by Hilary Wilde
THE TURQUOISE SEA
by
HILARY WILDE
Randel Lister was anxious that his little motherless, half Portuguese daughter should be brought up as an English child, so he engaged Kate Williams to come out to Mozambique to look after her.
Kate looked forward eagerly to the task, but soon found herself battling against almost insuperable odds, which threatened not only the little girl’s future but Kate’s own personal happiness.
C H A P T E R O N E
KATE hurried up on deck and went to lean against the ship’s rail, looking excitedly over the Indian Ocean, past the miles of sand dunes, to where the white villas and tall buildings of Lourengo Marques were slowly coming into view. This was to be her home for the next six months. She had thought “Lourengo Marques” sounded romantic, but the name of the country — Mozambique — was even more exotic. What a difference names made, she thought, and yet how foolish it was to let them influence her. But she could not help it.
She was keyed up with expectancy and could hardly wait for the ship to dock and her new life to begin.
She crossed the deck and went to the other side of the ship. Here the land was farther away, and she watched two white-sailed boats scud across the water. How beautiful it all looked. The blue sky was cloudless, and although it was still early, the sun was very hot. Would she be able to stand the heat? she wondered, and then had to laugh at her own nonsense. Surely, after a seemingly endless frosty winter in England, a little heat would not worry her?
She hurried across the ship again; to stand gazing almost hungrily at the town. Somewhere, living in one of those houses, was a little girl called Rose. A child born of an English father and a Portuguese mother; whose father had suddenly become worried about her upbringing and had decided to engage an English nursery governess for her.
Kate was to be that nursery governess.
“Getting excited?” a friendly voice asked.
Kate turned and saw Mrs. McCormack, who had shared her cabin from England, smiling at her.
“You’ve got the wrong tense,” Kate said, laughing. “I could hardly sleep all night.”
“I noticed you ate very little breakfast,” Mrs. McCormack said with mock severity.
Kate smiled at her affectionately. It was amazing how fond she had grown of Mrs. McCormack, but then she had so much cause for gratitude. In the first days, when Kate had discovered that she was not a good sailor, life had been like a nightmare, but Mrs. McCormack had been more than kind, and had nursed and mothered her. Later, when Kate was better and could join in the fun of shipboard life, Mrs.
McCormack was always there when wanted, yet would tactfully vanish when she saw Kate was with a young crowd. Best of all, Mrs.
McCormack had shown plainly that she liked Kate and enjoyed being with her. The truth was, of course, that Mrs. McCormack should have had a large family. She had a great heart and an unlimited capacity for loving. She badly needed several daughters and at least three sons! As it was, she had but one child — a son. Her wonderful James, about whom she was prepared to talk all day long. Yet, according to Mrs. McCormack, James had grown up to be a very independent young man and was certainly not a spoilt mother’s boy. Kate sometimes wondered whether this was due to Mrs. McCormack’s wise handling of her own great love for her child, or whether it was due to James’s character.
Even as Kate smiled, she saw Mrs. McCormack turn to a woman standing by her side whom Kate had not noticed before, and her heart sank. It was Mrs. Kelly. Everyone on board tried to avoid her, for she was one of those women who ask awkward questions in such a way as to make it almost impossible not to answer her without being rude.
Everyone disliked her for she was not only inquisitive but always criticizing; only Mrs. McCormack ever had a good word to say about her.
Now Mrs. McCormack was smiling rather apologetically: “Kate dear, Mrs. Kelly would love to hear about your new job.” Kate repressed a small sigh but, knowing it was not Mrs.
McCormack’s fault, managed a smile. “Of course, what would you like to know, Mrs. Kelly?”
Mrs. Kelly looked at her and spoke without hesitation, almost as though she had been rehearsing her questions. “How did you obtain this post? It is most unusual for us to have a European nanny out here
— they’re usually black.”
“I’m not a nanny—” Kate corrected her quietly. “I was trained as a children’s nurse and have also taught in nursery schools.” Mrs. Kelly looked at the slight young girl and sniffed. “I understand Mr. Lister” — she spoke disdainfully — “engaged you in London?”
