'You must be extremely tired after your long journey,' she remarked, offering Lisa the plate of small, flaky jam tarts.
'I'm a little stiff, yes,' Lisa admitted, yielding to the temptation and helping herself to one of the tarts. 'I stopped several times along the way, and also for tea and lunch, which gave me a few minutes to stretch my legs before going on.'
'Tell me, how is dear Molly?' Mrs Vandeleur questioned in her warm, cultured voice.
'Still trying to manipulate the lives of others in the nicest, kindest way,' Lisa smiled faintly. 'She sends her love.'
'I can remember so well when she was still at university with my niece Peggy,' Mrs Vandeleur began reminiscently. 'Molly and Peggy spent a number of their holidays on the farm with us, and Molly was such a vivacious creature, I remember. After graduating she married Luke Anstey who was chief pilot for a chartered airline company in the Cape, and he died so tragically a few years later.' Erica Vandeleur's grey-green eyes clouded, possibly with the memory of her own, and very recent grief. 'I'm surprised Molly never married again.'
'Aunt Molly maintains that those five years of marriage were the most idyllic any woman could have wished for, and no one else could ever take the place of the man who'd made them so.'
'It's such a pity.' Erica Vandeleur seemed to be speaking to herself. 'Death is always so dreadfully final, and for those who remain behind life never seems to be the same again.'
'I'm sorry,' Lisa murmured inadequately, her own thoughts returning to that dreadful morning when her friend Sandy had been laughing and talking excitedly about the coming holidays, only to have the life crushed out of her a few minutes later.
The perspiration stood out on Lisa's forehead at the memory of it, and she shook herself free of her thoughts with a visible effort. 'Where are the children?' she asked.
'Josh and Kate?' The older woman came out of her reverie and gestured vaguely. 'Oh, good heavens, they must be somewhere about the place. I'm afraid they've become a little wild over the past months. I find it impossible trying to keep up with them, and Adam—that's my son—has never had much patience with children. At thirty-eight he's still a bachelor, and bachelors don't always take kindly to having their well-ordered existence disrupted by two rowdy, energetic children, but, in his own way, I have no doubt that he is fond of them.'
They finished their tea in silence and Lisa had the opportunity to look about her. The furnishings were old, but solid, and the cream-coloured carpet added a touch of brightness to the living-room with its wine-red curtains and upholstered chairs. Landscape paintings adorned the walls, and above the stone fireplace hung two lethal-looking sabres, their handles intricately carved, and their curved blades crossed and pointing towards the ceiling.
'My late husband travelled extensively before our marriage,' Mrs Vandeleur explained when she followed the direction of Lisa's interested glance. 'Those swords were brought from India many years ago.'
Lisa met the older woman's direct scrutiny, and stiffened, her fingers going self-consciously and protectively towards the scar on the side of her jaw, but there was no sign of revulsion in those grey-green eyes.
'I know about your unfortunate accident,' Erica Vandeleur explained with a warmth and gentleness that touched Lisa deeply and set her at her ease. 'I haven't told anyone, not even Adam, and the subject shan't be mentioned unless you wish to do so. We need your help, Lisa,' she added, using Lisa's name with natural ease, 'and I would like to think we can help to restore you in some way to your former self.'
Lisa's eyes filled with tears and she looked away hastily. 'You're very kind, Mrs Vandeleur.'
The sound of raised children's voices shattered the ensuing silence, and two dishevelled, muddy little figures stampeded their way into the living-room, only to come to an abrupt halt when they noticed Lisa.
Erica Vandeleur stifled an exclamation of horror. 'Don't come any closer!' she warned quickly. 'You'll leave footprints on the carpet! I suggest you both go upstairs and clean yourselves up a bit before you come down again so I can introduce you properly to Miss Moreau.'
'Oh, Gran, why can't you in—in—why can't we meet her now?' grumbled one of the dirty-faced imps.
'Because you're so dirty at the moment it's difficult to see who's who,' their grandmother stated firmly. 'Go upstairs at once and do as I say.'
