by Isobel Chace
“Are you ready to go down again?” Gregory broke into her thoughts, his voice edgy with his distaste for using a woman for such a task.
“Yes, I’m quite ready,” she said.
She took more care this time with her preparations and she was glad that she had when the sea closed over her head and she was alone in the silent world where man was a stranger and would be until the end of his days.
The equipment was more difficult to use than she had expected. She was thankful that Gregory had made it easier by numbering the various things she had to do to get the lamp hot enough to eat into the encrusted metal she was attempting to cut. It was a long, hard process. If they could have taken the frigate up to the surface, she supposed it would have taken them only a few hours, but here, under the water, every inch was an advance and a personal triumph. The currents in the water that she had been scarcely aware of before pulled at the lamp and her arms shook with the effort of holding the flame steady enough for it to heat and eat away a passage through the metal.
As it was she looked at her watch more often than she had ever done in a mere half hour under water, thinking that her time down there would never be done. When she came slowly up to the surface, she was more tired than she would have cared to admit. It was sheer grit and determination that had seen her through, and she only hoped that Gregory didn’t know it as clearly as she did herself.
He helped her on board in silence and she hoped she didn’t look as green as she felt. “Well?” he said at last.
Helen slid her cylinders of compressed air on to the deck, suddenly conscious of their unbearable weight once she was out of the water. “It was hard work,” she agreed frankly. “But not too hard. I’ll manage it and I’ll see that you don’t regret employing me. Is that fair enough?”
He looked at her closely and for a long moment she thought that he was going to refuse her. “It’s day in day out until we get that gold up,” he reminded her.
She jutted out her chin in a way that would have been familiar to her whole family. Once Helen had made up her mind, she would die sooner than not carry out what she had decided on. “So?” she asked coolly.
“So I shall expect as much from you as from myself,” he said sternly.
“It’s a deal,” she answered with a lightness she was far from feeling.
He held out a hand to her and she shook it. She felt cold and a little sick from reaction, but she was proud enough not to allow him to see how much his approbation meant to her.
“There’s my sister-in-law as well,” she said gruffly.
His eyebrows shot up. “What has that got to do with me?” he demanded.
Helen picked up her bathrobe and wrapped it about her, rubbing herself dry as she did so.
“When she comes, she’ll have to do something,” she said. “It’s—it’s a package deal.”
Gregory sat down on the roof of the saloon behind him and stared at her. “Isn’t it enough that I am employing you?” he raged at her. “A woman to do a man’s job! And I wouldn’t do that, let me tell you, if I could get anyone else! And now you tell me have to employ some other female as well. And not just another woman, but another Hastings!”
Helen wound her hair round her finger, wishing that her heart wouldn’t beat so loudly that he must hear it and know exactly how nervous she was.
“You’ll like Anita,” she said in a funny, flat voice.
“Okay,” he said. “What can she do?”
Helen looked perplexed, then swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know,” she admitted. “Perhaps she could buy in the provisions?”
“Ye gods!”
“You don’t understand,” Helen went on desperately. “She’s never done anything—ever! All she’s ever done is follow Mrs. Hastings about like a shadow. That’s why we came,” she ended lamely.
Gregory de Vaux opened his mouth to say something and shut it again. He made a defeated gesture with his hands, smiling finally at his own defeat. “Okay she buys the provisions,” he said. “She can get anything she wants through the hotel. But she does not bother me on board! Is that a deal?”
Helen nodded, too relieved even to say a word.
“Nor can I afford to pay her more than pocket money,” Gregory went on grimly. “You will receive exactly what I paid Michael.” His eyes met here relentlessly. “What you do with it is your own affair, but if you do a man’s job you’ll receive a man’s pay. Now for heaven’s sake, get inside and get some clothing on. You make me feel that I’m conducting a kindergarten rather than a diving contract with you in that robe— and I don’t like the feeling!” he added violently.
