Patricia rose to her feet. “I expect you know best,” she replied briefly, while a feeling of resentment gripped her. Surely Maimie could have remained at home just for once, if not in order to keep her friend company, then out of respect for the man she was so soon to marry? It was all very well for her to assert that Seymour wouldn’t object. That was true enough up to a point, but a very important fact Maimie had conveniently overlooked was that, except on one or two occasions when it had been impossible to hide her movements, she had been very careful to keep Seymour in the dark as to the identity of her escort.
“Don’t look so glum, Pat! You’ve only another week and then you’ll be rid of your responsibility.” She dimpled provocatively. “I now I’m an awful handful, but I promise I’ll settle down when I’m married. Don’t stop me having this final fling first.”
“I’m sorry I was cross,” Patricia apologized. “I can’t help it. It just seems to me all wrong...” She broke off, at a loss for words.
“I know how you feel ... but please don’t worry about it. I’ll get back early, really I will. Seymour will never know I’ve been out; so, you see, it can’t possibly upset him,” she added cajolingly.
“No, I suppose it can’t,” Patricia agreed reluctantly. “I’ll get along to my room now. Come and say good night before you leave.”
“No, wait a minute,” Maimie begged, drawing Patricia back into the room. “There’s something I want to say to you.”
Patricia stopped short and turned round to face Maimie.
“It’s nothing really ... just about tonight. I’ve told you I’m sure Seymour wouldn’t object—I mean now that he can’t get back to take me out himself.” She paused, seeking words, and a guilty color crept into her cheeks. “As a matter of fact, Seymour has been a bit funny the last few days. About Claud, I mean,” she added in explanation, and, as Patricia passed no comment, Maimie continued, “you know how they do in these small communities. Anyway, he told me he’d rather I didn’t go about too much with Claud.”
“Then of course you can’t go ... you must put him off at once—make some excuse, any excuse,” Patricia exclaimed firmly.
“I’m not going to,” Maimie retorted. “Seymour has let me down tonight, and there isn’t any reason why I shouldn’t go out with Claud.” Her voice softened. “Please, Patricia, do try and understand me. I hate the idea of sitting in all the evening. In a week I’ll be married. What difference can one outing more or less make? Please, please don’t make difficulties.”
“I don’t want to make difficulties, as you call it; it’s Seymour who has apparently done that.” Patricia shrugged. “I can’t stop you doing as you want, but it seems a most inopportune time to anger your fiancé,” Patricia reminded her gravely.
“Naturally I mustn’t have a row with Seymour. It would be toe awful.” Maimie gripped her friend’s arm more tightly. “Don’t you see, Seymour need never know.” She paused, then added meaningly, “That is, unless you decide to mention it to him yourself.”
“As if I should do anything of the kind!” There was a hint of anger in Patricia’s voice. “Surely you didn’t keep me here to make sure that I wouldn’t tell tales about you?” she asked.
“You know I didn’t!” Maimie hastened to assure her companion “You’ve been a brick.” She sighed expressively. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you; you’ve shielded me heaps of times.”
“I know, and I am rather ashamed of myself really.” Patricia’s brown eyes clouded. “It seemed so unfair to blind Seymour the way we have done.” She paused and searched the other’s face questioningly. “But apparently Seymour has seen more than we thought?”
Maimie laughed lightly. “Not really, but I do think he is just waking up to the fact that Claud finds some attraction here other than that eternal discussion about the price of rubber. I know you wouldn’t give me away willingly, but it just went through my mind ...” She paused before continuing: “Seymour might ring up again. He’s so fussy; he’s sure to want to know if everything’s all right. If he should want to speak to me, will you say I’m in bed?”
“I hate telling lies. It may not be so bad over the phone. At least I shan’t be able to see how it’s received.” Patricia laughed, but there was little merriment in the sound. “I suppose I can manage that, but I sincerely hope he won’t ring up.” A worried frown creased her forehead. “I suppose he’s not likely to return home after all?”
“Goodness, no! He was quite definite over the phone; the roads are apparently impassable.”
