Magic of the Baobab

by Yvonne Whittal

  Her statement brought everyone to their feet but, instead of Peter, it was Bernard who said: ‘I must go as well, so I’ll give you a lift home, Olivia.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ she cried in alarm, then, meeting his challenging glance, her chin rose with a measure of defiance. ‘I mean ... thank you.’

  Collecting her wrap and her bag, Olivia allowed Bernard to guide her out to the Mercedes parked at the gate, and she wondered now why she had not guessed earlier that evening that it would belong to him.

  ‘Goodnight, Olivia,’ said Vivien, glancing in at the window as Bernard climbed in at the other side and inserted the key in the ignition. ‘I hope we’re going to see more of you now that you know where we live.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Vivien,’ Olivia smiled, glancing beyond her at the tall, fair man who stood grinning down at them both. ‘Goodnight, Peter.’

  ‘Goodnight, my dear,’ he said warmly, placing an arm about Vivien’s waist, ‘and don’t let Vivien bully you too much.’

  ‘If you’re not careful, you’ll have a black eye tomorrow,’ Vivien threatened with mock severity.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Peter wanted to know, dodging a badly aimed blow.

  ‘I think we’d better go before these two really come to blows,’ Bernard remarked in a voice loud enough for the others to hear before he started the car amidst the sound of laughter, and shouts of ‘Goodnight’.

  Olivia waved for the last time, but as the car gathered speed along the darkened street, the silence between Bernard and herself kept her rigid and tense in her seat.

  ‘You’re very quiet, Olivia?’ he said at last. ‘Do you find us a little overpowering?’

  She found them all downright domineering, but she heard herself stammer foolishly, ‘Not—not really.’

  ‘Then what were you thinking about?’

  ‘I—I was merely thinking that I’m taking you out of your way,’ she said the first thing that came into her head.

  ‘Were you?’ he asked, his voice tinged with humour in the darkness of the car. ‘Have you lost your sense of direction?’

  ‘I ... beg your pardon?’

  ‘I have to pass your shop on my way out of town,’ he explained dryly.

  ‘Oh ... yes, of course,’ she laughed, kicking herself mentally. ‘How silly of me.’

  ‘Has Vivien talked you into entering your tapestry for the Show?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Definitely not!’

  The light from the dashboard illuminated his face as he glanced at her briefly. ‘I thought she might have, seeing that you’re having yours framed with hers.’

  ‘It’s my first attempt at tapestry making, and I really only made it for my own amusement. ’

  ‘There’s no harm in entering it,’ Bernard persisted.

  ‘Oh, please ... I couldn’t!’ she argued, relieved at the sight of the single lamp above the door of her shop which lit up the pavement.

  The coldness of the door-handle was against her fingers even before he had stopped the car but, anticipating her action, he caught hold of her wrist and forced her to remain seated.

  ‘You know,’ he said harshly, releasing her as he switched off the engine and turned to face her, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as reserved as you are. Most women can’t wait to display their handiwork, and then proceed to bore you to tears about the minutest details.’

  Olivia shrank back from the bearded face so close to hers, realising that he was intent upon reading her expression, but knowing that he was incapable of doing so while she had the advantage of the light behind her.

  Gaining confidence from this fact, she said: ‘It does make a difference, I suppose, if one is talented in one way or another, but I can’t claim to be particularly talented in any of the arts or crafts.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re talented in other fields.’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve discovered any latent talents.’

  ‘You’re good with children.’ ‘I haven’t much experience—’

  ‘There you go again,’ he accused harshly.

  ‘There I go again what?’’ she asked with a hint of anger, intensely aware of his arm resting along the back of the seat behind her shoulders.

  ‘Talking yourself into insignificance,’ he explained roughly. ‘I think you haven’t given yourself the opportunity to discover just what you are capable of.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘I think it is.’ The arm behind her moved slightly and she stiffened as his hand touched her shoulder. ‘You’ve done wonders for Frances in a very short time.’

  ‘Frances is different,’ she argued in a choked voice.

