all right. He'd simply lost the use of his legs."

  "Lost the use of his legs?" Loris echoed.

  "Yes. We've called in the finest specialists in the country and they all say the same thing. There's nothing wrong with Dickson, nothing physically wrong at all. He just can't walk, and they don't know why!"

  At the pent-up misery in the woman's face Loris put her arm round her shoulders. "But it can't be anything serious," she said gently. "If it was they'd have found it. It's probably just shock."

  Mrs. Loftus flashed her a tremulous smile. "That's what my husband keeps telling me. But I have a dreadful feeling it may not be as simple as that. If there was anything specifically wrong we could do something to help him, but as it is there's nothing, nothing. All we can do is wait and see what happens." She glanced towards the airport offices. "My husband wanted to tell Melanie straightaway, but I thought it would be kinder if she heard it from someone who isn't a stranger to her."

  "I'm glad you didn't tell her, Mrs. Loftus. She's so highly strung that I'm not sure how she'll take it."

  "Melanie can't let my boy down!" the woman broke in. "If you only knew how he's looking forward to seeing her again! It would break his heart if she didn't go to him."

  "She'll go to him all right," Loris said comfortingly, but wondered in her heart how long Melanie would have the courage to stay.

  If this thing happened to her—if it had been Brett instead of Dickson—her heart contracted at the thought—she knew nothing in the world would alter her feelings for him; that if he were maimed or blinded or disfigured in any way nothing would change her love for him. But with Melanie she was not so sure. The girl had never been allowed to grow up. She had always been so protected and cosseted that Loris found herself praying that the burden she would have to bear would not prove too much for her.

  She stood silent for a moment, then said quietly: "Let me break the news to her in my own way, will you? I'll leave it till we get to California, I think, because I don't want to give her too long to brood before she actually sees him."

  Mrs. Loftus heaved a sigh of relief. "I don't know what I'd have done without you, my dear. It's certainly a godsend you came along with Melanie."

  At that moment Melanie and Mr. Loftus came back and they all moved across the field to the waiting plane.

  Flying through the night in the huge aircraft which took them nearer their destination with every passing moment, Lois remembered she had not had a chance to tell Brett she would not be staying in New York as planned. Too late now to wish she had sent him a telegram from the airport!

  She lay there, thinking of him, trying to remember the fragmentary details he had given her about himself. All she knew was that his estate adjoined the Loftuses' and that he had moved there from Virginia when the doctors had advised his father to live in California. The old man had died when Brett was eighteen and he had left college to go into the family business, but what this was he had not told her.

  The plane hummed on steadily through the darkness and one by one the passengers turned off their lights and pushed down the backs of their seats so that they could recline more comfortably. Loris looked down at Melanie, already asleep beside her, and felt a tug of compassion as she dre
w the blanket over her.

  One of the air hostesses passed down the gangway and leaned over to ask if there was anything she wanted, but she smilingly shook her head and settled down to try to sleep. The dim light from the roof lit the centre aisle of the plane and the noise of the engines reverberated insistently. Every now and then Loris was jerked into wakefulness by a sudden lurch of the aircraft and experienced a horrible sensation of falling. The night seemed interminable and she tried to occupy her mind by reliving the lovely days on the boat, days of idyllic happiness that seemed a dream.

  "Oh, Brett," her heart cried out, "I wish you were with me, my darling," and she longed to be able to put her head against his shoulder and let him soothe away the foreboding that filled her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was a clear morning when the graceful silver airliner touched down on the tarmac of Los Angeles Airport. Although it was still early, the sun was quite strong and Loris felt its warmth on her face as she stepped out of the plane. Melanie, her eyes still heavy with sleep, looked eagerly about her for a first glimpse of Dickson, and seeing her expectancy Loris was filled with apprehension at the thought of the unenviable task ahead of her. Mr. and Mrs. Loftus made some pretence of surprise that Dickson was not there to meet them, and although Melanie pouted with annoyance she seemed to be taken in by the dissimulation.

