The Foolish Heart

by Marjorie Warby

  Judy began to feel happier and the music being played created its own nostalgia. The tune was the one she had danced to with Miles at her own party. The melody brought back the moment so vividly that suddenly she felt she couldn't bear it. Scrambling to her feet she walked away from the warmth and the light and made for the house.

  Someone was coming in her direction from the veranda; a tall man in corduroy trousers and a familiar, maroon coloured shirt-she caught a glimpse of the colouring before he vanished from the house lights into the gloom. Judy stood still and waited. He seemed about to pass her by, until she said tentatively:

  "Miles?"

  He stopped. "Well, Judy?"

  "I expected you this morning."

  "I had to go into Nakuret this morning. There seemed no necessity to call."

  "No necessity! After last night?"

  "Last night was most regrettable, and is best forgotten."

  "You mean you don't want to marry me, after all?"

  "That's about it, Judy."

  "Very well!" she choked, bitterly wounded, striving to control her tears. "I'm sure the feeling is quite mutual."

  Breaking away she dashed from him into the shadows. He made no attempt to follow her…

  With Stevie's departure an extraordinary calm settled over the household. At first Judy could not accustom herself to the fact that Stevie had really gone. Often she thought she heard the tap of those high-heeled shoes, and after absences in the garden would find herself expecting to see that trim taut figure rapidly knitting on the veranda.

  No longer was an upraised voice heard scolding the servants, and the atmosphere was refreshingly free from strain. It was a relief to go about her daily affairs without needing to consider whether Stevie would mind about this, that, or the other, and not until she had departed for good did Judy realise quite how dominating an influence Stevie's had been.

  Life was smooth and peaceful in the house now, with no undercurrents; only one thing was lacking. Miles gave up his routine visits.

  "You have Mrs. Werritt and a household of guests," he said; "there is no need for me to look in every day any more."

  He was deliberately avoiding her, of course. So be it.

  She heard from the lawyers concerning her father's affairs. There were a few hundred pounds of capital left, after all expenses, legal and otherwise, had been paid, in addition to the house, and her share of the shamba's profits. Ample for her simple needs and tastes. She was not rich, but she had no need for anxiety. The Guest House profits paid the servants and Mrs. Werritt's salary. Judy determined to make these visitors her chief interest in life, and shut out thoughts of that dark man down the hill.

  The Smiths went away, well pleased with their stay and warmly promising to recommend the farm to their friends. Others came, and Judy found the interest and occupation provided by their visits ample compensation for the work entailed. Mrs. Werritt was an ideal manageress, self-effacing, yet efficient.

  The Brownlow ménage arrived for a one night stay, to settle in their child with his ayah, before going on to Uganda for their trip to the Murchison Falls. The party consisted of Lola and Joe, Larry and Nina, and Nina's parents. They had an hilarious evening, for Judy, when she heard from Lola to confirm these bookings, invited Fran and Stewart over to meet the Brownlows.

  She did not invite Miles to join them; he was away from home on the night of the party, having gone to Nairobi about some farm machinery he was ordering, and for this she was relieved, knowing his absence in this case would cause no comment.

  Fran and Larry were in splendid form, and Instigated charades after dinner, which were an uproarious success. Nina, obviously fond of Larry, had begun to display those little possessive touches that made him restive, Judy noticed, and wondered whether he would be caught by Nina in the end, or whether her over-eagerness for his attention would end as all Larry's romances up to date had ended.

  "You are the only girl I shall never forget," he told Judy, "because you would nave none of me. And how Is our friend the Big White Chief?"

  "Very well, thank you." Her tone was non-committal.

  "And has friend Stevie vanished from the scene?"

  "She's gone back to nursing."

  He looked at her consideringly.

  "Everything okay?" he asked.

  "As well as can be expected," she parried.

  He went on looking at her with that oddly perceptive gaze of his, with its mixture of light banter and shrewd penetration, but to her relief he said no more on the subject. And soon they had all gone again, and the garden swooned in the sun, and two elderly ladies from Nairobi came for a fortnight and stayed a month.

