Home is Goodbye

by Isobel Chace

  Immediately the Indian’s face was serious.

  ‘That is very bad,’ he said briefly. ‘We are not accustomed to having trouble on Kwaheri.’

  ‘Unfortunately I tore up the note,’ Sara said regretfully.

  ‘Ah well,’ he sighed, ‘it is no good crying over spilt milk. We must make the best of it. I am quite sure, nurse, that you were in no way to blame.’

  That was nice of him, Sara thought, for she had been worrying about it. She smiled briefly.

  ‘I feel a little responsible,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I should have checked before going?’

  ‘It is best to forget,’ Dr. Cengupta said firmly. ‘We all of us hazard a guess as to who the culprit is and then we have no peace. All the same one cannot but wonder. It is, how do you say, the onlooker who sees most of the game!’ He looked unexpectedly grim and shook his head from side to side. ‘There are bad apples in every barrel,’ he commented at last with a sigh.

  For the first time Sara was able to drive herself home in the jeep that evening. The evening had just reached that dramatic moment when the day was on the point of dying, and night was gathering itself to take its place. Even the dust seemed to be settling down for the night, leaving the air pure and fresh, cool against her face. Now and again an animal cried out. They were preparing to meet at the waterholes for their evening drink, calling to one another to hurry up. Even the birds were taking their last glide round the still gold skies, their plumage bright and colourful in the clear fight. It was a moment of peace, a moment when Africa entwines itself around one’s heart and refuses ever to let go.

  In the silence even the jeep’s engine was an affront. Sara drove it to the top of a small hillock and turned off the ignition, relaxing in her seat and gazing across the sun-baked land. All that she could see belonged to Matt and to his family. The ugly, spiky sisal plants took on an eerie beauty to her eyes and she wished she could paint so that she could capture the scene for ever.

  For a moment she tried to think of her home in England, but it had taken on a feeling of unreality for her. This was her home. Home was where the heart was. And her home was ‘Goodbye’.

  Another car’s engine broke into the silence and came towards her. From a distance she recognized it as John’s gigantic Ford. She wondered where he was going and watched idly as he turned off the chief track and made towards the manager’s house. She hadn’t yet been over to see his estate and she thought that very likely that was what he was coming for now. He had said last time she had seen him that he was going to make a firm date when he next saw her.

  With a sigh she started up her own engine and went to meet him. It was tricky driving the jeep down the steep slope of the hillock and her wheels slid treacherously beneath her. Carefully she guided the jeep back on to the track and felt a thrill of pride as the wheel responded to her hands. She was beginning to enjoy the finer points of driving and odd words of Matt’s came back to her, helping her to achieve her object in style.

  It took only a few moments to drive the remaining distance home. She hooted the horn loudly as she approached and an African ran out and opened the garage doors for her, beaming broadly.

  With a flourish she drove the jeep in and jumped down on to the ground. Everybody who, had heard the horn stood outside waiting for her, their grins as wide as their faces would allow.

  ‘Well, congratulations,’ Felicity said dryly, arriving just behind the Africans and looking round the little audience. ‘Speech! Speech!’

  ‘I passed,’ Sara told her breathlessly.

  ‘With Matt too?’ Felicity asked. ‘He was raging when we saw him. How could you possibly manage in that heat? And why didn’t we look after you better? You’d just recovered from malaria, did we want you to go down with heat-stroke now? — oh, he was full of it!’

  ‘He didn’t send the note, so naturally he was annoyed,’ Sara defended him. She looked anxiously at her cousin. ‘You and James didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?’ she asked.

  Felicity stiffened. ‘You can think what you please,’ she said haughtily. ‘I’m quite sure everyone will think of some way of blaming James, but as it happens he was with me all morning, so you’ll have to find someone else to carry the can!’

  With dismay Sara saw the old lines of discontent on Felicity’s face. Instinctively she reached out and touched her arm.

