by Mariska
As soon as she got back to the house at the Falls, Lesley planned a small garden. A boy materialised from the bush, mentioned that he knew everything about gardening, and proceeded to demonstrate that he knew nothing but was willing to learn. Between them Lesley and the boy cleared the thick roots of lalang and flattened the fine, spring grass over the bare patches. They cut a couple of circular beds and planted flowers, thinned the banana hedge, and planted the thinnings elsewhere.
It was the only garden in the settlement, and as such came in for daily inspections and facetious comments. But at least two of the men, who had wives and homes elsewhere, were inspired to create borders round their houses and plant them with hibiscus cuttings and portulaca.
The days passed with a strange smoothness. Virginia was still quiet, and she actually helped with the design and cutting-out of the ivory silk frock. She stayed in most of the time, and in the evenings the three of them played cards or passed the hour or two before bed listening to gramophone records while they read. It was strange, Lesley sometimes thought, how they all seemed to be suspended in time, awaiting the impact of reality. One thing was certain; this tenuous tranquillity could not last.
Then suddenly Fernando came to tell them he had to go away for a few days. He came in one evening after dinner to ask if there were anything he could get them down south. "I am called for consultation on a project with which they are having trouble, and they wish me to spare them a week. I hope it will not take as long, because I would like to be here to give a small party for Neville before he leaves." He looked almost teasingly at Lesley. "I am going to ask you for some little favours. In case I do not get back till the last moment, will you make the preparations with my houseboy for this dinner?"
Her heart low with the knowledge that he was going away, she said, "I may not arrange things exactly as you want them."
"No matter. It will do no harm to have a change in my house." Virginia said, "You may be sorry. Lesley's not very experienced."
"Then perhaps you will help her. I shall be pleased, whatever the
result."
"When are you going?"
"Tomorrow, early. And I would like you to prepare for that dinner a week from today. You are sure, both of you, that there is nothing I can bring you from the big city?"
It seemed to Lesley that he was glad to be going, glad to get away from the whole set-up at the Falls, if only for a short period. When he said good night something made her go out with him to his car. She stood awkwardly beside him and said hesitantly, "Fernando, it feels like rain. You . . . you'll be terribly careful as you drive over the mountains, won't you?"
He looked down at her, his glance cool and shrewd, no teasing quality about him now. "There is never much danger in travelling the road one knows: equally, there is never much excitement. Apart from the work I have got to do, I anticipate a quiet, uneventful week." He paused, and added in crisp, alient accents, "You are recovering well from your grief. I suppose it is easy for a child like you. You plant a few flowers, water them with your tears, and it is over; I doubt if you are even a little older or wiser. But who knows, your next experiment in love may be more shattering."
"You speak as though you're hoping that way. It wouldn't be any good my telling you I wasn't in love with Martin Boland, would it?"
Fernando gave a controlled shrug. "You do not have to make any confessions, little one. One does not need to be a connoisseur in the affections to realise that you have never felt deeply for any man."
Quickly, a little angrily, she answered, "This time you're wrong !" Then, scared he might get a glimpse of the truth, she tacked on shakily, "I'm twenty-one, remember."
"So I am wrong?" His voice was metallic, and in the darkness she saw the glitter of his eyes. "It seems that your heart is one which must always be occupied. If you are sliding back to Neville, you will be disappointed. I happen to know that he has committed the folly of falling in love with your sister." He inclined his head briefly. "Good night, little one."
Lesley took her time before going up the steps and into the living-room. Fernando's final sentence had stunned like a physical blow. Neville and Virginia! Surely not. Surely they detested each other? The dislike was certainly genuine on Virginia's side, and Neville .. .
Yes, it was just possible. Lesley remembered his wryness and sarcasm, his uncanny ability to say the hurting word to Virginia. He had said he wouldn't care to be the man who married Virginia, and Lesley believed him. He had nothing that Virginia wanted, and he knew it.
THE next day it rained. A storm came up at about noon, and for an
hour thunder crashed overhead, lightning flamed, and incessant rain hammered like a million devils upon the wooden house and its newly-made garden. When the worst of the storm was spent there was still rain and more rain tumbling out of a thick sky and obscuring the river and the settlement. To keep her thoughts from following Fernando over rough roads which had been converted into perilous red streams, Lesley made up the new bed in her room and had Neville's camp bed and mattress folded and neatly strapped. She also wrapped up some parcels of books for him
It was later, after dinner was over and while they drank coffee on the dim veranda, that Virginia exploded her little bombshell. There were preliminaries to it, of course. "You must be getting awfully tired of having nothing to do, Lesley," she said.
"Yes, I am. It will be fun when we start building the new house in Buenda."
"Even then there won't be much to keep you busy. Nothing permanent, I mean. Don't you sometimes feel you're wasting your life?"
Lesley had had a healthily tiring day; normally such solicitude from Virginia would have been suspect, but tonight it caused no flutter of trepidation. "I've started a garden here for whoever comes after us, and as soon as we've chosen the land in Buenda we can plan what we're going to do with it. Daddy says . - ."
