by Mariska
She looked at him thoughtfully. "Is it Virginia? Does she annoy you?"
He gave her his wry smile. "It's not Virginia. I need a roaring night out, and no reproachful audience when I stagger home."
She laughed at him and left him. Neville invariably made her feel light and airy, because even in his serious moments there was a wry humour about him. She knew that at times he drank too much and did some heavy gambling. But about one thing she was certain: he liked her and respected her. As she reached the back garden she stood still and brushed the granite dust from her slacks. Her short, honey-coloured hair stood out with the breeze except where sweat had pasted tendrils close to her forehead. Then she went on into the living-room, and the moment she had entered she would have given anything to be back with Neville. For Fernando was there, rising from one of the cane armchairs as she entered, and eyeing the light patches on her navy blouse and slacks with interest and distaste.
"Oh, Lesley, you've been with Neville again," said Virginia in soft reproof. "You've ruined that blouse."
Fernando's dark eyes were even more critical than Virginia's as he took in her sensitive, unsmiling face. "What is it that you do at the quarry?" he wanted to know.
"I just watch, and we talk."
He apparently decided to leave it there. Completely ill-at-ease, Lesley sat in the chair he had placed for her and looked down at her blunt-toed brown shoes. It seemed that her coming had interrupted a conversation, for Virginia was speaking about Spain in the smooth, half-intimate tones she adopted with Fernando.
"During a cruise it's only possible to see a fraction of the sights, but the impressions I had of Barcelona were unforgettable."
Fernando leaned towards Virginia and nodded affirmatively. "I have much affection for Barcelona. It has a spirit which is individual. Did you visit the Casco Antiguo?"
"Of course. It was marvellous."
"Did you touch at Tarragona? Yes? It is a magnificent city, the old so well preserved beside the new. The harbour is splendid, did you not think so?"
"It was like a dream. I'd have loved to have spent a whole month in Tarragona."
Fernando voiced the hope that next time she went to Spain she would be able to stay longer. Lesley was glad when Solomon came in with the tray and her father sauntered indoors from the veranda.
It seemed that Fernando had been invited for tea. For some reason Virginia had kept it to herself, not even mentioning it to Edward Norton till the very last moment. Rather than admit she had had tea with Neville, Lesley drank from the cup which Fernando had handed to her, and presently excused herself and went into the garden. Vaguely miserable, she wandered across the short lawn towards the old citrus trees which she and her father had pruned so thoroughly the year before that they were thick with new green growth but devoid of fruit. She pushed through a gap in the hedge and came out on to the road. Looking backward, she could see Fernando's opulent car at the Amanzi gate, and though it was unlikely that he would tear himself away from Virginia just yet, she thought she had better get off the road as soon as possible. A little way down there was a diamond-mesh gate to the Pemberton lands; it was nearly a week since she had seen Anna.
Walking quickly, she came to the gate, opened it and dropped it back into position. The path led upwards between a thick matting of young trees and vines which provided just enough shade. Forest flies winged back and forth, and sunbirds clung in all their brilliant beauty to the slim branches of the mopani. She stopped, tiptoed, and took a cautious peep into a nest which held three tiny grey eggs. A canary's
probably. The birds were as common in these part as the sparrow in London.
"Lesley!"
Her heart leapt, warmed, and went chill. She turned and looked down at Fernando.
HE was at a bend in the path, advancing with long, swift strides. He was so tall that though his body was in shadow the sun bronzed
his head. "So," he said as he came level. "As I left Amanzi I saw you in the distance, going through the gate. I thought I would follow you and find out why you were so silent in the house, and so deliberately slipped away."
"Your business was with Virginia, wasn't it?"
"I did not come on business. Your sister had the goodness to ask me to take tea on my way back from Buenda. You will remember that I had an appointment there today."
"I didn't know."
"Perhaps not. You were very tired in the car the other night, and may not have heard." He rested upon her a long, calculating glance, and gave an impatient sigh. "What is it with you? I would say you are a girl of much intelligence, yet you will not permit yourself to believe the worst of Madison, nor the best of anyone else." A pause, then, "Speaking of Neville, you did travel through the night with him, did you not?"
"I did." She tugged a leaf from a vine, and her tone hardened. "He was very considerate and helpful."
"I suppose he would be; there is a lot of good in him. But if you grow fond of him he will harm you; he cannot help it. I cannot forbid you, but for your own sake it would be better if you did not go to the quarry."
"What would you have me do—sit in the house and count my fingers? We can't do any farming, and it's hardly worth putting in any work on the garden and orchard."
"But you have worked enough—too much for a woman. This should be a welcome rest." His voice was softer as he said, "Listen to me, my little one. I know that for the good it has done to your father's health you are fond of the farm. Can you not try to regard this discovery of minerals as an additional benefit—to your father?"
"You don't understand," she said.
Before she could elaborate he broke in, "It is too hot for you here, and there are mosquitoes. Where were you going?"
"To see Anna."
"Why did you not use a horse? Or was it, like the visit to the quarry, merely an impulse?" He shook her wrist. "You say I do not understand. Come back with me to the car and make me understand."