The two children obeyed reluctantly, but they could be heard complaining bitterly as they made their way up to their room, and Lisa stifled a smile as the older woman glanced at her exasperatedly.
'I don't envy you your task,' she stated blandly. 'If you're ever in need of assistance, you could always call in Adam's help. They have a healthy respect for him, if nothing else.'
The children returned to the living-room some minutes later with their faces and hands scrubbed reasonably clean, and although their clothes still displayed the ravages of their muddy game, they had taken the trouble to exchange their dirty boots for clean sandals.
Dark-haired and dark-eyed, the twins waited just inside the living-room door for their grandmother's nod of approval before they- ventured further into the room, and Lisa knew herself to be stared at with avid interest.
'Lisa, I would like you to meet my grandchildren,' Erica Vandeleur smiled. 'Josh and Kate, this is Miss Moreau, the young lady I told you about.'
Tanned and sturdily built, they faced Lisa, and she felt herself grow tense as their eyes searched the hollows and planes of her face with its livid scar. She waited for what she had feared most, but their childish little faces never registered anything other than curiosity, and her relief was suddenly so great that she felt choked and shaky.
'Are you going to look after us?' Josh demanded while his sister looked on shyly.
'If you'll let me, yes.'
'Can you play marbles?'
It was a question of some importance, Lisa realised, and meeting the little boy's unfaltering gaze she replied, 'Yes, I think so.'
'That's all right, then,' he said, and the matter was obviously settled as far as Josh was concerned. Ignoring Lisa now, he turned to his grandmother. 'Can we go and play again?'
'If you play in your room, yes,' their grandmother replied firmly. 'It's nearly time for your bath, and then it's supper and bed for you two.'
'Oh, Gran!' they chorussed disappointedly, but Erica Vandeleur remained adamant.
'No arguments, please. You both know the rules laid down by your Uncle Adam.'
'But Uncle Adam won't be home until late this evening,' Josh protested loudly.
'That makes no difference.'
Josh scowled darkly. 'Oh, dash it!'
'Joshua!'
'Sorry, Gran,' he muttered hastily, tugging at the skirt of his sister's dress. 'Come along, Kate.'
'If you would like to go up to your room to settle yourself in, then please feel free,' Mrs Vandeleur suggested the moment they were alone. 'The children are in the room next to yours, and I'd be grateful if you'd see to it that they bath at five o'clock and put on their pyjamas before coming down to the kitchen for their supper. They have all their other meals with us in the dining-room, but Adam seldom wants to eat before seven in the evenings, and by that time the children are restless and tired.' She paused for a moment before adding: 'You will, of course, have all your meals with us in the dining-room.'
'I wouldn't mind eating with the children in the evenings,' Lisa said hastily, but Erica Vandeleur would not hear of it.
'Adam will naturally want to speak to you personally, but as he isn't here this evening he'll most probably see you first thing tomorrow morning.'
'Thank you,' Lisa murmured, rising to her feet.
'And Lisa,' the older woman smiled up at her, 'dinner in the evenings is informal. Adam prefers it that way.'
Upstairs in her room a few minutes later, Lisa unpacked her suitcases and tried to quell the nervousness that was welling up inside her. For some inexplicable reason the thought of meeting Adam Vandeleur disturbed her. Despite the warm welcome Erica
Vandeleur had given her, it was Adam who would be her employer, and she somehow had the feeling that he was not going to be so easy to please.
Josh and Kate shared a room similar to her own, Lisa discovered later, except that it was furnished entirely in white, with a blue carpet on the floor, and blue floral curtains at the window. A section of the large room had been partitioned off as a play area, and neither of the children looked too happy when Lisa interrupted their pillow fight to announce that it was time for their bath.
Kate was the first to relent and, in the adjoining bathroom, she allowed Lisa to help her bath. When Lisa eventually wrapped a towel around her pink, glowing little body, she discovered that Josh was an entirely different proposition when it came to having her assist him in any way.
He stripped off his clothes and climbed into the bath, but when Lisa approached him, he announced with a certain haughtiness: 'I can bath myself.'
'Of course,' Lisa replied tactfully, turning towards the door, but as her hand touched the handle, he demurred.
