“I’m past it,” he said briefly.
“I’ll believe that if you say it again in six months’ time! How about taking a walk with me?”
“Now?”
“Right now. I’ll get your sticks.” She collected them from the corner of his bedroom, came back and put the normal one into his right hand. The other she strapped above his left elbow. “Put the brake on the chair and get up on to your right foot with your arm round my shoulder. That’s it. Now let’s get this other contraption working in your left hand. Better than the old crutch, isn’t it?”
“Slightly. It’s hell on the arms.”
“We’ll have to massage those, too,” she said, almost happy now that she was really working on him. “I’ll go first and you follow about a pace behind. If you feel at all uncertain just make a grab at me. I’ll be ready to take your weight. Swing that leg from the hip—from the knee, too, if you can. All right?”
The fearful grunting noise that came from his lungs was hard to bear. Sally always had to steel herself against the defeated whimper of children, and this labored breathing from Mike was worse in a way. He hated his incapacity so much more than children did.
They reached the porch, turned gently along the veranda, where she said lightly, “You can rest here for a bit,” and plumped up a cushion.
But she didn’t help him down on to the canvas chair, and she let him arrange the sticks himself.
“You see?” she said. “You don’t have to use the servant at all. You can do it all alone. Just make him walk in front, as I did.”
“I feel as if I’ve climbed a mountain.”
“You will, for a while, but it will be a smaller mountain each time. The morning exercises will soon get you into fine condition, and then the whole thing will be easier.”
He lay back, pushed at his long hair. “It’s going to be the deuce of a long job, though, isn’t it?”
“Afraid so. In hospital, with medicated baths and so on you’d be through much quicker...”
“I’m not leaving Morocco!”
“We know that,” she said soothingly. “That’s why we’re doing the long term stuff. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Ring the bell and order it. How long can you stay?”
“As long as you need me.”
His eyelids flickered and he got out a box of cigarettes. “That’s a funny answer. I need you all the time.”
“Not me, particularly. You’ve been too long without company. Does Tony come to see you?”
He nodded, and offered the cigarettes. “He’s got dates on the brain. I’ve never known him so keen on anything before.”
She bent her cigarette to the match he held, blew smoke. “I went to the date plantation this morning, with Dane.”
“You did?” He was watching her curiously. “Why did he take you?”
“Goodness knows. He didn’t enjoy it and neither did I.”
A brief silence. Then he asked casually, “Was it Dane who told you to put me in my place next time you saw me?”
She hesitated, and thereby told him more than she intended. “He’s as much against complications as I am. As soon as you get feeling into that leg of yours you’ll be so grateful that it won’t be wise to trust your emotions. It may sound all very silly...”
“It doesn’t; it sounds sense. The trouble is, I’m fed to the gills with wisdom. I want to go haywire.”
“You do that—but not just yet.”
The tea came and she poured it out. As usual, it was mint tea, and she drank it reluctantly, from a glass. She ate one of the sweet nut pyramids and lay back in her chair, looking with some degree of contentment over the garden. Here with Mike, this morning and tomorrow seemed remote; she knew a sensation of isolation from the Mirador, and was glad.
‘Tell me about the stuff you used to write, Mike. How much of it was imagination?”
“About an eighth—a reporter has to cling to facts and embroidery is only permitted if it flatters those who release the news.”
“Ever tried any other kind of writing?”
He shook his head. “Dane offered to get some ghosting work for me, but I wouldn’t have it. If I can’t do reporting, I’ll stay out of the writing racket.”
“What do you read?”
“Everything that comes my way.”
“Do you ever play the gramophone in your lounge?”
“I’m no highbrow, and popular music gets me down now that I can’t dance.” His mouth was sulky. “Dane brought me some new records and I smashed them.”
“You’ve got it in for Dane, haven’t you?”
“I thought you had, too.”
Sally didn’t answer this. She let a veiled glance slide over Mike’s face, saw a wilfulness in his mouth which was both a good sign and a bad one. Good because it indicated a stirring in his mental equipment, and bad because it showed a spoiling of his nature through illness. Oddly, now that he was giving in he was showing the worst of his character. He should have been grateful to Dane with all his heart, but deep down he resented having to accept so much from his cousin. Well, Sally had met that reaction to generosity before.
She talked idly, and waited till five-thirty before she got up to go. “I won’t come tonight,” she said. “We’ll start away on the full day’s treatment tomorrow. Like to go indoors?”
“No, thanks. I’ll stay here till the sun goes. Make it nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”
“Ten o’clock,” she said.
“Nine-thirty!”
She smiled and compromised. “A quarter to ten. And I’ll ask Tony to go with us to the lagoon in the afternoon.” She touched his hand, lightly. “We’re on our way, Mike. This time next year you’ll be driving again!”
She said goodbye and went down to the car. The driver sprang up from his cross-legged position on the grass and opened the door. Sally waved as they moved away. Then she leaned back in the corner of the car and knew the respite was over.