Kate wondered at the cross-examination, but seeing the appealing look in Mrs. McCormack’s eyes, answered politely. “That is correct. I worked for a firm of shipping agents in London and one day, my boss, Mr. Stowe, introduced me to a client of his — a Mr. Lister. Mr.
Stowe told me that Mr. Lister was looking for an English girl to take charge of his daughter. Knowing that I had previously worked with children, Mr. Stowe thought I might be able to offer some advice, or tell Mr. Lister the name of the college where I was trained….” Kate paused, remembering the excitement in the office, the chatter over the teacups as the girls warmed their feet by the gas fire and the thick yellow fog pressed close against the windows.
“Eventually,” Kate continued, “Mr. Lister offered me the post and I took it.”
“You’re very young to come out to a foreign land,” Mrs. Kelly said. “How old are you?”
The abrupt question annoyed Kate. “I am nineteen, nearly twenty.”
Mrs. Kelly looked disapproving, and almost as if she was trying to call Kate a liar as she went on: “How can you have trained as a nursery school teacher, for it’s a three years’ course?”
“I didn’t say I had ...” Kate began indignantly, and then took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I didn’t make it plain. I said I was trained as a children’s nurse. I should have said I also worked in a nursery school. I was starting as a trainee teacher to see if I wanted to take it up seriously, and then I was offered a good post to look after two children, so I didn’t finish the training.”
“H’m. Pity to start something and not finish it.” Mrs. Kelly’s eyes were sharp. “Have you no relations to advise you?” Kate bit her lip. Quick-tempered, although used to controlling herself, she began to feel that there were limits beyond which Mrs.
Kelly should not go.
“My mother met Mr. Lister,” she said with some dignity, “and she gave her consent before I accepted his offer.”
Mrs. McCormack interrupted hastily, as if seeing that Kate’s hard-tried patience was drawing to an end. “I can’t see any reason why Kate should not come out here to work. It’s a wonderful opportunity for a girl. Look, Kate dear …” Her hand on Kate’s arm, she waved her hand towards the coast. “Can you see that big white building?
That’s the Polana Hotel. You’ll like it there. Very good dances —
nice band.”
Mrs. Kelly blandly ignored Mrs. McCormack’s well-intentioned effort to sidetrack her. “But why has Mr. Lister suddenly decided he needs an English girl to look after his child?”
Kate sighed. If only they would both go away and leave her alone!
She snatched a hasty glance at the town that could now be plainly seen. There were masses of flowers in the gardens, lines of cars speeding along the roads — big white villas. It looked a tropical town
— wealthy and unusual.
“It’s a long story,” Kate began hopefully, thinking it might deter Mrs.
Kelly, but that hatchet-faced woman with the disapproving eyes and the pursed mouth merely nodded, so Kate had to go on. “I understand he lost his wife when the baby was a week old.” Kate
paused, remembering the look on Randel Lister’s face when he told her: “My wife only had time to say she was glad our baby had golden hair and that she would be our English rose. That was why I christened her Rose,” he had said in a carefully emotion-free voice. Now Kate looked briefly at the town sliding by and thought how very deeply Mr. Lister must have loved his wife. Mrs.
Kelly coughed and Kate hurriedly remembered her.
“Mr. Lister, as perhaps you know, works for a big oil firm. They sent him to America, but the baby was delicate and he did not know what to do
— luckily his mother-in-law said she would take care of the baby.” Mrs. Kelly looked very shocked. “He just left the child?”
“What alternative had he? After all, he has his job and the baby has thrived. Every six months Mr. Lister is in Lourengo Marques and sees her.
It was only quite recently that he realized she was not a baby any longer and ...”
“Was conscience-stricken, poor man,” Mrs. McCormack said gently.
Kate smiled at her. “Those were his exact words. He remembered his promise to his wife — that he would bring up their child to be a little English girl.”