  The Brownlows called in on their return journey to collect their offspring, but this time Larry was not with them, nor Nina and her parents. The party had split up after visiting the Falls, It seemed.

  "The situation became rather strained." Lola explained. "Larry fell for a charming Australian we met at our hotel on the shores of Lake Albert, and Nina resented it, not unnaturally. So she and her people decided to go straight back, and Larry decided to extend his stay."

  "And was the charming Australian staying on also?" asked Judy.

  "Yes," said Lola. She and Judy looked at each other and laughed. "But her mother's with her." Lola added. "They're tourists. Wealthy people, I should imagine. The girl's name is Eve."

  One morning Fran arrived in her husband's car, full of a new exciting project. She had brought the twins, who were turned over to Auntie to mind, Mrs. Werritt at her own suggestion taking them down to the stream to play in order to give the two girls an opportunity for uninterrupted talk.

  Everybody who came to Kahawa nowadays called Mrs. Werritt 'Auntie, a title of which she was proud. Fran watched her go with wistful eyes.

  "I wish I could get someone like her to help with the kids," she said. "When you get married do let me have an option on her."

  "I'm afraid there's no prospect of my getting married for years."

  "I used to think you might marry Miles, once Stevie was out of the way." Then, as Judy made no comment, she pursued gently: "Something went wrong, didn't it?"

  "I'd rather not discuss it, Fran dear, if you don't mind."

  "It's none of my business, of course. But I should so like to see you happy."

  "I am happy."

  "You've lost your sparkle," Fran said. "However, that isn't what I came to see you about. It's this. A man Stew knows owns one of these holiday cottages at the coast. He won't be using it himself this year and he's offered it to us. Stew can't leave, of course, but he wants me to go and take the children. He thinks the change to sea-level would do us good. Now I don't want to go alone, but I'd love it if you'd join me. And bring Auntie if she'd come. The short rains are due soon, so you are not likely to have many more guests. Stew tells me this district is shrouded in mist for days on end, and many of the roads impassable once the rains come in earnest. So please consider the suggestion seriously. Miles is agreeable."

  "Miles? What has he to do with it?"

  "Stew met him at the Club the other evening and put the project before him. Miles agreed that a trip to sea-level would be beneficial after a spell in this altitude and he thought you would like it, so I came over at once, knowing there'd be no trouble in that quarter."

  "It's a tempting suggestion," said Judy slowly, gazing out across the parched landscape. She had a brief inward vision of blue seas, wide stretches of white sand and waving palms.

  "Well—what about it?" said Fran, watching the varying expressions on the girl's sensitive face; "have you many future bookings?"

  "As it happens, no. People mostly go to the coast at this time of year. I could come, Fran. In fact, I'd love to come."

  They went by train, Miles and Stewart between them fixing up all arrangements. Judy's car was despatched by rail, and Miles drove Judy, Auntie, the two spaniels and their luggage to Nakuret station and saw them off.

  He chatted pleasantly to Mrs. Werritt,
but hardly addressed a word to Judy directly, and. taking her cue from him, Judy did the same, if she spoke at all. Auntie was quite excited by the coming trip; she had stayed in one of those holiday cottages before, so knew the ropes. She was quite prepared to take charge of the housekeeping to give Judy a change, and was equally willing to keep an eye on the twins.

  The journey to the coast was a long one, and after two days and a night in the train with fidgety children and restless dogs, they were thankful to arrive.

  A blue harbour swept beguilingly before them, with a heavy fringe of palm trees and foam-bordered waves.

  The car was there awaiting them, and somehow they all piled in and began the last lap of their safari. Then came an hour's bumpy drive along a road that soon deteriorated into little more than a track, shut in on both sides by practically impenetrable jungle. Their progress became slower and slower as the lane wound haphazardly. Occasionally, even smaller tracks branched off to the left, with a pointing signboard bearing the name of a house painted on it, but there was no glimpse of any life or habitation, and it was difficult to believe that anybody lived in this lonely spot.

