"What a nice mannish smell," she said, indicating the coat. "I appreciate it, coming from a household of women."
"Don't you like your own sex?"
"I like men better."
He laughed, pouring out the drinks his servant had brought. "Well, here's luck!" he said, raising his glass to hers.
She drank with him, then she said tentatively, "I want to ask your advice, Miles. Now Fran Whitechurch has arrived, I feel superfluous. She and Judy have become so close, and I feel rather left out, and lonely."
"I see," he said slowly. "Well, I could offer you a game of chess now and again."
Her face lit up eagerly as she leaned forward into the glow of the lamp. "Would you? I should love a game. Perhaps we could make it a weekly fixture."
"What you really want to tell me is that you're fed to the teeth with Kahawa, and would like to get back to Nairobi, isn't that it?"
"No. Not really. It's only that I'm starved mentally."
"I see. Many women become affected some way or other in the wilds. You're a town type, Stevie. This kind of life doesn't suit you."
"Oh, but it does!" she cried, alarmed less he should form the wrong conclusions. He would never consider her as a possible wife for himself if he believed she disliked farm life.
"I love the place. If I can just have a change from undiluted Judy and Fran occasionally, all will be well. I won't leave you in the lurch, whatever happens."
"If you go we're sunk," he said; "all this palaver with Judy will start over again."
"Of course," said Stevie boldly, "she ought to leave. She should sell her share of the place to you and return to England, or get a job in Nairobi. With her talent for arranging flowers she might be apprenticed to some good florist. It isn't fair to you. An impossible situation. And you ought to be living at Kahawa. Not in this little shack. You're the senior partner now, not a farm manager."
She could not see his face, and therefore could not judge the effect of her words. He was silent so long that she lost her poise; rose to, her feet. "I'd better be going."
He got up at once.
"I'll come with you. Here, Sultan…" They set off together on the homeward journey.
"Miles," she said softly, after they had walked in silence for some minutes, "you are not angry with me, are you?"
"Why should I be?"
"For saying what I did about Judy. I meant it kindly. I honestly think it would be the best thing for both of you. But it is none of my business, I know. And if I've spoken out of turn, I apologise."
His silence constituted a snub. Then, when she had decided he did not intend to reply, he said slowly, "I want Judy to stay here as long as she wishes to stay. When you find you cannot stand us any longer, I'll look round for somebody else."
"Well, don't do that yet," she said with some acerbity, disliking the way he allied himself to Judy at every turn. "I've cancelled all other engagements for three months. At the end of that time we'll discuss the matter again."
A lot could happen in three months, thought Stevie. A lost must happen!
He halted outside the bungalow. "I won't come in," he said; "I've letters to write. But we'll have that chess sometime. And—I've been thinking, you might care to come along to the Nakuret Club one evening; meet local society —what there is of it."
"That would be very nice."
"They hold dances there once a month. We could organise a party. You and Judy and the Whitechurches, when they get hold of an ayah and can leave the family."
"That would be grand," said Stevie, not so effusively. "Would tomorrow night suit you for chess?" she asked, not wishing to let him leave without making some fixture. "We might play after dinner."
"Well—" he hesitated—"you had better find out Judy's reactions. The chessmen belonged to her father."
"I see. Well, I'll do that and let you know. Thank you so much for a delightful evening. Good-bye."
Later that evening, Fran and her husband had a word with Judy and Stevie about the house they were having built.
"Stew's going to take me to see it tomorrow," said Fran excitedly.
"Will you be taking the children?" asked Judy.
Fran shrugged. "What else can I do?"
"You can leave them with us if you like," offered Judy.
"My dear! D'you mean that? It would be absolute heaven for us to have a day out on our own. I've been utterly bogged down with infants ever since I arrived in this country. Much as I love them, it would be great to have a few hours to ourselves. Did you hear that, Stew, isn't she an angel?"
"It would be a treat for me. I've lost my heart entirely to the adorable Paul. He's such a good baby, too," Judy enthused.
"He's got a good digestion, that's all. Makes all the difference. I hope the twins won't play you up. Beat them unmercifully if they do."
