Too Young to Marry

by Rosalind Brett

  “Did she do that with you?” she heard herself asking. “With me?”

  She couldn’t see his face but he sounded just slightly on guard. “In a way I suppose she did; the gift she accepted was marriage with Bill.”

  Lorna took this in, thought of several things she ached to say and kept quiet. She was learning more and more wisdom with Paul. They walked on up to the bungalow and she made some tea, which they drank in the living-room. Lorna had just cleared when Elise drove up and came wearily into the house.

  “Good gracious ... Paul!” she said. “You would arrive when I’m feeling like death. It was grilling in Panai, and I’ve collected the world’s worst headache. I’m afraid I shall have to go to bed.”

  Lorna looked swiftly at Paul, said sympathetically, “Poor Elsie. I’ll bring you some tea and aspirin.”

  “The aspirin, but just water.” She did look played out and far paler than normal, but she gave Paul the ghost of a smile. “I’ll let you know if I recover this side of bedtime.”

  “It’s too bad,” he said quietly. “I’ll get your stuff from the car.”

  “The large box is Lorna’s,” she said. “Sorry to be a wet-blanket.”

  “You’re not. Go on in to bed.”

  Lorna went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water from the bottle in the fridge. She found aspirins and carried them with the glass to the bedroom. Paul was already there, stripping the bed of its cover and unstrapping Elise’s shoes. He stood up, took the aspirin bottle from Lorna and then hesitated.

  “Something stronger, I think,” he said. “Will you get the veganin tablets, Lorna? Top shelf in the bathroom cabinet.”

  Elise swallowed the tablets, repeated her thanks. “Just leave me alone now, will you? I’ll do my utmost to be sprightly in time for dinner.”

  Lorna preceded Paul from the room, heard him adjust the reed blind before he came out and closed the door. In the living-room she stood staring unseeingly down at the car, which stood at the foot of the steps. Then she went down to it, and took from the back seat a couple of small parcels and the large box from the dressmaker’s. Paul relieved her of them and carried them indoors. The small parcels he placed on a chair, the box he set down on the table.

  “Yours, I understand,” he said. “Frocks?”

  “Just two,” she answered, quelling her forlornness. “Would you like to see them?”

  “Naturally. Here, I’ll snip the string.”

  She lifted the box lid and revealed a blue and white sun frock, lifted it out with a layer of tissue and disclosed a parchment brocade evening gown trimmed with pink.

  “This is something special,” he said, fingering the brocade as she held up the frock. “Just right for the Residency tomorrow night. As a matter of fact, I’ve bought you something that will go with it very well.”

  He took a small box from his pocket, snapped up the lid. A pair of earrings lay in soft white silk, each one a platinum bow set with diamonds.

  “They’re very beautiful,” she said.

  ‘They’re yours—take them.”

  She felt cold as she obeyed him. “I’ve never possessed anything like them. It’s so kind of you, Paul.”

  “It’s not kind at all,” he said brusquely. “I think they’ll suit you.”

  “I didn’t know you could buy this kind of thing in the islands.”

  “On Main Island you can get almost anything.”

  “Did you ... buy them there this morning?”

  He said offhandedly, “There was the invitation I’d accepted. I won’t have you go to the Residency feeling at a disadvantage, and a bauble or two will help your poise. In any case, I wanted to give you something you’d never had.”

  Pity again. She closed the small box and slipped it into her pocket, murmured her thanks and draped the frocks over one arm. As she moved towards the large bedroom Paul was just behind her, but he did not speak till they were in the room and the door had been pushed to.

  He was smiling, but still conscious enough of Elise’s presence in the house to keep his voice low. “Show me the new gear you’ve bought. I hope there’s plenty.”

  She drew back the wardrobe door, indicated the long row of prints and silks, the other evening gown and a jacket suit. “Madame Roza worked so quickly. At the beginning she called in five extra needlewomen and each of them could complete a frock in a day. I don’t know when I shall wear them all.”