  "Are you sure we're right?" asked Judy at last, as she urged the car forward through the soft sandy surface, which was liable to cause a skid at any moment, or get them stuck for good.

  "I think we must be," Fran replied, consulting a letter which contained a plan of their route; "that last board said Sea Foam and that's on this map. Our cottage should be round the next bend." Eagerly they watched as the car crawled forward, and the branches of over-hanging trees scraped the roof and windows. The track was bearing to the left again, and suddenly there was another signboard and the name The Haven.

  "That's it!" cried Fran. "Press on, we're nearly there!"

  The track widened abruptly into a clearing, and an enchanting vista was spread before their dazzled eyes. The jungle, although surrounding the clearing with green density, had been ruthlessly hacked back, and three thatched-roofed, white-walled huts, with wide verandas facing the sea, had been erected haphazardly in a group. In front of the cottages came a line of short sturdy palms, growing in the sand, and beyond them glittered the ocean, as colourful as a stage backcloth.

  Judy shut off the engine and they all gave gasps of delight. Now the car had stopped they could hear the sound of the sea hissing and crashing on the coral reef that barred the entrance to the lagoon. It was a sound that remained with them night and day; the perpetual rush and roar, varying in volume according to the action of the tide. The sun blazed down, causing the whiteness of the sand to hurt the eyes. Although other holiday cottages might be near at hand, there was no sight or sound of them, and no means of getting about other than by the single track along which they had come, or the beach. Parakeets squawked in the trees, and Judy glimpsed the small brown face of a monkey peering down at them from leafy branches. She had never seen such depth of colour in the sea; vivid streaks of jade green, deep mauve and intense blue, for the lagoon bed was strewn with coral outcrops, and comparatively shallow to the edge of the reef, but here the rock formation formed a gigantic cliff and went down into fathomless depths of the ocean. Bathers were warned on no account to swim out beyond the reef.

  "Oh," cried Fran, crawling from the car and stretching her cramped limbs cautiously, "isn't it too, too heavenly? Just like living in Glorious Technicolor. We only need an unseen orchestra to start up a melodious tune to complete the illusion!"

  Judy laughed, and stood by the car, taking in every detail of the scene, busily noting viewpoints which simply cried out to be sketched.

  Kahawa seemed far away and remote, so utterly different from these luscious tropical surroundings, which might, in time, become oppressive, she thought. That dense green jungle crowding in, the continuous roar of the reef, the rustling of the palm fronds in the breeze. The night, for instance, it could be eerie. She was glad they had brought the dogs.

  Mrs. Werritt was already exploring the accommodation. A boy had appeared from the rear of the largest cottage, and was now unloading the car and carrying luggage. The twins had already dashed towards the sea, Whisky and Soda in excited pursuit, and Fran dashed after them.

  "Wait, come and get into your bathing pants first, you imps!"

  The largest cottage consisted of the living-room, pantry, and one bedroom, they discovered, and the two other cottages were additional bedrooms.

  It was arranged that Fran and the children with the ayah should camp in the main cottage, while Mrs. Werritt and Judy decided to share one of the others, in preference to sleeping alone.

  In spite of the many unknown insects and the lurking menace behind that green curtain of Jungle, and their primitive accommodation, they were happy. The sun-drenched mornings the many swims in the warm sea, the meals on the veranda, the afternoons resting, the evenings spent in idle conversation, and then early to bed to escape the attentions of mosquitos and all nocturnal marauders.

  One lovely night, looking at the rising moon pale and silvery behind the silhouette of the palms, the smooth glittering of the sea. when even the waves on the reef were softened to a muted murmur, Fran said:

  "You know, this place makes me wish I wasn't married."

  "Good gracious, Fran. Why?"

  "It's so romantic," sighed Fran; "Just look at It An ideal setting for a love affair."

  "But an Adamless Eden," said Judy, and her mind flew to a stubborn man, plodding through his daily routine on the faraway farm in the highlands.

  "Let's walk along the sands as far as the next bungalow tomorrow," suggested Fran; "the cook-boy told me some people arrived yesterday. It might be fun to call. By the way, I must go in the morning to fetch the mail. Have you anything to post?"