Judy laughed. "You sound such a bloodthirsty mother, yet I've never seen you raise a finger to them."
"Oh, I'm too clever to let any one see me!" grinned Fran, who had the softest heart in the world, and spoiled her children. She went chattering on, regaling her husband with a hundred small details of the family's domestic routine.
… The next morning Fran went off with her husband directly after breakfast, leaving the twins and Paul in Judy's charge.
Fran wore khaki shorts and a gay striped blouse, and a handkerchief tied over her head.
"Now, be good children and do everything Auntie Judy tells you," she admonished the twins.
They bade her farewell cheerfully, and started a romp with the dogs. The morning passed uneventfully and after lunch the mail arrived.
There was a thick package for Judy with a Nairobi postmark. She slit open the envelope and drew out a selection of photographs.
"From Larry," she said, with slightly heightened colour. "After all this time! I thought he'd gone out of our lives forever"; she glanced swiftly through the pictures and passed them across to Stevie. "They're excellent." Then she turned her attention to his letter. It was brief: Remember me, Beautiful? I'm the chap who gatecrashed into your life…
He went on to say he had never had a moment to himself since reaching Nairobi. Lola's ideas of entertaining a bloke were hectic. But he'd not forgotten her.
Page two was a charming little note from his sister inviting her to spend a weekend with them in Nairobi. She so wanted to thank Judy in person for her kindness to her brother on his trip down, Mrs. Brownlow wrote.
"It's very kind of her, but of course, I shan't go," said Judy, passing Lola's letter over to Stevie.
"It could be arranged. Why not?"
"It wouldn't be fair to you."
"I'd manage. After all, it's only for a weekend. You'd like to go, wouldn't you?"
"I don't know." Judy's eyes strayed to the veranda.
"The twins!" she exclaimed. "They've disappeared. I've kept them under my eye the whole morning and now…"
"I shouldn't worry. They'll be around somewhere. You know what they are," replied Stevie.
"I'd rather know where they are." She began to call loudly, "Teddy… Tony…"
The dogs jumped up and made little excited dashes up and down.
"Find them!" urged Judy. "Where are they? Find them!"
But Whisky and Soda had no more idea than she had.
Judy picked up Paul from his play-pen.
"I'm going to put the babe down for his afternoon sleep. Keep an eye and ear open for him, will you, Stevie? I shall have to go out and hunt for those rascals. I expect they are hiding."
"Leave them alone and they'll come home," quoted Stevie.
But Judy felt responsible and could not rest.
She hunted high and low all that hot afternoon without success. By tea-time she was utterly agitated.
"Stevie, I can't find them. I've looked everywhere. I've asked the servants, and I've sent the shamba boys to hunt."
"Come and have your tea," said Stevie.
Fran and Stewart were not expected home until later. But by
the time dusk began to fall and still no sign of the twins, Judy was nearly demented.
"I must find them before dark," she cried wildly; "I must"'
But darkness fell, Paul was asleep in his cot, and the twins were still missing.
CHAPTER THREE
White-faced, Judy said to Stevie, "Be responsible for Paul. I'm going down to Miles. We must organise a proper search party." She snatched up a jacket hanging over the veranda rails and ran off down the path through the wattles. The dark blue velvet of the sky was pitted with a million stars, the lone cry of a jackal rent the air as she ran, and a rabbit with eyes like lamps In the darkness leapt from her path.
Stumbling, breathless, she crashed at last into Miles's garden and up the veranda steps. A solitary lamp burned in the sitting-room. It was empty. Only Sultan kept lonely vigil. He wagged his tail on seeing Judy, and lunged forward in greeting. Then, two beams of light were swinging along the rough track, and a car turned into the drive and drew up at the door.
Judy rushed down the steps and stumbled against Miles in her agitation as he climbed out of the car.
He put out a hand to steady her.
"It's all right. I know all about it. The twins are safe."
"Safe?" To her mortification, she burst into tears.
He put a strong arm comfortingly about her in the starlight.
