“I’m afraid I can’t. I stick to my pipe now. The tobacco seems to last longer and I’m on a tight budget.”
She removed a cigarette from her handbag and, as he held a match for her, she studied his face thoughtfully. Then she drew on the cigarette and asked quietly, “What’s wrong, Mark?”
“Wrong? Nothing that an increase in pay won’t put right.”
“I don’t mean that and you know it. You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. Why?”
“All right, Elizabeth. I’ll tell you,” he answered steadily. “You see, things have changed a great deal since we last met, and we can’t put the clock back. For one thing I earn a lot less than I did in England. I certainly can’t contemplate marriage now.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we should stay here, darling,” she said impatiently. “You must resign and we’ll go ... oh, to Canada, perhaps. Now that I’ve finished my term of duty at Lagos I’ve no ties so I can wait until you’ve worked your notice and then—”
“Hold on a minute!” Mark remonstrated sharply. “I’ve no intention of leaving here. We’re just beginning to make real progress and I have plans for improvements as soon as the money is, available.”
“But you’re wasted here. You used to be so ambitious. You were going to specialize in plastic surgery and do great things.”
“Our ideas of what great things are change. I used to think that what I wanted most was to be recognized as an authority in my own branch of surgery, but now that seems a selfish ambition.” Mark’s deep voice was thoughtful, as though this was the first time he had tried to put into words his feelings about his present work.
“It’s not selfish, Mark.” Elizabeth Frayne was beginning to feel angry. She had not expected to meet opposition; certainly not strong opposition. But she was a determined young woman. She meant to have her way and she had not the slightest doubt that she would get it, even if it did take a little longer than she had reckoned on. “You could do more good by improving plastic surgery methods and helping people all over the world than by looking after a handful of Nigerians.” She was pleased with this argument, but the obstinate man shook his head.
“Don’t you see that if I don’t make these discoveries someone else will and probably do the job better than I could anyway?” he asked earnestly. Dr. Frayne’s eyes widened. Humility was a new quality in Mark Charlton. She made no reply and he went on, “But if I leave here there’ll be no rush to take my place.”
Still rather at a loss, Elizabeth Frayne saw a tall, lean figure in black approaching the house, and said spitefully, “Who’s the female who looks as though she’s dressed up to represent Doom in amateur theatricals?”
Mark looked around. “This is your hostess; sister of the minister here.”
“She looks grim. Is she always like that?”
“I suppose she does unbend sometimes, though I’ve never seen her,” Mark admitted.
“I’m absolutely petrified,” laughed Elizabeth gaily.
Mary Kennedy climbed slowly up the steps and stood at the top looking coldly at the newcomer.
Mark stepped forward. “Miss Kennedy, this is a former colleague of mine, Dr. Frayne.”
The latter, with a warm smile, said apologetically, “I hope you don’t mind me arriving out of the blue like this, Miss Kennedy. I suppose it was naughty of me not to give any warning, but I wanted to give Mark a lovely surprise.” She threw him an intimate glance.
The Scotswoman’s expression did not alter nor did she look directly at the other woman as she replied, “I don’t see how we can possibly accommodate you, Dr. Frayne. The house is full now with the doctor here and the nurse and every spare corner piled up with crates and boxes so a body can hardly move—”
“I’ll shift my stuff and Dr. Frayne can have my room,” Mark said quickly. “I’ll sleep over at the hospital. There’s a bed in the consulting room.”
Mary Kennedy sniffed. “I’ll away and see to it,” she snapped and stalked off into the house.
Elizabeth Frayne shuddered. “Ugh! What on earth is wrong with her?” she asked Mark. “She seems to have a grudge against someone or something.”
He shrugged. “I don’t understand her entirely myself. I think it has something to do with the fact that her brother—who is probably the only person in the world she cares about—has been slaving his heart out here for years without making very much headway. Then we come along—Nurse Marlowe and I—and win the Africans over completely in a short time. So she dislikes and resents us.”