They were out on the road and gathering speed when a taxi growled past. Sally caught a glimpse of the single occupant of the back seat, turned and watched the taxi take the bend into Mike Ritchie’s drive. Cécile Vaugard visiting Mike? Sally puzzled it over for a few minutes, decided that it wasn’t really her business, and forgot about it
* * *
To Sally’s relief, the very next morning Dane was called to the phosphate mine for a few days. He looked in at Suite Seven at nine-fifteen, lifted a brow when he heard that Lucette was still in bed.
“That friend of yours knows a thing or two, young Sally. There’s nothing like plenty of rest and a merry outlook to keep a woman young and vital. In age, she may give you only a few months, but in experience, she’s years ahead of you. But she doesn’t carry it in her face—not noticeably, anyway.”
“You’re wrong about Lucette. Her parents are terribly stern,” Sally answered coolly.
“I’m right,” he said equably. “Her eyes occasionally give her away. Don’t let her teach you too much, too soon.”
He told Sally he had to go to the mine, gave her a brief and mocking glance as he asked, “Feel any effects from yesterday?”
“No. Do you?”
“Nothing physical.” His smile was narrow as he looked down at the bare, grazed knuckles of his hand. “Told anyone?”
“No.”
“Just as well. Pierre assumed that I’d caught my hand on a wall somewhere. By the way, during my absence he’ll probably invite you and your friend to dine with him and Tony. Go ahead and do so, if you want to.”
“It’s very kind of you to consent,” she said stiffly.
“Not really. You see, I’m going to back the date plantation after all.”
“You are? I’m so glad!”
“Thought you might be,” he said coolly. “But I’ve made a few conditions. One of them forbids Tony to marry for two years.”
Sally stared at him. “Why would you do that? His private life isn’t your concern.”
He sh
rugged, smiled a little unpleasantly. “They invited me into the proposition and those are my terms. If Tony can manage to give everything he has to the plantation for two years, he’ll be set up, both financially and in his character. Incidentally, he’ll make a far better husband if he denies himself a few pleasures and works instead.”
“You’re very hard.”
“On Tony, or on you?”
“I don’t come into it.”
“You do,” he said crisply. “You’re more than half the reason I decided to support the scheme. You thought Tony should be given his chance, and upon reflection I agreed with you.” His tone was suddenly metallic. “Two years will give you ample time to discover whether it’s the atmosphere or Tony that gets you.”
“Two years! I shan’t be here that long.” Then she realized the whole of what he had said, and added quickly, “I’m not falling in love with Tony.”
“Then why did you argue with me about the plantation?”
“Well, he seemed sincere about it, and it’s obvious that you could help him to make a success of it.”
He came back at her at once. “Do you often find yourself planning a man’s future after knowing him a few days?”
“This is different...”
“I thought so.” He was taut and concise. “Let me make something very clear. Out here, you can imagine yourself in love simply because there’s a kind of magnetism in the air. If I had absolutely refused to take an interest in the plantation, you’d have been all sympathy and compassion—just as you’re all pity and emotion for Mike. But Tony is keen to settle and he’s backed by his father. If I hadn’t insisted on the no-marriage clause in the contract, he’d have been proposing to you within the next few days.”
“That’s absurd! There’s never been anything of that kind between us.”
“Because he’s had nothing to offer. Pierre was disappointed when I stipulated the two years.”
“And Tony?”
“He lost his smile, too. They both knew I was safeguarding you.”
Sally was becoming really angry. “I don’t need that sort of protection. Even if I wanted to make an impression on Tony and his father, it wouldn’t be your business.”
“Maybe not, but I won’t have you diving into your first affair right here in the Mirador and coming to grief.” His voice lowered, and he added with cool malice, “Love in these parts is suspect, and first love should always have a drab backcloth; then you know how real it is. After the first attack you’re a better judge.”
“Is that how ... you’ve found it?”
“Yes, Sally. That’s how I’ve found it. I’ll have to get going.”
But as he moved back towards the door the bedroom door opened and Lucette drifted in, stretching prettily and pushing pink-tipped fingers through tousled black curls. She looked drowsy and sweet in the tailored Chinese silk wrap, but her sudden smile at Dane was arch and inviting.
“Why, good morning. Were you shouting at Sally, you naughty man?”
He grinned, looked as if he couldn’t help grinning; she was like an enchanting kitten. “Good morning, Miss Millar. How do you like the Mirador?”
“It’s splendid ... and so discreet. And you’re rather charming, too.”
“Why, thanks,’ he answered, with a sidelong glance at Sally. “You must tell me that again when I get back. I may be able to do something about it.” Nonchalantly, he bowed to them both. “You’ll excuse me now?”
