The Foolish Heart

by Marjorie Warby

  She stopped her car and he leapt down to greet her.

  "Why, Larry I" she exclaimed.

  They regarded each other smilingly. Judy was surprised to find how pleased she was to see him. "What brings you here?"

  "I wanted to see you again."

  "That's very nice of you."

  "It wasn't very nice of you to refuse to come and see us."

  "I couldn't leave, Larry. I'm sorry."

  "Directly I knew you weren't coming, I knew I had to see you again. I've got one of those kind of natures."

  She laughed, telling him he must have kissed the blarney stone. Then he explained he'd been visiting some people in the vicinity and felt he could not return without looking her up.

  "I wish you had let us know you were coming," she said, getting out of the car. "Do you want a room? We are full up at the moment, I'm afraid, but I can clear the rondavel."

  Larry dismissed this statement airily. "That has all been taken care of. I received a most cordial reception from friend Stevie, and an invitation to attend a party you are throwing tomorrow night. The Big White Chief was also present when I arrived, and came across most handsomely with an offer to put me up at his place."

  "He did?" Judy looked incredulous. Larry laughed. "I know. I was surprised myself. Because somehow I thought he didn't take to yours truly very greatly at our last meeting. But he was kindness itself."

  Stevie came out to the veranda. "Here's a nice surprise for you, Judy. Just in time for the party, too."

  "Yes," agreed Judy, entering the bungalow. The twins came running from their room to see what she had brought from Nakuret. Fran was introduced, and Judy fell on her knees beside the children, producing a small present for each. Her face was flushed and smiling as she knelt in the midst of the animated hubbub that ensued.

  Then she glanced up, aware suddenly of Miles's presence. He was leaning against the veranda post looking down. His eyes met hers in the old familiar, probing, searching glance. Swiftly Judy jumped to her feet; she always felt at a disadvantage looking up at Miles. Her foolish heart beat faster as he came round to her side.

  "Happy?" he asked, his words reaching her ears only in the general commotion for the twins were now romping with the dogs, Fran was talking gaily to Larry, and Stevie had switched on the radio.

  Judy gave him a sudden radiant smile, rejoicing in the kindness of his tone, the indulgence of his glance.

  "Oh, yes, Miles, rather! This is just what I wanted," she cried warmly.

  She meant the little crowd of people, the homely hubbub, the success of her Guest House scheme. He thought she meant Larry.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was the evening of the party, everything was ready, the children were in bed, and Judy took a final peep into the dining-room before going off to dress. A long buffet table had been erected against one wall, and massed with a delectable assortment of cold snacks. Another table would do duty as a bar. Coffee was also to be served, and soft drinks.

  Having satisfied herself that all was well, Judy hastened off to change. Her demure little dress was of light green silk, with a round neckline and slim, straight lines. She looked like a dryad in it. Her copper hair fell softly in a glowing cascade. Her sapphire eyes, more green than blue tonight above the green dress sparkled with a new excitement as she surveyed herself in her wardrobe mirror.

  Carefully she powdered her clear white skin, touched up her fresh young lips with a rosy lipstick, and stood back, surveying herself as critically as she had surveyed the rooms earlier.

  Will he think I Took nice? she asked herself, and she was not thinking of Larry.

  When she got back to the lounge, feeling suddenly nervous, Stevie was already there; a regal Stevie in a ruby velvet dinner-gown—low cut neck, long sleeves and pencil slim skirt. Too dressy for the occasion perhaps.

  Stevie moved towards the veranda door as the sound of wheels could be heard approaching the house.

  "Judy, be ready to receive our guests," she admonished, "and don't forget to introduce me. I shall not know many of them."

  The pair to alight from the first car were Miles and Larry. Tension relaxed and everybody laughed.

  "You know these two," said Judy. She looked up eagerly at Miles, anxious to catch approval in his eyes; but he was not looking at her, he was looking at Stevie, in her ruby velvet gown.

