Sally Wentworth - Conflict In Paradise

by Sally Wentworth

  The full import of what she had said hit her and Tansy blushed to the roots of her hair. 'Oh! I didn't mean…' With a quick, angry movement she pulled down the waistband of his pants and jabbed the needle viciously into his thigh.

  'Ouch!' Despite the pain he continued to shake with silent laughter as Tansy cleaned up the gashes on his back, which luckily were merely superficial and would soon heal. She worked as quickly as she could and was none too gentle as she slapped on the antiseptic.

  Turning away, she said coldly, 'You can get dressed now, Major. And there won't be any need for you to come again.'

  'No, Doctor. Thank you, Doctor,' he said meekly as he put on his shorts and blood-stained shirt, but Tansy could still hear the laughter in his voice. Determinedly she kept her eyes on the instruments she was putting in the sterilizer, but was forced to turn round to look at him when he said, 'Oh, Doctor, there's just one thing.'

  'Yes?' Tansy asked unwillingly.

  'I'm sure you're extremely efficient, but your bedside manner leaves much to be desired!' Then he was gone, and the tin of antiseptic powder that Tansy threw at him cascaded only over the back of the door.

  Indignantly she stared at the mess, her heart beating wildly and her fists clenched in rage. Then, absurdly, she began to giggle, slowly at first, but then really laughing with merriment. Damn the man! she thought as she wiped her eyes. How dare he make her laugh? Now it wasn't going to be so easy to hate him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thursday dawned bright and clear and as Tansy pushed her window wide to look out across the bay she saw the red glow of sunrise lighten into the gold of early morning as the mists surrendered to the rising sun. Inara, too, was up and about and had her breakfast ready by the time Tansy returned from her morning shower under the waterfall. A sense of excitement pervaded the atmosphere as the two women made their way into the village to help with the preparations for the feast. There would be no clinic today—everyone was far too busy to feel ill. Children were running round carrying heavy pails of water from the spring, grating coconuts, or being generally put to use in a hundred ways. Perhaps it was because they were made to work so hard as little children that the islanders tended to become extremely lazy as they got older.

  But today everyone was helping to make ready and was smiling and singing as they worked, although behind the sound of the people's voices Tansy could hear the raucous roar of the bulldozer's engine as it was used to clear the smaller plateau that ran at right angles to the coconut plantation. High in the blue sky a great hawk, sweeping overhead in long circles, had come down from the mountain and waited, ready to pounce on any small animal that ran from the danger of the encroaching bulldozer into open ground.

  Three of the cattle had been slaughtered and their carcases had been roasting all night in the eight foot square by eighteen inches deep earth oven. This had been lined with stones on the bottom and a huge fire of palm logs built on them. When the stones became red hot, the ashes had been swept away and the food laid on the stones. Then big leaves were spread over the food and everything covered in sand. Now the women put in the chickens and joints of pork and started to prepare the vegetables and sauces. Great cauldrons were simmering over open fires ready to boil the piles of sweet potatoes and breadfruits, and the fishermen were out in the bay with nets and spears to catch the hundreds of fish that would be needed. More important still were the drums and pails of toddy and other native brews that were being collected together under a specially built shelter.

  One cleaned-out oil-drum bubbled and frothed like a witch's cauldron, and Tansy asked the grinning native who watched over it what it contained.

  'This is a special cocktail for the soldiers,' he told her. 'Three parts rum to two parts of coconut beer, and one part of those bottles of hair oil that we bought from the schooner last year and nobody wanted. We figured that would make it slip down real good.'

  Tansy looked at him in horror as his grin widened even more. She hoped the soldiers would stick to the toddy or else there would be some bad hangovers the next day.

