Too Young to Marry

by Rosalind Brett

  Paul could bear it all right He could bear anything. In any case, he had known Kyrle for a long time; he could have married her a year or more ago had he loved her, and pleased everyone.

  Lorna moistened dry lips and sat back, looking over the garden which was already responding to her care. There were the canna leaves growing up thick and strong, some emerald and others a deep wine-red; there were the seedlings, with some among them already in flower, and the set beds of poppies and giant marigolds. She looked across at the two old palms and saw them against a vivid blue sky. She heard soft laughter, and knew that Jake was entertaining his girl friend in some nook not far from the house. She was a pale brown girl with pink-brown lips and white teeth, and masses of wavy black hair that fell over shoulders which were habitually bare.

  Lorna sat there with the letter in her fingers, thinking about anything which was unconnected with it, but inexorably her attention was drawn back to the words penned by Paul. Without compromising himself he could have slipped in an endearment, but he hadn’t “My dear Lorna ... Yours, Paul.”

  She folded the letter and pressed it down in the pocket of her housefrock, stood up and went down into the garden. She pulled a few weeds, crossed to the garden’s boundary to examine the hibiscus cuttings she herself had planted. They had lost their leaves but new fat green buds sprouted along the stems; the plants would be strong and healthy, might even grow a big scarlet flower or two before they were eighteen inches high, and in a couple of years there would be a real hibiscus hedge. In a couple of years! Where would Lorna Westbrook be then?

  She felt the physical symptoms of mental dread; a faintness, a dew across her cheeks, a cold feeling that life had stopped within while the surrounding objects had a more intense reality. She turned from contemplation of the garden and ran up into the house, entered the living-room as Elise came through the other door.

  Elise was trim in a matt pink frock, her hair smoothed back into its customary loose knot “Nice letter?” she asked.

  “Very nice,” said Lorna mechanically.

  Elise smiled. “We seem both to have forgotten for a while that most important lunch date of yours. How did you get on?”

  “Splendidly. Sir Ronan was most considerate.”

  “I knew he would be. Is he returning to Main Island today?”

  “Yes.” She paused, and her face was a pale oval stamped with gravity. “He wasn’t frank with me, though. He didn’t mention his wife so I couldn’t either, but he must have known she and her daughter were at the small island with Paul.”

  “Does Paul mention it?” asked Elise quickly.

  Lorna nodded, “He says Kyrle Reynor is going to Switzerland, and called there to say good-bye.”

  “I heard a rumour about it before I left. Kyrle should be at home among the snows. Not worrying about it, are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. Actually, Lady Alys is the one to beware of, but I shouldn’t worry. Paul is more than a match for the whole bunch of them.”

  The subject was changed and Lorna made tea. Perhaps there was too wide a gap between their ages and circumstances for either to be able to confide in the other.

  Three more days passed tranquilly. True, Mrs. Astley came over with her husband, but seemingly it was her habit to confine her most direct remarks to occasions when she and her listener were entirely alone. She was gossipy and discontented but not offensive.

  There came a Saturday morning when Elise took the car and drove to Panai. The last couple of frocks had to be collected, and Elise thought she would lunch there and look around for something which would make a birthday gift for her mother in England. She had asked, casually, whether Lorna would mind if she went alone.

  “Not a bit,” was the reply. “It’s good for us to go off alone sometimes. Take all the time you like.”

  “You’re too understanding, my dear. I’ll be back late in the afternoon.”

  So Lorna found herself alone, and rather liking it. She walked down for a bathe before lunch and came upon a crowd of islanders, bedecked with flowers and chattering excitedly. A wedding, she guessed, and smiled happily at them.

  She had her bathe, dried in the sun and pulled slacks and a shirt over her suit before walking back along the red road to the bungalow. It seemed as if the whole of this side of the island would be attending the wedding, for hand-drawn carts bearing bronzed old men with white hair were being drawn at a trot by jolly brown boys who wore belts of magnolias. Lorna wished she could speak to them, but a smile appeared to be enough. They were as happy and uninhibited in her presence as if she were one of themselves. She had nearly reached the house when a girl dropped a garland of white and red poppies over her head and made the waist-bow which goes with a gift.

  “Tabek, mem.”

  ‘Tabek!” Lorna said gaily. “I hope it will be a wonderful wedding.”

  They must have gathered her message, for all the young men and women shouted further greetings accompanied by laughter. They waved as she turned on to the path to the bungalow and she waved back, and then paused on the gravel to watch the untidy procession in gay sarongs and flowers pass by on the road. The wedding would not take place till dusk, she knew, but they were preparing in their happy, lazy fashion for something which by midnight would culminate in abandoned dancing and excessive feasting. In their customs they could be wild, but with the simple, unspoilt wildness of children.

  Lorna went on up to the house, shook off her dusty sandals in the porch and raked through her mid-brown hair. She pushed open the door, stopped suddenly and stared.

