by Mariska
Neville was like that. Possibly it was a line which he had found, over the years, to bring most cheer with the least responsibility. Lesley didn't
mind it. For one thing, it was refreshing to have a man of his age—he was thirty-three—so openly finding pleasure in her company.
As the days passed she found herself liking Neville and feeling rather sorry that the conversion of the smaller shed was going ahead so quickly. To her relief, Fernando did not come over that weekend after all, and once a new week had begun she thought it unlikely that he would trouble them till the following Saturday or Sunday.
A single bed arrived from the Falls, together with a few pieces of plain furniture for Neville's use. At the newly created window in his log hut, she hung short flowered curtains, and the cement floor was covered with natural grass matting. A rattan chair from the house veranda completed quite a pleasing apartment, but Neville did not hasten to take up residence down there on the edge of the fallow land. Indeed, it took a cable from England to shift him from the spare room.
The cable arrived at mid-morning. Neville had ridden up from his first attempt at quarrying, and was sitting on the veranda reading a two-days-old newspaper.
The telegram was from Virginia. "Leaving today by plane. Meet me Broken Hill on the fourteenth."
Mr. Norton read it twice, and so did Lesley. They regarded each other in bewilderment, and she said hollowly, "It's taken three days to get here. Tomorrow's the fourteenth."
"A tragedy?" inquired Neville.
"The reverse," she said quickly, almost as much to convince herself as to convince him. "My sister's coming—arriving tomorrow at Broken Hill. We're supposed to meet her."
"It can be done," he said easily. "Broken Hill is only three hundred miles away."
"How can we get there? There's no railway anywhere near here, and if there were we couldn't order a train. We don't possess a car."
"But I do. It's not in the pink of condition, but it'll take us six hundred miles. Does your sister say what time the plane gets in?"
"I expect she has to get connections. She wouldn't know."
"All right, we'll travel tonight and wait for her. This afternoon I'll run down into Buenda and get the bus greased and filled up. We'll leave this evening."
She smiled at him gratefully. "I wish we could accept, Neville, but I really don't think my father should travel through the night. He's well enough now, but .
"I'm over that business," said Mr. Norton. "It won't do me any harm." "It might. I refuse to let you take the chance."
"But Virginia will expect me to meet her; I haven't seen her for two years."
"A few hours more won't hurt. I can't let you go all that way." Belatedly she gave Neville his cup, and after a moment she asked him, "How long would it take to get to Broken Hill?"
"Six hours, with luck."
"Couldn't we start now, and put up at an hotel there tonight?"
"My car needs attention. I wouldn't dare take it so far without a mechanic looking over it first. There's hardly a hamlet on the road and certainly nothing in the way of a service station. The wisest thing would be to start at midnight. Then we'd travel while it's cool and, even allowing for a puncture or two, would get there in time for breakfast."
"Very sensible, too," nodded Mr. Norton. "It's exceedingly kind of you, Neville."
"I'm only too glad there's something I can do for you."
The arrangement was not entirely to Lesley's taste, but she was too dazed with the news to think of anything better. Virginia coming to Amanzi! It was fantastic, incredible. Somehow she must have wangled a long holiday; that part of it was comprehensible. But for Virginia, who had always clung very tightly to her salary, to spend such a colossal sum on a trip to Africa was something at present quite beyond Lesley's powers of absorption. She would like to have thought that her sister had at last decided her family was worth a visit. But for years Virginia had been independent of her father and Lesley, and impatient of their lack of worldly ambition. Her letters had been dutiful and without affection—hurtfully so, because Lesley had never quite lost her fondness and admiration for the gold-and white beauty who was her sister, and Edward Norton had a proud love for his elder daughter.
Neville broke into her thoughts. He said, wryly, "This means that I definitely get out of your spare room today. Would you like me to leave the camp bed there?"
"Will you—just until we have time to buy a bed?"
"You're welcome to it till I have to take it on tour again." At last he got up and bade them, "So long."
