Stevie decided to unburden herself, and she told Mary all about Miles and Judy, and the bleakness of the bungalow. When she had finished, Mary said sympathetically, "You're too good to bury yourself in the wilds. Dr. Thomas rang up only last night to ask if I knew when you'd be back."
"Oh! what did he want?"
"Rather a plum of a Job going. A wealthy widower with a shaky heart wants a nurse companion to go with him round the world."
Stevie drew a deep breath.
"Sounds too easy. Where's the snag?"
"I don't think there is one. All expenses paid in addition to your salary. Think of the golden opportunity. Stevie; the things you would see; the places you'd visit. You might even end up by marrying your patient!"
"I've already thought of that," said Stevie practically, with a smile to belie how seriously she meant it. "Who is this man?"
"An American tourist. His wife died suddenly of cerebral malaria since they'd been in Kenya. She was his constant companion, and looked after his health. Now he does not care to continue travelling alone, and wants a nurse. Dr. Thomas thought of you. But, of course, if your heart is in the Kenya Highlands!"
"Mary, my dear," said Stevie, "my heart gave up ruling my head years ago. I'm not romantic. Never have been. I like comfort, and prosperity and a good time, and it sounds as if this post might offer more than the life of an up-country fanner's wife." Already Judy, Miles, the farm, where she had so often visualised herself as mistress, faded into the past. She gazed eagerly now into a new and exciting future, which held out all sorts of undreamed of possibilities. She had always enjoyed travelling, was good at organising, fixing details of trains and ships… it was a peach of a job. What luck that she should have come back to Nairobi at this moment. A sudden thought struck her.
"The post may have been filled."
"No. I told Dr. Thomas I was expecting you today. He said he would wait before trying anybody else, as he thought you were ideal for the job. He asked me to ring up about nine. But you can ring him yourself."
Stevie's face flushed. Her eyes glittered.
"When would they want me to start, do you know?"
"As soon as you can, I imagine."
"I suppose," said Stevie, "legally I should give a month's notice to Judy. I'm paid monthly. But I don't think she'd hold me down if it meant losing the chance of a splendid job."
"It would be a six months' assignment, ending in New York, and your return fare paid back to Kenya."
"Oh," cried Stevie, jumping to her feet, "how could I ever have thought I wanted to settle down." She glanced at her wrist-watch, impatient now to have the engagement clinched.
An interview with her prospective patient was arranged for her over the telephone by Dr. Thomas. The American widower wished to meet the applicant for the post before finally clinching the arrangement. Stevie, always at her best with men, passed through this first encounter with flying colours. He liked the trim, well-groomed appearance of this seemingly capable, and not too young, woman. He was particularly emphatic that his nurse-companion must not be too young. He wanted a woman willing to devote herself to his welfare, and Stevie he approved as likely to fill the bill successfully; she in her turn was favourably impressed by the outspoken, rugged, elderly man, who had enough money to be able to command and receive the best reservations on ships, aeroplanes and in hotels.
After leaving her new employer with a promise to come to him as soon as she could be free of her present commitment, Stevie adjourned to an hotel lounge for a cup of tea, and a moment to herself in which to think things over and congratulate herself on her good fortune. It was while there that she hailed Miles who had wandered in, and it was as he was approaching her table that Larry noticed the pair, and afterwards reported to Judy.
With a new authority Stevie indicated the chair across from her own, and told Miles that she was leaving Kahawa. His easy acceptance of her notice to quit offended her, and their brief conversation was curt, and without any warmth.
Stevie watched Miles's tall figure striding purposefully to the hotel exit, and her dark eyes glinted with malice.
She poured herself another cup of tea to steady her nerves, and produced a further cigarette. She was smoking too much these days, she knew, but once clear of her present post she would limit herself to ten a day, she decided. Her ruffled feelings began to subside with Miles's departure. Her mind went to her new employer, and she began to dwell with pleasurable anticipation on her coming tour.