  "No," said Judy.

  Fran raised her eyebrows. "I don't blame you not bothering about writing. I wouldn't either if it were not for Stew, but— haven't you let Miles know we arrived safely?"

  "He'll know he'd have heard if we hadn't."

  "I see," said Fran, sounding puzzled.

  "I'll scribble a few cards in the post office when I go sometime," Judy added offhandedly.

  She stayed behind the following morning in charge of the children, as Mrs. Werritt wished to choose wool, to begin some knitting to help fill the long, idle hours.

  "I'll go in next time," Judy said; "no, I don't mind a bit."

  After their first bathe of the day, she and the children saw the car off along the rough track, Fran driving this time; and then, leaving Paul in his ayah's care, she took the little boys and the dogs for a walk along the water's edge, their objective being a coral out-crop where there were exciting pools to explore.

  As they went along she looked occasionally at the shore, noticing the various little holiday bungalows set back in small clearings in the jungle green, similar to their own. On their return, driven back to seek the shelter of their veranda by the blazing heat of approaching noon, she saw signs of animated occupation in the bungalow nearest their own. A gay umbrella had been erected where the grass merged into the sand, and a group of men and girls were reclining there. Judy, a slim figure m a green bathing suit, her limbs sunburned to a golden brown, was practically disguised by glare-glasses and a huge straw hat which hid her glowing hair, yet one of the men stiffened alertly and stared as she strolled across the sands towards the shore.

  "I'd recognise those dogs anywhere! And those kids!" he said aloud. "I believe—in fact I'm certain…" He rose to his feet and came to meet her.

  "Larry!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were miles away."

  "I was. But I'm mobile, you know."

  "I'll say you are," she laughed.

  "Also," he added, "I'm married."

  "Married?" Judy almost screamed, then clapped her hand over her mouth. "Is your wife up there .now? It is Nina?"

  "Not Nina, or Peggy, or anybody you know. Her name is Eve."

  "Oh, the charming Australian!"

  "How did you guess?"

  "Aha!" she tea
sed. "I'm very glad, Larry. I hope you'll be terribly happy."

  "Thanks a lot. You see "—he looked at her sideways—" I haven't married for money. But I've married where money is—"

  "Oh!" she said.

  "Don't say 'Oh' like that. I'm devoted to Eve. She's a sport. Likes the same things as I do. Wants to roam the world. No roots. We shall be vagabonds together. Her mother is with her on this trip, but they are due to return to Australia this month, so I had to make up my mind quickly. I decided she was too big a prize to lose. Neither of us could stick the idea of being engaged, yet thousands of miles apart. It had to be all or nothing for us; so I threw overboard my old prejudices and took the plunge. We shall settle Mamma back on the jolly old sheep-farm, then Eve and I are off to America."

  "And the book?"

  "Book?" he looked vague.

  "The book you are writing about your travels?"

  "Oh, I shall settle down to that some day when I've more time. I'm still making notes."

  Judy wondered privately if that book was destined ever to be written.

  "This is a romantic paradise anyhow," she said; "are you on your honeymoon?"

  "Yes," Larry said, "If you can call it a honeymoon with a party of eight people. Otherwise, no."

  "Meaning?"

  "Lola had booked this place for a month. She comes here every year; makes up a party, you know, so that she doesn't get bored. All that was arranged before I met Eve. After I'd met her, I got Lola to include Eve and her mother for this holiday. They said they'd love it. Lola had difficulty in arranging the sleeping accommodation, so to simplify matters Eve and I were married. It helped Lola out." His eyes were dancing wickedly in the old audacious way.

  "Larry, you're incorrigible," Judy said.

  She was taken up to the bungalow to meet his bride, and warmly welcomed by Lola, who called her 'darling' and couldn't, Judy felt certain, remember her name, or even place who she was at first.

  Eve proved to be a small, vivacious brunette, with a tip-tilted nose, dancing dark eyes, and a smiling red mouth. She appeared very sure of herself, with that air of self-confidence endowed by independent means.