-
"Father and I have been talking about you today, haven't we, darling?" interrupted Virginia, keeping her voice quite level. "We think it's very unfair that you should have to keep house and run a garden at your age. You must often have felt wretched about giving up that career you started in the advertising office. You were good at commercial art, and it's a pity to let one's talents rust."
"Virginia's right," put in her father earnestly. "I've always wished I could make up to you for the career you relinquished, and now is as good a time as any.'
Lesley put down her cup. She was seated in the chair farthest from the door, and could plainly see her father and Virginia, though their expressions were obscured by shadows. She knew his was serious and persuasive. Virginia's she guessed to be enigmatic.
"I couldn't get that sort of post within a thousand miles of Buenda," she said.
"That's not the point," commented Virginia. "To follow a chosen path one has to give up some things, though one gains, others. Father thought—and I agree with him—that we should send you back to England. It'll be an expense, but you've earned it, and we want you to have your chance."
"I see, Lesley's brain was rocking a little from the suddenness of this generosity. "I'm not too sure that I want to get back to England. I've got used to it here, and the Amanzi Holdings will be needing staff."
"But you'd rather go in for something more original than clerking. Naturally, you're reluctant to leave us, but it wilt do you all the good in the world. Until you're earning a good salary you'll have a monthly allowance, and you don't have to go back to the North of England unless you wish to. I can give you a few introductions to London firms who have big advertising departments, and I guarantee you'd have the time of your life. It's a wonderful idea, Lesley, and you should be very grateful that Father is so keen to send you there."
"Think it over," said Edward Norton. "If there's something else you'd rather do, we'll discuss it."
Solomon came through for the cups, and Lesley got up to gather them. As the boy went back into the house she stood for a moment in the porch, uncertain whether she needed
the stimulant of fresh air or the balm of sleep. Ten minutes ago she had been really sleepy, but now she was wading through a mental morass which needed sifting.
"I think I'll take a walk," she said, and went down the steps and round the house. She didn't have to ask herself whether she wanted to go to England. She would have liked a holiday there, but her heart was definitely here, in Central Africa. As for the career she had begun, it was so long since she had speculated about it that it had come to mean nothing at all.
As her mind began to clear she realised several things. Virginia had spoken as if her father had initiated the idea, but Lesley knew he had merely concurred. Virginia wanted her out of the way; she had never enjoyed being cluttered with a younger sister, and now she had strong
reasons for wishing to be the one and only Miss Norton. Lesley's breath drew in sharply and she quickened her pace. Was that the crux of the whole plan—Virginia's desire to marry Fernando del Cuero? She stopped and looked up at the softly brilliant stars. This same formation of stars was shining on Fernando down south, but it wasn't shining on England. Could she bear to live so remote from him? On the other hand, if he married Virginia, could she bear to live on the same continent with him?
She couldn't come to a decision yet. There was too much to weigh up, and it was difficult to do it alone. She might have a private word with her father. Virginia had driven a wedge between them, but he was thoughtful and kind, and he wouldn't want her to do anything which went against her inclination.
She had come back round the house. The light in her father's window showed that he had gone to bed, and she felt that perhaps it would be wise for her to do the same. Quietly she went into the living-room and bolted the door behind her. In the darkness she groped across to the other doorway, stepped into the short corridor and turned the handle of her own bedroom door, to find Virginia outlined in the lamplight.
'VIRGINIA came at once to the point. "Well, have you made any decisions?" "I've hardly had time. It's barely half an hour since you first mentioned it. Tomorrow I'll have a word with Father."
"I'm sorry, Lesley, but that's one thing I can't allow. He's absolutely in favour of your being given this trip to England, and it would be most unfair to embroil him in an argument about it. He says the whole thing is up to you, and he's right."
"That means he won't mind if I refuse to go."
"From his own angle he won't mind at all," answered Virginia. "But for my sake he'll be very sorry."
A cold hand closed round Lesley's heart. "For your sake?"
Virginia nodded. "I told him about Martin—that I hadn't liked to admit that I cared for him a great deal, and had pretended he was interested in you. He said I was foolish, but he understood my not wanting you around for a while."
Lesley stared, her face white. "Are you actually using Martin's death . . .?"
"It's true. I've come to loathe being in the same house with you," said Virginia sharply. "The way you look at me, as if you know something about me that others don't. I was much more upset about that news than you'll ever realise, and I can't bear to have you around, reminding me of it."
"Is that really the truth?"
"It is. One of us has to go, Lesley—and I'm staying !"
It was as simple as that. Lesley might have protested that she would get a job in Buenda and live in the hotel, that she would go south, to
Salisbury or Bulawayo. But she merely sat down rather suddenly on the end of the bed and shook her head as though to dislodge cobwebs. Fernando was somewhere at the back of it, of course, together with Edward Norton's money. But Martin—poor, misguided Martin—was to be used as the lever. She found herself saying, "When do you want me to go?"
Virginia let out a breath which mingled relief with satisfaction. "This kind of situation is painful, and the sooner we put an end to it the better. One of the technicians is going home on compassionate leave, and a plane is picking him up on Friday morning. You can go with him."
