Magic of the Baobab

by Yvonne Whittal

  ‘Just what I said,’ she replied unsteadily and close to tears. ‘I don’t want to—to marry you. I—I’m sorry.’

  He was silent for some considerable time during which she was conscious only of his brooding eyes, and the heavy beat of her aching heart while she struggled to hold back her tears which were stinging her eyelids.

  ‘I realise that I’m not a very good proposition for someone like yourself. A widower with a child seldom is,’ he said at last, every word acting like the deliberate thrust of a sword to her heart. ‘But I don’t give up that easily, Olivia,’ he added forcefully, his mouth hard against her own, bruising her lips in a kiss that was devoid of any tenderness.

  An eternity seemed to pass before she was freed, and she staggered helplessly against the wall as he said ‘goodnight’ abruptly and left. Her breath rasped along her throat as she stared at the door which he had closed so firmly behind him, and then the tears came, hot, scalding tears that blinded her as she fumbled with the lock of the door and made her way to her room, stumbling over the edge of the carpet and falling on to her bed in a crumpled heap.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she prayed chokingly, pressing her tear-stained face into the pillow. ‘He thinks I refused him because he’s a widower with a child, but it wasn’t that at all! He asked me to marry him for Frances’ sake, but that’s not enough. If I can’t have his love, then I want no part of him, because I couldn’t stand him to touch me if he was doing so merely because he considered it was expected of him. Oh, no, no!’

  A fresh storm of weeping shook through her, leaving her exhausted when she finally had to undress and crawl into bed, but it had the effect of a sedative and, mercifully, she fell asleep almost instantly.

  Vivien came to the shop just after ten on Monday morning and over a cup of tea Olivia questioned her about Ilona’s early departure from the braai on Saturday evening.

  ‘She said she had a headache,’ Vivien explained with a thoughtful frown creasing her smooth brow. ‘You know, Olivia, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you were right. Ilona must be feeling very insecure as far as her relationship with Bernard is concerned. I mean ... she’s been hanging around for six years, hoping, and I’m sure even expecting him to marry her. What kind of relationship they’ve had up till now, I couldn’t say, but I do know that Bernard hasn’t shown any interest in other women with Ilona always in the background. And Saturday evening, well ...’ her expression was faintly rueful, ‘I think everyone noticed the way he practically ignored Ilona.’

  ‘That’s why I feel so sorry for her,’ Olivia elaborated cautiously as she stared down into her cup. ‘ She must feel quite desperate when she—when she considers she has competition. ’

  ‘Yes, one can feel sorry for her, but ...’ Vivien hesitated, her glance mischievously intent, ‘has she got competition?’

  The tell-tale colour stole into Olivia’s cheeks. ‘I ... don’t know what you mean. ’

  To Olivia’s consternation Vivien laughed outright. ‘Your blushes reveal far more than you’re prepared to admit, but I saw the way you and Bernard were holding hands during the sing-song.’

  ‘That didn’t mean a thing.’

  ‘I’ve never seen Bernard hold hands with a woman before, and certainly not with Ilona,’ Vivien stated with a humorous

  grin.

  ‘He must have held hands with his wife, surely,’ Olivia remarked without thinking.

  ‘With Aileen?’ Vivien’s eyebrows rose sharply in thoughtful surprise. ‘I can’t say I ever noticed, but ...’ she hesitated, biting her lips as she came to a hasty decision. ‘I’m going to tell you something I haven’t even told Peter. Bernard and Aileen practically grew up together, and they somehow drifted into a marriage that was happy, but in a very dull sort of way. Aileen always reminded me of a completely unawakened young woman, and Bernard looked decidedly bored at times. Aileen’s death was a terrible blow to him, of course, but I think his marriage had left him disillusioned. ’

  Olivia found that she had plenty to think about during the following two weeks, but much as she tried, she could not erase the memory of Bernard’s unexpected proposal from her mind. That, as well as his apparent determination to stay away from her, made it all the more painful. He would drop Frances at the shop on a Saturday morning, and collect her again just after twelve without bothering to come in, displaying such complete indifference that she could only conclude that she had been correct in her assumption that he had merely asked her to marry him for Frances’ sake. It was not a pleasant thought, and it haunted her to the extent that she cried herself to sleep most nights with his name on her lips.

