The Man From Coral Bay

by Jan Anderson

  to this place. So she dived to the bottom of her suitcase and pulled out the scarlet bikini she had brought for her holiday with Andrew last year. She might as well have been wearing a nun's habit for all the effect it had on him. Then, knotting up her hair and tossing a towel over her shoulder, she let herself quietly out of the door.

  No one was astir. Rossi ran lightly down the sandy path towards the sea, scattering a crowd of small grey monkeys making noisy conversation just above her head. She laughed in delight at their pretended terror, then stopped just a little further on as two tiny birds of brilliant plumage darted into the undergrowth in search of insects.

  Across the coarse sand and down to the water's edge to a sea of limpid blue that looked as soft and as inviting as silk. But then Rossi remembered someone at the Hales' party talking about part of the Ceylon coast with its dangerous undertow and hidden holes in the sea bed. Since she was not a particularly strong swimmer she hesitated. It looked all right, but then looks could be deceptive. She was not, however, going to be done out of her morning swim so, following the beach along, she headed for the lagoon.

  Running her bare toes through the warm grains of sand, Rossi found it impossible to remember she had been in cold, cold London only four days ago. Why on earth should Tom want to give up and go back there when all this beauty was here for the taking? Poor Julia, she thought, wanting to get away from it all.

  At the end of the beach the sea met the broad

  mouth of the river with a little flurry of white froth. And then, behind, the water seemed so still that it was impossible to believe it was slowly moving. Here, out of the rhythmic sound of the waves, all was silence as though there was no human for miles. Rossi took a deep breath, waded into the clear water and started to swim inland.

  When her feet were no longer touching the bottom she turned on her back and floated, watching the sky change from mist to a bright, bright blue, hearing the sudden piercing cry of a bird from the far river bank. Then she turned over again and watched the fish, small shoals of them, dart unconcernedly below her.

  Rossi felt herself begin to relax for the first time for a couple of weeks, since, in fact, she first heard she was coming to Ceylon. She could have stayed here all day, but a few hundred yards away new responsibilities were awaiting her, so, reluctantly, she started to swim for the shore.

  She had not seen the second swimmer enter the water. She was only aware of a fast, smooth crawl coming towards her, and then Matt Lincoln was bobbing up beside her.

  So you too have discovered this is the best time of day?' He shook the water from his eyes. ' Or is it merely the lack of a shower?'

  ' Did you follow me, Mr Lincoln?' She found she could touch ground again and started to back away. Somehow the feeling of sand under her feet made her feel less vulnerable.

  Alas, Rossi Finch, I'd like to answer yes, but this has been my morning routine even since I came to the bay. If, however,' he added gravely, you feel the lagoon is not big enough for both of us, I could make for the sea in future.'

  There'll be no need of that,' she returned sharply. ' I doubt whether I'll make a habit of this. It was only. . .

  . . that the pump still doesn't work?'

  ' Only because Tom was too tired last night,' she returned loyally. I daresay he's already done it by now. So if you'll excuse me, I must go back to the children.'

  As she turned away he called after her. She paused, letting the water flow over her arms.

  I just want to give you a small piece of advice.'

  Go on,' she said coldly, I'm listening.'

  This bay really is a small corner of paradise. It's only the people who sometimes cast a blemish on it. Remember that when you feel like chucking it all in. You only have to come down here or into the sea and look back at the land, as though you were looking at yourself in a mirror. . .

  You seem to be warning me in some way, Mr Lincoln,' she went on in the same voice.

  No, not warning you, just trying to help. To put things in perspective. Your brother. . .

  Ah, so that's it! You want me to try to talk Tom round to your way of thinking, whatever that is. I'm sorry, but I believe very strongly in loyalty.'

  At any cost?' His eyebrows were raised quizzically.

  ' If it concerns someone I believe in—yes. And now goodbye, Mr Lincoln. Thank you for your help last night. I shan't be disturbing your morning swim again.'