"Poor Judy. Poor child. You've had a bad time."
"I was nearly mad with anxiety," gulped Judy, fishing in the pocket of her slacks for a handkerchief. She blew her nose and made to move from his hold, but his arm tightened. She became very conscious of the feel of his arm so warmly and firmly about her, the rough tweed of his jacket against her cheek. They stood like that, hearts beating strongly together, then the man put one hand beneath her chin and turned her face up to his.
"Judy?" he said hoarsely, questioningly.
In a sudden panic she cried hysterically: "The twins! Where did you find the twins? You haven't explained."
She wanted him to go on talking, to say whatever he had been about to say when he uttered her name so disturbingly, and yet at the same time she felt driven to stop him.
Taking her abrupt change of subject for a rebuff, he dropped his arm from her shoulders and stepped back.
"The twins," he said. "Of course. Come inside and have a drink—you need one. I called in at Kahawa just now, but when Stevie told me you'd rushed off down here I came straight on to tell you."
"Where are they?" she repeated.
He motioned her up the veranda steps before him; seemed anxious now not to touch her again.
Judy walked into the sitting-room and halted by the table, gazing at him Intently in the lamplight. Her hair was ruffled, her face smeared by recent tears, but in her eyes shone a new radiance.
"You still haven't told me where they were."
"The twins? Oh—with me," he said.
The sweet, awakened look In her eyes vanished.
"With you?"
"I had to go into Nakuret on business. I took them with me."
"But—"
"I came across them playing In the garden. I asked them if they'd like to come for a drive. They were all for it. I said they'd have to make it snappy; go up to the house and tell somebody, and be down in the drive in five minutes. Apparently the little imps never went up to the house at all. I'm sorry, Judy."
Indignation had been rising within her at every word.
"Sorry! I've been nearly crazy with anxiety. And all because you couldn't be bothered to come up and tell us."
"I should have come myself. I realise that, now. I take full responsibility"; his tone was not kindly any longer. It was hard. Curt.
"You had no right to interfere; no right to take them out and keep them out until after dark."
"We should have been home before tea, but for a puncture."
She turned away. "I don't want a drink, thank you. I must go."
"I'll drive you up."
"No, thank you."
He followed her down the veranda steps and opened the car door.
"Get in."
"I prefer to walk."
"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, goaded into anger. "I'm not going to make love to you, if that's what you're afraid of… get In!"
He seized her arm in a' painful grip and propelled her forcibly into the car.
Then, breathing more heavily than usual, he climbed in beside her; released the brake.
"This way will be quicker and safer. It's not wise to walk about in the dark. My boy killed a cobra near the house yesterday. Where there's one there's another."
She did not reply. Even snakes seemed of little consequence in comparison with her chaotic emotions.
It was a longer way round by the rough mud track that connected the two bungalows than by the short cut through the wattles, but the car, bumping and lurching unmercifully, pulled up outside Kahawa within five minutes.
Judy sprang out and rushed up the steps. Tony and Teddy greeted her garrulously.
"We've had a most 'citing time. Uncle Miles took us out in his car."
"You shouldn't have gone without telling me."
Teddy looked up with limpid gaze:
"We're telling you now," he explained; "there wasn't time before."
"You must never, never, go away with anyone without telling Mummy or me or somebody first."
"Not even with Uncle Miles?"
"Not even with Uncle Miles. You see, we thought you were lost. We've been very worried."
"Did you hunt for us?" asked Teddy, with interest.
"Never mind that now. It's time you were ready for bed."
Subconsciously she heard the slamming of a car door and knew Miles had driven away. Soon after there were sounds of arrival, and Stewart and Fran came in. Fran received the story of the twins' afternoon with airy unconcern. "How kind of Mr. Beresford. Too bad you had a scare. Of course, one can never rely on the twins doing anything they are told! Mr. Beresford wouldn't know. And how's my pet Paul? Sleeping like an angel. Judy, we've had such a heavenly day!… I must tell you."
She perched on the edge of the bath while Judy went on with the twins' ablutions.
"You're off duty until tomorrow," Judy said, when Fran offered to take over.
