The Reluctant Guest

by Rosalind Brett

  “A holiday is a change, isn’t it? This is certainly a change for me.”

  “You should get out and see the district or are you waiting for Theo Borland to act as escort?”

  Ann was coming to loathe the expression he put into his voice whenever he mentioned Theo. After all, Theo must have been a close friend of his, or he wouldn’t have given him a house and land. Yet, referring to Theo, he sounded sharp and cynical and omniscient. And he made Ann feel small and innocent and rather negligible.

  She stubbed out her cigarette ad asked coolly, “Would you like some tea?”

  “It’s a bit too early, thanks. What’s the matter—do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

  “That’s what you intended, isn’t it?”

  “I believe it is. I wonder why?”

  “Maybe you don’t like English girls.”

  “No, it’s you, personally. There’s something contradictory about you that irritates me. You’re cool and have your wits about you, you keep clear of danger by pretending to be open-minded, but you never unbend. I’ve a hunch that you’re afraid of being hurt.”

  Ann tried not to be aware of the sudden acceleration of her heartbeats. “You see me as more complicated than I am. I just happen to be the cool type.”

  “With that mouth?” he scoffed. “I don’t believe it.”

  She stared at him, and a queer shiver ran through the whole of her body. Almost, she put up her fingers to cover her lips, but something told her that that was what he was expecting, and that when she did it he would laugh. So she moved slightly and looked out of the window, said evenly,

  “For some reason you’re trying to shake me, aren’t you? I suppose it’s unexciting for you here at Groenkop and you have to provide your own amusement.”

  For almost a minute he lounged there, against the wall beside the window, without speaking, but with his grey enigmatic stare focused on her bent head.

  Then he said non-committally, “Some time, and maybe soon, someone is going to rock you to the foundations, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that chilly upbringing you’d had lets you down. I know you must have been warm and friendly with Theo, but if you’d thought he might threaten you in some way, you’d have gone arctic on him.”

  “I suppose you know what you’re getting at,” she returned. “I don’t.”

  “I think you do, Pretty Ann. Up to a point you’re like other English girls I’ve met—a good sort, intelligent and fond of fun. But there it ends. I think you’re more gentle than most girls, and where men are concerned you’re a coward.”

  “You’re just one man—not the whole contingent.”

  “Then you’re only a coward with me,” he slipped in. “Is that it?”

  Ann kept her glance trained on the garden. “I met you for the first time yesterday; it’s very unlikely that you’ve affected me in any way at all.”

  “Then why did you go stiff today, the moment I came in?”

  “Because I’m grubby, I daresay. While I was undergoing that chilly upbringing you mentioned I learned that one I can look attractive even in the midst of household chores. But I thought I had the house to myself for the afternoon.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He straightened, and his smile was sly and probing. “There are several bachelor farmers in the district. How would you like to exchange the riding master’s office for the wide-open spaces—permanently?”

  “I haven’t thought about it.”

  “What have you thought in terms of—Theo’s small holding?”

  Ann had had enough. She turned swiftly and glared at him. “You’re outrageous! I’m a guest here in Theo’s house and have nothing whatever to do with you or your farm. If you’ve a grouch against English girls, work it out of your system some other way—I’m not interested!”

  “Hey!” in astonishment. “That’s some eruption.”

  Ann was trembling, but her chin was high. She stood back and waved at the door. “Do you mind leaving?”

  He moved, but it was a pace or two closer; he looked down at her. In mocking admiration he said, “I like that spirit—it explains a few things. If there were no apprehensive look in your eyes...”

  And then he did the unpardonable. He grasped her upper arms, pinning them to her sides, bent his head and placed a firm kiss on her lips. Powerless in her body, Ann wrenched her head back and blazed at him all the hate and contempt she could summon. Her hazel eyes had gone green and brilliant.

  He laughed, showing white teeth, let her go and said lazily, ‘You brought it on yourself, honey. I always take a dare.” And then he walked out into the sunshine.

