by Anne Hampson
‘Oh, yes. You’ve applied for the post of assistant, I hear?’
Lena laughed. She might have known that the news would travel through the small town in no time at all.
‘That’s right. I’d like to stay here, but unless I get a job I can’t.’
‘Good luck, then.’
Leaving the salon, Lena went immediately to the bookshop. The proprietor was not in so, after chatting for a few moments to the woman who was leaving, Lena went off to do her shopping. It didn’t take long and as she didn’t want to carry the parcels around in the heat she took them back to the station wagon.
‘Well, well,’ said a voice from behind her as she bent to lock the door after depositing the parcels, ‘how’s the garden?’
She whipped round, a glowing look in her eyes.
‘Kane!’
‘Finished your shopping?’
She nodded, her eyes travelling to his gleaming white car parked a few feet away.
‘Yes—’
‘So have I. We’ll go along to the Club and I’ll buy you a cool drink.’
‘I’ve to go to the hairdressers…’ She tailed off, wishing she had not made the appointment.
‘What time?’ Kane glanced at his wrist watch. ‘It’s twenty minutes past two.’
‘My appointment’s for three.’
‘Then we’ve time.’
She fell into step beside him, feeling as if she were walking on air.
‘This glorious sunshine,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘I’ll never get used to it!’
‘Some people can’t stand it. They come, then are away again before they’ve given themselves the chance to discover whether or not they can become acclimatized to the perpetual sunshine.’
‘I love it!’
‘Is it true that you’ve applied for the post that’s coming vacant at the bookshop?’ Kane was asking when, having found a shady corner on the veranda of the Club, he had given the order to the dusky-faced waitress.
‘Everyone appears to know,’ she returned wryly. ‘Yes, it’s quite true that I’ve applied for it.’
‘Have you any idea what your chances are?’ he asked, and Lena shook her head.
‘No, I haven’t.’ She glanced up as the waitress appeared with the drinks.
‘If you do happen to be fortunate, have you thought how you’ll get into town every day?’
‘I can ride a bicycle,’ she told him. ‘The exercise will do me good.’
‘What about the ankle?’
‘It’s not giving me any trouble these days.’ She looked at him, as she drank the ice cold lemonade through a straw. He seemed concerned about her, she thought. His next words strengthened this idea.
‘Do you really need to go out to work? I mean, you haven’t any income at all?’
‘I have a house which is rented, but the rates take most of what I receive. I’ve asked the house agent to bank the rest for repairs, and the repainting which will soon need doing.’
Kane frowned at her.
‘You’re obviously not charging enough rent,’ he told her, and it did seem that a hint of stern censure edged his voice.
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she returned with a tiny sigh. ‘I didn’t give much thought to the expenses. I suppose it was with coming away in a hurry.’
He looked questioningly at her; she knew at once that nothing of her earlier situation had been related to him by her friends.
‘You came away in a hurry?’
‘Yes; as you know, June and Gerald were on a visit to England. Well, June asked me to come back here for a holiday. I made up my mind in a hurry…’ She stopped, slowly, as with a backswitch of memory she recalled that the real truth was that June had made up her mind for her. With the recollection there naturally came a vision of her life—the three wilful children, the work, the almost total break she had made from her friends, the forfeiture of any form of social life. How different it was now!
‘What were you thinking to bring that frown to your face?’ he wanted to know.
‘I’m not frowning,’ she protested.
‘You were,’ briefly and, she realized with a little access of astonishment, with a pronounced edge of command to his tones.
‘To tell you the truth, Kane,’ she said on a sudden desire to confide in him. ‘I wasn’t in a very happy position at the time of June’s visit.’ She paused a moment. ‘Did June ever mention that she and I were school-friends?’
Kane nodded, lifting his glass and regarding her steadily from over its rim. He was curious, she realized, and wondered greatly that he should be. This was not the impersonal aloof neighbour whom she had decided she would not like. Smiling to herself, Lena tried to estimate just how soon it was before she was revising her opinion of Kane. She did not think it was when he had rescued her from the river. No, it was after that… but not long afterwards.