Well, she hadn't much option but to do as he asked. She had fled up
the path to evade him, and having failed in that she might as well please him. Once in the car, they crossed the bridge, and saw the Kalindi bubbling away over the stones to lose itself among the thick trees and ferns. Presently they took the turn away from Buenda and ran along the road which eventually led to the Falls. After a mile or two he braked and switched off the engine. With an apology he leaned across and wound down her window so that the hot, imprisoned air could circulate. She felt the vibrant strength of his closeness. She would have liked, at this moment, to possess Virginia's poise, but the best she could do was to maintain a silence till he should speak.
"I am ready," he said mockingly, resting an arm on the wheel and looking at her. "I promise you I will do my utmost to follow your reasoning."
"It's not much use; you wouldn't agree with it. I really don't want to quarrel with you, Fernando . . ."
"Ah, now that is something! To me it has been very obvious that you want nothing so much as a first-rate quarrel with the overbearing engineer who has not even the grace to be an Englishman. Perhaps I shall do the talking, yes?"
She nodded cautiously. "But if I'm silent, don't take it as agreement."
"Very well. It seems to me that you have very much for which to be grateful. There is no other place quite like Buenda in Central Africa, -because here you are an agreeable height above sea level and can really enjoy almost a tropical climate. Soon you will be able to live in one of those villas on the edge of the town, and your father, if he wishes, may give some time to the Amanzi Mineral Holdings. I have no doubt at all that both you and your sister could find excellent husbands in the district. What is there about such a prospect that displeases you?"
"There can't be anything," she said 'abruptly. "It sounds like Paradise."
"But you are not yet ready for Paradise?" he inquired quizzically. When she made no rejoinder his manner changed and he added quietly, "You are unhappy, little one. Why?"
Her first inclination was to
deny it but where would that get her? "I'll get over it," she said.
"But you must let me help you."
"You?" She looked quickly into his eyes and saw no brown in them, only the colour of steel. It was a trick of the light inside the car, but it pulled her up sharply. Fernando was suave and persuasive, and that smile of his might wrench secrets from any woman's heart. But thank heavens she still had her sanity. "It's good of you, but there's nothing you can do."
The next second she had clapped a hand to a stinging eye. Particles of grit had flown straight through the open window on the breeze, and it felt as if several of them had landed on the ball of her eye. Swiftly Fernando took a handkerchief from his top pocket and he drew down her hand. He dabbed at the streaming eye, leaned towards it, concerned and vexed. "Let me look." Firmly but gently he lifted her eyelid, and when the water
ran away he murmured, "That is good. It will wash away. Blink again, and tell me if the pain has diminished."
"I . . . I think it's clear." She dragged her own handkerchief from her pocket, but having used it previously to knock dust from her knees she thought it hardly fit to put close to an eye.
He smiled, almost paternally. "Keep this one of mine. You are very young, Lesley."
"It isn't only the young who catch grit in their eyes," she answered crossly.
"No, but it is to the young that everything happens at once." He gave a characteristic lift of his shoulders. "You are unhappy, so you wander down to speak to Neville, because he is capable of giving sympathy without demanding explanations. You come back to the house and find Fernando in your living-room, and for some reason—" satire edged his tones—"Fernando is the last person you wish to see. But the inconvenient man must follow you and imprison you in his car, and the last straw, as you would say, is a piece of grit in your eye from a window he has opened. Life is very hard for you, Lesley."
She took the handkerchief pad from her eye and shook it loose before redoubling it. "Harder than you know," she said with a hint of acid.
"Yet you refuse help, or to give reasons, because I am Fernando del Cuero and not John Smith!" Then mercilessly he demanded, "Why did you hate to find me at your house? Others visit you and your father without the fact annoying you. I cannot comprehend that."
"It isn't that I don't want you to come," she instantly protested.
"I am glad to hear that," he said with irony. "What is it, then?"
How to explain that it was just a series of small things, that today she would have loved to see him there, nonchalantly installed in the rattan chair, if he hadn't looked so cosily tete-a-tete with Virginia? What an admission that would be! And it couldn't be true, either; of course it couldn't. "I think you'd better take me home," she said.
His regard was keen. It raked her features, and she was aware that anger glittered in his glance; it also showed in the grip of the strong brown fingers on the wheel. Without another word he started the car and swung it round. In five minutes they had covered the distance to Amanzi. He opened the door for her.
"Thanks for the handkerchief," she said. "I'll let you have it back." "Do not trouble," he answered coolly. "It has served its purpose. You have my permission to throw it away."
A day or two later, Virginia's two large trunks arrived. She had been fuming for several days before the advice came through that they
were ready for collection from the agent in Buenda. For want of indoor space, the trunks had to be opened on the veranda, and Lesley spent
a busy couple of hours carrying the innumerable cocktail and evening
creations, the sun-dresses and tailored linens and silks, the shoes and piles of lingerie, into Virginia's bedroom. Quite what Virginia had packed into the two trunks forwarded from England, Lesley had not bothered earlier to surmise, but she had imagined that among the contents would be a few trinkets and personal treasures. All that emerged from them, however, were clothes and still more clothes, and practically every item was brand new. At the bottom of the second trunk there was just one article which had no connection with feminine apparel. Thinking it was a piece of cardboard packing which had slipped from a box of stockings, Lesley picked it up, and discovered it to be a photograph.