"Friday? This coming Friday?" Lesley's life was slipping away, and she was powerless to hold it. "It's the day Fernando gets back."
"'What of it?"
"Nothing. Only I'd like to have said goodbye to him, and to Neville."
"I should have thought you would have had enough of Neville. He only paid you attention because he thought it would make me angry."
Lesley had had enough. In a tight voice she said, "Please go now, Virginia. You've got your way, and I don't have to sit here listening to your jealous cracks about my friends. You and I haven't a single thing more to say to each other."
Virginia shifted. With a conciliatory inflection she said, "We don't have to part rivals, darling. I'll always do the best I can for you." And then she was gone.
Lesley remained where she was. Her nerves were jumping, and that icy hand still enclosed her heart, while her brain tried to accept the knowledge that in four days she would be leaving Africa, that already she had seen the last of Fernando. There was no question of delaying her departure, and in a way she had no wish to.
Had she been able to think clearly, she might have been open with her father, and have demanded whether he really did believe it imperative that she and her sister should put five or six thousand miles between them. Through the haze of pain she became aware that Edward Norton was not altogether happy about her going off alone to England, but he did nothing to bridge the gap which had widened between them, and she could not bring herself to start a discussion. It was enough that he had acquiesced in Virginia's plan; nothing was left to be said. Subconsciously she knew it would hurt deeply to think about either them, or about anyone else.
Quietly she went about her preparations. A suitcase was all she could be allowed to take on the small plane, but Virginia promised to send the rest of her things by sea. Perhaps it was fortunate that several things kept both of them busy. There was Fernando's dinner-party, for instance, which necessitated a trip into Buenda to collect various foodstuffs and the drawing up of a menu. Lesley acted automatically, but she refused with finality to go into Fernando's house and instruct his servants. There are some things that even the dazed mind will shy away from.
Her sensitive face grew paler, and the gentle blue eyes were heavy with fatigue. Each day she tired herself to the point of exhaustion, but at night she lay wide-eyed, looking out at the softly-tossing trees against the pale radiance of the stars.
CHAPTER VII
In a way, it would be a relief to Lesley not to have to say goodbye to Fernando. He was always so managing and helpful that he would have
been bound to insist on arranging the smoothest, swiftest passage for her, and a farewell party into the bargain. It was he who had ordered the plane to pick up his technician, Hathern. The plane was to touch down at about nine on Friday morning on a wide expanse of grass to the north of the town of Buenda. The three Nortons drove out with Lesley's suitcase in the luggage-carrier, and they arrived in good time. Lesley met Hathern, the young man who was going home to an ailing wife, and as soon as the small silver plane droned into view she felt she was already on her way. There were few formalities, and the pilot was in such a hurry that she had only time for a quick kiss on her father's cheek. Lesley mounted the steps into the plane, looked through a blurred window for a few seconds before being asked by the air hostess to take her seat, which happened to be on the other side of the aisle. They took off. She saw her father's waving hand, Virginia's slim figure in green linen, the flick of a white glove, and that was all. A week ago she had imagined Buenda would always be her home. Now she was flying for the first time in her life and getting no thrill from it, because she never would thrill to anything anymore. She was leaving Africa for good; leaving her heart there in the square white house which was Fernando del Cuero's.
Virginia spoke gently as she drove her father back to the Falls. She knew he was sad, and she felt sorry for him, because she was a little sad herself. It was one thing to determine what should be done with Lesley, but quite another to carry
out the decision. Still, Lesley was young, and the young are proverbially adaptable. Back at the house, Virginia asked Solomon to make coffee and butter some scones. She had the tray brought to the veranda, and for the first time since coming to Africa she wallowed in a sense of richness. She was in control now; there was no one to give her a quick, scared look whenever she bought a piece of jewellery, no one to practise economies in the household. The Amanzi Company might not yield fabulous wealth, but it constituted the difference between dashing around to earn her living and a life of leisure.
What a blessing that everything had turned out so conveniently this last week. The plane leaving this morning on the day Fernando was expected back, the dinner more or less prepared before Lesley left. It couldn't have
been better, really. Naturally, there was still plenty to do, but Lesley had written the courses down in detail.
However, it would be as well to spend a couple of hours at Fernando's house this morning, in case he arrived early. A message had come through that he would be driving through the night, and it was just possible that he would get here in time for lunch. She ought to make sure there would be something appetising for him. Fernando would be delighted with that kind of attention from a woman. She drove over to the house, went into its quiet dimness and pulled up the Venetian blinds. The rooms were swept and polished, and the flowers she had procured yesterday from a friend in Buenda had opened to show their magnolia hearts. Just the one bowl of flowers, she thought; they focused the attention. Who had put them there? Without asking, he would know whose choice they were. Lesley always liked to blend two colours and had never shown a preference for the waxen blossoms of tropical shrubs. Even with exotic flowers she had an English, countryfied hand. Not so Virginia; she had long ago chosen her type, and it was no effort to stick to it.