  “Come right in,” Paul invited, a half-smile on his lips as he took in the tangle of curls, the bloom on young cheeks, the smile on her red mouth, the bare feet. “Looks as if it’s time I came home! Going native?”

  She stood there, willing steel into her body; anything, to prevent her rushing into his arms and clinging like a bride hysterical with joy.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “IT’S lovely to have you back,” Lorna said inadequately. “I’d no idea you were coming.”

  “I decided last night that the soil expert could get along without me. He didn’t like it, but then he’s a bachelor and hasn’t anyone to go home to, anyway.” He held her shoulder, said with mock severity, “You looked darned pleased with yourself as you came in.”

  “Well, you were such a grand surprise!”

  “I mean before then. I saw you in the porch, through the window.”

  She lifted the flower garland over her head and dropped it on a chair. “I met crowds of people going to a wedding and they were so happy and excited that I caught a little of it.” She looked up at him, her eyes luminous. “Oh, Paul, I’m so glad to see you!”

  “Good. That goes for me as well.” He looked about him. “We seem to be alone.”

  “Elise has gone to Panai—she’ll be back this afternoon.” She bent her head sideways, brushed her chin against the hand which still held her shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Paul.”

  “At the meal table?”

  “Don’t be horrid yet... please!”

  “Oh, come now, I’m not being horrid,” he said evenly “You just don’t appear to have been pining. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  She drew away from him, said a little thinly, “Yes, I must. I... I’ve seen the Governor. He came to Panai and invited me down to the plantation offices for lunch. I didn’t know what to do, but...”

  “It’s all right, I know about it.”

  “You do? Did it make you angry?”

  “No, it was right for you two to meet. They arranged things between them—Uncle Ronan and his wife. We wouldn’t go to them, so Sir Ronan came to you and Lady Alys came to me. Kyrle’s gone, and I’ve accepted an invitation to the Residency. We’ll go over tomorrow and return the following day.”

  She went pale. “Things are beginning to happen too quickly. Was she pleasant—Lady Alys?”

  “Charming,” he said briefly.

  “A
re we going because ... Kyrle Reynor has left?”

  “In a way. You wouldn’t understand the intricacies of the situation.”

  “But I think I do,” she said in low tones. “Both your uncle and his wife hoped you’d marry Kyrle.”

  “People are always hoping something or other. Anything to offer for lunch?”

  “I was going to have a sandwich and some coffee. I sent Jake off for the day, but I can find you cold meat and salad.”

  “Anything will do.” He paused and added coolly, “I don’t suppose there’s another couple in the world who could be as distant with each other as you and I manage to be. It’s quite a feat.”

  “I don’t ... feel distant”

  “What do you feel?”

  She hesitated, and then plunged. “Frustrated, I think, and rather useless.”

  He spoke quickly. “Frustrated, perhaps, but not useless. Don’t think that. This is the first time I’ve ever cut short a business trip, and I did it because I wanted to get back.” To me, or Elise? she wondered. But she smiled tremulously. “That’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me. I do try to be the sort of person you’d like me to be.”

  “Go on trying, honey. You’ll get there.”

  “Am I anywhere near it?”

  He took both her shoulders and said firmly, “We’ve been apart for a fortnight and now we meet and start an argument. There’ll come a time when words won’t be necessary—and that will be it.”

  Hazel eyes candid and pleading, she said, “You haven’t kissed me, Paul.”

  He studied her face. “You’ve changed a bit. Do you want it real, or brotherly?” And without pausing, “Don’t answer that. We’ll make it brotherly this time.”

  She almost felt the irony in him as he touched her cheek. She smiled at him brightly, said she would get some lunch and slipped away to the kitchen. Opening a tin of ham and preparing a dish of sweet com and tomato, she told herself that she had been foolish enough to think that a week or two away from her would change Paul’s attitude. Of course it wouldn’t. The change would have to be fundamental and gradual; she realized that now.

  But how good it was to have him home. With Elise off on a jaunt and Jake taking a holiday they were really alone, and as it was Saturday Paul wouldn’t be called out to the plantations. A pity there was only the ham, but this was a good brand and he was fond of sweet com salad. A dish of fruit, some rye biscuits and cheese, and good coffee.

  He must have sensed that the trolley was ready, for he came in then, smelling of sandalwood soap and wearing a clean shirt, and took charge of the wheeling and serving. They ate on the veranda, and the sweet uncertainty in her manner gave way by degrees to a kind of serenity.

  “Lady Alys wanted to know if you were settling down,” he said, as he finished his coffee. “She thinks that in Panai you must miss having young company.”

  “I don’t, though. If I did, I’d make myself get over it, because here I have so many compensations.”

  “My dear girl, you flatter me!” he said, eyeing her tolerantly. “Alys may have been right in one thing—she said I shouldn’t have tied you up before letting you see more of the world, and she didn’t mean geographically. I haven’t forgotten hearing you describe yourself to Colin as a prisoner!”

  “It was in fun!”