But a few minutes passed before Lesley was able to say, "I can't get over it—Virginia coming here! She's been so against our staying, so contemptuous of our settling here, and farming."
"You're not being just, my dear. Virginia hasn't our leanings, that's all. I'll admit it's rather a blow, her choosing to ,come by plane."
"A blow?"
"The whole trip will cost several hundred pounds, but I don't suppose she has a long enough holiday to come any other way."
Lesley looked at him and said slowly, "Have you written to Virginia since the discovery of beryl on Amanzi land?"
"Why, naturally, my dear; I sent her an air letter the day we sold · the half-share in the farm. She has a right to be the first to hear of our good fortune."
There was nothing more she could say without annoying or hurting him, but it was all painfully obvious. Virginia was coming out to check up on the luck which had come their way. She had known that in the circumstances she could rely on her father paying the plane fare, and she had
probably taken it for granted that he had bought a car or could easily hire one in which to pick her up at Broken Hill. Lesley didn't want to think about Virginia in such terms, but there seemed to be no alternative.
BY the time Virginia's plane touched down at Broken Hill, Lesley was so tired that she could have collapsed. The journey through the night
had been interminable and wearing, mile upon mile of unmade road which in places was still slippery and potholed from the last rains. Neville had been kind and tirelessly blithe. He had talked and jested, stopped to give her coffee, and asked her innumerable questions which it taxed her ingenuity to answer, and all with the intention of helping to speed the hours. They had arrived just after seven and Neville had airily knocked up one of his friends and demanded breakfast. The plane, they had learned, was not due till five in the afternoon. Somewhere about noon, a bedroom had been placed at Lesley's disposal, but sleep was as elusive as ever, though she was lightheaded with the need of it. Emotionally she alternated between an urgent desire to see Virginia again and an ungovernable and desperate hope that her suspicions would prove unfounded. How lovely if Virginia were coming simply because she wanted to see them!
The sun was sinking, as they made their way to the airfield, and an evening breeze bent the grass when at last the plane was sighted. After that it was only a matter of minutes till it touched the runway and came to a halt. Lesley watched the passengers descending, saw the trim figure in a grey silk shirt and trousers, and slipped a hand into Neville's. "That's Virginia," she said huskily.
He gave her hand a squeeze. "I thought so. You're played out, my pet. Go back to the car and I'll meet your sister as she comes from the Customs."
Blindly Lesley obeyed him, and presently as the orange light faded, she saw them approaching, and left the car once more to greet Virginia. Virginia was so beautiful and bandbox-fresh that Lesley knew the old leap of admiration and love. Her kiss touched a smooth, cool cheek.
"Hallo, darling," said Virginia, scarcely looking at her. "Where's Father?"
'We thought he'd better wait for you at Amanzi, and I'm glad now that he did. We had to travel through the night and hang about all day. How are you, Virginia? You look marvellous."
Virginia's smile was perfunctory, her glance wandered over the dusty tourer. "Thanks. Where do we go now?"
Neville put in, "We can get a meal at the hotel and start back
to Amanzi. You'll have to rough it on the road, I'm afraid. This is Africa, and my springs aren't as new as they once were."
Somehow, the awkward five minutes were over. Virginia's case was stowed away and they moved off to the hotel. The two in the back seat sat like friends who have gone different ways and can find no path back to common ground. Lesley tried to explain a little about the country, and
Virginia sat regally composed, her green eyes secretive as they gazed out over the the dusk-laden countryside.
It was the same at dinner. Virginia surveyed Neville and found him attractive; she was also experienced enough to read those lines of dissipation and to parry his particular type of nonsense and flattery. But she was cold and uncaring; Lesley felt it as she had felt it years ago, when Virginia had defied her mother, or the aunt who had taken over after her mother's death. She was bent on continuing her own way, in her own fashion.