“It must be very uncomfortable to live with a person like that. I thought when I first saw her that she was quite old, but she can’t be more than 35; it’s having her hair scraped back like that, and her sour expression, that make her look so much older.” An unpleasant thought occurred to her and she asked with a frown, “I hope her brother isn’t like her.”
“Oh, no,” Mark assured her. “Andrew Kennedy is very easy to get on with.”
“I’ve never met a missionary before,” she mused. “I expect he’s frightfully high-minded, isn’t he? I always imagine missionaries as fanatical types with pale faces and burning eyes.”
“Oh? And how often do you think of missionaries?” laughed Mark. “Anyway, you can judge for yourself. Here he comes.”
Andrew ran toward the house and bounded up the steps, a broad smile on his brown face. “Moses told me we had a guest,” he panted to the new arrival. “I’m awfully sorry I wasn’t here when you got here, er...”
Mark made the introductions.
“Welcome to Ngombe, Dr. Frayne,” said Andrew warmly. “Have you met my sister yet? Is she arranging things for you? Getting you some refreshment?”
“I think she’s seeing to my room,” Elizabeth told him. “I’m afraid I’m driving Mark out of his. I feel dreadfully guilty about it but there doesn’t seem to be a really good hotel around here.”
The clergyman grinned. “No. We are rather short of five-star hotels in Ngombe.” He turned to Mark. “But I’m sorry you are being turned out, Charlton. We’re not used to such a large household. Well, come inside, and I’ll hustle the boys to make some tea—or would you like to freshen up first, Dr. Frayne?”
“Tea would be lovely if I don’t look too travel-stained.”
“You don’t look the least bit travel-stained,” Andrew said gallantly and truthfully, as he led the way into the living room. “Tea first then. I’ll see about your luggage, Dr. Frayne, and I’ll get your stuff taken across to the hospital, Charlton, though you can leave most of it in my room.” He went to the door, turning to say, “I shan’t be long. Make yourselves comfortable.”
“Comfortable!” Elizabeth Frayne exclaimed when he had gone. “In this place!” Her sweeping glance took in the ugliness of the furniture, the unrelieved drabness of the color scheme, if browns and grays could be called a color scheme. “It doesn’t even look weatherproof!”
“Oh, it’s that at least,” Mark consoled her. “Corrugated iron may not be elegant but it keeps out the rain very effectively, I can promise.”
“I suppose I should be thankful for that,” was the caustic reply. Elizabeth Frayne sat down, carefully arranging her skirt over her crossed knees, and said more pleasantly, “I like the Rev. Andrew though. He’s sweet and he has a sense of humor, and what is more, he welcomed me nicely and paid me a compliment, neither of which you have done so far, Mark darling.” She waited expectantly for his answer but at that moment a boy came with tea, followed by Mary Kennedy and Andrew.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Katherine, meanwhile, was in the clinic room checking the drugs and medicines and making notes of those that needed replenishing. As she worked she was wondering about Elizabeth Frayne. Why had she come to Ngombe without telling Mark? How long did she intend to stay? The lovely doctor was not the type of woman one would expect to be content to bury herself in an out-of-the-way place. Katherine remembered that in Grinsley Dr. Frayne had been regarded as having outstanding ability and was consid
ered to have a brilliant future. She specialized in ophthalmic surgery. Once she had refused to marry Mark because her career was more important to her; now that she had come to Ngombe it could only be because that was no longer the case, that Mark meant more to her than her work and if that were so, Katherine might as well put out of her mind any stubborn little hope she had been cherishing that one day he would come to love her.
And what were Mark Charlton’s feelings at the sudden appearance of the woman he loved? It was hard to tell. He did not show his emotions, and having once been badly hurt he would be guarded. At the moment of recognition, when in his surprise he might have given himself away, his face had been turned from Katherine, and when he reached the house his feelings would be firmly under control.