  However, a long, grey, chauffeur-driven Cadillac was there to fetch them and they got in and drove off immediately. The Loftus home was in the Bel Air district, a new residential area verging on Beverly Hills, where well-to-do business people lived, and as the airport was some fourteen miles outside the city limits the drive ahead of them was a long one. The city sprawled over such a wide area that it was some time before they had crossed even a section of it, but at last the car turned in at a pair of massive wrought-iron gates and drove up a long, curved drive-way flanked by tall evergreens, until eventually the house came into view.

  It was the sort of house Loris had only seen in illustrated magazines—a large, white building with a flat roof and many windows. To one side was a swimming pool with gaily coloured deck chairs set around its edges, but she only caught a glimpse of it before they drew up at the double front door. It was immediately flung open by a little boy, who dashed down the two shallow steps and threw himself into Mr. Loftus's arms.

  "Hiya, Timothy!" Edward Loftus patted the child's fair head. "Come along and be introduced to the ladies." He drew him forward and presented him in turn to Melanie and Loris. "This is Timothy, my grandson. Say how do you do, Timmy."

  Loris judged the little fellow to be between eight and nine years old. He was a sturdy, rather solemn child with a mass of fair hair which he continually shook back with a toss of his head, and she was amused by the self-possession and authority with which he proceeded to direct the chauffeur to bring in their cases.

  They went into the large square hall and Mrs. Loftus led them up the wide, carpeted staircase and along a light-filled corridor into the rooms she had prepared for them. "I expect you'll want to wash and tidy before you come down and see Dickson," she said kindly. "I'm sure you could do with another breakfast, too, but if you don't want to eat again there'll be coffee waiting for you in the lounge." Then, with a smile for Melanie and a quick, anxious look at Loris, she left them alone.

  They spent the next few minutes removing the stains of travel. Loris was drying her hands when Melanie dashed into the bathroom. "Hurry up, Loris—you haven't got to make yourself pretty for your fiancé!"

  With a heavy heart Loris followed her into her bedroom, where the girl was combing her hair.

  "Melanie, there's something I've got to tell you."

  "Oh, Loris, must you talk to me now—can't it wait? I'm so excited I couldn't possibly concentrate on anything serious."

  Loris patted the bed. "Come and sit down just for a moment."

  At the sight of Loris's grave expression Melanie reluctantly seated herself beside her. "What's the matter, old girl? Do be quick."

  Loris moistened her lips. "Darling, weren't you surprised when Dickson didn't meet us in New York?"

  "Of course I was, but you heard Mrs. Loftus say why he couldn't."

  "I know, but didn't you think he'd be at the airport this morning?"

  "Loris, what are you getting at?" Melanie began to look frightened. "You're so odd. Has something happened? Doesn't Dickson want me any more?" She jumped up and twisted her hands. "Of course, that's it! You've been putting it off till now because you've been too scared to tell me. He doesn't want me any more!"

  Loris laid a restraining hand on her arm. "Don't be ally, Melanie. Of course Dickson still wants you." She drew her back on to the bed. "How could you think such a thing? No, darling, there's another reason why he couldn't come to meet you."

  "What other reason?" Melanie demanded.

  "Well—about a week ago, he was in a car accident. No, he's all right, my dear, don't look so frightened. It's just that…"

  "Is he in hospital?" Melanie broke in. "Where is he? I must go to him." She tried to pull her hand away, but Loris held it tightly.

  "He's not in hospital, dear, he's here—at home. He can't get around yet, though. In fact, he's…" She hesitated. "He can't walk."

  "What do you mean?" The small face whitened. "Is he crippled?"

  "Oh, darling, don't say things like that. Of course he's not crippled. It's simply that for the time being he's lost the use of his legs. They think it's something to do with shock."

  Melanie gripped Loris's arm. "He's not disfigured, is he? I mean, it doesn't show, does it? I don't think I could bear to see him if it did! Tell me it doesn't show!" She burst into tears.