'You can wash my back, if you like,' he suggested, and Lisa hastily hid her smile of amusement as she sat down on the edge of the bath and soaped his back thoroughly.
This was Josh's way of indicating that he accepted her, and Lisa acknowledged this with the solemnity it deserved.
Later, as she searched for their clean pyjamas and helped them dress, Josh questioned her in that direct manner of his.
'Have you always walked like that?' he demanded as she limped towards him and handed him his pyjama jacket.
She met his candid dark gaze, and, finding nothing there but the casual interest of a child, her nervousness and reluctance to discuss herself evaporated. 'No… not always,' she admitted, seating herself on the bed and assisting him with the buttons.
'Did you have an accident?' Josh persisted.
'Yes.'
There was a strained little silence as if both children were recalling the accident which had robbed them of both their parents, then Kate sat down beside Lisa and shyly touched her cheek, her small fingers exploring the long scar. Lisa felt herself grow tense as she stared down at the child, but she did not repulse her.
'You're very pretty,' Kate said eventually, and the unexpected compliment from a child she hardly knew seemed to wash away some of the coldness and bitterness of the past months.
'Thank you, Kate,' Lisa said unsteadily, hugging the child impulsively.
'Did it hurt much?' Josh wanted to know, gesturing towards the scar.
'Yes. Physically as well as mentally,' she could have replied, but Josh would not have understood, so she said instead : 'It did hurt quite a bit, yes.'
'Are you a teacher?' Josh changed the subject as if her appearance no longer concerned him.
'Yes, I am.'
'We're going to school next term,' Kate stated importantly.
'So I believe,' Lisa smiled at her.
'Are teachers very cross always?' Kate questioned her with a flicker of anxiety in her eyes.
'Not always.'
'Are you?'
'Only when the children give me reason to be,' Lisa smiled, picking up the brush and brushing Kate's dark hair until it curled softly into her neck.
'Uncle Adam's always cross, and he isn't even a teacher,' Josh announced with a scowl, and Lisa suddenly recalled Erica Vandeleur's statement that the children had a healthy respect for their uncle, if nothing else.
If nothing else. Surely the fact that Josh and Kate were his late brother's children would have forged a bond between them? Certainly it was a good thing for the children to respect their uncle and guardian, but that was not enough. Children needed to love and be loved, but Josh's remark made Lisa wonder whether they were receiving the love and care they needed from the man who had taken the place of their father.
'Perhaps it's just that your uncle is busy and has other things on his mind,' Lisa found herself making excuses for a man she had never met, and who was beginning to assume a formidable and frightening shape.
'Do you think so?' Josh wanted to know with disbelief and eager acceptance fighting for supremacy on his small features.
'I'm only guessing,' Lisa prevaricated hastily. 'I haven't met your uncle yet.'
'You'll meet him tomorrow,' Josh said dully, the light of hope dying in his eyes.
'Yes,' Lisa murmured with a feeling of trepidation. 'Tomorrow.'
In the spacious and modernised kitchen, under the curious surveillance of the servants, Lisa saw to it that the children ate their supper and drank their milk before she took them up to their room and tucked them in for the night.
On the small cupboard between their beds stood a framed photograph of a man and a woman, and Lisa knew at once that it was a photograph of the children's parents. Josh and Kate had inherited their colouring from both their mother and their father, Lisa realised, but it was Jacques Vandeleur's face that interested her the most. It was a friendly, laughing face, ruggedly handsome and youthful. If the children's uncle was anything like his younger brother, then she had nothing to fear, she thought, but she was perhaps hoping for too much.
Suppressing a sigh, she switched off the light and left the children's room. With more than a half hour to spare before she was to join Erica Vandeleur in the dining-room for dinner, Lisa soaked her weary body in a hot, scented bath and hauled out a blue silk dress which was cool and not too decorative. After hurriedly applying her make-up and brushing her hair to a golden sheen, she went downstairs, but, as there was no sign as yet of Mrs Vandeleur, she went out on to the long verandah.