They started back for Amanzi in the dark. Neville calculated it would be about three in the morning when they reached the farm. "That is, if the old lady will stand up to it," he ended, patting the wheel. "She seems to be protesting in all her joints, but she's done it before and I've got through. Not afraid, are you, Virginia?" His friendliness had an edge of sarcasm. Perhaps he knew that Virginia saw through him more clearly than Lesley did.
Virginia shrugged. "I don't seem to have any option, do I? Give me a cigarette, will you?" She had changed over and was sitting in the front seat, where the jolting was less pronounced. Possibly because he had had no more sleep than Lesley had, and had spent the day drinking and card-playing with his friends, Neville was not driving too well. The headlights picked out huge holes, but somehow he could not avoid them. He was getting sleepy.
Virginia had grown silent. She was really no different from the Virginia they had left in England a couple of years ago, thought Lesley, though she had seemed to kindle slightly when she talked about Father. Such a pity they would arrive in the small hours and awake him. It was the wrong time altogether for a reunion.
Lesley dozed in a series of nightmarish jerks. At long intervals they met an oncoming car, but as the night wore on they had the road to themselves. Then another car approached, and this time it slowed till it was level with them, and gave a couple of hoots as it passed and pulled up.
"Cousin Fernando," said Neville laconically as he braked. "Did you see him, Lesley?"
Yes, Lesley had seen him. The lean brown face, the big shoulders as he had turned in his seat to draw their attention. Oddly, she was both uneasy and exhilarated, and also unable to move, though she knew the big car had reversed and stopped right behind them.
He came to Neville's window, looked in swiftly at Lesley and her sister. "I came to meet you," he said. "Mr. Norton was anxious when you had not come by dinner-time, and he arranged for Mr. Pemberton to come to me with a message." He swung open the back door. "Come, little one, you must be very tired. And you, Miss Norton. I will drive you the rest of the way." He spoke again to Neville, and his smile was cold and exasperated. "You should have known better than to use this contraption of yours for such a purpose. What will Miss Norton think of us?"
Virginia, looking at Fernando, had a charming and startled smile. Watching her, Lesley remembered her own reaction at her first meeting with him, the utter astonishment at his Spanish good looks, her inward delight at the alien inflection in his tones. Hurriedly she introduced him to her sister. She saw his glance take in the fine, pointed features, the silky wave of light hair above the white brow, and the dark greenness of her eyes. Just perceptibly, his eyebrows rose a fraction, as if he, like Virginia, were pleasantly startled.
As though it were hers by right, Virginia got into the front seat of Fernando's car. Lesley, in the back, was given a pillow and a rug and told to rest. Neville raised a careless hand as they passed, and then Fernando put on speed, and in the comfort of his car the road seemed to smooth out beneath the wheels. Lesley slept.
She was not truly conscious of anything that happened during the rest of that night. At Amanzi, Fernando helped her from the car and insisted on almost carrying her inside, lest, in her hazy condition, she should fall. Virginia hugged her father and began to talk to him with much more verve and affection than Lesley had thought her capable of. Lesley slipped between the sheets on the hard little camp bed, felt foolishly unhappy for a few minutes, and went to sleep again.
CHAPTER III
VIRGINIA'S presence in the house at Amanzi altered the whole atmosphere. Lesley decided that she must have felt a little weary and
constrained on leaving the plane, because she now took the trouble to find out all there was to know about the way they lived and what sort of people they had for friends. She had come for an indefinite length of time, she said. She could always go back to her job if she wanted' to, but it did appear rather pointless now that they were not penniless. The rest of her clothes were on the way by air in two trunks. Coming at freight rate, they ought to get here in about a week. Her father was so happy at having both daughters in the house that Lesley felt everything might turn out well, after all. She still couldn't make out quite what was at the bottom of Virginia's decision to throw up her job and come to Africa, but a conversation a couple of days later was partially enlightening.
Virginia was altering the bedroom. She had turned out the bookshelves and taken the writing-table from the living-room to put in their place, and when Lesley was making the bed she turned and said, "Lesley, will you tell me something in confidence?"