“I can only say that I hope he neither returns nor phones,” Patricia observed a trifle shortly as she left Maimie’s room and quietly closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Maimie and Claud mingled with the crowds leaving the cinema and edged their way toward the car. Claud took the wheel and Maimie settled down in the seat beside him. The night was exceptionally warm, but it was a relief to breathe the outside air after the close atmosphere of the theatre.
“Where to?” Claud turned inquiringly toward his companion.
“Why, home, of course,” Maimie laughed softly. “Only don’t press too hard on the accelerator; it’s lovely to feel a breeze and I’m in no hurry to reach a stuffy bedroom.”
“Then why go home? How about a run out somewhere? It’s early yet—just after eleven; surely there’s no hurry?”
“Pat may be waiting up,” Maimie expostulated, doubtfully. “We really ought to get straight back.”
“Just a quick run out to that hotel on the seashore. You’ve never been there in the evening. It’s wonderful; only a short distance away, and we needn’t stay long.”
“I don’t think I ought to ... we won’t get back until pretty late anyway.” Even as Maimie protested she longed to accept. It seemed so silly not to ... Seymour away too ... an opportunity to enjoy herself without any awkward questions to follow. Besides, she argued, after she was married, Claud would have left. It was simply absurd to refuse his invitation.
“Nonsense!” Claud swept the car round a corner and away from the harbor and its scintillating lights. “I promise we won’t be back too late, and we shan’t see much of one another after tonight, you know,” he reminded her.
Maimie needed no further persuasion. “All right ... but you know we really mustn’t stay too long. Even if Pat hasn’t actually sat up for me, I know she won’t go to sleep until I’m safely back; she’s far too conscientious!”
“I shouldn’t think she’d be so foolish!” Claud pressed on the accelerator and the car gathered speed.
“This breeze is heavenly.” Maimie leaned back and let the wind play through her fair hair. “You know ... what you said about not seeing much more of each other is true. Seymour and I have engagements every night this week, and in the daytime it’s too risky. Seymour has been a bit funny about you lately; I don’t think I’d better risk meeting you alone again.”
“I know. I’ve realized that Warinder hasn’t been quite so friendly to me.” Claud laughed. “Well, he won’t have to worry much longer. I’m staying for the wedding and then I sail ... by the first available boat.”
“Back to England?”
“I don’t know ... probably not. I’m a wanderer by nature. I haven’t real work here; true, I own an estate and visit it yearly, mostly for the joy of travel, as it’s under the care of a most efficient manager. I haven’t a real home. I just go where my fancy takes me.”
“How lovely! That’s how I’d like to live,” Maimie exclaimed with, enthusiasm. “Just travel ... all over the world ... no settled home or dreary housekeeping; ships trains, and hotels; new places, fresh faces, all the time.”
Claud laughed indulgently. “That’s what you say, but I doubt if you’d enjoy it. Women are different from men; they love a home and servants, friends, rounds of social visits, and parties. I suppose that’s why I’ve never married, why I never intend to; a wife would mean a settled existence, and I couldn’t bear that.”<
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“Not necessarily ... not if you chose the right wife.” Maimie lapsed into silence. For the next few moments she gave herself up to her thoughts. Claud was always saying that, always hinting that marriage, as far as he was concerned, was out of the question. How different things would be if only Claud wanted her; then Seymour, and the independence he offered, would count as nothing. She knew in her heart that Claud had only to ask and she would follow him to the ends of the earth.
A few minutes later they were seated at a table in the hotel garden overlooking the sea. Claud had been right; it was an ideal spot, and she wondered vaguely how she had ever considered refusing his request. What did it matter if Patricia waited up? What did it matter if she arrived home in the early hours? This was life, glorious, pulsating ... thrilling. From the hotel came the strains of dance music, reaching their ears across the quiet darkness and mingling with the ebb and flow of the surf as it lapped the shingle and broke on the stone steps leading from the garden to the shore. Tall trees cast long shadows across the garden, and the faint perfume of tropical lilies assailed their nostrils.