  The door thudded behind him, but Ann couldn’t move for a moment, to lock the door. Then it wasn’t necessary, for the estate car zoomed away and the whole place was quiet again.

  She turned a little blindly, found herself facing her reflection in the square mirror. The scarf about her head had fallen back, and a few tawny tendrils lay over her forehead. The brown-green eyes had lost their lights and looked dazed, and her mouth ... Ann gazed at it, saw only that it was curved like anyone else’s, though the lower lip appeared fuller than usual and quivery.

  She dropped her forehead against her hot fist. He’d thought it was funny, to make her helpless with those big lean hands of his and ... and plant a careless kiss on his way to the door. For in spite of the firmness it had been careless, like the friendly smack you give to a dog when he’s in the way. She couldn’t stay here; she would pack and leave by the next train. Elva wouldn’t understand, but it couldn’t be helped. She would write to Theo—tell him ... oh, tell him something!

  But if she ran out that big conceited creature would be more amused than ever. He would know that every accusation he had made was true—at least, that was how it would look. And the thing he’d said weren’t true at all. She had never felt frigid towards anyone till yesterday morning ... when he had given her one of his frank but unreadable glances and said, “You’re an odd one.” Yes, that was it. Though why it should have had such an effect on her reaction to the man was beyond Ann. She only knew that yesterday’s feeling that she didn’t want to see him again was stronger than ever.

  She went into the bathroom and splashed cold water over her face, marched straight back into the living room and dragged one of the tables through to the kitchen. There she vigorously rubbed the table with some ragged pieces of sandpaper which Aaron had found, and gradually felt calmer. The kiss wouldn’t bother him, so why let it bother her? He’d probably forgotten it already, and it was only because she was young and silly and vulnerable that she thought it so important. Why not show him that she could take Storr Peterson and his kind in her stride?

  When Elva returned just after five, the dining-table and a smaller one which stood near the wall were rubbed and scrubbed back to their natural pale gold, and the room was more or less usable. Elva threw her riding boots into one corner and stood unbuttoning her shirt while she surveyed the one or two alterations. She looked expansive and windblown.

  “You’ve made a good start,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about it. Our credit’s fairly good at the main store. Spend thirty pounds and put it to our account.”

  “You think Theo will agree?”

  “He needn’t know. The income from the fowls is all mine, and I’m doing well. In any case, if I marry and leave you and Theo in possession, you can call it my wedding present.”

  Ann said, “Mr. Peterson dropped in this afternoon.”

  Elva stopped her paddling about the room, looked displeased. “The deuce he did. He doesn’t usually come to the house without invitation—not unless there’s something special. Was there?”

  “He’s having guests tomorrow night, and we’re invited.”

  Elva considered this. “That’s fine. But it was bad luck—his dropping in while we’re untidy. Did you ... tell him anything?”

  Quite a lot, thought Ann. But she answered, “Only that you’re keen to renovate the room. He thought I’d mer
ely agreed to clean up your books.”

  Elva gave her an absent smile. “I knew I could rely on you. Nothing else?”

  “Theo’s decided to have his wrist X-rayed; he’ll be away another four days.”

  “Oh.” Elva pondered, and shrugged. “We’ll get along. Not much doing at the moment” She was halfway to the door when she slowed and asked, “Know anything about dressmaking?”

  “A little. I make my own summer frocks, but nothing else.”

  “I’ve a rather good green frock that has a cowl thing at the neck. Think you could take off the cowl and give the neckline more of a plunge?”

  Ann smiled thinly. “I’ll have a go at it.”

  Elva reached out and patted her shoulder. “You’re a nice girl, Ann. Thanks.”