A voice above her made her start, so lost had she been in daydreams.
"Nurse Stevens, isn't it?" accosted the voice gushingly. "We thought we recognised you. We met at Judy Maitland's party— remember? May we join you?"
Stevie blinked at the two plain women confronting her. Where had she seen those large noses, and protruding teeth before, those flashing spectacles, and guileness. friendly smiles?
The Hargreave girls. Of course. Stevie supposed, with an inward sigh of resignation, that she would have to put up with their company for a little while.
"What will you have?" she drawled languidly.
"Oh, no! We shouldn't dream of it," said Rose quickly. "We'll order our own thanks. It's just so nice meeting you again like this."
"We're down for three days. Staying with friends," boomed Lily-Rose said eagerly, "Have you left Kahawa for good now, Nurse Stevens?"
"More or less. I shall return for a short time to collect my things. I'm booked for a fresh assignment in the near future."
"They were lucky to have you for so long, is Judy down, too?"
Stevie said Judy was staying for a week with friends, but that Miles was returning on Monday. She began to make preparations for leaving, picked up her handbag, and glanced at her face in the mirror of her powder compact. -Rose continued confidentially, "Poor Judy. I wonder what she'll do when her father's affairs are wound up. It's bad luck, isn't it?"
Stevie paused in her nose-powdering.
"What is bad luck?" she asked curiously.
"Now, Rose." interpolated Lily, "you keep your mouth shut. It's only hearsay."
"It's true, Lily. Father said so. Digby Maitland told him himself long ago."
"Told him what?" urged Stevie, now thoroughly intrigued.
Rose glanced uncertainly at her sister, and then back at Stevie.
"I'm sure Nurse Stevens is the soul of discretion. The news will be public property soon, anyway, once poor Digby's estate is wound up. There's hardly any money, you know. Digby Maitland's share of the farm is mortgaged up to the hilt, to Miles Beresford."
Stevie stared incredulously.
"But Judy said the house and a half share in the land was hers."
"She thinks so. It will be a blow when she finds out, I'm afraid. She just adores that farm."
Stevie sat back, forgetting her decision to go. her mind working quickly on this delectable morsel of information.
She experienced a gush of uncharitable delight at the thought of Judy's serene young pride, due, so shortly, to be rolled in the dust.
What would the girl's reaction be when she learned the truth She had thrown her weight about to Miles concerning her house, and nobody being able to turn her out, and now— this boomerang.
Stevie was not quite through With Miles and Judy yet. She still held the power to upset their apple-cart. It would be amusing to try anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
Although Judy had enjoyed her stay at the Brownlows, she was ashamed to find herself absurdly pleased to wake on the last morning and realise she was going home, although the thought of having to make plans to leave that home saddened her.
The visit had been packed with a round of pleasure-seeking which, oddly enough, Judy felt, had made little impression. At the end of a week spent with these people she felt she knew little more of any of them than she had done the day she arrived.
Everybody was nice to her. She received enough attention from the men of the party to make her feel a success. But she was, she k
new, looked upon as simply another of 'Larry's pretty girls' and not taken seriously by anybody.
Larry began paying more attention to Peggy, whom Lola referred to easily as 'Larry's latest,' and Judy began to feel her own presence superfluous.
His leavetaking was breezy and without any sentiment.
"Well, good-bye, beautiful. Happy landings," he said casually to Judy.
Before she could reply, Peggy crept up behind them and tweaked Larry's hair so severely that he turned, vowing vengeance, and dashed off after Peggy, who. screaming loudly, went tearing into the garden with Larry in pursuit.
Judy watched them with almost motherly detachment. Larry caught the girl and they disappeared together behind a hedge; from where shrieks of laughter and unconvincing cries for help gave evidence that Peggy was receiving her punishment.