“His wife was English?” Mrs. Kelly rapped.
“No. Portuguese. She had a lovely name, Candida.”
“Certainly more character to it than Rose. What is he like — Mr.
Lister? I have heard of him but never met him.”
Kate gripped the rail tightly. How much more must she stand? How could she snub a woman so much older than herself?
“I have only met him twice,” Kate told her, in a deliberately-controlled voice. “It’s difficult to describe him.”
That was not quite the truth. Those two meetings had etched his image on Kate’s mind so that, as long as she lived, she knew she would never forget him. He was tall with amazingly broad shoulders — always very well dressed. His clear grey eyes had surveyed her sombrely and had suddenly lit up into a smile that made him look years younger, as it illuminated his naturally serious face. A grave, deep voice that carried authority. He held his head with an unconscious arrogance, his dark hair was smooth. Kate had thought at once that here was a man to be respected, a man who made you feel “safe.”
“My mother liked him very much and she is usually considered a good judge of character.”
“Is he a nice man, Kate?” Mrs. McCormack asked rather anxiously. To Mrs. McCormack, there were only two kinds of men. Men you could trust
– and men you could not! Naturally, James came under the first heading.
Now her voice showed plainly that she was wondering if the same could be said for Mr. Lister.
Kate smiled at her. Dear, funny Mrs. McCormack! All those long talks they had had about men and their ways! Mrs. McCormack had said very much the same as Kate’s own mother had before her — but Mrs.
McCormack had a lot of advice to offer about Portuguese men. She had said that all well-brought-up Portuguese girls were sheltered, and if a girl went unchaperoned in Portuguese East Africa — in other words, Mozambique — and was free and easy, men had no respect for her.
“You forget Mr. Lister is English,” Kate said, meaning it as a gentle joke. To Mrs. McCormack, despite her name, there was only one flag in the world worth saluting, one anthem, one country. In her eyes, an Englishman was a chivalrous gentleman who could do no wrong.
But Mrs. McCormack took the remark seriously. “I had forgotten. He should be all right.”
Mrs. Kelly gave an especially violent sniff. “Men are all the same under the skin. I cannot understand why he suddenly decided to engage an English girl — and a young, pretty one at that. If his mother-in-law has hitherto brought up the child so successfully, why make a change now?” Kate, hiding a smile because of Mrs. Kelly’s accidental compliment, tried to explain. “Mr. Lister said Rose was growing up to be too Portuguese. Not that he minded that, but he had promised his wife that Rose should be English, and as his future will probably be in England, he thought it time to make a change. He has arranged for a transfer to England, but it will take six months, so he decided to have an English nanny for a time.”
“And what does the grandmother say?” Mrs. Kelly demanded.
Kate stared at her. For a moment she did act know what to answer. This was an angle she had neglected to think about.
Mrs. Kelly went on, sounding quite triumphant. “She won’t be at all pleased, I’m sure. Portuguese women are possessive and jealous to a degree. I wonder, too, how you will fit into a Portuguese household.” She stared at Kate and then shrugged her shoulders. “Well, we can only hope for the best. I presume he has guaranteed your return passage if things don’t turn out well?” She waited for Kate’s nod and then walked away without another word.
Kate and Mrs. McCormack watched her walking down the deck with her firm, flat-footed, almost martial tread, and then looked at one another.
Kate was not sure whether to burst out laughing’ or express her anger.
“Poor dear,” Mrs. McCormack said quickly. “I hope Mrs. Kelly is happier now. She has planted the seed of disquiet in your mind.” She gave Kate a shrewd glance. “She has done that, hasn’t she, dear child?” Kate nodded miserably. “I’m afraid I never thought of the grandmother’s feelings.”
Kate felt that somehow she was at fault. She ought to have thought of the Portuguese grandmother, but she had been far more concerned with the need to win little Rose’s confidence, of being her friend. It was always a problem with children – to start off on the right foot, so to speak. “Mrs. McCormack, do you think the grandmother will be difficult? I hadn’t thought of that,” she finished unhappily.