"Why, yes, if I can."
Very evenly, Virginia asked, "Has Father made a will since he left England?"
"I don't think so," said Lesley blankly. "He's owned so little that I don't suppose he thought it worthwhile."
"Would he have told you if he had?"
"He'd be sure to. I've been running everything. I even have the key to the box in which he keeps his private papers."
"I see. Well, I think you'd better give the key to me. The responsibilities here are mine now."
Lesley straightened, and a chill feathered over her skin. Virginia had never spoken to her like this before. Even in England, when she had been under age, her sister had not bothered to deal with any of the numerous official matters which cropped up from time to time. Lesley had had to handle the rent and taxes the food bills, and other household details. "You mean you're taking over the housekeeping?"
"Good heavens, no! You can have an allowance for that; I was never any good in the kitchen. But I'll keep a rein on the farm finances. It's my duty."
Lesley might have reminded her that she had come rather late to a realisation of the fact, but after the first unpleasant shock she took it philosophically. Virginia wasn't working now; she had time to give to the accounts-book.
Now that Neville was installed at the hut, he came to the house only for dinner, but over that meal he and Virginia indulged in a form of verbal sparring which amused Mr. Norton and puzzled Lesley. Neville didn't seem to care what Virginia said. Yet Lesley would have wagered any day that he was far more sensitive than her sister.
One afternoon she went down to the quarry and met him there. It was not yet very deeply dug, and the traces of beryl so far discovered were infinitesimal, but it was interesting to have the composition of the granite explained, and pleasant to sit on the edge of the quarry dangling her legs while he poured tea and let her drink first. It was he who mentioned Virginia. "I know it's no use warning an infant like you against her own kith and kin," he said, "but I must do it, nevertheless. Beware of Virginia, my sweet. She's hard as nails and ten times as sharp. You know why she came to Africa in such a hurry, don't you?"
"Neville, I don't want to talk about it."
"I know you don't—loyalty to flesh and blood and all that. If you were in a spot she wouldn't lift a finger for you. Do you realise that?"
"I don't see that it matters."
He hitched along beside her on the ledge and took the cup from her. "It does matter, and you've got t
o look at it without sentiment. Virginia showed no special interest in your father until he wrote her about this stuff." He waved vaguely at the outcrops. "He told her it was valuable, and she
instantly remembered she was the elder daughter and entitled to a large share."
"Oh, stop it!"
"Money speaks to Virginia, as family affection never could, and she believes that at heart everyone is the same—even you. If you get in her way she'll deal with you drastically."
Lesley could believe that, and had already made up her mind not to cross Virginia. "All right, you've warned me," she said. "Now let's discuss something else."
Neville shook his head and stared musingly over the slope which ended at the Amami boundary. "Women!" he murmured. "They're so alike in some things, and so utterly different in others." Then, ruminatively, "I was once engaged, you know."
She had sometimes wondered about that engagement of his. "What happened?" she asked.
"Something very stupid but revealing. We had to be apart for a couple of months, and during that time I met a woman who was everything my fiancée was not, and fell for her. It wasn't terribly serious—the affair—but it forced me to the conclusion that the girl I was going to marry just hadn't got what I needed. I behaved like a rat. I walked out on her."
There wasn't much feeling in his voice, and Lesley felt bound to observe, "It must have been dreadful for her."
"Yes," he said drily. "She had all the sympathy and I caught the brick-bats, but she married and I didn't."
"Have you any regrets?"
"Not now. She was a little like you, Lesley, but she hadn't your courage and stamina." Abruptly changing the topic, he said, "More tea?"
"No, thanks. I must go. Come a bit earlier tonight. Someone has lent us a few records."
"As a matter of fact, I don't think I'll come at all," he said, dropping a pebble into the shallow digging and watching it bounce. "I'm meeting some fellows at the hotel in Buenda, and I may as well have dinner there, too."