  She shuffled through the corridor to the bathroom, and Ann collected the riding boots. For a moment she wondered how she had arrived at the peculiar situation in which she found herself. It seemed that you could take just one step in an unfamiliar direction and land up in a first-rate muddle. She was here at Groenkop with Theo’s sister, who had decided to make an all-out attack on the bachelor state of Storr Peterson. Only yesterday he had admitted that he kept clear of love, and today he had gone a step further—demonstrated that kissing didn’t mean a thing to him. Well, it was possible that he would marry Elva; in fact, nothing that he might do would surprise Ann. All she wanted to be sure of was that she herself would not be included in any of his future exploits!

  Yet during the evening and later, in bed, she felt an ache in her throat and behind her eyes. It was a strange and new sensation. The curtains billowed, a cool sweet scent came into the room and a sharp new moon was dipping down behind the gum trees. There was a difference in the air from the heat of midday, an indefinable change which seemed to permeate not only the bedroom but her own body. Ann was a little afraid of it.

  Morning, of course, brought back her usual sanity. She rode in Belati West, ordered paints and varnish stain, brushes and paint roller, furniture oil and a pound of putty. From the same store she begged snippets of material; one couldn’t decide on shades till the walls were finished.

  Back at the house she gave the woodwork at the windows and door an undercoat of white and stained the tables a rich dark brown. Modern paints, she noticed, had little smell, but to be on the safe side she told Aaron to set the lunch in the stoep. During the afternoon she altered Elva’s frock—narrowed the shoulders and cut the front into a V. It was a stiff mid-green silk with a black line in it, the sort of frock that a countrywoman often buys to be ready for any occasion. Elva said she had bought it a year ago when one of Theo’s friends had married, but she had thought it too feminine to wear again.

  That evening, though, she appeared to have enjoyed getting into it and using an unaccustomed amount of make-up. She came into the living room with her long gait, smoothed her hips and looked down over her own pale shoulders.

  “Looks better than I remembered. You’ve made the neck lie well, but it looks plain, doesn’t it?”

  “Haven’t you a necklace?”

  “I don’t wear necklace.” She laughed, almost selfconsciously. “Besides, when we were bathing once Storr told me I had a good neck; no reason why I shouldn’t remind him of it.”

  “None at all. What about a dress clip?”

  “I’ve only a ghastly old thing that used to be my mother’s.”

  “I’ll lend you mine.”

  “Won’t you be wearing it?” Then, quite suddenly, Elva noticed that Ann was still in a button-through cotton frock. “Oughtn’t you to be changing?”

  “I’m not going. I’ll get the clip.”

  She brought it back to the living room and slipped it into position at the neck of Elva’s dress. Elva looked at herself, lifted an eyebrow at her reflection.

  “One of these days I’ll get myself up like this every night. I’ll do it if it kills me.” She paused. “You were invited too, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, but it was only a courtesy gesture.”

  “You don’t have to stay away because of me,” Elva said bluntly. “There’ll be others there, so I shan’t have much chance to be alone with Storr, anyway. I don’t mind if you come.”

  “That’s all right. I have plans for the evening. I’m going to try one wall with the pastel blue paint. Is ... will Mr. Peterson call here for you?”

  “He might, as Theo’s away. He never lets a woman walk about alone in the dark.”

  Ann said, “Well, I’ll go and take a bath. You’ll probably be gone when I’m through. Have a good time.”

  She went quickly into the bathroom and turned both taps on full, to drown every other sound in the house. Then she collected clean underwear and one of her older frocks and locked herself in with the steam. She took her time, relaxing her limbs and using a good deal of soap. She towelled, emptied the bath, dressed and pushed back damp hair from her temples. Then she listened, but it is an odd fact that in a bathroom one seems to be quite cut off from the rest of the house. She opened the door and came into the corridor, then halted abruptly as she heard voices, and saw that the living room door was wide open. To get to her bedroom she had to cross their line of vision, and just now Ann didn’t feel up to it. She pressed back against the passage wall and waited.

  Elva was saying chummily, “Yes, it looks well, doesn’t it? Just sandpaper and varnish. I may have a go at the chairs tomorrow. I do wish I’d got all this done before you came home, Storr.”