  It was difficult, Rossi discovered, to sweep off with dignity when you were up to your waist in water. All she could do was to turn her back on him and walk through the shallowing water as quickly as she could. She was beginning to see just why Tom was

  affected by Matt Lincoln's presence.

  She had been gone longer than she thought and the children were already having their breakfast under the strip of corrugated iron that served as the only shade around the house. In the bright morning light the defects of the place showed up even more clearly than when she had arrived yesterday, hot and tired. She noticed that the water pump was still in pieces.

  When she asked Terry where his father was she was greeted with a sigh of resignation. Oh, he's gone into town to find the man to mend the pump.'

  But . . . he told me. . .

  ' I expect,' Terry said seriously, that he told you he would mend it himself. But he's not very good at it, and he hates Uncle Matt to do it, so you see he has to find this man.'

  Tom came back about half an hour later, angry, by the way he slammed the car door and marched

  towards the breakfast table. He'll be here this

  afternoon,' he told her. I'm afraid you and the

  kids will have to manage about water as best you can until then. Sorry, Ros, but this isn't always a very efficient country.'

  She decided not to pursue the subject of the water pump, which was obviously a sore one, and instead leaned forward to pour her brother more tea before saying cautiously, I think, Tom, you'd better tell me what authority I have here. I would like to do something about the bungalow. I expect, since Julia went, you haven't had a lot of time, but I can see it's not half as well run as the Colombo flat. In fact, without too close an inspection, it looks downright grubby.'

  Does it?' he said in faint surprise. I hadn't

  noticed. But you're probably right. When I'm

  here I spend all my time on the plantation. As soon as breakfast is over you'll have to come and see what I'm doing.'

  Yes, I'd like that, but first there's another thing. What about shopping and cooking?'

  He seemed to have a faintly uneasy look. ' Well, shopping has to be done in the little town we came through down the coast. It's fairly basic, but you should be able to manage well enough. I can see you get the car at least once a week, or in an emergency you could get a taxi. And cooking—well, since Julia went Ponniah has been making do. I must admit he's not much good, but I simply couldn't afford to keep on the cook. I had to have extra labour in the field. Do you think you can manage?'

  I can try,' she said with sinking heart, having glimpsed the primitive oil cooking stove in the kitchen. But don't expect anything fancy, will you?'

  ' Of course not.' He patted her lightly on the shoulder. You just do the best you can, Ros, that will be good enough for me. At least I shan't have to think of everything.'

  By the end of that first day Rossi was remembering with nostalgia her mother's forecast that her trip to Ceylon would be just like a holiday. In a land where servants were plentiful Tom was obviously trying to make do with one, and a pretty inefficient one at that. Ponniah did not like the stigma of being the only one in a white man's household and took great pains not to hide his feelings. All Rossi knew as she hurried Ponniah from room to room trying at least to get the place clean, was that she would not be able to keep up this pace in such scorching heat and be able to produce an adequate

  meal as well. At lunch time she gave up the uneven struggle with the kerosene stove and served salad and fruit and a tin of corned beef.


  It was a good job that Nanny was there to keep a general eye on the children, although that was, as she remembered the reason why she had come out here, not as cheap labour.

  At these thoughts she pulled herself up short. She was being disloyal to Tom after all. His difficulties were greater than hers. To try and get things more in perspective she took the children down to the beach for a swim. The sea was safe here, after all. The water had a marvellously refreshing effect on her and afterwards she lay on the sand for ten minutes, letting the sun soak into her bones.

  Terry's voice beside her made her open one eye. Auntie Ros, can I ask you a favour?'

  I expect so,' she answered drowsily.

  Could I go and see Uncle Matt. . .

  She shot up. ' No ! '

  Just for five minutes,' he pleaded, he promised to mend my train.'

  ' No,' she repeated more forcefully, ' not unless you father gives you permission. Ask him to mend your train.'

  ' He's not awfully good at mending things,' Terry said wistfully, adding with family loyalty, ' although he is good at lots of things, I know.'