  ‘How different?’

  ‘I—I don’t know,’ she shrugged lightly, every nerve in her body reacting violently to his touch. ‘I can’t explain.’

  ‘Try.’

  Olivia glanced down at her hands in the darkness as she felt them trembling in her lap. ‘I think perhaps she reminds me a little of myself. ’

  ‘In what way?’

  If only he would remove that large, disturbing hand from her shoulder, she prayed as she said breathlessly, ‘Oh, I don’t know. Does it matter?’

  ‘You tell me,’ he said harshly after a momentary pause, and then, suddenly, she was free and he was walking round the front of the car to open the door for her.

  ‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said nervously as she stood beside him on the pavement.

  ‘I’m coming to your door with you.’

  ‘That’s really not necessary,’ she protested weakly, wishing he would just go away and leave her alone.

  ‘Must you always argue?’ he demanded forcefully, taking her arm and marching her up the steps to her flat where he removed the key from her trembling hands and proceeded to unlock the door. Switching on the light, he looked a long way down at her and asked, ‘Do you think you could be out at my place before six on Monday morning?’ ‘Yes, I think I could manage that.’

  ‘It’s a little more than a two-hour flight to Johannesburg, so we have to make an early start,’ he explained.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  There was a frightening little pause before he said: ‘Goodnight, Olivia.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mr. King.’

  ‘Bernard,’ he corrected mockingly, and a wave of desperation swamped Olivia as she stared up at him and found nothing to attract her in that bearded face.

  ‘Anything,’ she thought helplessly. ‘I’ll do anything just to get rid of him. ’

  ‘Bernard,’ she echoed, using his name for the first time, and feeling her cheeks grow hot under his forceful gaze, but an eternity seemed to pass before he nodded briefly and left.

  Olivia had closed the door behind her and was leaning weakly against it even before he had started his car and driven away. She had managed somehow to get through this evening, but how was she going to endure four hours of his solitary company that coming Monday? She could change her plans and plead that she was feeling ill, she supposed, but, knowing Vivien, she would have Peter there within a flash, and it would not take him long to discover that she suffered from nothing more serious than ‘cold feet’.

  ‘Oh, damn!’ she muttered, pressing her fingertips against her temples. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone instead of organising her into situations she had no wish to become involved in?

  Vivien arrived at the shop at eight-thirty sharp that Saturday morning, and Bernard arrived with Frances a half hour later. Apart from enquiring whether their arrangement was still in order for that coming Monday, he said little else and left soon afterwards.

  ‘I wish Bernard would shave that horrible beard off,’ Vivien muttered the moment he had gone. ‘I wouldn’t be able to stand it if Peter were to grow one.’

  ‘Daddy’s beard tickles,’ Frances giggled. ‘Do you like a man

  with a beard, Olivia?’

  ‘I don’t particularly care for a beard,’ Olivia replied carefully, not wishing to become involved in a
discussion concerning Bernard King’s appearance, but her heart lurched uncomfortably when she noted the flash of humour in Vivien’s eyes.

  There was fortunately no opportunity to continue the discussion, for they were kept busy during the next few hours, and the expressions on the faces of some of Olivia’s customers were quite comical when they found Vivien as well as Frances in the shop that morning. Vivien was quite unperturbed, however, and Olivia found that she grasped everything without much difficulty, looking very much as if she was enjoying herself in her new role as assistant shopkeeper.

  To Olivia’s surprise, Ilona Haskins walked into the shop just after ten that morning, and Olivia marvelled at this woman’s ability to always appear so cool and unaffected by the sometimes suffocating heat.

  ‘So this is your bookshop, is it?’ Ilona remarked after a perfunctory greeting, glancing about her loftily. ‘It’s not very big, is it?’

  ‘It’s quite big enough for me to cope with, Miss Haskins,’ Olivia replied coolly. ‘Was there anything you wanted?’