She went so quickly that she nearly tripped over her own feet going down the narrow companionway. She didn’t like working with him much, come to that, either, but at least she had too much sense to say so. She sniffed, admiring her own restraint. A kindergarten indeed! Why, yes she’d show him. Oh yes, Mr. Gregory de Vaux, she’d show him! Then she laughed and, for some awful reason she couldn’t explain to herself, she couldn’t stop, and then she was crying with the tears pouring down her face. And she never cried, she never had, not even when she had first heard that Michael was dead.
By the time she had finished dressing, she was exhausted and completely sober. But at least she had a job. She sat in the saloon and sipped Taine-Mal’s coffee, telling herself over again that she had the job. She was quite surprised when Gregory came down the companionway and told her they had tied up at the jetty in the harbour.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Miss Corrigan will be waiting for you, to feed you and put you to bed!”
“I can manage by myself!” she rapped back at him.
“I guess you can at that!” he admitted easily. “But tomorrow is another day, you know. Goodnight, Helen Hastings, sleep well!”
She jumped ashore on to the uneven jetty and turned to look back at him, but he was already busy tidying up the diving tackle on the deck. Well, what more did she expect for a man’s wage, she asked herself angrily; to be walked home to her own front door? She took a deep breath and, holding her head up high, she walked back to the hotel—alone.
CHAPTER FOUR
MISS CORRIGAN was busily engaged in tearing up portions of bread and dropping them into her soup. When she had finished, she huffed and puffed with elaborate satisfaction, then picked up her spoon to take the first, luxurious sip.
“You should have had some too!” she said to Helen.
Helen shook her head wearily. “I couldn’t!” she exclaimed.
“Don’t know a good thing when you see it!” the old lady complained. “That’s the trouble with young people today! It has nothing to do with violence and all these things, it’s nothing more than a proper discrimination for the good things of life!”
Helen smiled. “But I really wouldn’t enjoy it!” she protested.
Miss Corrigan’s eyes looked at her shrewdly across the table. “What are you going to eat?” she asked her. “You have to eat something! I’ll order some wine for you to be getting on with.”
She was as good as her word, pouring out the golden liquid she had chosen with a flourish into first Helen’s glass and then her own. “Well, my dear, to your new job! May you find what you came for!”
Helen could feel the wine warming her and making her relax. “I came because of Anita,” She said mildly.
“And that husband of yours had nothing to do with it?”
“Not much,” Helen said firmly. She kept telling herself that that was true, but she supposed that it couldn’t be, not entirely, for why else had she come right across the world, if not to find out exactly how he had died? Only it wasn’t for the reasons they all thought. She wanted to be free of him, free of his memory, and free of the last ties that bound her to him.
“You don’t think Anita will be bored here when she does come?” the old lady went on. “There isn’t much here for her to do, is there?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Helen answered easily. “She’s
never been out of England before and it will take her some time to explore the Islands, I should think. Besides,” she added blandly, “Gregory is going to give her a job, buying in all the provisions and things like that.”
Miss Corrigan stopped drinking her soup. Her mouth sagged with surprise and she stared at Helen as though the girl were some figment of her imagination. “Are you sure?” she asked with awe.
“It’s part of our agreement,” Helen confirmed.
“He must be going soft in the head!” Miss Corrigan exclaimed.
Helen grinned. “I think he needs help rather badly,” she said. “He wouldn’t say so, but I knew the minute I went down and looked at the frigate.”
“Well, I knew that!” Miss Corrigan said doubtfully. “He certainly wouldn’t have thought of taking you on otherwise. He’s lucky to get you, I know, but he doesn’t know that yet. But Anita, that’s a different kettle of fish!”
“Well, actually, I didn’t give him much choice,” Helen admitted. “I said it was both of us or nothing. I thought for a while it was going to be nothing, but in the end he agreed to taking us both on.”