  Her framed tapestry arrived during this time, along with Vivien’s, but there was no longer any joy in the prospect of hanging it against the wall in her lounge. It merely brought back painful memories of a day spent in Johannesburg with Bernard, and somehow she had to stop thinking of him.

  During the last week in November Olivia received a visit from Gerald Thatcher, and she felt quite guilty at not having given him and Sanet a thought since Vivien’s birthday.

  ‘Where have you been hiding yourself these past weeks?’ she teased him, and was surprised to see a flush stain his lean cheeks.

  ‘I’ve been a little busy,’ he explained, avoiding her glance. ‘It’s almost the end of the school term and there’s so much to do.’

  ‘And Sanet?’ she questioned, guessing shrewdly that it was a little more than just school work which had kept him busy, and once again she saw his cheeks redden.

  ‘That’s what I actually came to tell you,’ he said, his green glance meeting hers at last. ‘ Sanet and I are seriously thinking of marriage.’

  ‘But how wonderful!’ Olivia cried excitedly, but there was a flicker of envy in her heart as she drew his fair head down to hers and kissed him spontaneously on the lips. ‘Gerald, I can’t tell you how happy this has made me.’

  ‘Good afternoon,’ a deep voice made them draw apart swiftly, and Olivia’s heart thudded heavily against her ribs as she saw Bernard approaching them with an expression that looked positively thunderous.

  There was no doubt in her mind that he had witnessed that innocent kiss as she watched him greet Gerald rather stiffly, and Gerald, sending a hasty but curious glance in her direction, edged past Bernard.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to do in town,’ he muttered before hurrying outside.

  ‘You can forget about Gerald Thatcher,’ Bernard said tersely the moment they were alone, and something in his attitude reminded Olivia of their first, explosive encounter.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ she demanded, determined not to be intimidated by him.

  ‘You heard me,’ he thundered at her, and she backed away from him involuntarily only to find the counter barring her way as he stepped towards her and towered over her in the most frightening way. ‘Forget about Thatcher. You’re going to belong to me, and no one else, so don’t dish out too many of those kisses I witnessed when I arrived.’

  ‘For your information,’ she began, swallowing nervously, ‘Gerald came to tell me that he and Sanet were thinking getting married, and that’s why I. kissed him. And as for the rest,’ she drew a quivering breath, ‘I don’t belong to you, and never will, so you have no right to—’

  A large hand closed about her throat and her eyes widened with alarm as she stared up into his mutinous eyes and wondered whether he intended throttling her. ‘Say another word and I’ll kiss you in a far more satisfactory way than the peck on the lips I saw you and Gerald exchanging a few minutes ago.’

  ‘You’re an insufferable brute!’ she accused angrily the moment he released her.

  ‘I know,’ he smiled unexpectedly, and the aura of sensual masculinity about him filled her with a weakness she was beginning to despise as he added, ‘But you will also find me a very gentle brute.’

  ‘I’m not interested.’

  ‘Given time you will be.’

  His arrogance was infuriating
and, clenching her hands at her sides, she pleaded, ‘I wish you’d go.’

  ‘But I’ve only just arrived,’ he insisted calmly.

  ‘You’ve overstayed your welcome.’

  Angry fires leapt into his eyes, and the fragile bones in her wrist were in danger of snapping in his fierce grip as he jerked her up against him. ‘No one speaks to me in that way and gets away with it. ’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she cried, tears of anger and pain filling her eyes. ‘The Cattle King is almost a god in this community, but as I’m an alien you shouldn’t expect me to grovel in the dust at your feet like the rest of your subjects.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ he thundered, shaking her as if he wanted to do her a far more serious injury. ‘What the devil do you think I am?’

  ‘A bully, judging by the way you’re hurting me,’ she accused, fighting back the tears, and his grip slackened instantly.

