Magic of the Baobab

by Yvonne Whittal

‘I’ve already told him I’ll be taking you home,’ Bernard settled the matter, drawing her hard against him in order to avoid bumping into a couple dancing boisterously to the music, which seemed to go on endlessly before it came to an abrupt halt.

  Olivia tried to free herself from Bernard’s arm about her waist, and her cheeks flushed crimson as he laughed softly beneath his breath at her futile efforts to escape him.

  ‘So there you are, Bernard.’ Ilona’s interruption had the desired effect, and Olivia was suddenly free as she faced this beautiful woman approaching them. She looked so casually elegant in her black slacks and black silk blouse with its wide sleeves that Olivia envied her, but the friendliness in Ilona’s voice did not quite match the look in her eyes as they met Olivia’s. ‘Are you enjoying yourself this evening, Miss Logan?’

  Aware that Bernard was observing her with equal interest, Olivia said brightly, ‘Very much, thank you.’

  In the cool night air Olivia caught a waft of Ilona’s perfume as she turned towards Bernard and momentarily ignored Olivia. ‘Be a dear, Bernard, and fetch me something to drink, please?’

  He bowed slightly, his expression unfathomable as he glanced at Olivia. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

  Olivia watched him walk away with long easy strides, the broad shoulders swaying slightly as he moved, and she bit back a sigh as she turned to make her way back to her chair, but a cool, slender hand touched her arm and detained her.

  ‘It seems you didn’t take me seriously, Miss Logan,’ Ilona said coldly. ‘Can’t you see that Bernard is making a fool of you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Olivia replied, holding her breath as she waited for an explanation.

  ‘Come now, I’ve seen it all before,’ Ilona laughed slightly, but the sound had a chilling effect on Olivia. ‘Has he offered to take you home yet after the braai?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he has.’

  ‘Then I’d take care if I were you.’

  ‘What do you mean, take care?’ Olivia demanded, instantly on her guard against this woman with the cold green eyes and cynical mouth. ‘Just what are you insinuating this time?’

  ‘I’m not insinuating anything, but don’t lose your heart to him, because he’s merely amusing himself with you, that’s all,’ Ilona added in a brittle voice.

  That might have been all as far as Ilona was concerned, but it was quite enough for Olivia, who turned away feeling slightly sick with guilt at the hint of despair in Ilona’s glance.

  ‘Excuse me, please,’ she muttered, and somehow made her way back to her chair before Bernard returned with Ilona’s drink.

  How much of what Ilona had said was the truth? she wondered as she sat down and felt Frances’ hand slip into hers quite naturally. Ilona had lied to her once before, so why should she believe her now? Their six-year friendship she could not doubt, but had it over been more than just friendship? Was there actually an intimate understanding between them, as Ilona had suggested?

  Olivia was beginning to doubt this. Surely, if Bernard had been serious about Ilona, he would have married her years ago, and would not merely have been satisfied with keeping their relationship on such a platonic basis? But was it only platonic? Bernard was virile and very masculine, and Ilona was very beautiful. Surely they ... ?

  Olivia literally shook herself free of this painful thought and, looking up, she met Bernard’s eyes as he stood beside Ilona who clung possessively to his arm, with her head against his shoulder. With some distance separating them, Olivia could feel her skin tingle and her pulse quicken as she sustained that mocking glance, but she felt, too, the pangs of unaccustomed jealousy at seeing them together like that. It surprised her, however, and gave her an absurd thrill of pleasure when she eventually saw Bernard shrug off Ilona’s hands and move across to where a group of men stood immersed in jovial, back-slapping conversation.

  Beautiful as Ilona was, Bernard did not appear to want her, and hope fluttered ridiculously and guiltily in Olivia’s breast despite the expression in Ilona’s eyes as they met hers.

