Magic of the Baobab

by Yvonne Whittal

  ‘So you’re the one Frances has been so anxious to see,’ Ilona’s silky voice penetrated the uneasy silence. Beautiful and poised, her lips twisted a little cynically as she gazed up at the man beside her. ‘Doesn’t it make you wonder, Bernard, what this is all about?’

  ‘I have a pretty good idea,’ his deep voice set Olivia’s nerves quivering as he gestured to the glass of amber liquid in his large hand. ‘Could I offer you something to drink, Miss Logan?’

  ‘No, thank you, Mr. King,’ she declined, the coolness of her own voice surprising her while she trembled inwardly with nervous haste to accomplish the reason for her visit.

  His gaze flickered insultingly down the length of her before coming to rest on his sister who had stood silently beside Olivia with a faintly amused expression on her face. ‘And you, Vivien?’

  ‘Iced lime juice will do nicely, thank you,’ she smiled up at her brother, an easy familiarity and warmth in her manner as she linked her arm through Olivia’s. ‘But I think I’ll take Olivia through to Frances first. She’s bound to have heard us arrive.’

  Bernard King inclined his head slightly and stepped aside. ‘As you wish.’

  With Vivien leading the way, Olivia found herself in a spacious entrance hall, the stark black and white tiled floor lending a further coolness to the interior, but her glance was irrevocably drawn towards the old-fashioned half-moon table against the wall on to which a broad-brimmed hat had been dropped carelessly, the leopardskin band denoting the ferocity and strength of its owner. Three rooms led off the entrance hall. One, Olivia could see, was the living-room, but the two remaining doors were closed, and she guessed them to be the dining-room, and quite probably a study.

  There were two passages ahead of them, one leading straight ahead and the other turning off to the left. Vivien took the latter, and moments later Olivia found herself standing just outside the door of Frances’ room.

  Vivien touched Olivia’s arm, holding her back a moment longer as she said softly, ‘I won’t be able to stay long, so I’ll drive you back to town as soon as you’ve spoken to Frances, if that’s all right with you.’

  Olivia nodded silently, and Vivien retreated, leaving her to enter Frances’ room alone. The brass door-handle was cool

  against her fingers as she turned it and opened the door slowly.

  ‘May I come in?’ she asked softly, glimpsing a spacious, airy room beyond, with a patch of late afternoon sunlight on the carpeted floor.

  ‘Olivia!’ she heard Frances exclaim a little hoarsely and, pushing the door open further, she stepped into the room to find the child in bed, propped up against the pillows on the old-fashioned copper bed, her cheeks flushed, and her dark eyes shimmering with a suggestion of tears. Her fingers clutched agitatedly at the sheet as she stared at Olivia. ‘I was afraid you might not come after—after what happened.’

  Olivia left the door slightly ajar as she approached the bed and sat down on the edge where Frances had made room for her, her throat tightening at the unnecessary anxiety in the child’s eyes. ‘How could I stay away when I knew you wantedto see me?’

  ‘I had to see you,’ Frances insisted, clearly agitated as she fidgeted in bed. ‘I’m glad they let me see you alone. ’

  ‘I didn’t know you were ill, Frances, until your Aunty Vivien came and told me yesterday,’ Olivia explained, suspecting the reason for Frances’ agitation. ‘What’s the trouble?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much ... ’ Frances’ voice trailed off into a momentary silence before she added off-handedly, ‘I’ve got a fever. ’

  ‘I can feel that,’ Olivia smiled, raising one of her hands to touch Frances’ brow. ‘You’re so hot you’re burning my fingers.’

  A strained silence hovered between them before Olivia felt the small hands gripping her fingers tightly. ‘Olivia, I had to see you. ’

  ‘Had to, Frances?’ Olivia asked, unaware of the tenderness in her grey glance which had a comforting effect on the child.

  ‘To say I’m sorry about what happened,’ Frances enlightened her, a frown creasing her feverish brow. ‘It was all my fault. ’

  ‘I did tell you to get permission from the Matron before coming to the shop again,’ Olivia reminded her gently.