‘When June came over to England I was naturally high on her list as regards the people she intended to visit. She—er—’ Lena broke off, not quite sure of how to phrase her words. ‘She didn’t care much for my situation—and, being June, she promptly set about doing something to alleviate it.’ Again she stopped, to flash him a glance. ‘I don’t know if you’ve ever seen June when she makes up her mind about anything, but—’
‘I have,’ he broke in grimly. ‘And if I were to describe her methods as forceful that would be putting it very mildly indeed!’
Lena had to laugh. She saw the little start he gave before staring into her eyes, eyes that shone with amusement. Was it admiration she perceived? she wondered, lowering her lashes in a little gesture of shyness.
‘As you will no doubt be able to imagine, then, she had the situation in hand within an exceedingly short space of time.’
‘I can indeed.’ Placing his glass on the table, Kane added in a smooth and curious tone of voice, ‘And what was this situation of which you speak?’
She glanced swiftly at him, becoming baffled by this interest.
‘I was caring for three young boys. They weren’t mine, so—’
‘I should hope not,’ he broke in in some amusement, bringing a flush to her cheeks. But they dimpled too as another laugh fell like music into the warm, sweetly-perfumed air.
‘They were my stepmother’s,’ she informed him.
‘Your father remarried?’
‘Mother died when I was a baby.’ She hesitated. ‘About sixteen months ago Father married a woman with three young children.’
Kane frowned heavily.
‘That must have greatly disorganized your way of life?’
‘It did.’ She looked doubtfully at him, anxious that he should not be bored by anything she was saying. She had no need to worry; the slight inclination of his head invited her to continue. She talked for three or four minutes, conscious of the time and wishing again that she had not made the hair appointment. Being with Kane like this was so pleasant that she could have had it continue for the rest of the afternoon.
‘So you were saddled with three young boys who were, in fact, no relation whatsoever to you?’
She nodded her head, going on to say that this was exactly the way June had seen it.
‘She persuaded me that they weren’t my responsibility.’
‘And she was right!’ He seemed a trifle angry, she thought… and wondered why this should afford her the pleasure that she was now experiencing. ‘It seems to me that you have a great deal to thank June for.’
‘Indeed I have!’ was Lena’s heartfelt rejoinder. ‘I’ve not been so happy for a long time.’
‘Not since your father remarried, I take it?’ Kane’s dark eyes were on her, surveying her critically. ‘You were heading for a breakdown,’ he told her decisively. ‘Do you realize that you’re now looking much more robust than when you first arrived?’
‘Robust!’ she exclaimed. It was not an attractive description but, she instantly admitted, one that the prosaic Kane would be likely to use.
He laughed.
>
‘You don’t care for that description, obviously.’ Pausing, he watched her colour fluctuate. ‘Pretty, then,’ he added with a sort of mocking amusement. Yet she knew for sure that he spoke with sincerity.
Her blush deepened. She thought of that glance in the mirror before she came out today.
‘You’re very flattering,’ she said, but he seemed not to have heard, for he made no comment.
‘If you do return to England, what then?’ he said after a thoughtful silence. ‘You’ll not have the children, surely?’
‘That’s something I can’t decide. Their aunt has them at present—she writes to me now and then, and that’s how I know. However, she did hint in her last letter that they were too much for her and she wanted to know when I was coming home.’
‘You mustn’t think of having them,’ he told her imperiously. ‘This aunt must be the one to sort out the business of their future.’
‘I wouldn’t like them to go into a home,’ she frowned. ‘They wouldn’t be happy.’
‘How do you know that?’ he demanded. ‘From what you’ve left out, more than what you’ve revealed, these children were a handful—’ Lena grimaced as he said this; he nodded his head and went on, ‘Yes, I knew I was right!’
‘I must admit they harassed me at times.’
‘I’m of the opinion,’ he decided after a long silence, ‘that you’d better stay here.’
