by Hilary Wilde
`I don't fuss . . .' Kate began indignantly.
Harold Anatole was smiling. 'All women fuss — that is why they are so loved.' He looked at Simon. 'You wish to see the weekly reports?'
He fetched a chair for Kate and she sat down. Mike's head was dutifully bent over his exercise book, but he glanced up quickly and gave Kate a brief smile.
Simon had pulled up a chair and was straddled across it, his lean face grave as he read the handful of papers in his hand.
Mr. Anatole came to stand by Kate, bending down to speak softly in her ear.
`You see! Mr. Ellison takes an interest in the smallest thing. It is very good to work with such a person. His great-aunt believed in self-expression, so I teach the children to work. Mike, he asks questions all the time, but now I make him find the answers.' Mr. Anatole's deep laugh rang out, and Kate saw how all the children looked up and smiled at him.
Driving home with Simon, Kate said how much she liked Mr. Anatole. Simon gave her a quick, amused glance.
`I thought you would. That's why I took you. Now
you can stop worrying about Mike's progress.'
`I wasn't worrying . ..' Kate began, but stopped as Simon smiled. 'Yes, I was, a little,' she said honestly. But I won't now.'
`Good.' Simon leaned back in the car, folding his arms and staring ahead. 'You know, Kate, sometimes people bite off more than they can chew. You did –without choice and without knowing it. Already you look a different girl. Prettier, more relaxed, less of a stern school-marm.'
Kate's cheeks flamed with indignant anger. 'It wasn't my fault—'
`I never said it was.'
`And besides, you only saw me when I was very tired or ill.'
`Which you were, most of the time, and undoubtedly your family suffered as a result. Kate, relax. Mike is growing fast, making his own friends here. Nancy is on top of the world. Now just forget them and enjoy yourself.'
She bit her lower lip quickly as she stifled the angry words she wanted to say. Why must he always criticize her?
`I am,' she said stiffly.
The car stopped outside the big house and Simon opened the door for her. 'Good,' he said curtly.
Kate got out and walked into the house, hearing the car drive away with Simon and Taro in it. She went upstairs to her bedroom and stood for a long thoughtful moment before the looking glass.
Simon had said she looked more relaxed. 'Prettier!' But it had been a statement of fact and not a compli-
ment. Was she prettier? she wondered, as she stared at herself. Certainly she had put on weight, her cheeks were plumper and sun-tanned, her hair shining. She also looked much less tired, but then how could she be tired when she had nothing to do?
The days passed swiftly and at last the week came to an end. Kate realized that the rest against which she had helplessly rebelled had been good for her. She had grown to accept being waited on, having no work to do. Had learned to realize that Mike only needed her for a goodnight kiss or when he had something exciting to tell her. Now he would go off with his young friends, clasping bamboo poles as they went to spear shrimps. These, as cooked by Fetia, were delicious.
The evenings were the most difficult for Kate, for she realized that, because of her first week of illness, she was outside the 'circle'. Ian and Nancy danced or played table-tennis or merely teased one another idly during the hot evenings. Simon and Jerome would be talking 'shop' and Kate would sit there, feeling out of things, unable to join in the conversation, indeed believing that she would only be interrupting them if she tried to do so, so she had acquired the habit of going to bed early and reading in bed. Adam rarely stayed for the evening, only having dinner with them, and then vanishing. But at last the week was over, and on Sunday evening as Caterina said goodnight to them and Simon said he would drive her back to the hospital, she smiled at Kate.
`Now you can work as hard as you like,' she said. `She may wish she couldn't when she sees what
Adam's got lined up for her,' Simon said.
Caterina laughed. 'I'm sure Kate can cope!'
`I'm sure she can,' Simon said dryly. 'I'm equally sure she'll love it.'
Kate stood very still after they had gone. Now what had Simon meant by that? Did he still believe her to be a 'happy martyr' ? Would she never be able to forget those words of his?
CHAPTER SEVEN
SIMON took Kate to Adam's office which consisted of a large cool but made of coconut logs. The windows were wide and there was no glass but there were heavy shutters in case the wind and rain grew too fierce, and there was a thatched roof.