“Nice here, isn’t it?” Claud leaned across the table and lit Maimie’s cigarette.
“Nice?” Maimie echoed the word. “How trite! It’s just heaven!” “I like this spot.”
Claud pointed towards the water. “There’s good bathing here too, inside those palisades—they are to keep the sharks out,” he added in grim explanation.
“Sharks! How awful! Are there really sharks there?”
“Of course there are. No one in their senses would venture beyond the palisades. Every Paradise has its snake, you know, only in this case it’s a shark!” he joked.
“I suppose so, but in this case it seems to be effectively kept out!” Maimie countered.
Claud sipped at the drink which a white-coated waiter had set before them. “One day we must come out here and bathe...” He broke off. “Sorry, I’d forgotten there won’t be an opportunity.”
“Don’t remind me!” There was a hint of vexation in Maimie’s voice. Then, throwing caution to the winds, she turned to her companion. “Claud, I hate you going. Must you? Can’t you stay on? What does it matter, even if I am married?” she ended childishly.
Claud leaned across the table and took her hand in his. “It wouldn’t do ... that’s all.” With an abrupt change of conversation he continued, “That dance music is enticing, but I don’t think we’ll venture in; it’s wiser to remain here; the population of Singapore is far too limited for my liking, and people always gossip.”
“I suppose we’d better not. It would be awful if someone informed Seymour that I’d been seen with you tonight.” Maimie pulled her white fox fur from her shoulders and laid it across her knees. “It’s all so silly. Why do people want to make mischief?” she queried petulantly.
“Human nature, my dear,” Claud laughed. “Why be so cross about it?” His eyes sought hers. “It’s our last evening, remember.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not really cross.” Maimie’s eyes which met her companion’s were suspiciously bright. “I can’t bear it, that’s all! I hate the idea of your leaving. I hate not seeing you again. I hate everything!” Her voice broke, and the ready tears trickled from beneath her lids.
“Darling.” Claud’s voice was gentle as he pulled his chair across to hers and slid his arm round her waist. “Don’t cry. We’ve had a wonderful time, and all good things come to an end.”
Maimie smiled through her tears. “I’m not really crying,” she averred firmly. “It’s just wretched, that’s all.”
“Shall we go now, and perhaps you can come along to my place for a few minutes before going home?” Claud suggested.
“All right.” Maimie rose to her feet and draped the soft fur across her shoulders. “We’re so late already I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb,” she asserted philosophically. “If Pat is waiting up there is sure to be a row, anyway.”
Claud helped his companion into the car. “Pat never rows, does she?”
“Not really,” Maimie admitted truthfully, “but she just looks disapproving and I can’t bear it.”
“I wager she’ll be fast asleep by the time we get back. We’ll just run into my bungalow for a nightcap and then I’ll take you back.” Maimie half closed her eyes, and the soft fringe of her lashes swept her cheek as she sat leaning slightly toward Claud. This was perfect. Speeding with smooth ease through the palm groves, on and on through the dark night, with nothing but the chirping of crickets to disturb the silence. She wanted to go on for ever, not minding where, so long as this ecstasy could last. Claud slipped an arm round her and drew her closer, until she could feel the warmth of his body through the thin material of her frock, and her head rested comfortably against his shoulder. The jolting of the car chafed her cheeks against the cloth of Claud’s coat until it made her skin tingle, but she was oblivious of any discomfort, completely lost in the languorous feeling of contentment which pervaded her.
“Asleep?” Claud removed his eyes for a moment from the road and glanced down tenderly at his companion.
“No, just thinking,” Maimie responded briefly, as if she were unwilling to break the spell of their silence.
“About what?” Claud persisted.
“Us.” Maimie sighed as she cuddled up more closely, then suddenly she twisted away and, sitting forward in her seat, commanded Claud’s attention. “Claud, don’t you see? I can’t bear to say-goodbye to you. I want this to go on ... I’ll give up everything ... Seymour, marriage. You must stay, you must!” Her voice rose hysterically.
