"You don't realise the risks. You might have a breakdown and be stranded miles from anywhere. It isn't safe for a girl by herself, and your father would never have allowed it. For any trip other than the run to Nakuret you must promise me not to go alone."
She capitulated suddenly.
"Oh, very well! I just didn't think—about the possibilities of being stranded, I mean."
"Thank you. Believe me, Judy I'm not just being awkward. Africa isn't England…" He hesitated, then said, unexpectedly, "I was afraid you had run away."
"Bun away? Prom my beloved Kahawa? Miles, how fantastic!"
"Well, I did behave badly last night, I must admit."
"It's all right, Miles," she replied sweetly, "I understand."
She glanced at her wrist-watch. "I must go in or I shall be late for dinner."
He moved aside, and fell into step as she set off towards the bungalow.
"What was it you wanted to see me about last night—if it wasn't young Peters?"
"That doesn't matter now. Forget it."
"You said it was of the utmost importance."
"It seemed so then. Now it doesn't."
He walked on in silence for a moment.
"I think you had better tell me, all the same," he said quietly.
"Oh, there you are!" cried Stevie's voice from the dusk and Stevie herself appeared, flashing a torch along the path. "I thought I heard the car. Why didn't you tell one of us where you were going, Judy…? We have been most concerned at your long absence."
"I'm flattered," said Judy. "I'd no idea going over to Fran's for the day would cause such a fuss. I thought you were busy checking the linen, and then you had your packing to do."
"Checking the linen was quite unnecessary, and the packing could have waited."
"I'm sorry, Stevie," Judy said apologetically, too kind-hearted to let Stevie see her company had not been desired. "Perhaps some other time…"
"Considering I go at the end of the week, there'll hardly be an opportunity."
Judy said, "I must hurry. I need a bath before dinner, I'm covered with dust…" She ran off ahead of them.
Stevie turned musingly to Miles.
"Odd she should never have mentioned where she was going. I wonder if Larry Peters was there by any chance!"
CHAPTER SIX
Judy was arranging her flowers the following morning, when Miles arrived. He looked in at the door, Sultan waiting sedately at his heels.
"Everything in order?"
"Quite, thanks."
"Judy—had you any special reason for wishing to be alone when you went to Fran's?"
"To be frank, we didn't want Stevie."
"I see," he paused. "How did you find the Whitechurch family?"
"Flourishing. And such a sweet house. Thatched. You must go and see it soon for yourself."
"I should like to… they'd nobody staying with them, I suppose?"
Judy paused in her task to glance up at him.
"Fran is hardly ready for guests yet. She's throwing a party for the house-warming, but my visit yesterday was entirely unofficial. Why do you ask?"
He slung his wide-brimmed felt hat on a chair and came forward into the room. Sultan flopped down full-length with a heavy sigh.
"Why do I ask? Because I'm a fool, I suppose," he returned bitterly.
Judy thrust three gold lilies into her cauldron and stood back to admire the effect.
"Now you're talking in riddles again." she observed. "By the way, my new guests are due this morning: a Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I have to go and meet them at the station. They answered ray advertisement. I hope they are nice. I told you about them."
"I believe you did. You're still keen on this Guest House racket, then?"
"Certainly."
"And Stevie leaves on Saturday," he said, half to himself.
"That is the arrangement."
"We shall miss her."
Judy looked at him with sympathy.
"Miles, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed impulsively.
"Sorry? What about?"
"The way you are feeling just now."
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
"You need not bluff to me. I know what it means to care for someone who doesn't care for you…"
"You know?"
"Yes."
He came closer.
"Poor child. Poor Judy. I was afraid it was like that. It's a mess, isn't it?"
"It's so annoying!" declared Judy. "Why must all the wrong people go falling for one another?"
"Why indeed!"
"Pity one can't obtain love potions these days. I'd drop one in Stevie's tea, and…"
"What has Stevie got to do with it?"
Judy stared.
"I thought she had everything to do with it."
"Not Stevie," said Miles. "Heaven forbid!"
"But. Miles," demurred Judy, "all along—ever since she came— you've been friendly with Stevie."
"If you're no longer a child, as you are so fond of declaring, then you must know who the woman in the case is right enough."
She went on staring as if hypnotised.
"I don't…" she said faintly.
"You said just now that you did."
"I thought it was Stevie."
"Be your age."
"But. Miles, I did think it was Stevie. You've gone out of your way to be nice to her."
"Only to keep her contented here."
"Then I think you rather overdid it," said Judy with hauteur.
Sudden laughter flashed into his eyes.
"You're not going to tell me that you minded?"
She turned away.
"I'll have to go. I've got to be in Nakuret by eleven."
"Don't change the subject, the conversation is just becoming interesting."
"I can't readjust my ideas all at once. I thought you wanted to marry Stevie. If it isn't Stevie, I don't know what other friends you may have…"
"She isn't exactly a friend, Judy. Sometimes she treats me more like an enemy."
There was a pregnant pause. Stevie's voice could be heard upraised in the passage, scolding one of the house-boys; across the lawn Mrs. Werritt's solid form appeared, plodding heavily towards the house.