  At noon the sound of the bulldozer stopped, and for a few minutes she could almost hear the blessed silence, so quickly had her ears become attuned to the continuous sound of the engine in the background. Before the feast there was to be a programme of native sports that would last the whole afternoon, and Tansy had promised John that he could come and watch these for an hour or so as long as he went back to the clinic to rest before the actual feast started. His leg was healing well and she would soon be able to remove the stitches; in which case, she thought with a trace of regret, she would have to relinquish her patient back to his comrades. She would be sorry to see him go, because she had enjoyed the many conversations they had had together when she kept him company during the day. After his first night at the clinic Blake had sent down his batman, who arrived punctually at ten every evening, to spend the night on a camp bed in John's room, thus relieving her of her vigil.

  The batman was with John now and had helped him to dress in shirt and shorts against Tansy's orders, but his eyes were so full of eagerness at his reprieve from hospitalisation that Tansy didn't have the heart to do more than frown at him.

  He grinned back at her like a small boy caught in some mischief. 'I refuse to go to my first feast in pyjamas and dressing gown. It would definitely be bad for my morale.'

  'All right, you win this time. But remember, not more than a couple of hours this afternoon, and you're to promise to tell me at once if the heat gets too much for you. It's the first time you've been out for nearly a week and you must take things easily. If I think you're not up to it I won't let you go tonight,' she warned.

  He agreed somewhat impatiently and Tansy supervised his transport to the open space in front of the meeting house in a chair carried by two of her stalwart rowers. A shade had been rigged up for him and Tansy carefully lifted his leg on to a footstool and made sure he was comfortable.

  'I'm all right, really,' he assured her. 'Please, Tansy, don't fuss, I'm fine.' And he turned eagerly to watch a palm-climbing race between two young teenage boys.

  'Your patient seems to be recovering,' Blake said drily, overhearing John as he walked up to them. 'Especially if he's ill-mannered enough to abuse your care of him.'

  John flushed and hastily apologised, which Tansy acknowledged with a slight nod before turning to walk away, but Blake caught up with her.

  'Aren't you going to watch the sports?' he asked.

  'Yes, but I wanted to get a flask of iced fruit juice from the fridge at the clinic in case John feels thirsty.' Tansy didn't look directly at him, she was afraid he might see the excitement in her eyes as she thought of what they were going to attempt that day.

  'Then I'll walk with you, if I may?'

  'That really isn't necessary, Major. I can manage perfectly well.'

  'But I want to talk to you.' He put his hand under her elbow and drew her along the path to the clinic.

  'Oh? What about?' Tansy tried to ask lightly. 'Is your back giving you trouble?'

  'No, it's fine, thanks to you. All that antiseptic you put on seems to have done the trick.' There was an undertone of laughter in his voice that made her recall vividly their last meeting and her rough treatment of him. 'I wanted to ask you how John was coming along.'

  'Very well. I was thinking earlier that I'd be able to take his stitches out soon, probably on Saturday to give him time to recover from today's festivities. You can arrange to collect him on Sunday, if that would suit you?'

  'Good, I'm glad to hear it. I don't want to make your life a misery by leaving an impatient convalescent on your hands longer than necessary.' His manner was politely casual as Tansy walked along in the shade cast by his large frame.

  'On the contrary, it's made a welcome change to have a European to talk to.'

  He looked at her keenly. 'You miss your countrymen?'

  'Not when Daddy's here, then we natter to each other all the time, but when he isn't I sometimes
…' She stopped, not wanting to give too much of herself away.

  'Will he be back shortly?' The question was merely polite, not probing.

  'I'm not sure. He's decided to have a holiday in Australia while he's there.' Then, not wanting him to think that her father had in any way deserted her, 'I don't suppose it will be for long. He usually can't wait to get back,' she said defiantly.

  'Of course not,' Blake returned smoothly. 'Unless he's stopped running away.'

  'Running away? What on earth do you mean?' Tansy stopped and looked at him in surprise.

  Blake turned lazily to face her. 'All white men who settle in the tropics are running away from something.'

  'That isn't true!' Tansy said indignantly, then added as she remembered some of the white men she had met in the Pacific, 'At least, not in my father's case.'

  'Isn't it? Have you ever asked him why he came here?'