  ‘Oh, goodness, no!’ Ilona laughed derisively. ‘I seldom read, and the magazines I require are mailed to me directly.’ Ignoring Olivia, she looked directly at Frances who had stood silently beside Olivia from the moment Ilona had entered the shop. Ilona’s perfectly shaped lips parted in a smile that never reached her cold green eyes. ‘I saw your father in town and, as I’m going out to the farm a littie later, I told him I would pick you up and take you home.’

  Olivia felt Frances stiffen beside her, but at that moment Vivien emerged from the back where she had been making tea.

  ‘You’re not, you know,’ Vivien replied to Ilona’s statement in a cool voice. ‘I’m taking Frances home when the shop closes.’ ‘Oh!’ Ilona was momentarily startled by Vivien’s presence, but her eyes hardened perceptibly despite the artificial smile that curved her lips. ‘Hello, Vivien. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m helping out so that I can take over on Monday when

  Olivia flies to Johannesburg with Bernard,’ Vivien replied calmly as she placed the tray of tea on the counter.

  ‘Is Bernard flying to Johannesburg on Monday?’ Ilona wanted to know, clearly taken aback.

  ‘Yes,’ Vivien nodded with a satisfied smile. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Ilona said stiffly, her cold glance raking Olivia. ‘I was hoping I could go with him on this occasion as I have some urgent business to attend to in Johannesburg.’

  Olivia, seeking escape from a situation she dreaded, said hastily, ‘Miss Haskins, I don’t mind making other—’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s out of the question this time, Ilona,’ Vivien cut across Olivia’s words with that immovable determination Olivia was beginning to know so well.

  ‘So it seems,’ Ilona remarked softly, her chilling glance sending a shiver along Olivia’s spine. ‘Well, I’ll say “cheerio”, then.’

  She swept out of the shop without a backward glance, leaving behind only a subtle hint of her expensive perfume to remind them of her presence. A frightening realisation took shape in Olivia’s mind as she watched Vivien pour the tea quite calmly as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Ilona Haskins might have considered her a negligible nuisance on the first two occasions they had met, but now she was an enemy trespassing on a territory which Ilona Haskins had marked off as ‘Private Property’.

  ‘Aunty Viv,’ Frances interrupted the uneasy silence as she wriggled herself on to the stool to reach her tea on the counter, ‘I didn’t know you were going out to the farm this afternoon.’

  ‘Neither did I, pet,’ Vivien replied instantly, her humorous glance meeting Olivia’s briefly over the child’s head. ‘Let’s just call it a decision made on the spur of the moment. ’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Olivia arrived at Mountain View just before six that Monday morning while the dew still covered the earth and lay sparkling in the first, slanted rays of the rising sun. She parked her car beneath the old jacaranda tree and locked it, dropping the keys into her sling bag which she hitched on to her shoulder, and clutching the small, rolled-up parcel containing the tapestries. Birds fluttered noisily in the tree above her and, in the distance the sound of bellowing cattle echoed out across the awakening bushveld. She paused for a moment, drawing the fresh, spicy air into her lungs as she watched a thin spiral of smoke rising upwards into the clear blue sky from one of the homestead chimneys.

  How wonderful it must be to live in such peaceful surroundings, to awaken each morning to the pounds of nature beginning to stir after the long night, she thought, reluctant to enter the house and announce herself as she glanced about her with a peculiar longing stirring inside her.

  The gauze door on the verandah banged loudly, disturbing her thoughts, but the sound of heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel made her swing round sharply to face the tall stranger approaching her. Her frantic glance took in the dark grey business suit and the polished leather shoes before sweeping upwards again to the rugged yet strangely attractive features. Dark eyes captured her startled gaze in which recognition was beginning to dawn, but the sound of that deep-throated voice was unmistakable.

  ‘Good morning, Olivia.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr. King,’ she replied, stifling the giggle that rose in her throat as she stared up into his cleanshaven face, seeing for the first time the hard, square line of his jaw, and the firm, perfectly chiselled mouth with the hint of sensuality in the curve of the lower lip.

  ‘I thought it was decided the other night that we would dispense with the “Mr. King” nonsense,’ he demanded abruptly.