  ‘I know.’ Frances lowered her glance, biting her lips nervously before confessing, ‘I knew the Matron wouldn’t let me go if I asked her, so I just ... ’

  ‘You just slipped away again,’ Olivia filled in for her understandingly when her voice trailed off into silence.

  ‘Yes, I ... ’ Frances looked up, but her glance shifted to beyond Olivia, her dark eyes widening with unmistakable alarm. ‘Daddy, I ...’

  Olivia glanced swiftly over her shoulder, a similar feeling of alarm coursing through her veins at the tall, broadshouldered figure dwarfing the large doorway. He approached the other side of the bed slowly, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his khaki pants, and Olivia’s heart hammered heavily against her ribs as she met his dark, probing glance. How much of their conversation had he heard? she wondered frantically, searching for something to say to relieve the unbearable tension in the room as she once again felt Frances’ hands tightening on her fingers until the nails bit into her flesh.

  ‘It seems I owe you an apology, Miss Logan,’ he said at length, his deep voice travelling like shock waves along her nervous system. ‘It is Frances who was at fault, after all.’

  So he had heard, she realised, drawing a quick, nervous breath as she passed the tip of her tongue across her dry lips. ‘Please, Mr. King, I can explain.’

  ‘I’m sure you can, but why didn’t you explain this to me when I confronted you in your shop?’ he demanded with characteristic harshness, his dark eyes offering her no leniency.

  ‘You never gave me much opportunity, and I—’ she swallowed nervously, ‘I didn’t think it was necessary to make matters worse for Frances.’

  ‘I see,’ he said after another long, drawn-out silence had been overcome during which Olivia had wished frantically for escape; escape for herself as well as the poor shivering Frances.

  ‘Are you angry with me, Daddy?’ she heard Frances ask timidly, and her heart contracted instantly with a warmth and sympathy she had never experienced before.

  ‘Very angry,’ he confessed unsparingly. ‘I said some very nasty things to Miss Logan which were entirely unnecessary, and I hope you’ve apologised as well.’

  ‘That’s why I wanted to see Olivia,’ Frances replied, her glance directed pleadingly at her father.

  ‘Who gave you permission to use Miss Logan’s name?’

  ‘I gave her permission, Mr. King,’ Olivia intervened swiftly, challenging him to deny her the right to make such a request from his daughter, but he gave her nothing more than a cursory glance which made her realise only too well that the truth had not diminished his dislike.

  His opinion of her apparently remained the same, just as her opinion of him, despite his apology, remained the same. His insults had struck too deep to be forgotten lightly, and her usually forgiving nature would never extend as far as this bearded monster, with his dark, greying hair falling so untidily across his forehead.

  ‘Daddy,’ Frances began tentatively. ‘I am sorry, I really am.’

  ‘I believe you.’

  Frances, as well as Olivia, glanced up at him swiftly at the change in his attitude, and Olivia found it almost impossible to credit him with the tenderness she thought she had heard in his deep voice.

  ‘You’re not angry with me any more?’ Frances demanded, her expression lightening considerably as she gazed up at her father.

  ‘When you’ve done something wrong and you’re genuinely sorry about it, then it’s not for me to remain angry with you, is it?’ he told her firmly, glancing at Olivia suddenly as if he were about to say something more, but he was interrupted by the sound of a silky voice and hasty footsteps which brought Ilona Haskins to his side.

  ‘Bernard, my dear, I wondered what had happened to you,�
� she said poutingly, sliding her arm through his with a certain familiarity and an air of unmistakable possessiveness while her cool green glance settled on Olivia. ‘He’s mine!’ those eyes warned Olivia quite clearly, and so unnecessarily.

  ‘We were having a little discussion, but I think we’ve said all there is to say,’ Bernard King replied, making no effort to move away from the curvaceous body pressed so close to his side as he glanced intently at Olivia. ‘Not so, Miss Logan?’

  ‘That’s quite right,’ said Olivia, rising hastily to her feet with the distinct feeling that she was being dismissed. ‘I must go, Frances. I think your aunt wants to get back to town before dark. ’

  ‘Stay and have supper with me,’ Frances pleaded, her obvious reluctance to see Olivia leave warming the uncomfortable chill about Olivia’s heart. ‘Please, Olivia?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t, I—’

  ‘Daddy will drive you back to town,’ Frances stated confidently, and Olivia became embarrassingly aware of a flush staining her cheeks as Frances turned eagerly towards her silent father. ‘Won’t you, Daddy?’