The waiter came and took Miss Corrigan’s soup plate away, bringing a large dish of lobster along for them, both, which he set in the centre of the table grinning with pleasure at the look on their faces.
“Mr. Harmon say, telephone for you, missy,” he told Helen. “Telephone on and off all day. No answer except you personally. Shall I say you here now?”
Helen glanced across the table to Miss Corrigan for guidance. She didn’t understand if she was wanted that minute, or whether they had made arrangements to ring back, or what.
“Finish your food first, dear,” Miss Corrigan recommended. “You can take the call later. If they’ve been phoning all day, they’ll wait.”
Helen did as she was advised, but she was anxious all through dinner, wondering who could possibly be telephoning her when hardly anyone knew she was there.
“It’s Anita!” she said at last. “It must be! Could she telephone from New Zealand? Something must have gone wrong! Oh dear, do you suppose there’ve been some complications with her appendicitis?”
“Most unlikely!” Miss Corrigan grunted. “I’d say it was far more likely that she’s been given a date when she can come out of hospital. Relax, child, you’ll give yourself indigestion if you go on like that. Probably give it to me too,” she added grimly. “At my age, one’s comfort is permanently at risk if one eats the things one enjoys!”
Helen gulped down the rest of her meal and hurried to the manager’s office where the waiter said she could receive the call. Peter Harmon was waiting for her, smiling a gentle welcome.
“I hear you got the job with Gregory de Vaux all right,” he congratulated her. “Did you manage to get along with him at all? Most people find him quite a tyrant on that boat of his!”
“He’s efficient,” Helen said guardedly.
“He’s efficient when he’s off the boat!” Peter grimaced, and Helen wondered what the occasion had been when he had run foul of Gregory. She couldn’t imagine it, for Peter’s manner was so very inoffensive that she couldn’t imagine him upsetting anyone.
“Did the call come from New Zealand?” she asked him anxiously as he sat on the edge of his desk and dialled a number.
“Yeah. Weren’t you expecting it?”
“It must be my sister-in-law,” Helen said. “I do hope there’s nothing wrong!”
Peter Harmon grinned at her over the receiver. “Oh, I don’t think anything’s wrong!” he said cheerfully. “I took the call earlier. It was someone who sounded young and pretty. Would that be your sister-in-law? I told her she’d be mighty welcome when she did make it our way!”
He had a long running conversation with the exchange which went on and on, while Helen waited as patiently as she could for him to finish.
“She’s on the line now!” he said at last. She took the receiver from him and practically shouted “Hullo” down the mouthpiece.
“Helen?” Anita’s voice answered her gaily. “Helen, I’m flying to Melonga tomorrow. I’ve been out of the hospital for a couple of days and it seems the plane is going tomorrow. It will be the same pilot who took you!”
“But, Anita!” Helen said weakly. “Do you feel well enough?”
“Of course I do! What do you imagine having your appendix out is like? Well, I can tell you, it’s a piece of cake!”
Helen had never heard the other girl sound so vital or so gay. She pictured the Anita she knew with rather straggly mouse-coloured hair and nothing very much to say for herself, and wondered what could have happened to make her feel so lively now.
“Can you meet me?” Anita went on, bubbling over with excitement.
“I don’t know!” Helen said uncertainly. “Look, Anita, the airstrip is on a different island from the hotel. Will you wait there until I can arrange for a boat to pick you up?”
“Anything,” Anita said happily. “I’m bringing lots of film for my camera, so I shall be quite happy anywhere at all.”
Helen blinked. She hadn’t known about the camera either. “Good,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I have some news too. I got the job—you know, the one Michael had. I’ve got a job for you too!”
“For me?” The note in Anita’s voice changed dramatically. “Oh, Helen, is it something I can do? I mean, I wouldn’t want to let you down. It isn’t at all difficult, is it?
“No,” said Helen briefly. “It’s only buying a few stores. You can do that, can’t you?”
“I—I don’t know. Who for?”