  He stared at her for several harrowing seconds before she saw his expression relax, and the twisted little smile that hovered about his mouth did odd things to her hungry heart.

  ‘For a gentle little thing you have tremendous spirit, Olivia, and I must admit that you’ve not only captured my interest, but my admiration as well. Be warned, though, my dear,’ he murmured softly, his eyes burning into hers as he raised her wrists alternately and placed his lips against the bruises left by his fingers, ‘I shall take my revenge when the time is right, and it will be sweet, I promise you.’ Releasing her, he strode from the shop, but his forceful presence remained with her for some time afterwards. Olivia stared ruefully at the bruises that were dearly visible against her tender skin, but it was the touch of his lips against the bruises that still had the power to make her tremble.

  Bernard did not come to the shop again, except on Saturday mornings when he brought Frances in to help her, but then he never came further than the door, and Olivia began to look upon his distant behaviour as a peculiar kind of punishment. She wanted to see him more often, and yet she knew that to be with him could only increase her unhappiness. He needed a mother for Frances, not a wife, and Frances had inadvertently made the choice for him. His proposal had meant nothing else, and she was not going to be fool enough to think that it did.

  Two weeks before Christmas, Bernard strode into the shop a few minutes before she was about to close for the evening, and her heart somersaulted in her breast at the sight of him. Frances, whose holidays had begun a few days earlier, had accompanied him, and she brushed past him without ceremony in her haste to reach Olivia’s side.

  ‘Olivia, we should like you to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day out at the farm with us,’ Bernard stated the reason for his visit at once, and Olivia stiffened automatically, wild thoughts leaping through her wary mind.

  ‘You—you mean stay overnight?’

  ‘Vivien and Peter will be there as well,’ he added, the faintly mocking smile that twisted his lips sending the colour surging furiously into her pale cheeks.

  ‘I ... don’t know.’

  ‘Please, Olivia,’ Frances spoke for the first time. ‘Christmas won’t be any fun without you. Please say you’ll come?’ She had no resistance against Frances’ pleas, but she suspected that Bernard was well aware of this fact, and was deliberately using Frances to strengthen his invitation.

  ‘If it’s important to you that I should be there ...’ she relented despite her convictions.

  ‘You’ve just got to be there,’ Frances insisted with an eagerness that warmed her cautious heart. ‘Will you?’

  ‘You know—’ Olivia halted abruptly and flashed an angry glance at Bernard who stood observing them with a self-satisfied look on his face. ‘You both know that I can’t refuse you, Frances,’ she added, dragging her glance from his as Frances grabbed her about the waist and hugged her enthusiastically.

  ‘Yippee!’ she shouted, her eyes dancing with happiness. ‘Olivia, I just love you for saying yes, and so does Daddy.

  Don’t you, Daddy?’

  There was an awkward, heart-stopping silence before he nodded briefly, ‘Of course.’

  Frances talked excitedly about the preparations for Christmas, quite unaware of the strange tension which had arisen between Bernard and Olivia because of her casual remark.

  ‘Yes, well ... ’ Olivia interrupted Frances’ animated chatter, ‘it’s time I closed up shop.’

  ‘And it’s time we went home,’ Bernard remarked instantly, taking Frances’ hand, but Olivia followed them to the door and watched them drive away, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness and longing.

  The day before Christmas was scorchingly hot, and Olivia, despite the expensive air-conditioner she had had installed, found herself perspiring profusely. There was a suffocating humidity in the air which could only have resulted from the appearance of thunder clouds in the usually clear blue sky, but towards midday they piled up thickly, promising the long-awaited rain everyone had been praying for. It was not surprising, therefore, that she arrived at Mountain View, later that afternoon, in pouring rain. It had been a nerve-racking drive. The Apache’s wipers were quite ineffectual in their efforts to clear the windscreen, and twice her car had skidded on the muddy road while the lightning and thunder followed hard on each other’s heels with frightening repetition.

  Bernard had apparently been awaiting her arrival, for she had barely parked her car when she saw him coming towards her with long, quick strides. He pressed an umbrella into her hands while he took her overnight bag off the back seat and, placing an arm about her waist, he practically lifted her off her feet in his effort to get her as quickly as possible beneath the sheltered verandah.