  ‘I didn’t think it was James,’ she said. ‘But I thought it might have been a joke — or something—’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I’m sorry, Felicity. I did think he might have had something to do with it, but I had absolutely no reason for thinking so, and I apologize.’

  The Africans watched them with indifferent curiosity. Felicity shook off Sara’s hand and attempted a smile.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said briefly. ‘I was just a bit upset.’

  Together they went over to the house and strolled into the drawing room through the french windows. John Halliday stood up to greet them, his eyes smiling a little wickedly in the dying light.

  ‘Did I hear you’d been playing truant, Sara?’ he teased her.

  Sara shook her head wearily. Was it possible to keep nothing to oneself around here?

  ‘Not me,’ she denied. ‘I went down to the town to take my driving test.’

  ‘That so? Not quite the story I heard.’

  ‘Well, supposing you tell us what you did hear?’ Sara said irritably. She was still regretting her remarks to Felicity.

  John looked a little surprised.

  ‘I ran into Julia,’ he said. ‘She told me you’d gone off on a spree and that Matt had gone down after you, breathing fire out of his nostrils. Not true?’

  ‘Not true at all!’ She took a deep breath. ‘As a matter of fact Matt was very pleased to run into me. I’m afraid he was a little dismayed to see that Felicity and James were with me and he may have been a bit short with them, because you see he wanted me to himself. He asked me to marry him.’

  There was a moment’s shocked silence.

  ‘He did what?’ John demanded.

  ‘Are you quite sure?’ Felicity chimed in.

  A feeling of elation spread over Sara. It was a miracle that he should have done such a thing, but the fact remained that he had. She chuckled.

  ‘And I accepted him,’ she went on, gratified by their horrified faces.

  ‘You didn’t!’ Felicity exclaimed weakly. ‘But I thought — Whatever will Mother say?’

  ‘She’ll be pleased. She wanted me to marry Matt right from the beginning, and now I’m going to!’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Felicity said doubtfully.

  Sara giggled irrepressibly. She was enjoying herself. I must have gone mad, she thought to herself. I must tell Aunt Laura quickly before I’m sane again. She felt drunk. She wondered if that same feeling of ecstatic irresponsibility accompanied too much wine. I must try it and see one day, she told herself, and then, a little incredulously, I must indeed have gone mad!

  It was obvious that John thought so too.

  ‘That’s just fine!’ he said bitterly. ‘And to think I came over to see if you felt like going out with me tonight to cheer you up!’

  ‘Did you, John? That was nice of you.’ It was, but she couldn’t feel more than a polite regret and it seemed insincere to make anything more of it.

  With an effort John smiled. ‘Well, I guess the British aren’t the only people who can take it!’ he joked. ‘You sure led me up the garden path, young Sara. I should have known when Matt kissed you, I suppose.’

  ‘Matt kissed her?’ Felicity repeated with disbelief. ‘When?’

  Sara blushed a fiery red. ‘I do think you’re being disagreeable,’ she complained. ‘Aren’t either of you going to congratulate me?’

  ‘Of course!’ they exclaimed in unison.

  ‘Matt’s a great fellow,’ John added. ‘It was just that we thought he was pretty tied up elsewhere. I hope you’ll be very happy, Sara.’ The patent sincerity in his voice convinced her. So d
o I! she thought. So do I!

  Mrs. Wayne came in then. She had heard, as she heard everything, all about Sara going down to the town and her eyes were sparkling, with anticipation as she entered.

  ‘Did you pass?’ she asked silkily.

  Sara nodded. ‘I got engaged too,’ she said, in a way that she could only describe as brazen. ‘To Matt.’

  For once Mrs. Wayne’s languor deserted her. She sat down heavily on the sofa and stared at her niece.

  ‘Are you sure — are you absolutely sure that that’s the way you want it?’ she asked, and no one had ever heard her more alert or interested in the affairs of another.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Another spurt of elation seized Sara. She didn’t care how it happened, or even how it was going to work out, for the moment Matt was all hers.