Adam jumped up from his desk to welcome her. The broad-shouldered man with the dark hair and serious face was always friendly and Kate wondered what it would be like to work for him. At least, she thought gratefully, he would be patient if she made mistakes. He was not like Simon — a man who, according to Caterina, did not suffer fools gladly!
`Well, Adam,' Simon was saying cheerfully, 'here's your slave. I only hope she's half as useful to you as her sister is to me.' He turned to look at Kate briefly. `Now you'll be happy.'
Left alone with Adam, Kate looked round her. She had a large desk, a very modern typewriter, a huge file by her side. Adam started to explain the work he was doing and her interest was soon caught.
It was hard work but interesting, too. There were records to check, old accounts to reconcile. Great-Aunt Adele had been a businesslike woman, but also extremely generous, and she had allowed many of the debts due to her to drag on indefinitely.
Soon Kate was able to write the letters needed —Adam would merely scribble on each letter in pencil
what he wanted said and it was left to Kate to word the answer herself.
It was an ideal way of working, Kate decided. Breakfast in bed, a leisurely walk down to the office, a break for iced coffee at ten o'clock, and then a siesta from eleven o'clock to two o'clock every day and back to work until four o'clock. This, apparently, was the recognized routine on the island, and to Kate's surprise she found it made the work much easier. Tehutu would bring down a delicious cold lunch with salad which Adam and Kate would eat under the shade of the huge trees; afterwards they would lie in hammocks near the lagoon, sometimes talking, sometimes drowsy with the heat.
Kate found herself enjoying her work and the more she saw of Adam the more she liked him. Yet he was a strange man, rarely talking about himself.
One evening Kate, after dinner, had gone to Great-Aunt Adele's room and was finishing one of the diaries that fascinated her. The door opened abruptly and Simon stood there, frowning.
`Why do you always vanish every evening, Kate ?' he asked.
Kate was startled. 'Well, I.. I... er
Simon closed the door behind him and came to straddle a chair near her.
`Don't you get on well with Adam ?' he asked.
Kate coloured. 'Of course I get on well with him,' she said abruptly, 'but
`Well, he's sitting in there with no one to talk to. Nancy's playing table tennis with Ian as usual, and...
`You and Jerome are talking shop,' Kate said sharply. 'As a rule Adam vanishes and I'm...'
`You're not interested in what you call "shop" ?' Simon asked, his thick tufted eyebrows almost meeting. `You find it boring, no doubt. Perhaps if you took the trouble to listen, you might learn something.'
Kate swallowed the quick angry reply. 'I — I always felt I might be in the way.'
`Oh, for ...' Simon growled impatiently, and took a deep breath. He leaned forward. 'Kate, if there's one thing I cannot stand it's neurotic women who are afraid they might be in the way.' He stood up. `I'd be glad if in future you would join us after dinner and we'll try to make the conversation general. Adam is out there, a very good sign, for I've been trying to include him in our circle without success. It must be your feminine influence that's thawing him.'
`I think Adam's shy. If he doesn't want to join us . . .' Kate began.
Simon swung round, his lean face grave. 'Has
Adam talked about himself ?'
`Very little,' Kate admitted. 'I know he's an orphan and, so he says, that he's completely lacking in ambition, and content to drift.'
Simon sat down again abruptly. 'That's a bare skeleton. Adam is an orphan, but he is a highly skilled accountant and had a very successful career. He was engaged to a lovely girl who walked out on him the morning of their wedding. That was bad enough, but the girl died on her honeymoon — both she and her husband were killed in a car crash. Her husband happened to be Adam's best friend. Adam just went to
pieces. I've known him for years, and when I decided to do this —' he waved his hand vaguely — 'I asked Adam to help me. It was a battle. He had crawled into a little hole and wanted to stay there. I wouldn't let him. I made him see I needed him. That's as far as I've got. Night after night, he goes to his room and mopes .. .' Simon paused.
Meeting Simon's thoughtful eyes, Kate was conscious of her surprise at his reaction to Adam's unhappiness. She would have expected Simon to see it as weakness, but instead he viewed it sympathetically. Could it be that Caterina was right — and Simon had also lost the girl he loved ? Surely, Kate thought, that could be the only explanation for Simon's sympathy with Adam.