  The guests began to arrive swiftly after that. The Browns, a cheery couple, Fran and Stewart's nearest neighbours-to-be then the Hargreaves, a middle-aged couple, with two hearty daughters, Lily and Rose; three bachelors, one widower, and the rest married people. Soon the room hummed with talk and laughter as drinks were circulated and old friends met and new ones became acquainted. Fran, her vitality undimmed by the realisation that nearly every woman there wore a smarter dress than her own, soon had an appreciative crowd about her through sheer force of character. She could make people laugh, and to be amusing is an even greater social asset than to be pretty.

  Dancing soon started, and Miles set the ball rolling with Stevie, followed closely by Larry and Judy. She was much in demand and Larry was soon ousted by a succession of partners. It was not until late in the evening when the dining-room had been denuded, and some people who had far to go had already left, that Miles went over to Judy, where she stood by the copper cauldron readjusting a fallen flower spray.

  "Care to dance this one with me?"

  "Love to…" she said, and slipped into his arms.

  "I wanted to talk to you," began Miles, and then, as the music wailed and swelled, they glided off in perfect unison and he did not speak again. Neither did Judy. She felt too happy to talk. It was perfect: their steps fitted beautifully, their bodies moved as one. She knew she would never hear that tune again without remembering this moment. She closed her eyes, then opened them with a shock of disappointment as the music stopped.

  "An encore," said Miles. "Wait—I'll fix it."

  Stevie stood on guard beside the radiogram.

  "Not again just now, Miles. The Hargreaves and the Browns are leaving. They wish to bid Judy good-bye."

  Miles looked at Stevie, so firmly guarding the radiogram, then saw the little crowd of guests approaching Judy to make their farewells. He shrugged his shoulders, moved away.

  It was not until they had all gone, the last farewells said, the last gay shouts exchanged, and the final seeking headlight had vanished round a bend in the drive, that Miles went purposefully to the radiogram and set it in motion.

  "Now for that encore," he announced and went over to Judy.

  Stevie looked furious.

  "I suppose you know it is nearly midnight," she said.

  "So what?" called Judy gaily.

  "The servants will be wanting to go. They've had a lone day."

  "Since when have you considered the servants?" muttered Fran under her breath.

  Judy and Miles began dancing, ignoring Stevie's protests. Fran went round turning out several lamps.

  "What are you doing that for?" demanded Stevie sharply.

  "To help the servants," said Fran demurely.

  In the semi-darkness Miles gathered Judy more closely into his arms. Judy closed her eyes. Bliss enveloped her.

  Almost before the music ended Stevie snatched off the record and closed the lid of the instrument. She; was shaking with anger and could hardly refrain from rushing to that silently waltzing pair and thrusting them apart.

  "You really must stop," she said, striving to sound natural "Those poor children. Trying to sleep through this racket."

  Fran, Stewart and Larry were back in the dining-room having a final drink. But Stevie refused to Join them. To leave Miles and Judy dancing together alone in the dimly lit room was too dangerous.

  Miles released Judy and said with a smile:

  "You were right. You do know how to dance. Thank you."

  Judy said nothing, but simply beamed up at him. Miles went on speaking: "Poor Stevie, she's tired. It is time we packed up."

&nb
sp; "I'm not in the least tired, but you look tired, Judy," Stevie said tartly.

  Judy said to Miles, her magic moment shattered, "I believe you said you wanted to talk to me?"

  "Tomorrow," said Miles. "It's too late now. Will you be taking the dogs for a swim in the morning? I'll meet you down by the dam; it will save coming up to the house."

  "Right!" said Judy, absurdly pleased at having an assignment with Miles. He went off to join the men in the dining-room for a final drink, then he and Larry left for his bungalow, and Fran and Stewart went to their room, Fran loud in her praises of the evening and her thanks to Judy for giving them such a lovely party.

  But Stevie went to bed almost rigid with Jealousy. That last dance of Judy's with Miles had ruined the evening for her.