  There was no longer any doubt in her mind that Ilona loved Bernard, and Olivia was beginning to suspect that Ilona, who had made herself unpleasant in the process of winning his love, was tasting the bitterness of defeat. It was a sobering thought, and one which awakened Olivia’s sympathetic understanding. Ilona Haskins had been the target of unfair criticism for some time, but no one had ever stopped to consider that her behaviour might stem from an insecurity and a love which she must have realised was hopeless.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The dancing continued till well after nine while the two gentlemen played tirelessly. Gerald and Sanet, Olivia noticed, seldom sat out a dance, moving slowly in time to the music and obviously totally engrossed in each other. Sanet looked happy, and Gerald? Olivia smiled to herself. Gerald, despite his protestations, seemed to have eyes for no one else.

  Olivia caught a glimpse of Vivien gesturing that she wanted to see her and, leaving Frances to watch the dancing with wide, sleepy eyes, she made her way towards Vivien.

  ‘I think everyone could do with a cup of strong coffee,’ said Vivien. ‘Would you care to lend a hand?’

  Olivia nodded agreeably, grateful for the opportunity to do something useful, and followed Vivien across the lawn, but they had only gone a few paces when they came up against Ilona. ‘Could I perhaps make the coffee, Vivien?’

  ‘No, thank you, Ilona,’ Vivien replied coolly. ‘The coffee is made, and Olivia’s going to help me pour.’

  Ilona shrugged carelessly and turned away, but Olivia hesitated a moment, feeling desperately sorry for her as she watched her stroll aimlessly across the lawn amongst the guests. No one paid particular attention to her, and Olivia realised for the first time that Ilona was actually a very lonely woman.

  ‘I wish I knew why Bernard invited Ilona,’ Vivien remarked when Olivia caught up with her just outside the kitchen door. ‘I can’t stand her!’ she added with a callousness that was unlike her. ‘I think I feel very sorry for her,’ Olivia admitted as they went inside to discover that Evaline had set out several trays loaded with cups and saucers.

  ‘Sorry for her?’ Vivien asked incredulously, her eyebrows flying upwards as she stared at Olivia.

  ‘She’s so insecure, and she’s lonely, don’t you see?’

  ‘Ilona? Insecure and lonely?’ Vivien echoed, almost choking on the words. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling well, Olivia?’

  Olivia laughed a little self-consciously at Vivien’s expression and, lifting the large coffee kettle off the stove where it had been left to brew, she began to fill the cups while Vivien poured milk into the jugs and filled the sugar bowls.

  They fortunately did not have to walk far with the loaded trays before some of the men, Bernard included, relieved them of their task, and Olivia hoped Bernard would blame the hot kitchen for her flushed cheeks when his hands touched hers accidentally as he took the tray from her.

  The musicians set aside their instruments to have a break, and everyone helped themselves to the steaming coffee. The mood was gay, but Olivia felt a little like an outsider as she observed the friendly familiarity among the guests. Beside her a dark head was beginning to droop with fatigue, and Olivia disposed of her empty cup before drawing Frances on to her lap.

  ‘It’s time you went to bed, Frances,’ an authoritative voice spoke at Olivia’s side before she had had time to persuade Frances to go inside.

  ‘Oh, Daddy, must I?’ Sleepy eyes blinked up at Bernard.

  ‘It’s way past your bedtime, young lady,’ he pointed out, and Frances, unable to deny the fact that she was ready for bed, obeyed without further arguments.

  ‘Will you come with me, Olivia, and stay for a while until I put out the light?’

  Bernard frowned down at her. ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘I’ll go with her,’ Olivia interrupted hastily, helping Frances to her feet and standing up as well. ‘I don’t mind at all.’

&nbs
p; ‘Don’t be long,’ Bernard frowned down at them and, taking Frances by the hand, Olivia drew her towards the house.

  Frances was so sleepy that Olivia had to help her undress and put on her pyjamas, and she guessed that, as there were no other children present at the braai, Bernard had given special permission for Frances to stay up late, and, no doubt, on condition that she remained inconspicuous. That would account for the child remaining quietly beside her chair all evening without making a nuisance of herself among the other guests. Olivia was almost certain that many of them had not even noticed that Frances had been there.

  ‘I missed you in the shop this morning,’ Olivia said as Frances sat on the edge of the bed removing the ribbons from her hair.

  ‘Did you really?’