  When Nanny had come to collect the children for their late tea and it seemed a little cooler, Rossi decided to go and find Tom and have the promised look at the coconut plantation, which somehow had been overlooked this morning when he had gone tearing off after breakfast to solve some crisis or other.

  She made her way along a rough path, parallel to

  the sea, through fairly heavy undergrowth. This part of the property had been sadly neglected. It was thick with chattering monkeys overhead and bird life, heard but unseen.

  She came out into the open where the men were working among the palm trees, tall elegant trunks, set neatly apart from one another in ridges. Tom saw her and waved. She crossed over towards him, looking round her in puzzlement. Was this enough to give him a livelihood? Was it really what he gave up his career for?

  He pushed his battered bush hat to the back of his head. Sorry to neglect you today, Ros love, but it's also been another one of those days.'

  Trouble?'

  There's always trouble unless you watch them like a hawk. Toddy tapping the moment my back is turned.' In answer to her bewildered look he said, ' It's a bit like tapping for rubber. They can distil arak from the stuff you get from these trees. Trouble is, there's a time to do it, and just the right amount. The way these fellows bleed the trees with their illicit tapping, the nuts could be ruined.'

  Rather guiltily she said, ' I'm afraid I only associate coconuts with fairs at home. Can you really make your fortune here?' She spread her arms about her.

  Good lord, yes,' he told her. I've just got to be able to last out long enough, that's all. My capital is strictly limited. But much of the wealth of Ceylon comes from coconut. There's ordinary coconut, then the desiccated kind. Then there's coir that's used for ropes and mats, nets, brushes, even fuel, and the fronds for roofing. The timber itself is highly prized, because it's pooch proof, which is more than you can say for most wood, with the ants

  eating their way through everything. The milk from the actual nut is supposed to have medicinal uses, and of course there's the properly distilled arak. They make soap, candles and all kinds of things with the oil, and cattle food with what's left. There,' he grinned, ' a potted lesson for you on coconuts ! But I could go on for ever, because the uses of the coconut are endless.'

  To her inexperienced eyes it looked like being a long time before Tom would get any return on his work and his money. What, she wondered, was he living on in the meantime? Well, no doubt he would tell her in his own time.

  The following morning Tom let her have the car to do some shopping. She took the children with her, and Nanny, whom she would probably have to rely on for both bartering and interpreting, as well as helping with the children.

  By the time they got there the small town was a blaze of hot, sandy heat. The street was lined with the sort of shops Rossi was growing accustomed to seeing in this country. But Nanny headed her purposefully towards the main market, where she found herself plunged right into things, examining the barrels of salt fish, fingering the golden piles of mangoes, testing the avocado pears, then choosing tomatoes and the largest chicken she could find. At least that was a safe bet. She also bought bottled fruit juice, just in case the water situation had not improved.

  It was sort of inevitable that, while they were walking back to the car, they should see Matt Lincoln. He was a man who managed to be everywhere at once.

  She nodded briefly to him and continued to the car, but, quick as a flash, Terry had rushed over to

  him and engaged him in earnest conversation.

  She left them alone while she packed the car, then she called sharply, Terry, it's time to go for lunch. Now.'

  She watched the small figure back reluctantly away from the large one, feeling rather like a stuffy schoolmistress. At least Matt Lincoln got the message, for he raised his hand to her and was gone, towering above the crowds he edged himself through.

  Rossi said nothing to Terry, but she could not help noticing that his eyes were dancing with pleasure. She wondered what the two of them had been talking about.

  As soon as they got home she started on preparations for lunch, directing Ponniah over the vegetables, but preparing the chicken herself. At least, she discovered, the pump was working, so there was plenty of water.

  Tom came in tired and hot and soon afterwards Rossi called them all to lunch. Sue wriggled on to her seat quietly, making a great show of not noticing the empty chair beside her.

  ' Where's Terry ? ' Tom said sharply.

  I expect he'll be here in a minute,' she said innocently.