“Now, my dear child,” Mrs. McCormack’s hand closed over Kate’s.
Her voice showing concern, annoyance with Mrs. Kelly, and distress that Kate now feared what lay ahead. “Don’t cross your bridges till they’re built, my dear. She does love moaning and forecasting trouble.
Don’t let this influence your thoughts, Kate dear. You were so happy.
All the same, I think there are a lot of things you have not thought of, dear.” Mrs. McCormack sighed a little. “You may meet resentment, jealousy — even hostility. So much will depend on the type of woman the grandmother is. Some of my best friends are Portuguese, and I certainly would not like to generalize by calling them jealous or possessive, but ...” She laughed a little uneasily. “We must just wait and see, dear. They could make life difficult for you. On the other hand—” She made an obvious effort to sound more cheerful. “On the other hand, dear child, if Mr. Lister has any sense he will have made the situation so clear that there need be no difficulties. You have got my telephone number?” she finished anxiously.
The town was now quite near and they could see people waiting on the docks. There were great cranes and derricks, trucks driving along, a railway train slowly shunting, swarms of natives watching the incoming boat.
“Yes — I have got your telephone number,” Kate said with a warm smile.
Mrs. McCormack looked at the girl anxiously. “You’re so very young and pretty,” she said, almost sadly. That was her second compliment that day, Kate thought quickly, but this one she welcomed for it was said with affection. “How tall are you, Kate?” Mrs. McCormack went on. “You are so little. Just five feet?”
Kate laughed; she was used to being teased about looking like a shrimp.
“Exactly five feet three inches.”
“I wish—” Mrs. McCormack began, and sighed. “What’s the use of wishing?” She smiled at Kate. “You’re so pretty, Kate. Don’t blush, my dear, that’s not a compliment but the truth. I love your hair. It shines.
Could you believe that mine was once that honey-brown color?” Kate tried to hide her surprise, for Mrs. McCormack’s hair was now a very sophisticated, smokey blue-white and beautifully groomed. How elegant she was, Kate thought. She held herself so upright, as if a poker was hidden down the back of her frock. And though she was rather plump, her clothes were
so well cut that you hardly realized her size. Her biggest weakness, which she always admitted laughingly, was a passion for diamonds.
Mrs. McCormack was beginning to look flustered. “We’ll soon be there. You have promised to telephone, Kate,” she said urgently. “I’ll be worrying about you until I hear.”
Kate took the older woman’s arm. “I’ve promised, and I won’t forget.
Besides ...” She smiled at her companion affectionately. “I’ll want to get in touch with you, for I’ll have so much to tell you.”
“There’s a good girl. I’ll be waiting. Oh dear — I think we’d better go and collect our things, for as soon as we dock, the immigration officials will come on board. They won’t keep us long. James is meeting me — I imagine you will be met?”
Kate nodded, and felt the excitement sweep over her again. She looked at the shore and told herself that the threatened disasters might never happen. Both Mrs. Kelly and Mrs. McCormack were at the age when they got flustered easily and imagined the worst. Mr. Lister would see that everything went smoothly — for the sake of his daughter. “Yes — I’m being met at the docks,” Kate said.
Together they went down to their cabin to collect their personal luggage and see that everything else was ready to be taken ashore. As they moved round the small cabin, making sure they had left nothing behind, Mrs.
McCormack apologized. “My dear, I am sorry I had to inflict Mrs. Kelly on you—” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “She is dying with curiosity to know all about you, so I thought it best for her to know the truth. She’s the biggest scandalmonger out here, and if she’s going to talk
— and she can’t help it — I wanted her to have the accurate facts, poor dear.”
“But why should she talk about me?” Kate asked, dismayed.
Mrs. McCormack did not answer her for a moment. She was rummaging through her expensive crocodile leather handbag frantically. “This is a small community of English folk, my dear, and there’s always talk.
Especially when a pretty young girl like you comes out to take up the unusual — for this country — post of nursery governess.”