  Frances raised her eager little face, and Olivia laughed a little self-consciously. ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘I love you so much, Olivia,’ Frances said unexpectedly, drawing Olivia down on to the bed beside her and slipping her arms about her neck. ‘I wish you were my mommy.’

  Olivia’s heart lurched violently and a lump rose in her throat making speech impossible for a few moments. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,’ she whispered at last, hugging the child’s warm body against her.

  ‘You’re crying,’ Frances accused as she released her and noticed the tell-tale moistness in Olivia’s eyes.

  ‘No, I’m not, you darling scallywag,’ Olivia denied with a shaky laugh as she picked up the pillow and threw it playfully at Frances.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Frances threw the pillow back at Olivia with excited laughter bubbling over her rosy lips. Olivia retaliated once more, but Frances ducked expertly, and the pillow struck Bernard against the chest where he stood framed in the doorway.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Olivia moaned, raising her hand to her mouth in fright while Frances collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard? Long enough to hear Frances’ confession? she wondered frantically as she noticed his tight-lipped expression. He appeared to be waiting for her to say something, and her pulse was drumming so hard against her temples that she could think of nothing else to say, except, ‘I’m sorry.’

  He moved then, and came towards the bed to return the pillow to its proper place. ‘The game is over. It’s time you went to sleep, Frances.’

  Frances’ giggles subsided and she slid beneath the sheets with a meek, ‘Yes, Daddy.’

  His expression softened surprisingly as he bent over her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Frances.’

  ‘Goodnight, Daddy,’ she whispered, hugging him briefly and holding her arms out towards Olivia. ‘Goodnight, Olivia.’

  ‘Goodnight, darling,’ she whispered, the endearment slipping out naturally and without her noticing as she kissed the soft cheek and hugged her once again. ‘Sleep well.’

  Bernard stood waiting at the door with an unfathomable expression on his rugged face as he stood aside for her to precede him, but in the dimly lit passage his hand closed about her arm.

  ‘Stand still,’ he ordered, and Olivia’s heart raced as he turned her towards him. ‘You’ve got a feather in your hair.’ Olivia remained perfectly still while he removed it, her senses sharpening at his nearness and the smell of wood smoke

  that clung to his clothes. She pulled a face as he tickled her unexpectedly beneath the nose with the small feather, and his soft laughter curved her own lips into a ready smile, but she was unprepared for the suddenness with which he swept her into his arms, kissing her roughly on her lips until they tingled responsively before he released her.

  ‘Did you have to do that?’ she asked breathlessly, struggling to control her wayward pulses as she looked up into his shadowed features and saw the hint of amusement lurking about those firm lips which had just kissed hers so thoroughly.

  ‘No, but I don’t regret it,’ he replied, his glance suddenly mocking as he took her arm and sent a current of awareness through her that made her want to shrink from him as he led her towards the side verandah. ‘Everyone is in a singing mood, and it’s fun to join in,’ he added as the sound of voices raised in song reached their ears.

  Olivia glanced about her warily as they stepped outside, but there was no sign of Ilona as Bernard led her towards two vacant chairs. She was, however, conscious of several curious glances directed at Bernard and herself, but it was the look that passed between Peter and Vivien that succeeded in sending the blood rushing into her cheeks. She could imagine what they were thinking, but her wary heart was not ready to accept it yet.

  They joined in with the singing of traditional songs, and she was surprised to find Bernard’s deep baritone voice tone-perfect and pleasing on the ear. She tried to ignore his large, bulky frame beside her as the accordionist played the opening bars of ‘ Sarie Marais’, but she almost leapt out of her skin when his hand found hers where it rested on the arm of her chair. She tried to free it, but couldn’t and, afraid to look at him, she finally relinquished her efforts and left her hand in his large, warm clasp.

  It was useless trying to sing after that, for no sound seemed to want to pass her lips as his caressing thumb against the back of her hand sent pleasurable sensations rippling through her body, and she almost hated him for being able to remain so unperturbed.