  “You’ll have opportunities. I like that white suit with blue on the pocket”

  “I wore that to lunch with your uncle.”

  “And I bet you floored him. I didn’t wait to see him this morning.”

  She took one or two of the frocks from the wardrobe to show him, hung them away again. She would have given anything to recapture the precarious happiness which had existed between them before Elise had returned. He must have felt something himself, for he said,

  “Look here, Elise won’t be in circulation for several hours, and she might as well have complete quiet. We’ll go for a drive and come back for a late dinner.”

  “Jake is off. I’ll have to get back in time to cook the dinner.”

  “Eggs will do, for once. Get into one of those pretties and come out to the front.”

  Lorna dressed quickly and carefully and without joy. The frock was daffodil yellow, square-necked, with straps over the shoulders and an unexpected strip of embroidery along the top of the triangular hip pocket. When she met Paul at the car he smiled and said she looked like an English spring, but to Lorna the compliment sounded automatic.

  As they moved away she felt baffled and powerless, but she managed the bright smile, and said, “I can drive now, you know. Elise taught me.”

  “That was my prerogative,” he murmured. “What else did Elise teach you?”

  “A good deal about clothes.”

  “I was only away two weeks,” he said casually, “but you do seem to have grown up a little. You’ve met Uncle Ronan and learned to drive. Anything else?”

  “Not that I remember at the moment.”

  “Maybe I’m only imagining you’re more mature. We’ll turn right at the coast road. I know a particularly good spot for viewing the sunset.”

  He found it half an hour later, a clearing between the thick coconut palms which ridged a low cliff, and pulled in. There was a short steep slope below them, a small beach shut in by rocks, an expanse of calm blue-green ripples and a belt of gold where sea merged with molten sky. To the east, the stark silhouettes of the palms against the silver-gilt which overlaid the darkening backcloth were a miracle which changed swiftly, every second. A scarf of purple trailed across the sunset, widened till there were only flame-coloured slits which repaired themselves and shut out the glare. Night had come, vividly, beautifully and with ease.

  Paul got out cigarettes. She took one and let him light it, inhaled slowly. He watched her enigmatically, and she knew he was mentally adding smoking to the things she had learned to do well during his absence. But he hardly spoke, and Lorna was entirely silent.

  He backed the car and found the road again. He drove for perhaps ten minutes before stating,

  “I’m thinking of putting Bill Ramsay in charge over on the new island plantation. I’ll give him the chance, anyway.”

  “Permanently?”

  “Why not? He’ll only need one assistant and we can choose him carefully. Nothing can be done yet, though. We have to form a subsidiary company and allocate the finance.”

  “Does it have to be Bill?”

  He was startled by this question and examined it briefly. “I suppose not. What’s the matter—afraid of losing an ally?”

  “The way I feel about it isn’t important. If Bill does go there he’ll have to say good-bye to Elise for good.”

  “From my observations he’ll be better off that way.”

  “Not inside himself.”

  “Say,” he drawled softly, “you’ve really been analysing, haven’t you? Or have you and Bill been having
a good old heart-to-heart? If you have,” with an edge to his tone, “you’d better realize right now that I don’t approve. A man who’s almost divorced should keep his damned business to himself! I’m sure Elise hasn’t unburdened herself.”

  “Perhaps,” said Lorna with unhappy calm, “she doesn’t need to. She’s been able to keep sane by substituting others for Bill. He’s not like that.”

  “What has he been saying to you?”

  “Very little. I happened to see how he looked as he was leaving Elise the other day, that’s all. I’m sure he’d do anything to get her back.”

  “It may be too late for that Keep out of it, Lorna.” The command hung in the air between them, but presently she was able to ask, carefully, “If you thought there was a chance they’d try again together, would you help them?”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” he said flatly. “They have to make all the effort themselves for it to be worth while. Now forget them.”