‘I must admit that I want to stay, because I’m so happy and contented here. That’s why I’ve applied for the post.’ Putting the straw to one side, Lena picked up her glass and drained it. ‘There are others wanting the job,’ she told him, ‘and they’ve been here longer than I. I believe one of them is a friend of Mr Cookson, the proprietor of the bookshop.’
Another thoughtful silence ensued before Kane spoke.
‘I rather think you stand as good a chance as anyone else,’ he said cryptically at length, and Lena’s eyes flickered as they sought his. She had a strong suspicion that he meant to speak to Mr Cookson on her behalf. ‘I believe it’s about time you were making your way to the hairdressers’,’ he observed, glancing at his watch. ‘I’ll walk that far with you.’
‘You will?’ Lena sent him a luminous glance. ‘That’ll be nice,’ she added, suddenly feeling inordinately shy.
Kane paid the bill and they left the Club. The sun was still flaring down, spreading a haze over everything. Yet there was a hint of a breeze to mitigate the heat; it blew down from the distant mountains to stir the avenue of palms along which Kane and Lena were walking. Perfumes from the Club gardens followed them, heady and exotic. Lena walked on air, desiring that Kane should take her arm… or that she might link hers through his. Magda was forgotten; she did not exist in this magical world in which, on this glorious summer day, Lena found herself.
Where was she going…? It was not the first time she had asked herself this question. But now, as she trod lightly at the side of Kane’s tall impressive figure, she could no longer thrust away the answer, no longer deny the truth.
She had fallen irrevocably in love with Kane Westbrook, the man whom June had so often referred to as the ‘patrician’. And what was she? A mere plebeian… so why should he ever return her feelings?
Arriving at the salon, Kane bade her goodbye and left her. She turned before entering, and the smile that hovered on her lips was wiped away instantly. Magda, swinging along looking cool and beautiful as a dew-bedecked rose, met Kane face to face. Slipping an arm into his, she laughed up into his eyes. As Lena watched they turned, crossing the road and proceeding in the direction of the Impala Club where, in an hour or so’s time, dainty afternoon teas would be served in the romantic atmosphere of a vine-shaded garden.
Turning only when the couple were out of sight. Lena entered the shop.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘You know, Lena,’ said June with a frown, ‘there isn’t really any need for you to go out to work. You’re doing a fine job here, helping me, and looking after the garden.’ She paused, eyeing her friend with a rather pained expression. ‘Do you have to go?’ she asked.
‘I’ll feel much better if I’m making a contribution towards the grocery bill, June. I can’t go on for ever, sponging on you—’
‘Sponging?’ cut in Gerald angrily. ‘You’ve never done that, Lena!’
‘I’ve got the job, and I must do it. Apart from anything else, I’d be letting Mr Cookson down if I backed out now. He’s chosen me from four applicants, remember.’
‘I’ve become used to having you around,’ complained June. And then, with that familiar forcefulness that had been practised with such success before, June added, ‘I want you here, Lena. It isn’t as if we don’t get along together like a house on fire! We do! I was so lonely before you came; it’s not quite fair of you to leave me now.’
‘I’m not leaving you.’ Distressed, Lena looked pleadingly at Gerald. ‘I must go out to work,’ she quivered. ‘Don’t you see how I feel, Gerald?’
‘Yes, I do,’ he said suddenly. ‘In any case, it’s not for either June or myself to organize your life.’
Lena looked gratefully at him before transferring her gaze to June.
‘Gerald’s right,’ she agreed with a sigh. ‘You must please yourself, Lena.’
‘When are you starting?’ inquired Gerald.
‘On Monday.’
‘I hadn’t expected you’d be starting before Christmas,’ June said.
‘Miss Lewis is leaving this weekend, and as Mr Cookson expects to be busy for the next two weeks he’s naturally anxious for me to start.’
***
As there were still five days to go before she took up her appointment, Lena decided to make one or two serviceable dresses—something dark, she told June, as the bookshop, like all the shops in dusty Fonteinville, was not the place in which to wear one’s good clothes.