  With a sigh of exasperation Rossi asked Nanny to fetch him.

  But the old woman looked faintly guilty. Terry not here, lady.'

  Tom looked from one to the other, then back to Sue. I'll give you one chance to tell me where your brother is.'

  Sue hesitated, then seeing her father meant it, whispered, He's gone to get Uncle Matt to mend his train.'

  Tom leapt to his feet, slamming down his napkin, but Rossi was even quicker. You're not going after him, Tom.'

  Like hell I am! And while I'm there I'm going to tell Lincoln exactly what happens to people who entice small children away from their homes! '

  No, Tom,' she almost exploded. I have to live here as well. In that mood of yours, heaven knows what you'll do and say.'

  ' I know exactly what I'm going to say, but what I do rests entirely on his reaction. My fists are as tough as his.'

  Rossi took a deep breath. Things are difficult enough as it is, Tom, without you adding fuel to the fire. If you go across there in that mood, then I catch the next plane home.'

  CHAPTER V

  Tom's expression as he looked at his sister was one of complete bewilderment. Never in her twenty odd years had she rounded on him so fiercely.

  He seemed to be silent for a long time, then he said in an ominously quiet voice, ' And whose side are you on?'

  She sighed. You know I'm on your side, Tom, but getting violent with Matt Lincoln isn't going to help the situation one little bit.'

  He started to say something else, then, seeing that Sue was watching him, wide-eyed, strode away from the terrace. Rossi ran after him.

  Please, Tom,' she pleaded, I don't care for myself, or for you for that matter, but any physical quarrel you have with Matt Lincoln must reflect back on the children. They can't help becoming involved.'

  TOM turned on her and though he was staring at her she knew he wasn't really seeing her. I shall never be able to express in words what I think of Lincoln—that's why, one day, I'm going to have to use my hands. I don't think you begin to realise, Ros, what he's done to me. He not only tries to break me here, he was instrumental in wrecking my marriage. Now he wants to get at me through my children. Can't you see,' he finished savagely, ' why I can't afford to let anyone I care for come under his corrupting influence?'

  B
efore Rossi could ask the question that was burning on her lips there was a movement in the trees and Terry came tiptoeing through—quite obviously hoping not to be seen.

  Rossi laid a swift hand on her brother's arm. Whatever you feel, Tom, please don't take it out on Terry.'

  If you think I'm going to hit my son, then you're mistaken, Ros, but he does have to learn that when I tell him not to do something, I mean what I say.'

  So a few minutes later a tearful small boy was sent to his room without lunch and told to stay there until tea time. The rest of the meal was subdued, until Sue, wriggling away in her chair, asked to be excused and ran into the bungalow to escape the mood of her father.

  The chicken, over which Rossi had taken so much trouble, had hardly been touched, so she put it in the fridge for the next day. Then she brought out coffee for Tom and herself and when it was poured out, said to him quietly, What did you mean when you said that Matt Lincoln had wrecked your marriage? It's not really true, is it?'

  He shrugged and said wearily, Enticement is the word to use, I believe. Certainly before she left

  home Julia was confiding in him more than me. What else went on I can only guess. I simply prefer not to think about it.' He got to his feet, his coffee still untouched, and walked back towards the plantation to begin work again.

  Rossi watched the slump of his shoulders, hearing again the desolation in his voice, and she could have wept for him. Now she could well understand the deep antagonism he felt towards Matt Lincoln. It had gone far beyond even a business quarrel and she felt her own resentment against the man begin to build up again. Oh, he was charming all right, attractive even, and no doubt very shrewd, but behind that smooth, friendly surface must be a calculating brain. She remembered suddenly the conversation at the Hales' party and later with Barney on the plane. No one, it seemed, had a good word for - Matt Lincoln. All those people couldn't be wrong, could they? And then there was the barest whiff of scandal about a married woman '. . . . Could that have been Julia? Oh, lord, Rossi thought, what a mess . . . and somehow she had landed right in the middle of it.