`Somehow we've got to bring Adam back to life,' Simon went on gravely. 'I think you can help, Kate.' `Me ?' said Kate, startled.
Simon nodded. 'Yes, you, Kate. You're a quiet sensible sort of girl, friendly, easy to talk to. Nancy's far too young. Besides, she's wrapped up — as they say —in Ian, though what she can see in the boy, I don't know.'
Again Kate noticed the hint of hardness and dislike in Simon's voice that she had noticed before when he spoke of his nephew.
Simon stood up. 'Can I count on your help, then, Kate ?'
Kate closed the diary and put it away in the drawer. `Of course, Simon,' she said. 'But I don't know what I can do.'
Don't try to do anything or you'll fail dismally,'
Simon said crisply. 'Just be yourself. You must have some interest or hobby you can talk about ... apart from knitting sweaters for the family,' he added.
`I ... I used to collect stamps,' Kate said slowly.
Simon's tufted eyebrows lifted quizzically. 'Well, well, well! A little philatelist. Now that's a fortunate thing, Kate. Just one moment . . .' He bent down and opened the bottom drawer. 'Great-Aunt Adele was also a philatelist. Maybe you'd like to look at this.'
Kate turned the pages of the book slowly. There were many early stamps she had never seen. She lifted her face to look at the tall man by her side and her eyes were bright with interest.
`Thanks awfully. I'd love to look through it.'
`Bring it along to the drawing room, then,' said Simon. 'It might be the opening gambit you're looking for with Adam.'
How right Simon had been, Kate thought, later that night as she lay in bed. Adam had helped her put the heavy book on a table, had sat by her side as she turned the pages, discussing the stamps and discovering that they were both interested.
Kate stretched and yawned and half-closed her eyes, completely shutting out all thought of Adam as she remembered Simon's words. They had not been very complimentary, had they? she thought. What was it he had said?
`You're a quiet sensible sort of girl. Friendly, easy to talk to.'
Kate pulled a wry face. Somehow she could not imagine anyone describing Caterina in such prosaic words. Was that how Simon saw her? It was not a
pleasant thought, somehow.
There was a sudden tap on the bedroom door and it opened. Nancy stood there, her loose yellow cotton dressing-gown barely hiding her blue shortie pyjamas.
`Kate, have you heard the news ?' she began, her young, pretty face tragic.
Kate's heart seemed to skip a beat. 'Simon ?'
`No — Ian, of course,' said Nancy, coming into the room to curl up at the foot of Kate's bed. Nancy's face was miserable, the corners of her mouth drooping.
`Is Ian ill ?' Kate asked.
`Of course he isn't ill,' Nancy said irritably. 'He was there at dinner, but he only told me tonight that he's leaving next week.'
`Leaving ?'
Nancy nodded, her honey-gold hair tied back in a pony tail swinging. 'I couldn't believe it when he told me. I thought he was here for good. What will I do, Kate ?' she asked, her voice tragic. 'Without Ian, I'll be bored to tears !'
It might have been funny if it hadn't been, as Kate knew, tragic to Nancy. Nancy was the sort of girl who needed companionship, to belong to lots of clubs and always be out. She rarely read a book, only dipping into magazines, and soon got bored. Kate knew a moment of dismay. Everything was going so smoothly — now if Nancy got bored and unhappy, it might spoil things for Jerome.
`We'll think of something,' Kate said soothingly, just as she had said for many years. Nancy had never been an easy child, easily dissatisfied and discontented.
`There's Simon and ...'
`He and Jerome never stop talking shop,' Nancy sighed miserably, putting into words Kate's own thoughts.
`Maybe we can find a way to cure them,' Kate said brightly. 'What about bridge ?'
`You know I hate the game,' Nancy said cuttingly, but Kate saw that Nancy was cheering up. 'We could play scrabble,' Nancy added thoughtfully.
`There's me and Adam,' Kate reminded her.
`Adam . . .' Nancy said slowly. 'He's an odd character, Kate. What d'you make of him ? I can never get more than two words out at a time.' She gave Kate a quick sharp look. 'You seemed to be getting on very well tonight, I must say. What was the magic word you used ?'