After buying the materials Lena got down to cutting them out and sewing them; she was employed on this task one morning when Kane arrived, riding a beautiful Palomino gelding, strawberry with silver mane and tail, white blaze and socks. Glancing through the window as Kane stopped below the stoep, Lena gave a little gasp of admiration. Man and horse just oozed nobility and power. Her heart caught as she stared, and as her eyes returned to her sewing she began to wonder if she would not have made a more judicious decision by resolving to return to England. For how could she stay here once Kane was married to Magda?
‘Lena, Kane wants you,’ sang June from the yard, and this time Lena’s heart actually lurched. She made no move, but sat very still, her hands clasped and clammy, waiting for her heart and nerves to settle. ‘Lena,’ called June again, ‘did you hear me?’
‘Yes.’ Lena swallowed hard, stood up and glanced in the mirror. ‘I’m coming!’
‘Hello there.’ Having tethered the horse, Kane stood and surveyed her for a silent moment. ‘You’re sewing, by the look of things,’ he observed, his eyes on a piece of cotton clinging to her skirt.
‘I’m making a couple of dresses for the shop.’
‘Most commendable,’ he said, but frowningly as he glanced at the cotton again, noting its colour.
‘Did you know that I’d got the job?’ she inquired, looking intently at him.
‘I had heard,’ he replied in an expressionless tone. ‘Congratulations.’ He turned his head as June spoke, asking to be excused, as she had some cakes in the oven.
‘Can I see to them?’ offered Lena quickly, desiring an excuse to get away. Both Kane and June glanced at her in some surprise.
‘Kane wants to talk to you about something,’ June told her. ‘I’ll bring out some coffee in a few minutes.’
‘Not for me, June,’ said Kane. ‘I’m not staying.’
‘Sure?’
‘Absolutely, thanks all the same.’
‘Okay,’ she said, and went into the house.
‘Is it anything important?’ Lena wanted to know, her fingers playing nervously with a button on the front of her bl
ouse.
‘What’s the matter with you, Lena?’ he inquired abruptly.
‘The matter?—er—nothing.’
Kane shrugged his shoulders.
‘I wanted to see you about some flowering shrubs I’m thinking of taking out of my border. One of my gardeners put them in and the colours are not what I want. As they were put in only last winter they should move without any danger of dying. If you’ve anywhere to put them you’re very welcome to have them.’
She looked up with a smile.
‘That’s good of you, Kane. Yes, of course I have somewhere to put them.’
‘I rather thought so. The land which you thought of having as a shrubbery—that hasn’t been prepared, you were saying the last time I saw you?’
‘I’d almost changed my mind, deciding to grow vegetables on that particular plot.’
‘Don’t you think Gerald grows sufficient?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. In any case, I’d much rather have shrubs.’
‘That’s settled, then, I’ll send them along just as soon as you’ve had the ground prepared. Hendrik will do the heavy work?’
‘Yes, he always does now.’
Satisfied, Kane looked down at her.
‘Am I mistaken,’ he said, ‘or is this garment you’re making a rather dull shade of blue?’ Stooping, he picked the thread of cotton from her skirt and held it aloft.
‘It’s a very dark shade of blue, yes. I suppose you’d describe it as navy blue.’
‘It won’t suit you,’ he told her abruptly. ‘What colour’s the other one?’
‘Dark brown.’
‘Brown?’ His eyes opened wide. ‘Whatever possessed you to choose colours like those?’
Lena stared uncomprehendingly at him.
‘Does it really matter?’ she inquired, aware of a vibration within her. Was it pleasure that he should be displaying interest in what she wore?
‘Of course it matters. Neither brown nor navy blue is your colour. You’d better get something else.’ The tones were so peremptory that Lena was rendered speechless for a while.
‘I can’t just waste the materials,’ she protested, asking herself why she wasn’t adopting an attitude of indignation at what could only be termed as interference.