  Loris took the weeping girl into her arms. "It doesn't show at all, darling. There's nothing wrong with him that you can see. It's just a nervous condition and the doctors hope it'll right itself very soon. You've got to be brave, Melanie, for his sake as well as for your own."

  "But I'm not brave, Loris, I'm not! You'd be different, but I can't help being what I am. I couldn't bear it if he didn't get better."

  "Hush, dear, Dickson will get better. But it won't help him if you're upset. He's so looking forward to seeing you. You can't let him down." She stood up and pulled Melanie to her feet. "Come along, darling, bathe your face in cold water and tidy your hair again. You mustn't let Dickson see you've been crying."

  A few minutes later they descended the stairs and were hesitating at the bottom, wondering in which of the rooms they would find the Loftuses, when Mr. Loftus came down the stairs behind them, and putting both his arms around their shoulders, led them across the hall. He halted outside one of the doors and looked down at Melanie.

  "Dickson's in there, waiting for you. I guess you'd like to see him on your own, so Loris and I will go into the lounge and I'll have some coffee sent in to you."

  Tears rose in Melanie's eyes again but she blinked them back and hesitantly pushed open the door. She stood poised for a moment on the threshold, her small figure outlined against the sunlight, then disappeared with a rush inside and Loris heard a glad cry of "Melanie!" before the door closed behind her.

  Mrs. Loftus came quickly towards Loris as they entered the lounge.

  "How did she take it?" she asked anxiously.

  Loris could not find it in her heart to tell Dickson's mother the words Melanie had used and the instinctive selfishness of her reaction, for she had no wish to prejudice Mrs. Loftus against her.

  "She was very upset at first," she said quietly, "but on the whole she took it quite well."

  Mrs. Loftus breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God! I couldn't have borne it if she'd let my boy down. Thank you, my dear, for telling her. Now come along and let me introduce you to the rest of the family. You've al-ready met Timothy, Elaine's little boy. This is my daughter, and her little girl."

  Loris found herself being introduced to one of the most attractive women she had ever seen. Elaine Forrest was a widow of thirty-one who did not look old enough t
o be the mother of Timothy or little Gillian, standing behind her. She was a striking figure, taller than the average Englishwoman, and her perfectly oval face with its magnolia complexion and large tawny eyes was framed by dark auburn hair cut short and brushed close to her perfectly shaped head. She wore a plain tailored white dress with a narrow amber belt and her movements had the sinuous grace of a sleek cat.

  Loris learned that Elaine's husband had been killed in Viet-Nam, and that after his death she had returned from Washington to live with her parents, who had been delighted to have her back, for with Dickson in Europe the house was quiet and empty and Elaine's children had given it life and warmth.

  Loris felt her hand taken in a light, cool grasp and when the woman spoke her voice was indifferent and polite, rather as though she were fulfilling a duty which although not irksome, was hardly a pleasure.

  "How do you do, Miss Cameron? I hope you had a good trip? Guess this business about Dickson"—she waved a hand in the air—"must have come as rather a shock to you."

  Loris murmured a non-committal reply and Elaine sat down and lit a cigarette while Mrs. Loftus motioned Loris to sit beside her on the couch as a coloured maid brought in coffee and hot rolls.

  Melanie came out of Dickson's room to join the rest of the family for lunch and seemed to be in a subdued frame of mind. Loris watched her anxiously during the meal, but everybody went out of their way to be kind, even Elaine exerting herself and offering to show her the grounds after lunch.

  "I'll go and sit with Dickson for a while," Loris volunteered. "I haven't seen him yet and it'll be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other better. It'll do you good to get some air, Melanie."

  Melanie seized on the suggestion, and after coffee followed Elaine out on to the terrace.

  Loris went into the library where Dickson was lying, and the Sight of the thin, fair-haired young man on the long invalid chair filled her with compassion. She could scarcely believe it was the same boy she had met in England, for his illness, although so recent, had already marked his face with lines of anxiety and fear and she knew how irksome he must find it being unable to move, remembering how athletic and vigorous he had been when she had known him before.