  For a moment Tansy stared at him speechlessly, then turned abruptly and strode quickly towards the clinic, seething with anger at his temerity. Going into the clinic, she took a jug of iced lime-juice from the fridge and began to pour it into a vacuum flask. Some of the liquid spilled and spread a green stain over the white surface of the table. Blake came calmly over to her and took flask and jug from her shaking hands, doing the job deftly and efficiently.

  'There,' he said, putting down the filled flask. 'Never try to do something like that until you've cooled down.'

  'Why, you—you…' Tansy's hands balled into tight fists as she struggled to keep her temper. 'How dare you make imputations about my father? You're not fit to even tread the ground he walks on, you're just a…'

  'Really, Dr Harland, you mustn't let yourself get worked up so easily.' An amused smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he caught her wrists and held them at her sides. 'If you go on like this you'll be too upset to enjoy the feast tonight. And you do want to enjoy it, don't you? After all, a lot's going to happen tonight, isn't it?'

  The question was slipped in so casually that, in her anger over his earlier remarks, Tansy almost missed it. She was on the point of blurting out exultantly that there certainly was, when she saw the pitfall opening before her and caught her breath to look into Blake's dark grey eyes watching her so closely. So that was it; he had suspected the invitation to be a trap and had deliberately baited her to make her so angry that she would give the plot away. She let out her breath on a long sigh and said icily, 'I don't have to stand here and listen to you. As far as I'm concerned I'd rather not attend the feast at all if you and your men are going to be there, but it happens to be a custom on the island that everyone should be invited—even the people who are wrecking it!' Snatching up the flask, Tansy hurried out of the clinic and this time he made no attempt to follow.

  A hectic game of what Tansy always described as 'coconut football' between two villages was already under way when she returned to the clearing and dropped down on the grass beside John's chair. The 'pitch' was the length of ground as far as a man could run and the goalposts were coconut palms that, rather confusingly, could be attacked from both front and behind. There were nuts on the trees and occasionally one of these dropped heavily down on to one of the barefooted players, but the spectators thought this a good joke and hooted with laughter. Tupuhoe was the referee and stood on a high wooden box where he could see more easily. He had a whistle which he blew practically without stopping, though how he knew the rules Tansy could never discover, for they seemed to change every time she watched the game.

  Blake strolled up and sat down on the grass on the other side of John, his face completely expressionless. Tansy would have given a lot to know what he was thinking, if he was still suspicious or whether she had managed not to give anything away, but she was kept busy with her first-aid treatment for the players; cuts, knocks and broken teeth were all taken in good part as the game progressed. At last the final whistle blew when the game was at a draw and all the players collapsed exhausted on the ground.

  'That result hardly seems fair,' John exclaimed. 'Our village had the much better side. They deserved to win.'

  'It doesn't matter which is the better side,' Tansy told him as she closed her bag and got to her feet. 'The match always ends in a draw because that's when Tupuhoe ends the game. If one side was allowed to win then all hell would let loose and the villagers would be fighting each other for weeks. This way we have the enjoyment of the game without any of the violence. You ought to try it in the U.K. some time,' she added, tongue in cheek. 'It would cure all that soccer hooliganism.'

  Tansy saw John safely resting on his bed in the clinic before she, too, went home to rest before the night's activities. Inevitably her thoughts centred on their plans to steal the explosives and she dwelt with anticipation on Blake's reaction when he found them gone. That would pay him back for goading her this afternoon! She was thankful that she hadn't fallen into the trap he had set for her, but she would have to be careful—he might yet try again. Restlessly, she turned on the bed, too full of excitement to be able to sleep. Tupuhoe had found a cave on the side of the mountain in which to hide the dynamite, with another, smaller one for the detonators, keeping the two separate for safety's sake. The old chief had entered into the plan with great zest and, despite Ruari's misgivings, had organised everything down to the last detail. Blake, of course, had been bound to be suspicious, but had been able to get nothing out of the natives and had probably only accepted the invitation because he thought it might be a gesture of goodwill on the islanders' part. Perhaps he hoped that the natives wanted to cooperate with him after all, in defiance of her own wishes, Tansy thought gleefully. Well, he was certainly going to be in for a big surprise tomorrow morning!