  She did forget them soon, for the car reached the edge of a village where a feast was beginning, and Paul braked, so that they could look on at the scene without being noticed.

  For tonight, the village had overflowed on to the beach, where a huge circle was marked out close to the casuarinas and lanterns hung from branches. Several hundred islanders were there, the women in bright batik sarongs and the men wearing coloured skirts tucked in at the waist but otherwise naked. At one side of the circle sat the old people, several of them looking incredibly ancient, and except for a small opening the rest of the circle was surrounded by islanders of all ages, bent on enjoyment. The noise was tremendous, but no one was feasting yet.

  Lorna had the best view, through her open window, and Paul leaned beside her, with his elbow at the back of the seat and an arm across the wheel.

  “This must be the wedding you heard about this morning,” he said. “I don’t think you’d like the ceremony; it’s pagan.”

  “What form does it take?”

  He paused. “Well, the groom is already among those young men over there. The bride will be led into the centre of the circle and she has to answer questions about her virtue. A chiefs daughter has to be thoroughly virtuous, but others have to admit their guilt, if they have any. I've actually seen a bride weep alarmingly.”

  “I hope that story has a happy ending.”

  “It certainly had a damp beginning. Do you want to stay?”

  “For a bit. What happens at the actual ceremony?”

  “There isn’t one. When the questions are disposed of the young man is called to come and claim his bride. He does so, takes her away and the fun begins. Can you smell the pigs roasting?”

  “Yes. The girls look beautiful in those sarongs and with flowers in their hair, don’t they?”

  “Their beauty lasts about five years, and even for that time they’re too fat.”

  She smiled. “Jake told me the islanders like their women plump.”

  “What on earth made him come out with that?”

  “I didn’t eat much one day, and he said I should eat for the tuan—meaning you. I pointed out that you were many miles away and he gave me a lecture, the gist being that I should stuff heartily and give you a pleasant, cushiony surprise when you returned.”

  “Instead of which you’ve lost a little weight,” he said critically, “and you can’t afford to. You’ll find your nerves going a bit ragged in the monsoons, and you need to be well built up before they start. Maybe you can get a checkup while we’re over on Main Island tomorrow.”

  “Oh, please, let’s keep it social! I feel fine.” She gestured quickly towards the lights. “There’s the bride coming now.” Paul moved as though to get back behind the wheel and switch on, but she put out a hand to stop him and said softly, “She’s so pretty, and you needn’t worry, because I’m sure she’s virtuous.”

  The girl walked gracefully between two older women. Her brown shoulders gleamed, her dark glance was lowered, and her hair hung straight and thick almost to her waist. Above each ear she wore a small white blossom and between her hands she carried a bowl.

  “What’s in the bowl?” Lorna whispered.

  “Rice and chopped coconut—symbolical in these parts. She offers it to her questioner, and when she’s passed the test he hands it back, so that she can give it to the groom.” The girl’s women escorts knelt in the centre of the circle, leaving space for her to sit between them, but while she was standing one of the old men left his place and came to her. He sat cross-legged, and the girl copied him. The questioning proceeded, without hitch or tears. The questioner stood and called a name, a young man came forward to accept bride and bowl, and within seconds the circle was emptied except for the bridal pair. They bent forward solemnly, touched noses; the man held the bowl tight to his waist. They began to dance, rhythmically but without music. Now and then a cicada would send up its loud shrill note to accompany the teeming hum of lesser insects, and presently a few of the spectators began to sway and clap. It was a sultry, exotic sight.

  Lorna leaned back to look up at the stars afloat on a black sea where a new moon rode like a silver boat. It was a night of tropical enchantment, strung about with the fragrance of myriads of flowers and spiced with the love of those two down there, who danced so close to each other without touching.