Nina, who had appeared on hearing the scuffle, said, with a not-too-pleased expression on her face: "I think I'll go and see what's happening," and went off across the lawn, to where the screams had given away to girlish giggles.
Lola said deprecatingly to Judy:
"Larry's really naughty about girls. He likes them too much; but never the same one for long. Ah," she added with a note of relief, "here comes your car."
Judy repeated her farewells and thanks. She felt quite sorry for Lola, who was obviously concerned by what she felt to be Larry's fickleness towards this guest whom he'd been so insistent should be invited such a short time ago.
She would- have liked to reassure Mrs. Brownlow that she didn't mind a bit. but felt diffident about how to word such a statement; and now here was Miles's familiar car at the door, and Miles himself at the wheel, and Stevie beside him.
"Won't you come in?" invited Lola, hoping they wouldn't.
Miles refused, knowing that to accept was not anticipated.
"We've a long drive ahead of us," he said.
He got out, and stood bareheaded in the sunshine. He scarcely looked at Judy.
"Jump in," he said, as the servants came out with her bag.
Judy, who had been speaking to Stevie, turned to the back of the car, and halted in surprise.
A stranger sat there; a large, drooping female form, in a black and white patterned dress, wearing a black felt hat that badly needed a brush, and black cotton gloves on hands which clutched a bulging handbag with fierce possessiveness, as if its owner expected it to be snatched from her at any moment.
Judy's blank stare met Stevie's maliciously amused one over the back of the front seat. She turned in mute interrogation to Miles.
"Oh!" he said. Then, in his most casual manner, "This is Mrs. Werritt. She is coming back with us to Kahawa. We'll explain on the road. Hop in."
Feeling entirely befogged by this unexpected addition to the party, Judy obediently hopped in. Mrs. Werritt's presence did not make for comfort, since besides being large she appeared to have brought a good deal of hand-luggage, which was bestowed about her, on the seat on the floor, on the back of the seat in front, and on the window-ledge behind.
"I hope," said Mrs. Werritt apologetically, "I'm not taking up too much room."
"Oh—not at all!" answered Judy, clutching at a hat-box which a curve in the drive had sent tumbling into her lap.
"I had to bring most of my stuff. I've nowhere to leave it. My trunk's coming by train."
"I see. Are you staying with us long?"
"That depends," said Mrs. Werritt darkly.
"I'm leaving!" said Stevie smugly.
"Nurse Stevens has had a new job offered her which she is anxious to accept," Miles said stiffly over his shoulder.
"You mean, she is going to be married?" Judy felt as if her heart would choke her. it seemed to be beating madly in her throat They must have arranged to get married and live in Miles's bungalow.
"No, no, Judy. I'm going with a patient round the world. A lovely Job. Miles has generously agreed to release me from Kahawa," Stevie said breezily.
Judy was flabbergasted. Stevie leaving. Going away of her own free will? Then there wasn't anything between her and Miles, after all, or had Miles proposed and been refused?
"You'll soon get used to the idea. And Mrs. Werritt is coming to take my place."
Then realisation broke over Judy.
Mrs. Werritt. This dreary-looking lady was to live with her permanently. Striving to keep her quick temper under control, she said, "When was all this fixed up?"
"During the week."
"I think you might have told me about it first."
"There was no need," Miles said in his most maddening tone. "It merely meant some quick staff work on my part. There was no occasion to interrupt your visit. Stevie wished to leave us, and I got cracking and found someone to take her place. Fortunately Mrs. Werritt was available and agreed to come at once."
A torrent of words trembled on Judy's lips, only kept in check by the presence of her new companion.
Mrs. Werritt said lugubriously, "I hope I shall suit you, Miss Maitland. I was assistant manageress in a hotel before I married, but of course it all depends, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Judy, utterly confused.
"My feet have been giving me trouble lately. But I understand my duties will be light."
"Yes," said Judy again. She tried wildly to think of something else to add; something adequate for the occasion, but could thins of nothing.