  ‘Really, Frances,’ Ilona intervened with a hint of irritation in her voice as her cold glance swept over Olivia’s small, slender figure hovering uncertainly beside the bed. ‘Perhaps Miss Logan doesn’t wish to stay.’

  ‘How tactful,’ Olivia thought with secret amusement, knowing perfectly well that Ilona was in a hurry to see the back of her.

  ‘You do want to stay, don’t you, Olivia?’ Frances persisted, contradicting Ilona’s statement fiercely.

  ‘Another time, perhaps,’ Olivia replied lamely, relief flooding her being as Vivien appeared in the doorway, offering escape from this awkward situation.

  ‘Are you ready to go, Olivia?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Olivia ... ’ Her-hand was clutched anxiously, detaining her a moment longer. ‘Will you come again?’

  A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her as she stared down into Frances’ anxiously enquiring eyes, but it was Bernard King who settled the matter abruptly.

  ‘Naturally Miss Logan will come here again. Now get some rest, or you’ll be too tired to eat your supper.’

  ‘All right,’ Frances sighed, relinquishing her hold on Olivia’s hand, and sinking back against the pillows.

  ‘I hope you get better soon, Frances,’ Olivia said hastily before everyone lost their patience.

  ‘I will, now that I’ve seen you,’ Frances replied confidently and, quite impulsively, Olivia leaned over her and dropped a light kiss on her hot forehead.

  Ilona remained in the room with Frances while Bernard walked out to the car with Vivien and Olivia. Unexpectedly, he extended a large hand towards Olivia and, after a brief hesitation, she placed her hand in his, watching it disappear almost completely within his warm, rough clasp.

  ‘I appreciate your coming out to see Frances, Miss Logan,’ he said with an amiability that sat oddly upon him as he released her hand, and she was surprised at the tingling sensation that shot up her arm.

  ‘It’s always a pleasure to see Frances, Mr. King,’ she replied with a coolness she was somehow beginning to reserve for this man alone.

  ‘Drive carefully, Vivien,’ he said once they had climbed into the Fiat, lowering himself from his great height in order to meet his sister’s glance through the open window.

  ‘I always do,’ Vivien assured him, giving his cheek an affectionate pat before turning the key in the ignition and shifting the gear lever into position.

  ‘What did you think of her?’ Vivien demanded after Olivia had climbed back into the car after dosing the final gate that marked the boundary of Bernard King’s ranch.

  ‘She was very feverish, but otherwise quite bright,’ Olivia replied, settling herself more comfortably in her seat.

  ‘I wasn’t talking about Frances,’ Vivien laughed shortly. ‘I meant Ilona Haskins.’

  ‘She’s very beautiful,’ Olivia offered, placing a guard on her tongue.

  ‘Oh, come now,’ Vivien laughed outright, keeping her eyes on the gravel road ahead. ‘You can speak your mind with me, you know.’

  ‘I don’t know her well enough to risk an opinion.’

  ‘Not even one tiny opinion?’ Vivien prompted mischievously.

  ‘Well ... ’ Olivia suppressed a smile, ‘she appears to be very possessive.’

  ‘Possessive, spoiled and totally the wrong wife for Bernard if he should ever think of marrying again,’ Vivien elaborated all at once with a quality of steel in her manner which was very similar to her brother’s. ‘He needs a wife who can be firm when necessary, yet loving and gentle, and above all she must be the right mother for Frances. That child needs the loving care and companionship of a woman who’ll treat her with understanding and gentleness when she reaches the age of puberty, and that isn’t so many years away.’

  ‘Perhaps Miss Haskins—’

  ‘Ilona doesn’t know the first thing about children,’ Vivien interrupted fiercely. ‘Ilona Haskins is of prime importance to Ilona Haskins. What she wants, she gets, and I only hope that my brother has enough sense to wake up to the fact that beauty isn’t the only ingredient required in a wife.’ There was a brief pause as Vivien sighed heavily. ‘If only Aileen hadn’t died so soon!’