When she couldn’t find anything else to do, Katherine reluctantly returned to the house and went straight to her room to get ready for dinner. Sitting on her bed waiting for Moses to bring her washing water, she went through her clothes in her mind. She was not going to make the contrast between herself and the new arrival greater than was absolutely necessary. Suppose she put on the oyster pink silk dress she had brought with her? Why had she brought it anyway? It had been some vague foolish idea that, if he saw her in something completely different from her usual sensible clothes, Mark might begin to think of her as a woman instead of just as a nurse. Not much chance of that now. She would need to march out wearing nothing at all to be noticed where the beautiful, soignée Elizabeth Frayne was!
During the months she had been in Ngombe, Katherine’s self-confidence had gradually increased. The work had been hard and Mark had expected a lot of her, but she had never failed him. She had won the trust and affection of the patients, and the friendship and love of Andrew. She had felt more secure than she had since she was a child.
But in the past few hours this hard-won assurance had been slipping away from her and she knew she would not regain it while Elizabeth Frayne remained in Ngombe. The thought of Andrew did something to cheer her though. Dear, kind Andrew. It was comforting to know he was there, thoughtful and reliable.
Moses brought her washing water, and eventually she took from the cupboard the cream shantung dress she had not worn since Christmas Day on the train when Mark had given her the turquoise necklace. She had not worn the necklace since then either, though she had taken it from its box almost every day and looked at it, remembering the way he had fastened it around her neck, feeling again the touch of his hands on her bare skin as he fumbled with the catch.
She decided to wear the necklace that night. Before dressing she rubbed her hair vigorously with a pad of cotton wool soaked in eau-de-cologne to freshen it. She had cut it herself a few days earlier, as it was getting too long to keep neat, and now it formed a thick cap curving about her ears and falling into a soft wave at the front. After brushing, it looked quite nice, and when she had dressed and put on lipstick and the necklace, she was not too depressed at her appearance.
It was still too early to go in to dinner, so she sat at the table and quickly finished her newsletter for the vicar. Then looking through the last letter she had received from her friend Ann Jameson, she sighed. Lucky Ann! Everything seemed to be going well for her. Ann had written, “You may remember my mentioning once or twice a house surgeon called Peter Stainton.” Katherine smiled. Mentioned once or twice, indeed! Ann’s last half dozen letters had been almost exclusively about the young man. Well, now they were engaged and were to marry soon. At the end of her letter Ann had written, “Everything would be perfect if you could be at my wedding, Katherine. We always said we would be each other’s bridesmaid, didn’t we? There’s still the chance that I might be yours, though. I hope things turn out well for you. You don’t tell me much about yourself in your letters. I think I understand why, and I pray that you will find your happiness as I have done.”
Tears threatened in Katherine’s eyes as she finished the letter. Lucky, happy Ann to be in love with a man who returned her love. Katherine rejoiced in her friend’s happiness, but could not help wondering why her own life would not run so smoothly.
Andrew and Mary Kennedy were in the sitting room when she went in later. Mary was by the window doing crochet and Andrew was playing the piano.
When he saw Katherine, he jumped up and came toward her. He stopped a short distance away and studied her appearance, his head to one side. “Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, “you’re looking particularly bonny tonight, Kathie. Come over to the piano. I feel the urge to serenade you.”
She smiled, pleased by his admiration, but uncomfortably aware of his sister’s stiff back and set, disapproving face.
Andrew seemed not to notice it, however. He sat down and began to play and sing in a pleasant tenor voice, “My love is like a red, red rose, that’s newly sprung in June—”
At that point Mary Kennedy gave a snort, threw aside the lace mat she was working on, and stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Unperturbed, Andrew went on playing but broke off his song to say, “My sister thinks I should only play sacred music, especially as the piano was a gift from the Missionary Society.” He smiled his sweet smile. “Well, Robbie Burns may not have been notoriously devout but he was a grand poet. ‘So sweet art thou, my bonny lass, so deep in love am I, and I will love thee still, my dear, ’til a’ the seas gang dry.’ ”
He played on quietly, his gentle eyes on Katherine’s face. She watched his hands as they moved lightly over the keys. He means it, she was thinking. He loves me and always will. She put her hand up to her throat and touched the turquoise necklace. Why couldn’t it be Mark who was looking at her with so much love in his eyes? Why couldn’t she feel toward Andrew as she felt toward Mark? If she had not known Mark she would have thought her affection for Andrew was what being in love meant. But having known the wonderful power of love, the longing, the hope and despair of it, any other emotion seemed weak and rather trivial.