Claud, refusing to meet Maimie’s eyes, concentrated upon the road ahead and, bending closer over the wheel, steered the car round the hairpin bend into the drive leading to his bungalow. It was not until he had brought the car to a standstill at the entrance that he faced Maimie, who was still sitting forward, her gaze concentrated upon him, as if with her intensity she would force his attention.
“You must try and understand ... you can’t just let me go like this.”
Claud made no answer, but, turning round in his seat, he took Maimie in his arms and held her closely. His lips strayed from the soft curve of her cheeks to her lips and lingered there, while every fibre in Maimie’s body responded to his touch. Releasing her gently, he stared at her upturned face, strangely white in the moonlight. “My dear ... don’t say those things; they hurt me as much as you, and yet we both knew this parting had to come.”
“Yes, we knew we’d have to part.” There was a touch of bitterness in Maimie’s voice. “You were very careful to let me know that your amours never lasted.” Her voice rose. “But it’s different now. I believe you’ve grown fonder of me than you ever intended to,” she challenged him.
“I have ... that’s true, but I’ll get over it, and so will you.” He drew her again into his arms and silenced her with a kiss. “No, don’t argue, darling; it does no good and only hurts us both. Warinder’s a fine man. He’ll make a good husband; I’d make a rotten one.” He laughed softly as he opened the car door and, holding her closely, helped her to alight. “Come in ... for the last time. We’ll drink together to all the happiness we’ve had and to the future ... for us both.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The light from the oil lamp lighted the dark waves of Patricia’s hair as she stitched at the white satin frock stretched across her knees. No sound broke the silence of the room except the incessant hum of insects as they swarmed in their thousands around the glowing bowl of the lamp, and the intermittent call of the monkeys from the distant jungle. Every few minutes Patricia raised her head and listened expectantly, but each time with growing disappointment she returned to her task. There was no welcome chatter of voices, no echo of footsteps, nothing which might herald Maimie’s return. Patricia continued with her task and when it was completed, she put aside her needlework and rose to her feet. Laying the frock carefully over the back of a chair, she crossed the room to the open doorway and stood st
aring across the verandah into the darkness beyond. With a glance at her wristwatch she shrugged despairingly. Maimie had said she’d be home early, but it was already long past midnight. Of course, she had neither asked nor expected Patricia to wait up for her, but even Maimie, with her characteristic thoughtlessness, could hardly expect her to retire to bed and sleep until she knew her charge to be safely home. Patricia lifted the wedding dress and carried it carefully back to Maimie’s room, and hung it in the cupboard. For a moment her fingers caressed the soft folds of satin before closing the cupboard door. There was something so beautiful, so appealing about the glimmering sheen of the material, the long, drooping folds and the clustering pearls like gleaming drops of water. A wedding dress was, without doubt, different from any ordinary gown. It held some mysterious glamour, some mystic meaning, low beautiful Maimie had looked!
If only the beauty of that wedding dress were symbolic of the beauty to come, if only Maimie’s radiance was exemplifying the radiance of her future life! Patricia returned to the lounge and seated herself in an armchair. Anyway, Seymour hadn’t phoned; she had been saved the necessity of uttering that despicable lie. With an irritable movement she swept her sewing materials back into their box. Suddenly she paused, then sure that her ears had not deceived her, she hurried thankfully toward the door. In a moment all her irritation against Maimie had left her. At last she was home—ridiculously late, but that didn’t matter. With eager steps Patricia crossed the verandah and descended the wooden steps into the garden to greet the arrivals. Abruptly she stood stockstill and with an unconscious movement pressed her hands to her heart, as if by pressure she could still its swift and uncontrollable beating. She stared through the warm darkness. Surely her eyes had tricked her ... it couldn’t be ... it couldn’t! With throbbing pulses she remained rooted to the spot as a solitary figure advanced with quickened strides towards her—not two figures; one only, and that one—Seymour! With a tremendous effort Patricia regained her composure, and although her knees still felt unable to support her, her voice was clear and steady.
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