  ‘Then I couldn’t be happier about it,’ her aunt said gently. ‘In fact,’ she went on gleefully, ‘it was exactly what I had hoped for. Matthew has been a bachelor for quite long enough and he needs someone to help him keep his family in order.’

  To hear her speak, Sara thought with amusement, one might well imagine that she had been trying to arrange matters merely in order to suit Matt! She saw her aunt and Felicity exchange glances and smiled happily at them both.

  ‘I’m glad.’ She bent over and kissed first one and then the other.

  ‘And what about you, Felicity?’ John asked wickedly. ‘Haven’t you something to confess as well?’

  Felicity frowned.

  ‘Not now. I must say you haven’t wasted much time, Sara,’ she went on hastily before her mother could put two and two together. ‘You’ve hardly been here any time at all and you walk off with the best catch for miles around!’

  Sara felt herself blushing again.

  ‘I can hardly believe it myself yet,’ she said with sudden honesty. ‘Not that Matt seems like that. Like the best catch, I mean. He’s just — Matt!’ She paused, a little embarrassed that she couldn’t put her feelings into better words. ‘I think I’ll go and change, if you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I never thought I’d ever change so often before I came here. This uniform was clean on this morning and now look at it!’

  Her own bedroom was comfortably familiar. The African had been in before her and had turned down the bed and loosened the mosquito net so that it hung in cascades around the bed looking white and ghostly in the dim light. She was glad that they had nets and didn’t rely on netting over the windows. It was less stuffy. She went over to the windows now and flung them open, looking up into' the almost black-blue sky at the first stars. They were so near that she felt if she reached out a hand she would be able to touch them.

  It was a good moment to take out her feelings and see how she really felt about Matt, she thought. Or rather how he felt about her, she added. For that was the important part. She knew quite well exactly how she felt about him and it didn’t become any more amenable to her will when she thought about it.

  ‘I’m daft about him,’ she sighed.

  But he? He only liked her. She would have to keep reminding herself about that. He found it difficult to be angry with her, he said, though he had put up a pretty good imitation on occasion, she thought. There had been that time when she had kept him waiting at Arusha. She shivered as she remembered the instance. Matt would be very uncomfortable to live with if he ever were angry with her.

  On the other hand she would be Mrs. Matt Halifax. He would be kind to his wife, she reflected. He was always kind to his possessions. He was not like James. He would never neglect anything that was his. The thought somehow depressed her. She didn’t want him to be kind to her! She didn’t want to be just one of his possessions! She wanted him to love her as she loved him!

  In the distance she could hear John and Felicity talking. They were laughing and John stepped out on to the verandah.

  ‘I shan’t carry a torch for long, my dear,’ he was saying. ‘I hope I can say the same for Matt! I think he might have told Sara before he bludgeoned her into this engagement!’

  Sara didn’t hear Felicity’s reply. She had turned away from the window, crept under the mosquito net and was sobbing as though her heart would break.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sara overslept the following morning, which meant that she only had time for a hurried cup of coffee before leaving for the hospital. Everything was quiet when she arrived there, with Nurse Lucy preparing the wards for Dr. Cengupta’s round and the doctor himself beaming with approval at everyone.

  ‘We must tell you how happy we are,’ he exulted, bowing slightly from the waist. ‘Matt told us himself last night when I went up to the house. And to think that none of us guessed anything! You are a dark horse!’

  So Matt too had decided not to waste any time! If only she could be as sure she was doing the right thing.

  ‘I — I didn’t think the news would have got around so quickly,’ she said a little shyly.

  ‘But think how we at the hospital are honoured!’ the doctor exclaimed. ‘My wife was overjoyed too. She is sure that you and Matt will do much for medicine at Kwaheri.’

  Sara suspected that his wife had thought nothing of the kind but that the Indian thought that the hint would come better through the lips of another.