  … When Judy set off for the dam next morning, accompanied by the twins and the two spaniels, she felt unusually lighthearted. She was glad she had contacted her neighbours again, it was fatally easy to allow oneself to slip into a state of mental lethargy. Now she had made several promises to visit various people, fixed up tennis, and made an engagement to ride. She was alive again and happy. It was amusing to have Larry about once more, with his exaggerated blandishments. He and Fran had got on famously together from the start, and played up to each other with great spirit, each egging the other on to further absurdities.

  Judy could not remember ever having laughed so much before, and she hoped Larry would not be in a hurry to go. He had booked dates for some time ahead for himself, his sister and her small child, and was insistent that Judy should come to Nairobi for a week after the Whitechurch family had gone.

  Then Miles had been amazingly pleasant to Larry; quite different from his attitude at their earlier encounter, and Judy was glad. Life was so much easier when everybody got on amiably together.

  As she came in sight of the dam it was not altogether a pleasant surprise to see Miles and Stevie already there, talking earnestly together.

  Judy checked her happy descent and felt her spirits fall. Had Miles asked Stevie to meet him here also? It looked as if he must have done.

  How foolish she had been, Imagining that Miles rather liked her because he'd been so much nicer lately. He still regarded her as a child, and had been treating her with the indulgent kindness one might extend to a child. It didn't mean a thing beyond that, and she'd only herself to blame if she started reading more into his attitude than was actually there.

  The dogs raced ahead to the water, followed by Tony and Teddy, yelling excitedly. Stevie and Miles turned round, and Sultan trotted gravely to meet the newcomers. Judy walked more decorously in the rear. She wore navy blue shorts today, and her long, sunburned legs carried her forward with easy grace. Her glowing hair lifted in the early morning breeze like a banner.

  "Where's Larry?" Judy called gaily as soon as she came within earshot.

  "Writing on my veranda. He had a bright idea for an article and is scribbling it down. He says he must go back to Nairobi tomorrow," said Stevie. "He's returning when his sister comes, I believe."

  "So he says." Judy began hurling sticks for the dogs.

  "But you'll see him again before then."

  "Oh, it doesn't matter," she replied indifferently.

  "You are going to spend a week with the Brownlows" said Miles. "I fixed it with Larry."

  "What?"

  "Yes, Judy," Stevie chimed in, "and It's all arranged. Miles suggested the three of us should go to Nairobi for a short holiday and I think it's an excellent idea. Larry is delighted."

  "The three of us?"

  "You to Mrs. Brownlow's, I to my friend's house, where I rent a room, and Miles to the Nairobi Club. The Whitechurch family leave us on Thursday and the new couple are not due until ten days after that, so there's really nothing to prevent us."

  Judy said with an odd little smile:

  "So it's all fixed up?"

  "Everything's taken care of…"

  "Except the fact that I was not consulted."

  "We knew that wasn't necessary," said Miles smoothly, "and we knew you'd be keen to go. Congratulations on last night, Judy. Your first party was a great success. Everyone appeared to have a whale of a time."

  "Everyone helped nobly, that's why," said Judy, conventionally. Somehow the conversation had become dull and stereotyped. She was hurt that he and Stevie should arrange this visit to Nairobi and spring it upon her as a surprise. They meant well, no doubt, and she could hardly refuse to go and upset their plans without seeming churlish.

  The sweet intimacy that had been between her and Miles the evening before as they waltzed together m the shadows had vanished in the blazing sunshine of the morning, as completely as If it had ever been. Perhaps she had only imagined it, anyway.

  Miles went off to inspect the coffee on the far boundaries, and Stevie said to Judy, hoping to quench any ideas Miles's behaviour the night before might have given the girl, "While you are enjoying yourself at the Brownlows', Miles and I may have a chance to run around together."

  "That will be nice for you."