The unexpectedness of this new development left her seething with fantastic conjectures.
It was purgatory to sit still hour after hour, agog with questions she was unable to ask.
When at last they stopped for lunch, Judy sprang from the car in relief.
Miles busied himself with unloading the lunch he'd supplied, and when she spoke to him replied briefly and non-committally. Miles seemed very odd and offhand, she thought; it was obvious he was upset about something.
She turned to Stevie anxiously, said in an undertone, "What's the matter with Miles?"
Stevie shrugged. "How should I know?"
"But I just don't understand about all this; I thought he had you—"
"Hush!" said Stevie sharply, "it's quite Impossible to talk now. I'll explain later."
Mrs. Werritt, clambering creakingly from the car, still clutching her handbag, said with a wan smile, "The heat takes it out of you, doesn't it?"
Judy, regarding her, felt a pang of pity. Poor old thing. She looked so completely out of place in the wilds.
Miles had camped at the same spot he had chosen on the way down; but insidiously the scene had changed. The brown finger of drought had wiped all green from the landscape.
In an attempt to calm herself Judy produced the sketch she had started on the way down. But the light was different, and in seven days the landscape had appreciably altered, so that in a spasm of artistic frustration she threw down her brush and tore the sketch in half.
She expected Miles to make some comment—he had seemed to like the picture on the downward journey—but he paid not the slightest attention. He sat a little apart from the rest of them, his strong profile in relief against the sky, his eyes on the far horizon, his thoughts miles away. Was he brooding on Stevie's departure?
What would life at Kahawa be like without Stevie, wondered Judy, packing up her painting paraphernalia. Was Miles taking her coming departure badly? Something must have happened between them during this week she'd been at the Brownlows'.
Perhaps they had quarrelled. Could it have been because of herself? Stevie refusing to marry him while Judy was in residence at Kahawa, Miles refusing to interfere with Judy's plans because of his promise to her father to look after her?
They must not be made unhappy on her account. She could always go away, and she would go, too, even if it broke her heart, if she could be convinced that Miles and Stevie really cared.
Still teeming with conjectures and questions that could not be asked, Judy munched at a leg of cold fried chicken held in one hand, and bit into a tomato held in the other.
Their l
unch finished, the party set off again and turned into the familiar drive to the house just before sundown.
As the car came in sight of the bungalow, Whisky and Soda dashed out to the veranda barking furiously. Judy leapt from the car almost before it stopped, and was down on her knees beside the dogs while they danced and whined all over her, delirious with joy.
Miles said, "I'll drive straight on. As soon as the boys have taken your luggage."
Judy hesitated, then ventured diffidently, "Miles, what's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"You seem so cross."
"I'm sorry. What do you expect me to do? Go mad like the dogs because you've come home again?"
She looked at him as if he'd hit her.
"Do I deserve that?"
"We can't all bubble over with pretty speeches, you know. You'll miss the fun and adulation you have been receiving, I'm afraid."
"It's lovely to be home," she said softly; refusing to lose her temper, because he was obviously upset, and it was unusual for Miles to betray his feelings. He must care a lot about Stevie leaving.
"You need not try to mollify me with soft words. I see through them, you know. I may have been a fool in the past, but not now."
"Here you go—talking in riddles again," sighed Judy.
What exactly did Miles mean? she wondered.
But before she could ask him, he had released the brake and driven off.
Shaking her head in bewildered despair, Judy went into the bungalow.
"Everything," she said to the dogs, devotedly following her, "is just as clear as mud."
Mrs. Werritt was already settling her belongings in the room Larry had once occupied. Stevie had gone to hers, and Judy went into the lounge to see if there were any letters. There was one.
Judy glanced at it casually, then suddenly slit it open with eager pleasure.
She recognised the handwriting. It was from Fran.
Settling down in her usual chair with a feeling of pleasurable anticipation, she devoured her friend's news.
The Foolish Heart Page 7