  His tones echoed up the corridor, pleasant and teasing. “If you had, I might not have believed you didn’t hire someone to do it. You’re changing, Elva.”

  “Yes,” very quietly, “I believe I am. I’m beginning to love the place, and it does make such a difference to one’s outlook and activities. If Theo marries Ann Calvert it’s going to hit me awfully hard.”

  “You’re not to worry about it, Elva. You belong here, as much as Theo does.” There was a brief silence. Then: “You look charming tonight. Do you know that?”

  “Good heavens, Storr, you’re making me self-conscious. I always feel rather an idiot in a low-necked get-up.”

  He rose to it. Ann’s hands pressed hard against the wall as he said, “You needn’t—ever. When you have a strong and beautiful neck you should make the most of it.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  He said, “It’s getting late, and the others will be arriving. Can you hurry up our young friend from the Cape?”

  “Oh, didn’t I mention it? Ann’s going to bed early. I think our hot days and cool nights are a bit too much for her.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “No, but she definitely doesn’t want to go out tonight.”

  As if she were in the room with them, Ann knew just how he looked; smiling, narrow-eyed, arrogant, with perhaps just a faint hint of malice in his expression as he visualized, fleetingly, the girl he had talked to ... and kissed, yesterday. She was so taut against the wall that she missed his reply. There came the opening and closing of the main door, the starting up of the car.

  Ann’s tension snapped like a worn spring. She went along to the kitchen and drank some water, ate a biscuit and began to assemble the things she needed for an onslaught on the living room wall.

  CHAPTER THREE

  FOR three days life at the Borland house was tranquil. Except one friend of Theo’s, nobody called, and the only remarkable event was the delivery from the main Belati West store of a pair of riding breeches and six white shirts for Elva. The breeches were ready-made but an excellent fit, and with one of the white shirts they created a transformation which was almost incredible. Elva looked like the daughter of a gentleman farmer; occasionally she even acted like one.

  Perhaps the strangest thing that Ann discovered was Elva’s lack of friends. Theo, it seemed, had several who came in for cards and sometimes a meal, and they must also, in a way, be friends of Elva’s. But no women were ever mentioned by name, and Elva often spoke disparagingly of the f
emale element in the district. They had money, but made no use of it, she said. All they thought of was new fridges and sewing machines, their children and making preserves.

  It was extraordinary, but Ann found that as the days passed she knew rather less about Elva than before. The other girl was changeable and secretive, she took it for granted that Ann’s life and emotions were a very simple open book and asked few questions. It became obvious she didn’t like women, but that Ann was to be tolerated for several reasons: she might marry Theo, she was making an amazingly good job of the living room, she was handy and willing with a needle and interested enough in cooking to teach Aaron several new dishes. Almost Ann found it laughable. Not quite, because there was the dark, brooding something in the background.

  Elva, with her slightly hoarse but cultured voice, her carelessness about clothes, her fanatical obsession with something she never talked about, was not a comfortable person to live with, but neither did she try to make life impossible. On the whole she went her own way, and Ann couldn’t quite make out what that way was. She herself seemed to be marking time.

  The living room blossomed. The walls a fine pastel blue, the woodwork white, curtains white and gaily patterned in mid-blue, black and scarlet, and a grey material for re-covering the chairs. The cushions were to be blue, the bought lampshades were white edged with scarlet, and the bookcase had a new coat of white enamel. Only the carpet was an unaltered drab; Ann would have dispensed with it and left floorboards bare and glossy, but Elva was against it.

  “We’ll keep the carpet for the time being,” she said. “It will remind people how terrible this room was before the transformation. Will it take long to cover the chairs?”

  “It wouldn’t, if we could borrow a sewing machine. I can do the cushion by hand.”

  Elva put on her withdrawn look, said after a minute or so, “There’s a Mrs. Newman at one of the farms—Aapie’s Drift. I know she has two machines—an old and a new. She might lend you the old one.”