The door opened and Elizabeth Frayne entered. The slightest shadow of a frown passed over the Scotsman’s face, but he stood up, smiling, to greet her.
“Please call me Elizabeth,” the newcomer begged charmingly. “Dr. Frayne sounds so horribly stiff and formal.”
“Very well, Elizabeth,” Andrew replied. “This is Katherine and I’m Andrew.”
They smiled at each other a little shyly and then Elizabeth Frayne sauntered over to the piano.
Katherine watched her with reluctant admiration. How did she manage to look so fresh and well groomed after traveling hundreds of miles in temperatures in the nineties, having had only a jug of warm water for washing, and wearing clothes that had just been unpacked? It was incredible. She wore a black sheath dress and matching stiletto-heeled shoes. Her only jewelry was a pair of jade earrings, and her shining coppery hair was swathed around her head Grecian style. She was talking to Andrew about music.
“Mark and I used to attend concerts often,” she was saying. “He must have missed them dreadfully while he has been here.”
Andrew grinned. “I suppose he must. I’m no substitute for Moiseiwitsch, I’m afraid. Do you play, er, Elizabeth?”
“A little,” she said modestly. “I don’t get much time to practise, though I do as much as I can. It keeps my hands supple for my work. May I try now?”
“By all means.”
She sat down and began to play a Brahms waltz. She played well, Katherine noted without surprise.
“Excellent,” said Andrew when the piece was finished. “You must play for us again later. Now, I’ve got a wee drop of sherry I’ve been hoarding, so I’ll go and collect Mary and we’ll all have a drink before dinner.”
He went out and Elizabeth Frayne walked over to the window and stood for a few seconds looking out. Then she shuddered and turned her back on the river and forest outside. “What a place! How anyone can live here for years and years I just can’t imagine.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad when you get used to it,” said Katherine mildly.<
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“I don’t see that it could be worse. It quite literally gives me the creeps. I feel as though there are insects and snakes crawling about everywhere.” She looked nervously about her as if she expected to step on a boa constrictor at any moment.
“Well, I suppose there are, well, nearly everywhere,” Katherine told her wickedly. “It’s best not to think about it too much.”
“It’s horrible! And the plumbing! It’s just nonexistent. What do you do when you want to take a bath?”
“You tell the boys and they bring the tin bath to your room; then they heat the water in old oil cans and carry it to the bath by a sort of relay system.” Katherine explained this calmly as though it was quite an ordinary way of preparing a bath.
Elizabeth Frayne shuddered again. “I thought Lagos was bad enough, but this...” She looked at Katherine for the first time with real interest. “Why did you come here?” she asked.
Katherine thought the question was put in a faintly impertinent way but she answered evenly, “To nurse the sick.”
“Surely there are plenty of sick people you could nurse without coming to a primitive place like this?”
“Yes, but if everyone thought like that no one would come here, and these people have as much right to help as any others.” Even to Katherine herself this speech sounded priggish, but nevertheless it was true. She wondered what was behind these questions. If Dr. Frayne did not believe Katherine’s only reason for coming to Africa was to nurse the sick, what reason did she suspect? It could not be that she regarded Katherine as any sort of rival. To the beautiful doctor she was simply an insignificant little nurse.
Half-bored, half-amused, the older woman shrugged and said, “Well, I’ll be glad to get away.”
Katherine’s heart leaped. “You ... you’re not staying long?” She tried to sound as though it did not matter to her either way.
“I certainly am not,” was the emphatic reply. “I can’t go back at once. Mark and I have not seen each other for more than a year; but as soon as we have made our plans I shall go back to England.”
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