Virginia, from her stool nearby, held out a hand. "Give it to me. I'll tear it up."
"No, don't. He's nice." Lesley held back the photograph from her sister's grasp and took a second look at it. "He looks very quiet—not your type at all."
"You're quite right." Virginia's lips curved downwards in disdain. "About money he has the same bee in his bonnet that you have."
"Who is he?"
"Martin Boland. I mentioned him in my letters to Father. At that time I thought Martin and I had a lot in common, though from the beginning I hated his work."
"What on earth is he?"
"A veterinary surgeon."
Lesley laughed. "I wouldn't mind being a vet myself. I dosed old Bessie when she was sick, and sat with her for days."
Virginia raised her eyebrows in disdain. "You should have been in England at that time. I'd have passed Martin on to you."
Lesley ignored the subtle insult. "If you don't care about him, why did you bring his photograph with you?"
"I didn't put it in the trunk. He came to the flat while I was packing, and he must have dropped it in himself; it's just what he would do." Virginia shrugged and began taking still another pair of gilt sandals from their tissue wrapping. "I suppose the reason I was attracted to him at all was because he wasn't like the rest. I had a narrow escape."
"Aren't you going to write to him?"
The fine, pale features were set in a smile as she answered, "No, I'm not. I did think I might, but since coming here I've changed my mind. After all, what I really liked about him was his utter difference from the playboys I knew. The others did well financially, but they lived up to the limit. Martin, though, had a different set of values." She paused speculatively. "In those days, of course, I'd never met anyone of Fernando del Cuero's sort. He's something special."
Lesley laid the portrait aside, glanced into the empty trunk and pulled down the lid. Very evenly she asked, "Would you marry a man like Fernando?"
"What a question! Wouldn't any woman?"
"I wouldn't."
Virginia gave that little laugh of hers which was never quite genuine because she was never wholesomely amused. "You say that because you know you don't stand a chance with him. Fernando is a top-liner in his profession, and apart from being a director of one of those companies he works for, he must make a fabulous salary. In addition, he practically owns the island of San Feliz. Imagine being mistress of a Spanish castle!"
"I was thinking of him as a man. He's charming, but I believe if he got really angry he could be cruel. And he's far too astute. I don't care for the kind of man who sees through everything you do,"
Virginia brushed scraps of paper from her lap. "You're talking rubbish, my child. No man ever sees through a woman—he only thinks he does. The really clever woman keeps him thinking that way." She flipped her fingers. "But you needn't worry about such things. Fernando needs much cannier handling than you're capable of."
Which, Lesley admitted to herself as she gathered up the last armful of underwear, was probably right. She never felt truly at ease when Fernando was about.
VIRGINIA had always found her young sister a bore. She herself had grown up swiftly, so that at eighteen she had been thoroughly
adult while Lesley was still an ink-stained twelve-year-old. Deliberately, because it had paid to have a young and homely sister, Virginia had played down Lesley's attempt at carving a career for herself, but Edward Norton's illness had defeated her. Even now she did not acknowledge that the trip to Africa upon which Lesley had insisted was a turning-point which had brought them luck. It pleased her that there had as yet been no official celebration of the discovery of beryl at Amanzi, and she had only been waiting for her clothes to arrive before arranging a party which would also serve to launch hersel
f in Buenda society. A veranda party was not enough for Virginia. She booked the hotel lounge and most of the dining-room, and even the news that Fernando was prevented from coming by the arrival of some intricate piece of machinery, which had to be installed at once, was not permitted to mar the evening. For Virginia, the evening was a personal triumph.
During the following week, news came through that the sale of a half-share in the farm had been completed and the purchase price paid into the account of Edward Norton. With a sense of deep joy he paid off the bond and his creditors, gave Virginia a sum which covered her plane fare and other expenditure, and in the traditional manner provided a bean and kaffir-beer feast for the six farm men and their families. He bought a small new car for the two girls, and found himself with a modest but heart-warming balance in the bank, which would comfortably tide them over till the beryl was mined in sufficient quantities to bring in a share of the profits. Life at Amanzi was changing radically. They entertained
formally once a week, and one third of their guests were bachelors in Government service. "I can't stand the dull crowd you've become friendly with," said Virginia. "Anna Pemberton is just a smart know-all, and as for that big, beefy husband of hers . . ."
Actually, Lesley's 'crowd' cared as little for Virginia as she did for them. At Grey Ridge one Sunday, Lesley was given a lecture on her foolishness where her sister was concerned. Anna was serious. "She's spoiling everything for you, Lesley," she finished. "And you're an idiot to let her."
"She's my elder sister, and she has every right to run our house as she pleases. My father is satisfied, and he's the one who counts."
"Why are you looking so peaked? In your worst days at farming you didn't look like this."
"Perhaps prosperity doesn't agree with me."
Anna frowned. "What share have you had in it? One new dress that you made yourself! Sometimes I feel I'd love to pour a few words into the ear of your father."