  Aileen! Bernard King’s late wife, and the mother of his child. What was she like? Olivia wondered curiously, but she bit back the questions that rose to her lips. It was none of her business to be curious about Bernard King’s personal life. The bearded monster was quite capable of taking care of himself, she decided unsympathetically.

  To Olivia’s disgust, her curiosity concerning Aileen King increased sharply after her discussion with Vivien and, while having coffee later that evening with Oom Hennie and Tante Maria Delport, the conversation inevitably turned once again to Bernard King and his daughter Frances. And, as usual, it was Tante Maria who left the way open for Olivia to question her further without embarrassment.

  ‘Tell me about Aileen King,’ she prompted, cupping her chin in her hands and watching a moth fluttering against the kitchen window in its pursuit towards the light.

  ‘Aileen King was always a frail-looking girl,’ Tante Maria informed Olivia while she removed a tray of ginger biscuits from the over and inserted another. ‘After Frances’ birth her health seemed to deteriorate, and I heard from Vivien O’Brien that the doctors had warned her against having another child. It was a terrible day when she died in that accident,’ Tante Maria shook her head sadly as she lowered herself on to a chair. ‘Some people said she had become neurotic about not being able to give her husband the son he desired, and that she deliberately killed herself, but that’s not true. She was a well-adjusted young woman, and they were a very happy family.’

  ‘Bernard King was a changed man after his wife’s death,’ Oom Hennie remarked, sucking at his pipe in his usual thoughtful fashion. ‘He became a little hard and embittered, and who can blame him entirely?’

  ‘And Ilona Haskins?’ Olivia asked after a slight pause, accepting a biscuit from Tante Maria. ‘When did she appear on the scene?’

  Tante Maria snorted loudly, showing her displeasure in no uncertain terms. ‘Ilona Haskins swooped down on him like a vulture on its prey soon after Aileen’ s death, but I must also add that, if it had not been for Ilona, Bernard King would have lived a hermit’s existence.’

  ‘In what way do you mean?’ Olivia asked, biting into the still warm biscuit with a thoughtful expression on her elfinshaped face.

  ‘Ilona Haskins isn’t the kind of woman to go into seclusion,’ Oom Hennie chipped in once again, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘She’s beautiful and she likes being admired, so she dragged Bernard King into the limelight with her. I must admit that, old as I am, she can make my old heart flutter. ’

  ‘Oh, she does, does she?’ Tante Maria pounced on her husband in playful anger, and he made a pretence of cowering away from her, his thin shoulders shaking with laughter.

>   The conversation could no longer be taken seriously after that, but Olivia had heard enough to satisfy her curiosity, illogical as it might have been.

  When she entered her flat shortly after nine that evening she was startled by the sound of her telephone ringing, and she lifted the receiver a little warily to find Vivien on the line.

  ‘I thought you might like to know that Peter has just returned with the news that Frances’ fever has dropped considerably. It seems that he was right about it being a psychological thing after all, but he still insists that she remains at home for at least another day to make absolutely sure.’

  ‘I’m so glad she’s feeling better,’ Olivia sighed with relief, seeing again Frances’ hot, flushed face against the white pillows.

  ‘Your presence must have had a magical effect,’ Vivien laughed softly. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing really,’ Olivia assured her with a touch of embarrassment. ‘We merely talked a bit, that was all.’

  ‘She’s grown very fond of you in a remarkably short space of time,’ Vivien observed quietly.

  ‘The feeling is mutual, I assure you,’ Olivia replied, a warmth flooding her heart.

  ‘Well, I shan’t keep you any longer,’ Vivien said after a brief, reflective pause. ‘I just thought I’d let you know about Frances.’

  Olivia thanked her warmly and, several seconds after replacing the receiver, she remained standing beside the instrument. Was it possible that Frances had worried herself into a frantic, feverish state because of what had happened? Poor, dear Frances, who was taking their friendship so seriously, Olivia thought sadly, wondering whether she had been wise to encourage this friendship with the child.