  ‘There’s always a germ of truth in that kind of fun. Sometimes I wonder what you really think, inside that sensitive mind of yours.”

  As she put the plates together and transferred them from the table to the trolley, she looked grave. “It seems to me that most things in life are just a matter of conditioning yourself to them. I’ve had years of practice in conditioning myself to ... to disappointment and longing, and even a little heartbreak. It was only schoolgirl heartbreak, of course...

  “But it should never have happened,” he broke in abruptly. “The continual suppression of feeling has done something to you, and by bringing you here I’ve aggravated those things which might have been blotted out by a little high living.

  “Oh, but you’re wrong!” she exclaimed, smiling again. “I don’t want anything better than this—being with you.”

  “No? You’re quite satisfied with things as they are?”

  “Well ... not quite,” she said confusedly. She made herself look straight at him. “You never accept me just as I am, do you, Paul?”

  “I can’t,” he answered non-committally.

  “Because I’m not what you want me to be. Is that it?” He made no reply and she seemed under a compulsion to go on: “When we ... married, you said it was unlikely you would ever fall in love with someone else. But ... if you do, I’d like you to be frank with me—tell me outright. I could stand it, if I had to.”

  “Oh, sure,” he said almost roughly. “It’s one of those things you could condition yourself to, I suppose. Cut it out, Lorna. You’ve been reading too much.”

  She flared suddenly. “Stop treating me like a child! I mean every word.”

  His brows lifted. “Good heavens, your eyes looked tawny and wild for a moment just then. You are a child—a delicious one. But you have unexpected moments of maturity. I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t a temper hidden away somewhere, as well. Come on, I’ll take this stuff through to the kitchen for you.”

  She was on the point of retorting but he made a little silencing gesture and wrinkled his nose, at her. So she laughed instead, and when he had taken the trolley to the kitchen she piled the dishes in the sink and washed them, even had to wipe them while he watched, leaning in the doorway. He had probably never wiped a plate in his life, and she was glad. She loved him the way he was, arrogance and sarcasms included. Yes, loved him!

  Later, he spoke about the experimental rubber, took her right down to his own trees to illustrate some detail. She saw the liquid oozing from a scar, heard its faint plop into the cup.

  “What happened about those stolen bales?” she asked. “Was the thief ever caught?”

  “We know the chap—he’s a half-Chinese who used to be in charge of a coolie gang on Bill’s section—but we can’t prove it. He’s simply spirited the stuff away, and unless he’s watched closely he’ll start again. He’s as clever as all-get-out.”

  “Did he steal much?”

  “About thirty bales, but I think he’s after a full shipload. If we could just pin it on the man we could have him deported He’s not an islander.”

  “Can’t you deport him, anyway?”

  “No. Oddly enough, he’s an exemplary character and highly respected. There’d be the deuce of a row if he were thrown out without good reason. The Governor wouldn’t sign the order.”

  “Why do you suspect him?”

  “There are a few sticky facts. His wife is better dressed than most, and a month ago he asked me to write to the Governor for help in getting his son into an English university.” He grinned. “What are you after—sensations?”

  “If you’re so sure he’s the crook,” she said, “you should plant a bale in his outhouse or somewhere.”

  “But we’re not that sure,” he told her indulgently, “and we do like to keep within the law where possible. We’ll get him some time. Meanwhile, what about taking a drive down to the coast road?”

  “I’d love it, but Elise has the car.”

  “Dash it, so she has. I ought to have kept the jeep that brought me up from the jetty.” He put a companionable arm across her shoulders as they walked. “Has Elise seen Bill since she’s been here?”

  “Only once. He brought your letter the other day and they were alone for a while. They came near rowing, I think. She’s awfully hard—Elise.”

  “Not so very. She’s hard because she’s terrified of being hurt. That’s how she was, anyway. Of course, when you grow a shell it’s likely to harden with the years so that sensitivity becomes dulled through disuse. Elise told me she was very fond of Bill when they married.”

  “But she wasn’t ... in love?”

  “Not quite
... in love,” he said teasingly, borrowing her inflection. “She thought he would be good for her.”

  After a pause she asked, “Do you think it’s possible to fall deeply in love after you’re married?”

  “Why not? No relationship between two people can remain static. You either like each other more—or less.”

  “But supposing only one of the couple is in love? I think that’s what happened between Bill and Elise. You’d think that in four years of devotion he could have changed her a little.”

  “He changed her a lot,” he said laconically.

  She probed. “Is Elise so much different from when you first knew her?”

  “Essentially, no. But she used to be as candid as you are, only in a more sophisticated fashion, and she always talked as if the world were her footstool.” He smiled reminiscently. “We used to have some terrific verbal battles and she could certainly hold her own.”

  “You and she are similar,” Lorna said quietly. “Possibly,” he conceded, “but she’s very much a woman. Before she married, if she wanted to hurt a man she would openly accept a gift from someone else. It was petulant, little-girl tactics, but infuriating.”