  Gerald and Sanet were among the first guests to leave later that evening, and Olivia watched them drive away with mixed feelings. She had no option now but to remain until the last car had made its way down the driveway, leaving only Vivien, Peter, Bernard, and herself. Vivien organised the white-coated Venda houseboy, Abner, into clearing away the debris while Olivia succumbed to the request for a last cup of coffee before Peter and Vivien left.

  ‘What about Frances?’ she wanted to know, not liking the idea of leaving the child alone on the farm when they finally followed Peter’s car down the drive.

  ‘Evalina will remain in the house until I return, and so will Abner,’ Bernard told her calmly. ‘They’re completely trustworthy. ’

  Satisfied, Olivia relaxed beside him, but her thoughts gave her no peace. What had happened to Ilona, and what had made her leave long before the braai had ended?

  ‘Tired?’ Bernard asked as the silence lengthened between them.

  ‘A little,’ she admitted, glancing at the dashboard clock and noticing to her surprise that it was after eleven.

  ‘You could always put your head on my shoulder,’ Bernard offered with a hint of amusement in his voice, and she instantly recoiled from the idea.

  ‘I’m not that tired, thank you.’

  His soft laughter made her blush profusely in the protective darkness, but he did not pursue the subject as he concentrated on the road ahead. As they reached the top of the slight rise, Louisville’s street lights could be seen, and Olivia sighed inwardly with relief as Bernard’s powerful Mercedes covered the distance in less than the usual time.

  It was not the first time she had arrived home late at night and, as always, it gave her a strange feeling to drive through the small town with the houses in darkness, and the streets so quiet and deserted that one felt guilty about disturbing the peace.

  Bernard escorted her up to her flat, taking the key from her to unlock the door and switch on the inside light, but her heartbeats quickened nervously when he followed her inside and closed the

  door behind him.

  ‘Thank you for the lift, Bernard,’ she said quickly, ‘but I think you should get back to Frances, don’t you?’

  ‘Frances is quite safe, and I’m in no hurry.’

  His softly spoken words gave her adequate warning, but her legs refused to obey her brain’s frantic signals until it was too late for retreat. Fear and excitement clamoured for supremacy as she found herself draped helplessly across one hard, muscular arm, while with his free hand he found the nape of her neck and imprisoned her head as he lowered his lips to hers. She struggled feebly against him, but the warm sensuality of his mouth
against hers sapped her strength and, for a time, she relaxed against his big, hard body, allowing the storm of her emotions to sweep over her until she trembled, her lips parting beneath his of their own volition.

  This was madness! she thought fleetingly. Ilona had warned her to take care, but no one had warned her of the delight to her unawakened senses when the man you loved held you in his arms and kissed you with such passionate intensity as if he wished to draw your very soul through your yielding lips.

  His fingers caressed her throat, lingering for a moment where a pulse raced furiously at the sweetness of his touch before he slipped his hand beneath the collar of her blouse to explore the creamy smoothness of her shoulder, and leaving a trail of fire against her skin in the process. Lost in the flood of her rising emotions, she clung to him, loving the feel of his hard shoulder muscles beneath her hands, and the strange fires that coursed through her veins at the gentleness of his touch, but sanity returned painfully as she felt his hand slide from her shoulder to her breast.

  She struggled frantically against him, dragging her lips from his as she cried hoarsely, ‘Let me go!’

  ‘Stop struggling, you little idiot, you’ll only hurt yourself,’ he warned hoarsely, gripping her wrists as she thumped his broad, immovable chest with her fists, and twisting her arms behind her back to render her helpless.

  ‘Please let me go, Bernard,’ she begged, her breasts hurting against the hardness of his heaving chest. ‘I’m not interested in a flirtation with you. ’

  ‘I’m not flirting with you, Olivia. At my age a man seldom does,’ he said harshly, his eyes darkening with determination and anger as his grip on her wrists tightened painfully. ‘I want you to marry me.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ she cried brokenly, realising now that he must have heard Frances’ childish confession earlier that evening when she had put the child to bed, and coming to the painful conclusion that his unexpected proposal stemmed from nothing else but what he had heard. ‘No, I can’t.’

  ‘What do you mean, no, you can’t?’ he demanded, a strange whiteness about his mouth while the leaping flames in his dark eyes seemed to devour her.