“For Gregory de Vaux. He has a Polynesian who does most of the cooking and so on, but someone is needed to get stores from the hotel and so on.”
“Oh well,” Anita said, a little more cheerful now that the job had been defined, “perhaps I could manage that. If Mr. de Vaux isn’t too demanding. D-do you like him, Helen?”
Helen wondered if she liked him or not and found herself quite unable to say. “He’s all right,” she said awkwardly.
Anita uttered a little hushed gasp. “I shouldn’t have asked you!” she exclaimed remorsefully. “I’d forgotten for the moment—”
“Forgotten what?” Helen asked impatiently.
“Michael and all that,” Anita rushed oh. “I mean, it must make a difference, mustn’t it?”
“Why?” Helen put in quickly.
“Well, I don’t suppose other men seem the same,” Anita said innocently. “I wish I hadn’t said anything at all!”
“So do I,” Helen agreed angrily. She thought she could hear Anita trying ineffectually to muzzle a sob and wished she could think of something comforting to say. She knew that Anita was expecting her to say that it was true, that she was missing Michael and that it would be years before she got over his absence from her life, but she didn’t feel anything of the sort.
“Are you cross, Helen?” Anita’s voice asked anxiously.
“No, dear, not a bit,” Helen answered. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. But are you sure you’re fit enough to travel? It isn’t very comfortable on that freight plane.”
“I’m fine!” Anita insisted. “I’ll be seeing you. Goodbye for now.”
“Goodbye,” Helen responded. “Until tomorrow.” She replaced the receiver in its rest and stared moodily down at it until she became aware of Peter’s cough in the doorway to warn her of his presence.
“Finished?” he asked her.
She nodded. “It was my sister-in-law. You were quite right.”
Peter Hannon looked pleased. “And she’s coming here?”
Helen nodded again. “Look,” she said, “I’ve persuaded Gregory to give Anita a job getting all our provisions and things. Gregory said she could do that through the hotel. Will that be all right?”
“Sure. Why not?” He sounded cool and a bit distant.
“Will it be a trouble for you?” Helen pressed him, wondering why he didn’t sound a little more enthusiastic.
> “No, no trouble.” He hesitated. “I was only wondering if your sister-in-law didn’t want to find her own job? I’d maybe have given her one. Does she want to have it all laid out for her?”
Helen, was frankly astonished. “You don’t understand,” she said. “You’ve never met Anita. She’s never been away from her mother before and—”
“And now you know best what’s good for her?” Peter suggested. He said it so charmingly that Helen couldn’t possibly have taken offence.
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” she admitted. “But I think I do. At first, anyway. You’ll see tomorrow when she comes. You’ll help her, won’t you? You see, she hasn’t any confidence in herself and more than anything else I want this whole trip to be a success for her.”
Peter Harmon smiled at her formally. “The hotel will do all it can to help, you can be sure of that, Mrs. Hastings. I’ll see to it personally.”
Helen felt oddly defeated as she thanked him and left his office to go back into the main part of the hotel, to where Miss Corrigan had ordered coffee for them both on the terrace. Outsiders, she thought, people who didn’t know the Hastings well, would never understand how nervous Anita was, how her confidence had been sapped away by her mother. She sighed. She supposed that it did look as though she were being a busybody and over-protective, but what else could she do? Anita had to be given her chance, and she was going to give it to her, no matter what anyone else thought or did!
Helen had to run to the jetty the following morning, for she was afraid she would be late. When she had woken in her splendid bedroom to find the sun already lighting up the peacock colours on the chair opposite her and knew that it was late. From then on it had been a mad rush to get herself ready for the long day out on the Sweet Promise.
“The Boss is waiting for you!” Na-Tinn called out to her. “Here, jump aboard here!”
Obediently, Helen cast herself into the air and landed beside him in a heap on the narrow deck. His strong arms rescued her from falling backwards into the sea, his grinning teeth a great deal nearer to her than she quite liked.