  ‘Yes ... Bernard,’ she managed, swallowing down yet another bout of laughter, but she did not succeed in veiling her eyes swiftly enough.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’ he demanded sternly, his glance

  raking her from top to toe in her apricot slacks and matching short-sleeved top.

  ‘You,’ she blurted out the truth, no longer able to check the laughter that bubbled past her lips. ‘You’ve shaved your beard off.’

  His lips tightened ominously. ‘Is that so amusing?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she choked back a giggle. ‘It’s just that it— makes you look so—so different. ’

  ‘I suppose it does,’ he agreed after a moment, fingering his jaw with a large, rough hand before he frowned down at her once more. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, could we get a move on?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Olivia muttered, pulling herself together with an effort as he led her towards the Land Rover parked beneath a pergola on which the scarlet bougainvillaea ranked profusely.

  They drove in silence past the stables and outhouses towards his private airstrip which Olivia discovered was some distance beyond the house. The red and white Cessna awaited them and, for one frightening moment, Olivia felt her stomach muscles tightening painfully, but Bernard’s hand was beneath her elbow and she was being propelled firmly towards the two-seater plane. He helped her into the seat beside him, and brushed aside her fumbling hands to fasten the safety belt securely before he did the same with his own.

  ‘Put this on so we can talk to each other without having to shout above the noise of the engine,’ he instructed, passing her a pair of earphones similar to the one he had already placed on his head, and, while he was still carrying out this task, the engine sprang to life, setting the plane vibrating beneath her, and she looked up to see the propeller whirling about with increasing speed. Bernard made radio contact with his air base and an aeronautical discussion followed which meant little or nothing to Olivia as she took a deep breath to still the pounding of her heart. So engrossed was she in calming herself that she almost jumped violently when he addressed her suddenly. ‘Have you ever flown before, Olivia?’

  ‘No, never,’ she shook her head, wishing herself anywhere but there with him at that moment.

  ‘You’re not afraid, are you?’

  It was a challenging question, and one which she could not answer at
once as she met his dark, penetrating glance. Lowering her lashes after what seemed an eternity, she glimpsed those strong hands on the controls, and her fluttering nerves seemed to sort themselves into their proper order so that she finally said, with complete honesty, ‘No, I’m not afraid.’

  Bernard nodded briefly, setting the plane in motion. On the smooth gravel runway, he opened up the throttle and the Cessna leapt forward, gathering speed with every second until he pulled back the stick, lifting the nose of the plane, and leaving the earth behind as they soared upwards. Olivia held her breath, watching the ground fall away beneath them, and closing her eyes momentarily as they skimmed the tall trees at the end of the runway. They gained height gradually, giving her the peculiar sensation that she was floating through the air, and it was not until they had gained the required height that she broke the silence between them.

  ‘Do most of the farmers in this district have their own planes?’ she asked, watching Louisville disappear beneath them.

  ‘I think I’m the only one in this area who has a plane, but then I’m keen on flying,’ he admitted.

  ‘It must save you a lot of time.’

  ‘It does,’ he said, and the next instant Olivia clutched at the sides of her seat, her cheeks paling visibly as the plane rocked and bumped when it was caught in air-pockets over the mountain peaks. Bernard’s expression registered unexpected concern as he glanced at her. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  ‘I think I can stand the occasional bump,’ she replied, relaxing now as the rocking motion ceased. ‘Just don’t do any aerobatic tricks, will you.’

  ‘I shan’t,’ he smiled briefly. ‘A green complexion wouldn’t suit you at all.’

  ‘And neither would it impress Mr. Roberts,’ she quipped back lightly, relaxing in her seat once more.

  ‘Roberts?’ he questioned, his glance sharpening.

  ‘The estate agent I have to see.’

  ‘Are you buying property?’

  ‘Selling,’ she smiled ruefully. ‘I had to put my aunt’s house up

  for sale when I moved to Louisville.’

  ‘Has this Mr. Roberts found a buyer?’ Bernard asked with interest, returning his glance to the numerous dials in front of him.