  The smell of the damp earth mingled with the clean odour of Bernard’s heated body and, for a moment, she could not decide which was the most dangerous—the electrifying storm, or Bernard’s big, hard body against her own as he kept his arm about her and gazed anxiously down into her grey eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Now, yes,’ she laughed unsteadily, disengaging herself and glancing down at her slacks that were damp from the knees down.

  ‘Was the road bad?’

  There was a strange tightness about his eyes and mouth that made her refrain from telling him of the difficulties she had encountered, but a thrill of pleasure went through her at his obvious concern. ‘It wasn’t impassable,’ she evaded his question just as Frances stormed out on to the verandah to greet her with that display of enthusiasm she was beginning to know so well.

  Vivien and Peter were already there, she discovered when they went inside, and Vivien hastily showed Olivia to her room so that she could change out of her wet slacks before she joined them for coffee in the living-room with its comfortably padded armchairs and sofa, and wide glass doors leading out on to the verandah.

  Beside the expensive hi-fi set with its multitude of dials and knobs stood a Christmas tree which was decorated with colourful baubles and silver tinsel, and after dinner that evening the lights which were threaded through it so carefully would be switched on in preparation for the exchanging of presents.

  Olivia had found no difficulty in selecting a present for Frances, and had bought her a book which she knew the child had wanted for some time. For Vivien she had chosen an expensive silk scarf, and for Peter a set of fine linen handkerchiefs with his initials embroidered in the one corner. Bernard had presented a problem, though. He did not smoke, and she had no idea what his taste in ties was, for he seldom wore anything other than his khaki drill trousers and jacket or safari suits in that sub-tropical climate. She was close to desperation when Frances revealed that he was a keen photographer and that he needed a tripod for his camera. That settled the matter of a gift for Bernard as far as Olivia was concerned.

  ‘These storms fortunately don’t last too long,’ Peter told her calmly as she flinched involuntarily when a flash of lightning ripped through the sky with a force that made her surface rapidly from her thoughts. ‘You should be used to this kind of weather after livi
ng in Johannesburg for so many years.’

  Olivia smiled wanly. ‘The storms on the Reef are electrifying, but I don’t think I’ve ever lived through a storm such as this.’

  ‘You’ll get used to it in time,’ Bernard assured her, offering her a rusk to dunk in her coffee. ‘I’m afraid, though, that our trip out to the baobab tomorrow morning will have to be cancelled. The veld will take some time to dry out after this deluge of rain, and it isn’t much fun picnicking in the mud.’

  Frances voiced her disappointment loudly, but she was old enough to understand and accept the wisdom of her father’s decision.

  ‘When Bernard and I were children, we used to go out to the baobab for a picnic with our parents,’ Vivien told Olivia with a reminiscent smile. ‘If you ever go out there again, take a look and you’ll see where Bernard carved out his initials and mine on one such a picnic.’

  ‘That was many years ago,’ Bernard reminded Vivien with a smile that softened his rugged features.

  ‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘You couldn’t have been older than twelve, and I was then about six.’

  ‘I bet she was a little brat at that age, Bernard,’ Peter remarked teasingly, and Bernard agreed with solemn amusement.

  ‘It’s a pity I didn’t know you as a little boy, Peter,’ Vivien

  retorted with mock dignity. ‘I’m sure you were the naughtiest little horror in the entire school!’

  Bantering remarks flew back and forth between them and, after her ordeal on the way to Mountain View, Olivia found herself relaxing, and actually enjoying herself despite her misgivings during the past few days.

  The storm subsided abruptly just before dinner that evening, leaving the air cool, fresh, and scented with the headiness of gardenias. No one dressed elaborately for dinner, and the atmosphere remained relaxed and informal, with Peter in an exceptionally witty mood. Lean and fair, and not exactly handsome, he possessed a certain measure of charm which, no doubt, had captivated Vivien initially, and a warm sincerity that awakened one’s instinctive trust in him as a doctor and as a person.