Excitedly Fran rattled on about their wonderful day. The bungalow was nearly finished at last; they had started the boys on laying out a garden. They ought to be able to move in shortly.
"You're not afraid of finding it lonely?"
"I shall be too busy. Besides, I've always liked country life. I'm not keen on fashionable clothes, or going to gay parties. And I'll have you for a friend and neighbour. Stew says the people on the adjoining farm are a pleasant couple. Name of Brown. So uncommon! D'you know them?"
"Yes. Mrs. Brown was very kind when Daddy died. I haven't seen much of them lately. I've neglected my duty to my neighbour. I'll ask them over to meet you. We'll have a sundowner party, Fran, and invite all our neighbours. There are not many. But it will give you a start."
Fran said with enthusiasm that she'd love to meet the district, and went off for a bath and change, whistling gaily.
Judy superintended the twins' supper and popped them into bed. Then she went to her own room, feeling exhausted emotionally, and saw Larry's letter lying forgotten on the dressing-table.
She decided definitely, as she prepared for her bath, that she would refuse Lola Brownlow's invitation. Larry seemed vague and unreal; the thought of leaving Kahawa, even for a weekend, unthinkable. Before going in to dinner, Judy wrote a polite little note to Mrs. Brownlow, thanking her for her kind invitation, but regretting that she was unable to leave the farm at present. She asked her to thank Larry for the photographs, which she thought were excellent. She would be writing him later…
For some time, Judy had noticed how resentful Stevie was of Fran, and next day she raised the subject with Stevie, who immediately flared up; Judy put this down to nerves and boredom. She suggested immediately that Stevie h
ave a weekend off, to relax in and rest, but Miles came in the room at that point, and Stevie turned to him impulsively and said:
"Judy and I think a little break is indicated as we are getting each other down. Her boyfriend, Larry Peters, wants her to spend a weekend with him. Don't you think that's a good idea, Miles?"
Before Judy could protest that Larry was not a boyfriend, Miles said casually, "I see; well, that's rather up to Judy, isn't it, Stevie? I called in to say that I can't make our game of chess tonight…" He paused, looked at Judy as if to add something else, then turned around, and left the bungalow as silently as he had come…
Stevie went along to her room with heightened colour and accelerated heartbeats after her encounter with Judy.
Had she gone too far in her ruthless desire to obtain what she wanted? Judy she might be able to manage, but Miles himself was a different proposition. Why had he backed out of their chess fixture like that, what had suddenly put him on his guard?
She sat down on the dressing-table stool and stared unseeingly into the mirror. If she could persuade Judy to sell Miles her share of the farm, surely he would be pleased. Surely he would realise what an asset an experienced woman like herself could be to him; surely he would know that to marry her would be an investment. She could carry on with the Guest House idea if he wished, make a real going concern of it, run on strictly business lines. Judy was too soft and sentimental, and had already done far too much for Fran and her family than the modest terms asked for warranted.
It was disturbing to find how terribly the girl got on her nerves lately. She had quite liked her at first, but now she was finding it increasingly difficult to mask her enmity. Judy was a stumbling block to the attainment of her ambition, and as such must be eliminated…
Judy decided to lighten the tense atmosphere of the bungalow, created solely by Stevie, by holding a farewell party for the Whitechurches—their new home was on the verge of completion and they would soon be leaving her.
It was to be a sundowner party, with dancing, and Judy was anxious for the evening to be a success. She had invited all their neighbours within motoring distance, and expected about twenty people in addition to their own party of the Whitechurch couple, Miles, herself and Stevie. This necessitated a big shopping expedition, and her doubts about Stevie and uncertainty concerning Miles, lifted for a while. She drove home feeling more cheerful, sped up Suicide Hill, emerged safely upon the plateau at the top and quickly covered the remaining distance back to the farm. Bowling up the drive she was surprised to see a car already parked in front of the house—a smart station-wagon, already familiar; and to make recognition certain, there on the veranda steps stood a stocky young man with a shock of yellow hair.
The Foolish Heart Page 4