She had heard of the spectacular sunsets in the Karoo, but the sight that met her eyes surpassed her wildest imagination, and she could not prevent the exclamation of delight that passed her lips. The sun, a red ball of fire in the west, cast a golden hue over the earth, bringing this partially barren country to life in a breathtaking way, and transforming it into a mysterious and magical paradise.
The dry, dusty earth now looked fertile and rich, and a silence descended on the veld which was disturbed only by the occasional bleating of the sheep. There was an undeniable aura of peace and tranquillity in the air, and as she clutched at the wooden rail and drew the fresh, spicy air deep into her lungs, she felt the tensions of the day falling away from her. She was suddenly incredibly glad that she had allowed herself to be persuaded into coming to this seemingly desolate part of the country.
CHAPTER THREE
Lisa awoke the following morning to the distinct sound of a dog barking beneath her window, and for a moment she stared about her confusedly before she realised where she was. It was an unusual experience for her to be awakened by the barking of a dog and the bleating of sheep instead of the roar of the city traffic, and she lay for a moment, acquainting herself with her surroundings, until the thought of her impending meeting with Adam Vandeleur sent her scrambling out of bed.
She opened her window wide to let in the freshness of the tangy early morning air, pausing for a moment to admire the dew-drenched garden sparkling in the slanting rays of the rising sun, but there was no time to linger in front of the window as she would have liked to do, and she hurried through to the bathroom.
Lisa dressed herself with added care that morning, and took even greater care with her make-up in an effort to camouflage slightly the livid scar on her face. Her neat cream skirt was of a non-crushable material, and her crisp white blouse had withstood the journey well in the overfull suitcase. Her hair had a healthy sheen to it after a vigorous brushing, and it waved softly on to her shoulders. There was still a faintly bruised look beneath her eyes, but she had suffered no ill-effects after the tiring journey the day before, and felt surprisingly refreshed.
Josh and Kate were dressed and ready to accompany her downstairs when she looked in on them a few minutes later and, as they made their way down to the dining-room, Lisa steeled herself for her meeting with their uncle, but Erica Vandeleur was alone in the dining-room.
'Adam went out early this morning,' s
he explained, quick to sum up Lisa's nervous glance about the room with its long oak table and tall dresser. 'He'll see you as soon as he returns.'
A feeling of momentary relief swept through Lisa, but she knew that the inevitable was only being postponed as she helped herself to a slice of home-made bread and poured herself a cup of aromatically brewed coffee.
The children behaved exceptionally well at the table, and, judging by the way they consumed their porridge and eggs, they both possessed healthy appetites. Erica Vandeleur, despite her firmness, obviously adored her grandchildren. It was there in the way she looked at them, and laughed with them over some amusing incident, and Lisa observed the eagerness to please in the two little faces that were so alike except for a subtle difference in the shape of their mouths and eyes.
After breakfast Lisa took the children up to their room and kept them occupied with plasticine while she drew up some sort of daily roster, but she had not progressed very far when Daisy knocked on the door and entered the room.
'Master Adam would like to see the madam in his study,' she announced, and the look that passed between the twins did not exactly dispel Lisa's anxiety.
Instructing the children to continue with what they were doing, Lisa followed Daisy from the room and down the stairs into the hall. Daisy's buxom figure led the way down a short passage leading off the hall, and into a room with books lining the shelves against the walls, and silver trophies carelessly displayed above the fireplace. The room was empty, however, and Lisa glanced questioningly at Daisy.
Lisa nodded and swallowed down her nervousness when she finally found herself alone.
She stared down at the wide oak desk and felt like a young first year student who had been called to the Dean's office, instead of an adult woman of twenty-four with more than two years of teaching behind her. It was ridiculous to feel so nervous, she told herself, but her eyes darted apprehensively from the pile of farming magazines on the corner of the desk to the pipe and tobacco pouch lying on the green blotter. They told her nothing, except that her employer was an avid reader and a pipe smoker and, raising her glance to the books in the shelves, she sought her answer there, but the sound of a step in the passage made her turn swiftly towards the door.
Summer of the Weeping Rain Page 3