"Judy," said Miles quickly, "marry me, and let's be rid of these superfluous females for ever."
She stood up straight and faced him fearlessly.
"Very well, Miles," she said quietly; "I will."
He was utterly unprepared for her answer.
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
A gleam shone in his dark eyes, and she saw his hands clench. Stevie's high heels could be heard click-clacking towards the door, Mrs. Werritt was already panting up the veranda steps. He glanced swiftly at his wrist-watch.
"It's time I did some work. I'll look in again this evening."
"Yes, Miles."
She couldn't quite believe what had happened, neither could he. "I'm not proposing a marriage of convenience this time," he added and departed through the glass doors, tossing a word to Mrs. Werritt in passing, Sultan, as ever, padding at his heels.
Later Judy met the new guests at the station. They turned out to be a delightful young couple on their honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, she felt, would bring back some much-needed gaiety to the bungalow.
Just before lunch, Stevie came into the lounge, grumbling about the weather. "This awful drought…"
"One has to expect it in this country," said Judy, cheerfully.
There was a look of sparkling aliveness about the girl that caught the older woman's attention.
"Are the new guests presentable?"
"Sweet. Honeymooners."
"Spare me!" said Stevie.
Judy laughed.
"You seem very on top of the world this morning," Stevie went on. "Have you found out from Miles about the mortgage?"
"No I've decided to say nothing after all, Stevie. I'll hear soon enough from the solicitors. It won't matter now, anyway," s
he finished happily.
"What do you mean—it won't matter now?"
Judy hesitated, regretting her remark.
"I'll never be able to keep it from you," she said then, impulsively; "you're too discerning. Miles and I are going to be married."
Stevie was amazed, then she gave a disagreeable laugh.
"He hasn't wasted much time. Caught on the rebound, I suppose."
Too blissful herself, to wish to hurt anybody's feelings Judy did not undeceive her. Let Stevie think she could have married Miles had she chosen, since it saved her pride.
But Stevie could not let such a moment pass without sending out barbed shafts. A wave of bitter jealousy engulfed her; jealousy of the young radiance on that flowerlike face, resentful of a happiness she herself could not hope to attain. If it lay in her power to poison Judy's innocently infuriating bliss, she determined to do so.
"I suppose you imagine you are in love with him!" she sneered.
Judy dreaded to have this woman with her hard eyes and malicious tongue probe into the secret places of her heart. She took refuge in flippancy, to camouflage the depth of her feelings.
"OH, I'm marrying the man to make sure of the house!" she said lightly.
"How very sensible. Quite a bright girl, aren't you?"
Judy stopped laughing, aware too late that she had made a foolish statement to a dangerous adversary.
"I was only joking," she said quickly. "You know that."
Mrs. Werritt came back, the gong sounded for lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Smith appeared, and they filed into the dining-room.
They were all in the lounge that evening when Miles came at last. The room, to his chagrin, seemed full of people, but he managed to get Judy to herself after dinner, by saying he wanted to talk business to her in the office.
When they were alone, he looked at her tenderly and said "I want you to realise what you are doing. I'm an awkward customer, moody and savagely jealous, loathing all forms of deceit Promise you'll always be frank with me. About everything and anything. You say you will marry me. Good. But don't say you love me unless it is true. That may come later, I'm willing to be patient. But never deceive me, Judy—understand? For that I can't forgive. About Larry Peters, for instance…"
"Can't we forget Larry Peters?"
"If you can, I will," he said steadily.
"Of course, I can. It was never anything serious."
"Judy!"
He drew her towards him purposefully and gently pulled her into his arms; with one big brown hand beneath her chin, he tilted her face to his. She closed her eyes to receive his kiss, when the door handle turned abruptly, and the door was pushed smartly into their backs.
He retained his grip on her hand as Stevie came in. They had been too absorbed this time to heed the tap of her heels, or else she had deliberately quietened her footsteps.
"Oh," said Stevie innocently, "sorry to intrude. I need another ounce of wool, and I think I left it in here."
She walked across to the desk by the window, and rummaged ineffectually for a moment, then closed the lid with a snap. "Not here, after all. Of course not. How stupid of me. I packed it this morning;" her eyes darted over the pair noticing Judy's hand held fast in the grip of the man's big fist.
Miles said, "You may congratulate us, Stevie. We're going to be married."
"So I believe."
"You know?"
"Judy came home this morning very jubilant. She's a resourceful girl and a quick worker. You under-estimate her intelligence when you treat her as a child, Miles."
His expression hardened.
"I don't think I quite like your tone," he said, "and I certainly have no idea what you mean."
"No? Then I'll enlighten you. It seems a little odd to me that she should have found out she cares, simultaneously with her discovery that her father left nothing but debts, and that even this house is mortgaged up to the hilt, and that you are the mortgagee."
"Who told you that?"
"Never mind who told me. It's true, isn't it? Judy wasn't taking any chances anyway. She refused you when you proposed some weeks ago, remember? She was defiant then. This was her house. No-one could turn her out, and so on. Well, now she knows different; so quickly she safeguards herself. She pretends she loves you… how can you be such a gullible fool Miles? Can't you see— don't you understand? She's just a little gold-digger."