  ‘I hope so too,’ she murmured. ‘There’s still so much to be done.’

  Nurse Lucy was less effusive. She watched Sara from a safe distance as though she had become a different creature overnight.

  ‘You will be very happy with Mr. Matt,’ she said once.

  ‘I think so,’ Sara replied, thinking it was a question.

  Nurse Lucy gave her a look that was a mixture of pity and admiration.

  ‘When you love a man and he love you, you happy,’ she stated positively, her eyes widening to give point to what she was saying. ‘I tell you, Miss Sara, that man is mighty taken with you!’

  But Sara couldn’t believe her. Instead she fled down the corridor to the out-patients’ department where she worked so hard and so quickly that half the queue found they had been done out of most of their gossip for the day and eyed her resentfully as she called their names.

  The day passed quicker than she would have believed possible and at three o’clock they had finished the long line of patients and were free to set off for Dr. Cengupta’s house and the promised tea party.

  The doctor himself helped her into the passenger seat of his little Volkswagen which smelt oddly of spices and that elusive scent of incense that many Hindus have in their houses after making puja to the gods.

  ‘My wife speaks very little English,’ he told her apologetically. ‘I am afraid that she has not yet mastered all the British customs, though she is learning all the time. Already she speaks at many women’s meetings!’ He spoke with a simple pride that went straight to her heart. Kamala was a very lucky woman, she thought. She, at least, could boast of a husband who was very much in love with her.

  ‘I wish I knew more of your customs,’ Sara replied. ‘In a mixed community such as ours we should all learn as much as we can from each other.’

  ‘So already Tanzania is home to you,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘To me it is home too. Once I went back to India and I was miserably unhappy, so I married as quickly as I could and brought my bride back here. We have been very happy, and we have very much to thank Matt for.’

  ‘Are your parents in India?’ Sara asked.

  ‘They are dead,’ he told her. ‘During the British Raj they spent much time in prison. They were followers of Bhapu, of Gandhi. They belonged to his Khadi movement and had to spin so many yards of yarn every day. He was a great man, but he was not India. I prefer to live in Africa.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I am an Orphan Annie,’ he ended.

  At that moment they came in sight of his house. It was built in the European style, but was indefinably different. Perhaps it was Indian statues that littered the garden, or perhaps it was the two curious-eyed small boys who stood and watched the car approach.

  ‘
My sons!’ Dr. Cengupta introduced them to her with obvious pride.

  Gravely the two little boys put their hands together in a gesture of respect and bowed. Sara followed their example and was rewarded by shy grins and a chuckle from Mrs. Cengupta who had that moment appeared on the veranda.

  Standing as she was in the shade, Sara couldn’t at first see her face. She was aware of the vivid orange of her sari and the dusky quality of her skin, but her eyes were hidden and it was only later that she saw how truly exquisite Kamala was. She used no make-up but a little kohl on her eyelids, so that the whole of her face was subdued to her magnificent eyes.

  ‘Please to come in,’ she suggested in a low attractive voice.

  Sara followed her into the sitting room and blinked while her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light within. The blinds had been drawn halfway down the windows to keep the room cod, but the effect had been defeated by the heavy English furniture, upholstered in a rich chocolate brown more in keeping with the rigours of a Midland winter than with the heat of Tanzania.

  ‘Please to sit down,’ Mrs. Cengupta said shyly. She indicated the largest of the chairs and watched solicitously as Sara timidly seated herself on it.

  Dr. Cengupta and his wife sat down side by side on the sofa opposite her and exchanged smiles. They were both nervous and a little overcome by their visitor’s presence.

  ‘We have English tea,’ Mrs. Cengupta told her with pride.

  Sara tried not to look disappointed. ‘It’s so kind of you to go to so much trouble,’ she said. ‘I have been looking forward to coming all day. When your husband asked me I was thrilled. You see, before I came out here I had never been to an Indian home.’