It took Kate quite a few moments to understand what Nancy meant, but when she did, she laughed. `Stamps,' she said.
Nancy slid to her feet and yawned. 'I'm afraid I know nothing about stamps.'
`When's Ian going ?' Kate asked.
`I told you,' Nancy said crossly. 'Next week. He's going back to his mother. She misses him, he says. Actually I think he was at some university and got sent down and was sent out here to his uncle in disgrace and now, he says, his mother's got lonely, so she's decided to forgive him. He's kind of soppy, Kate. A real mother's boy,' she finished scornfully.
`I thought you liked him,' Kate said, abruptly.
Nancy shrugged. 'He was all right. After all, he's the only man on the island who talked to me, so he was better than nothing.'
She walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Kate lay very still. Poor Nancy ! She had probably thought herself in love with Ian and imagined he adored her, and now she was waking up to the truth. Ian had just been killing time! Whenever Nancy spoke slightingly of people, it invariably meant that she liked them more than was wise.
Kate snuggled down between the sheets. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Simon had said Nancy was too young to help Adam, but perhaps if they started playing cards and had social sort of evenings, that would help Adam. At any rate, it was a good idea, and if Nancy needed any encouragement, Kate knew that she would help her. If Simon objected to his evenings of talking 'shop' being interrupted, Kate could always tell him that it was to help Adam. Simon could hardly take offence at that !
Simon was a strange man in many ways. No patience with his nephew who might have been a little wild and foolish — but who wasn't like that in his teens? Yet Simon had every sympathy with Adam who had lost the girl he loved. Kate felt more sure than ever that somewhere in his past, Simon had been hurt by a girl, incredible as it seemed. Maybe Simon had been a different person before — a nicer person, perhaps.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CATERINA had dined with them and was sitting on the couch in the drawing-room after dinner, elegant and beautiful in a straight white silk frock. Kate, curled up in an armchair, talking to Adam, with his slow thoughtful speech, and Nancy, with her quick laugh and jokes, found herself glancing at Caterina constantly.
How very lovely she was, Kate thought. That ash-blonde hair, twisted now into a neat roll on top of her head, her straight dark brows emphasizing the s
mouldering look in her surprisingly dark eyes. What colour were they? Kate wondered for the hundredth time. When Caterina was being a doctor, very brisk and authoritative, her eyes looked dark blue. When she was warm and friendly, they looked violet.
Kate looked down at her own amber-coloured silk frock with distaste. How homely it seemed. Or was it simply that everything Caterina wore immediately became elegant?
Adam laughed suddenly and, startled, for he rarely laughed, Kate turned to look at him. Nancy's eyes were shining as she teased him.
`And you didn't know it, Adam,' she said, laughing as she accused him. 'Where were you dragged up ?'
`In the gutter,' he joked back, his normally grave face momentarily bright with amusement.
Kate's gaze passed on to Simon. He was sitting back in his deep armchair, his arms folded, his eyes half
closed as if he was thinking, his lean face stern. Had something angered him? It was impossible to connect a man like Simon — strong, decisive, sometimes hard —with a word like 'sulking', yet Kate found herself thinking of the word. Had he and Caterina quarrelled ? she wondered.
Normally when Caterina dined with them, they spent the hours afterwards talking. But tonight Caterina and Simon seemed to have nothing to say to one another.
Kate moved a little restlessly. She was eager to go up to Mike's room and see if he was asleep, but she hesitated, for she knew it would only give Simon a chance to accuse her of 'fussing'. A few days before, Mike had badly scraped his feet on the coral reef. Simon had taken him to the hospital and Caterina had treated the deep scratches, but they were not healing quickly, and although Caterina treated the matter lightly, Mike had been sent to bed, and Kate had thought he looked feverish.
Ever since Simon had spoken to Kate about Adam, Kate had made a point of sitting in the drawing-room after dinner. Now Ian had gone, Nancy joined them and usually they all played scrabble or some guessing game, but when Caterina came, they always put away such childish things — those were Simon's own words, Kate found herself thinking — and had adult conversation! But tonight something was very wrong. Kate could sense the tension in the air.