  "I never thought he'd leave Kahawa and come, too," she continued eagerly. "I was astounded when he suggested it," which was true. Stevie assured herself it proved he really was attracted, anxious for a chance to get her alone. The lurking suspicion that his decision had been made with the idea of benefiting Judy she firmly rejected.

  She had only to be patient, keep her temper and control her tongue, and her ambitions might yet be realised. If she could make Judy believe Miles was in love with herself, and Miles believe Judy was fond of Larry, the rest should be easy.

  The family's departure was a sad one for Judy. Fran was such a lovable person, and she had alleviated the pall cast by Stevie.

  Larry had left earlier: his lips had brushed Judy's cheek in a fleeting caress as he hurried off.

  By lunch-time, Judy was wandering aimlessly about the bungalow, hating the silence and emptiness which had once more descended upon it.

  Her mind was in a turmoil of unrest. She missed Fran and the children. She could no longer make a confidante of anyone. She felt lost and alone, and went down to the dam to sketch, until the heat grew too great and drove her indoors.

  She rearranged the flowers in her vases, removing fading blooms.

  She wandered to the piano and strummed aimlessly until Stevie said plaintively, "Must you?"

  She got out her embroidery frame and tried to concentrate. At last it grew cooler, and she called the dogs and went out alone to walk swiftly, striving to outstrip the ache in her heart.

  There was only one decent course open to her, she decided.

  She must go to Miles and offer to sell him her share of the estate. Then she must leave Kahawa and find herself a job somewhere.

  She would do nothing decisive until after the visit to Nairobi. Then she would have to make up her mind.

  Miles called in at the bungalow that evening to talk over arrangements for the car trip. Judy, busy with her embroidery, felt self-consciously in the way.

  Early in the evening she packed up and announced she was going to bed.

  Miles said as she vanished:

  "Judy seems very subdued."

  "Love has that effect sometimes."

  "Love?" he replied sharply.

  "Judy's little affair with Larry is taking quite a serious turn, I imagine."

  "Oh, I don't think so! They like each other. Larry amuses Judy, that's all."

  "You don't consider kissing serious?"

  "Kissing?"

  "He kissed her good-bye."

  Miles's black brows drew together, but his expression barely altered and he did not reply.

  Stevie forced a laugh, and shrugged her shoulders.

  "If you are not interested I'll say no more on the subject."

  "I am interested, but not, I hope, Inquisitive."

  "What a prig you sound, Miles," she burst out pettishly.

  "I'm sorry."

  "You are not in the least sorry," she retort
ed, irritation getting the upper hand. She disliked Miles when he became aloof and superior. She was glad she had let him know of that farewell kiss. He might pretend to think nothing of it, but the knowledge would rankle.

  She got up and announced that she was tired. Miles left without further reference to the subject. The situation was strained.

  On the car journey to Nairobi, Stevie sat in front with Miles explaining that she was apt to get a headache if she rode for long distances in the back, and Judy complied instantly.

  "I don't mind where I sit," she said, with determined indifference.

  "That's the girl," said Miles approvingly; and smiled at her, so that she found herself smiling back and her spirits lifting, in spite of everything.

  She settled back in her corner and prepared to enjoy the drive noting each familiar landmark on the road to Nakuret, then watching with increasing interest as they progressed into territory that was new to her.

  The sombre outlines of an extinct volcano stabbed the distance for miles, sometimes in front, sometimes on their right, sometimes amazingly behind them, according to the winding of the road. The sweep of green uplands, the vast panorama of sky and cloud, the meandering rough red track ahead, thrilled her Tremendous distances unfolded before them. Soon the vast Rift Valley spread below as far as the eye could see, swimming in heat haze, bleached by the glare of the sun, studded with thorn trees and scrub, and seemingly devoid of life.

  "Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun," quoted Miles as they halted at noon for a roadside picnic. "I'm afraid there's not a great deal of shade at this time of day. The sun is right overhead on the equator, and we are about that here." Judy produced sketchbook and pencil and whipped out of the car.