  She thumped her pillow aggressively, wishing it were that smart-alec Major Aston, then caught sight of her father's photograph on the bedside table. Thoughtfully she reached out for it, a small frown between her brows, then rolled on to her back to gaze up at the well-loved features. He had taken the post on Aparoa over twenty years ago, shortly after her mother's death, and had immediately flung all his time and energy into improving the lot of the natives. During those years he had never been back to England and had only twice been to Australia for a short holiday, always hurrying back to his beloved island. Even when Tansy and Ruari had been at school in Sydney he had only escorted them there on their first day and left them to make their own way back to Aparoa for holidays. Teaching them to be independent, he had said, but now Tansy began to wonder. Was it to help the natives that he had come to Aparoa?

  Or was it to escape from a world he couldn't face without the wife he had loved so much?

  Tansy stared at the photograph as so many things that had puzzled her over the years began to drop in place. His unwillingness even to have an assistant until Tansy had qualified: the leaves that he had never taken: the invitations from friends that he had always turned down until they ceased to come: how he had avoided as much as possible any other Europeans that came to the island. Only the impending threat of the fuel base had provoked him into going to Australia this time, and Tansy was amazed that he was staying there any longer than necessary. But perhaps he couldn't bear to see the island destroyed; he had put so much of himself into it over the years and now everything that he had done was to be ruined in a matter of days.

  So that was another thing she had to thank Major Aston for, she thought bleakly. That her father didn't want to return to his own home! All right, perhaps at the beginning he had been running away, but he had found in Aparoa a place where he could live in contentment again, a place of sun and peace and laughter. He had fought to keep it that way and he had lost, so now it was up to Tansy to carry on as best she could. But she realised, as she drifted off to sleep at last, that not only Aparoa but she herself would never be the same again, for Blake had forced her to see the people she loved with different eyes. First Ruari and now her father. And she wished with all her heart that Blake Aston had never set foot on Aparoa.

  It was ev
ening when Tansy awoke, a beautiful starlit night heavy with the sense of anticipation that filled the atmosphere. She went to pick up her sarong, but, with her hand outstretched, she suddenly changed her mind and went instead to the wardrobe that contained her European clothing. Finger on lower lip, she deliberated for a few minutes and then drew out a dress of chiffon in muted shades of green that complemented her eyes. It had a full skirt caught in neatly at the waist, a gathered bodice and full bishop sleeves—a dress that covered her modestly but at the same time clung in all the right places. Her hair she put up in a soft yet sophisticated style and then applied a little make-up, green eye-shadow to match the dress and a pale coral lipstick. Critically she surveyed herself in the long dressing table mirror. There was something missing. Going to the window, she leant out and picked several of the white buds from the climbing rose that clung to the stonework. These she pinned carefully into place among the soft curls of her hair. Now she was ready. Like a warrior of old, she thought with a grin, she had donned her war-paint and was ready to go into battle.

  John had slept well and was agog to set off. He had his camera with him and intended to compensate for his enforced inactivity by taking photographs of the celebrations. He whistled when he saw Tansy. 'I say, you look stunning. Whose benefit is it for?'

  'Not for yours, anyway,' Tansy retorted. 'Look at the state of that bed! You're the worst patient I ever had.'

  He grinned at her, quite unabashed, and Tansy saw him placed in his chair and carried off by the two natives while she stayed behind to strip and remake his bed. She heard a sound in the corridor and looked round to see Blake about to enter the room.

  He stopped dead in the doorway at sight of her. 'Why, hello. I didn't expect to see you here.' He was breathing rather heavily as if he'd been hurrying.

  'Did you want something, Major?' Tansy said into the stillness that had suddenly filled the room.

  'John forgot the flashgun for his camera.'