  Paul’s fingers brushed her bare shoulder ... or was it his lips? She caught her breath and closed her eyes, not daring to turn but willing with all she had that he would turn her and take her into his arms. He was warm at her back, his breath came across her neck and cheek and she became taut to snapping-point. The waiting and yearning was unbearable; she trembled once, violently, and sagged against the back of the seat.

  He was behind the wheel, switching on. “Good God,” he said coolly. “For a second I thought we were at least engaged.” And that was all.

  He swung the car round and trod hard on the accelerator. Lorna dared not speak, dared not even think. Within an hour they were back at the bungalow, to find that Jake had heard of the tuan’s return and prepared dinner. Elise was sleeping, so there was no avoiding a silent meal, of which Lorna hardly ate at all.

  As soon as she could she stood up from the coffee table. Without looking at her he anticipated what she was about to say.

  “Yes, you may go to bed, Lorna. I’ll have a couch on the veranda. Good night.”

  She answered him quietly and went to her room.

  As it happened, there could be little strain between them next morning because arrangements had to be made for the trip to Main Island and Elise was stiff far from well. Whether it had been intended that she accompany them, Lorna did not discover. She only knew that someone had to be on hand all day at the bungalow and that she herself would have chosen Bill. Paul, however, sent for one of the younger superintendents who had a wife and asked that the two of them should spend the day and night with Elise. If she sprang a temperature the superintendent was to get in touch with the plantation doctor who lived in Panai Town. He was Chinese but very capable.

  They got away in the launch at about eleven, and almost at once Lorna began to feel better. The wind was warmly tossing the fronds of the palms, the sun glittered over the beaches, and fisher-boys in their canoes waved a happy farewell. She had a view of the white and green coastline, of coral rocks just below the water’s surface, of tropical fish darting happily among the under-water rocks and plant. Then the coast receded, the sea lost clarity and the breeze was cooler, like a benediction.

  Paul and an islander managed the launch between them, and Lorna sat in a deck-chair with an unread book on her lap. She wasn’t excited; last night’s bout of controlled emotion had left her feeling weak and detached and hardly caring about this visit to the Residency. She had met Sir Ronan and knew they could be friends; about the great man’s wife, the “first lady of the islands,” she could not allow herself to care. And perhaps that was the best frame of mind in which to approach Lady Alys Garfield.

  Paul brought her some coffee from the thermo
s, gave her a cool friendly smile, as if she were a young relative he had to look after. Later he took her cup, pointed out a tiny billow of palms on the horizon and told her it was one of the uninhabited atolls of the island group. It wasn’t much bigger than one of those coral rocks sprouting a couple of palms that you sometimes saw in cartoons, he told her. She smiled politely, and found when he had left her that she really did feel distant towards him.

  Main Island was sighted, came close and showed a surprisingly white city sprawling at the back of a stone waterfront. There were the government buildings flying a flag, other official buildings, some fairly old but quite elegant shops with odd names over them, the usual tri-shaws and rickety ox-carts, and a few smart cars. They tied up beside the quay, Paul leapt ashore and gave Lorna his hand. The next moment they were greeted, delightedly, in alien tones.

  “Paul! How long it is since we last saw each other. And your bewitching wife!” Armand Chauvet clicked his heels and bowed, raised Lorna’s fingers to his lips. “This is the greatest pleasure on earth. Since our last meeting I have not known how to contain myself. I think in this pale green you are even more ravissante!” He groaned, smilingly, “Paul, how do you attract this good fortune? Your Lorna—how do you say it?—she has everything!”

  Paul’s expression was unrevealing, but Lorna knew, suddenly, that she should have told him about Armand Chauvet’s visit to Panai.

  She said quickly, “How good of you to meet us, Monsieur Chauvet.”

  A deep shrug. “But I insisted. Do not stand here in the sun, I beg you. Come to the car, and the chauffeur will collect your bags.”

  Very evenly, Paul said, “I heard you were here, Armand. You’ve hung on rather longer than usual, I believe.”