"Don't listen to her," cried Judy, horrified. "Don't listen to her."
Miles swung round. "Had you just learned about the mortgage?"
"Stevie told me, but—"
"Her words to me this morning—her exact words—were" cried Stevie in triumph, " 'I'm marrying the man to make sure of the house'."
Miles turned his back on the older woman.
"I don't believe it," he said. "Please go. And take your unpleasant insinuations with you."
Stevie flushed unbecomingly. "You need not adopt that tone to me. Ask Judy! She can't deny it. She has guilt written all over her scared face. Ask her to deny that she said those words to me this morning."
Miles looked at Judy.
"Did you say that?"
Suddenly she was. very frightened.
"Only as a joke," she cried. "Stevie knew I wasn't serious."
"You said that!" he said harshly.
"I didn't mean it. Oh, please, Miles—you must listen. I can make you understand… she's out to make mischief. Don't let her, Miles. Don't let her…" She turned and put her arms beseechingly about him.
Without emotion he removed those frantic hands from his shoulders; turned without another word and strode from the room.
In the silence that followed they heard his car drive away. "Now laugh that off," said Stevie, and began to laugh herself hysterically.
Judy said in a low, trembling voice:
"You're a wicked woman. You know I care for Miles. That even if he hadn't a penny in the world I'd still love him." Stevie stopped laughing:
"How should I know? I simply told the truth as I saw it."
"You've done a terrible thing. You've destroyed his faith in me. Deliberately. You meant to do that, didn't you? You couldn't bear to see us happy. You had to pull down and destroy something you couldn't have yourself."
"Be quiet," said Stevie sharply.
"I'm sorry for you," went on Judy, scorn in her cold young voice, "very—very sorry."
"Sorry for me?" cried Stevie, stung, for to be pitied was the last thing she desired.
"Yes. I pity you for your poor impoverished soul." Stevie said angrily because she felt uncomfortable: "You can cut that out, and your precious sympathy is misplaced! It is I who am sorry for you! I wouldn't remain in this back-of-beyond hole for any man, let alone Miles Beresford. I wish you joy of him." Walking quickly to the door she went out, slamming it behind her.
Back in the office, Judy stood where Miles had left her. it was her own fault for saying such a madly foolish thing, but Miles might have listened and understood; realised that it was her shyness that had caused her to be flippant in front of Stevie. Now. he imagined she'd deceived him; that she was pretending to love him for the sake of the farm…
Stevie left the next morning, and at the same time, a note was delivered by hand to Judy. It was from Miles, and she ran with it to the seclusion of her room, hoping that everything was going to be all right. The hope died from her face as she read:
No doubt you will be anxious to know the truth about your father's affairs. The lawyers will be winding up the estate shortly, and you will hear exactly how you are situated. Meanwhile I hasten to put your mind at rest concerning the house. It is yours, unconditionally. When your father was finding things difficult alone here, he did raise a mortgage, which I took over when I came out of the army. Since then things have looked up, and your father repaid the loan in full just before you came out. So the gossip was true up to a point, but like most gossip, grossly exaggerated. Therefore you will have no occasion to marry the man to make sure of the house.
M. L. Beresford.
Judy screwed the note into a ball and flung it from her. How could Miles write such a horrid letter?
Breakfast was ready and she had to go and play hostess to Mr. and Mrs. Smith with as much cheerful unconcern as she could muster. But after she had seen the honeymoon couple off for a walk, she wandered into the office and sat down at the desk Stevie had monopolised.
What she and Miles had been on the brink of finding together was too precious to be lost through stubborn pride. She would answer his letter; try to make him realise and understand.
My dear Miles, she wrote, Thank, you for your chit. What does it matter which of us the house belongs to, so long as it is ours?
Stevie left this morning before I was up, without saying good-bye. I am not sorry she has gone, but I hope the venom from her sting has not been left behind. What I said was silly Miles. But sometimes one says silly, flippant things to hide just how deeply one really feels. It was like that with me. Try to understand …
Her note was duly delivered, but there was no reply from him, and Judy drove over to Fran's house-warming party with a heavy heart…
Fran, wearing navy blue slacks and a red shirt, was flitting about greeting everybody gaily. Safari dress had been intimated on the invitations and both men and women wore shorts, or corduroys, or linen dungarees.
A long table had been set up on the veranda, and here a mountain of sausages, lamb chops, and small fillets of steak were assembled, ready for the guests to grill for themselves at the bonfire. Stewart had shown his servants how to fashion rough toasting forks from thick wire, to be used for the grilling, and these were also piled ready.
Stewart presented Judy with a drink and a toasting fork with a sausage on the end, and despatched her to the fire to start the grilling.
The heat from the fire became so great that Judy eventually lay full length on her front, shielding her face from the flames with one arm, and thrusting her fork towards the fire for as long as she could bear it. She talked and laughed and made merry with the rest, and all the time her eyes were on the alert for new arrivals.
The sausages and steaks and chops, though singed, overdone, or underdone, tasted extraordinarily good under the stars, washed down with cold beer.
The Foolish Heart Page 9