He was gone, and Sally felt a lump as rough and large as a peach stone in her throat. He was beginning to hurt her in a way she had never been hurt before, and that was why it was such a relief to have him gone for a few days. Now she wouldn’t have to brace herself every time she stepped out of the suite; she could relax a little, and give herself completely to the task of helping Mike.
The following days had a serenity of their own. True, Tony sought her out and complained about the cold-blooded clause in the date plantation contract, and Pierre looked both sad and happy when he invited Lucette and Sally to dine with himself and his son. But because Tony was going to get largely what he wanted, and because Lucette’s shining presence enlivened most occasions, there was gaiety in their small circle.
Actually, Sally did not spend much time at the hotel. She went alone to Mike’s house, supervised his exercises and got him stumping about the house and veranda, stayed to lunch sometimes, and drove with him in the afternoon to the lagoon. There they met Tony, who gave Mike his shoulder down to the water.
Mike had always been a strong swimmer and he found it almost as easy to swim with one leg as with two. After half an hour in the water they would laze under the palms, smoke a cigarette, and the two young men would swop tall yams for Sally’s benefit. She would lie back and smile, perhaps look at their brown faces and shoulders and conjecture about them.
They enjoyed the same sort of things, these two young men, but they weren’t much alike. Mike had been the successful one, debonairly attractive and aware of it His accident had wrung the strength from his character, but gradually he would get it back and resume his old pleasures; perhaps not quite, because the limp would occasionally make him feel ill-used.
Tony had been handicapped by his dual nationality and an over-fond father. He was not a lady-killer or a go-getter of Mike’s sort, but he had a graceful manner and, in a way, was more likeable. He had vacillated his way through the years, finding nothing that really gripped enough to keep him interested. When a job failed, he went back to his father and idled till something else turned up. Carefree, he had never regarded himself as a sponger, because Pierre had been only too eager to give. But of late, presumably, Tony had grown up. He had put in a few months at the vineyards of his friend in El Riza, heard of the date plantation and decided it was what he wanted. Better late than never, thought Sally. She hoped he would pleasantly surprise everyone, most of all Dane!
After an hour or two near the lagoon, Tony would help Mike into the car, get back into his father’s ancient vehicle and lead the way homeward. Mike, a little sleepy, would lie in his corner of the back seat without speaking.
One afternoon, when they were on their way back to Shiran, Sally saw him draw the thin leg up on to the other knee and inspect it closely.
“It’s getting brown,” he said suddenly. “I can feel the skin burning.”
Sally’s heart leapt, but she answered casually, “Of course you can. What do you think we’re working for?”
He was speechless for a moment. Then: “I’m coming to the Mirador for dinner tonight!”
“Wonderful. I’ll send the car for you.”
“You mean it’s all right?”
“Of course it’s all right. I haven’t dined downstairs for about a week, so we’ll make it a big night. And you’ll meet Lucette!”
“Your friend? What does she do with herself while you’re out?”
“She’s as friendly as a puppy—a sophisticated one. She already knows more people at the Mirador than I do. I think you’ll rather go for Lucette.”
He let the leg drop and smiled disagreeably. “I go for you,” he said. “That’s enough for now.”
“Thank you,” said Sally brightly, and she left it there. When she entered her suite at the Mirador all was quiet, and she sank into a chair and let the air from the french window flow over her. She was cautiously happy that a faint sensation had started in Mike’s leg, but she wondered why she should feel mentally worn. It wasn’t Mike; his occasional possessive remarks never did make much impression because she allowed for them. Perhaps it was this vivid country of white minarets and brilliant blue skies, of spiky green palms and intensely bright flowers.
She moved out on to the balcony and looked down upon the gaily-tiled pool, where hotel guests were lazing upon the water or nearby under dazzling umbrellas. Lucette was down there looking like someone from a glossy advertisement; tight blue and white striped jeans, a skimpy white sunshirt, masses of corals about her throat and a scarlet ribbon tying her jet
curls. As usual, she was doing most of the talking while her listeners laughed and admired her. Sally smiled to herself and went through to turn on her bath. One day, she decided, she herself would go down to the pool in the shorts and shirt she had bought at the hotel shop.
When Lucette breezed in about an hour later, it was dusk and Sally was already dressed in tan silk. She looked up from carefully varnishing her nails a petal pink.
“Had a good time?”
“The best!” Lucette spun her straw hat across the room. “I do love it here, Sally. If only you’d come here a year ago, and I’d come to be with you, just as I have now!”
“Why a year ago?”
Lucette pouted her full red lips. “This last year seems to have spoiled so many things.” Her mood changed swiftly. “Never mind. I’m loving it. I’d like to stay here forever!”
“Then you’d better marry a Shiranian.”
Lucette walked into the bedroom, and eventually answered with a loud theatrical sigh, “There aren’t so many eligible men, you know. The soldiers are heart-throbs, but they don’t get enough pay. The civilians are either married or here only temporarily. Here in the hotel there are just tourists and businessmen. Dane is way above all of them.”
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