by Hilary Wilde
Confused, she stood up hastily and almost ran from the dining-salon. Back in their cabin, Valerie was still asleep, clutching the pillow with both arms, her glorious red hair spread out fan-wise on the white pillow. Elinor went quietly to the mirror and frowned at her reflection. She did look "pathetic" . . . she made herself smile, and she still looked miserable. What was wrong with her?
She was wearing a pink and white striped frock. Now, she swung a white cardigan over her shoulders before going up in the lift to the deck. She stepped outside and stood, gasping, at the sheer beauty of the blue sea which seemed to rise and fall before her as the ship gently rolled. She went to the rail, gazing ,down at the small white waves, feeling the sudden
excitement fill her. This was her chance to enjoy herself—to forget responsibilities, to stop worrying about the future. She turned, leaning against the rail, surveying the broad deck, a friendly smile on her mouth, ready to speak to anyone . . . But no one seemed interested. Couples strode by her, mostly middle-aged, sombre-looking men and women striding round the deck solemnly as if they had a certain number of miles to be walked in a limited time. Children were racing round the empty swimming pool. Parents were grabbing the chairs available and arranging them in the sunshine. Groups of young people were playing deck games. But no one paid any attention to Elinor.
She hesitated, knowing well that Valerie would have found a way of making friends. She would join a group casually, asking, "'What gives?" in her friendly voice. This was something Elinor could never do.
She began to walk alone. At least she knew Kit was safely in his cabin writing letters. Why did a farmer have to write so many letters? She began to enjoy her walk, learning to balance herself as she corrected the roll of the ship. Kit certainly did not look like a business executive--he looked like a man who spent most of his life out of doors.
But then Hugh didn't look like a business man, either. He looked gentle, more like a young Professor. What did he do? There was something of a mystery. Or maybe it had just been Alison being catty the night before when she accused Hugh of being a lazy good-for-nothing, preying off his cousin.
How furious Kit had been—swinging round to tell tell Alison crossly that Hugh was invaluable to him, and Alison had merely smiled nastily. It had been an ugly awkward moment saved by Hugh himself, who had made a joke of it.
What had Hugh meant, too, when he said that Alison was afraid Kit's mother would fight the marriage? Somehow you could not imagine a man like Kit asking his mother for permission to marry? He was a man accustomed to making his own decisions. He would not care what others thought. He was afraid of no one—he would know exactly what he wanted from life and go ahead like a bulldozer and get it . . .
She paused by the rail to stare down at the blue sea. She had to smile as she tried to imagine Kit's reaction if she told him he was like a bulldozer. Would he be flattered—or insulted? He was so sure of himself . . . so conceited . . . No, that was not true. Kit was not conceited—it was just his self-assurance. He knew that he could get anything he wanted—no wonder he had that arrogant air . . .
And yet—could he always get what he wanted? What was it he had said the night before? That money could not buy happiness? Was he unhappy, then? He was so good at hiding his feelings that it was hard to tell . . .
She began walking again. She simply must stop thinking about Kit. Yet everywhere she looked, she seemed to see him. Tall, impressive, his vitality making the air throb with electricity for her. It was
nonsense . . . in fact, it was worse. She was asking to be hurt . . .
Was Kit in love with Alison? He did not treat her as you would expect a man in love to do . . . yet how could you tell? How would Kit behave if he was in love? He was so different from other men.
There had been substance in the remarks Hugh had made at breakfast. Ever since her father's death, Elinor had been aware of a lack in her life. She had done the loving, the protecting, for her mother had made it so obvious that no one could replace their father in her life. She had leaned on Elinor, craved her company but only to talk about the wonderful man she had lost. She had never been interested in the girls' lives. Valerie had bitterly resented that but Elinor had learned to accept it.
"Elinor . . ." a gay voice called, and. Elinor looked up to see Valerie walking towards her, her hand tucked through Kit's arm. Kit was wearing white shorts and shirt. He was looking genial and almost human, she thought, and then realised it was because Valerie was saying something to him. "They're choosing the Sports Committee, Elinor . . . come along, we must vote for them . . ." She brushed aside Elinor's half-audible protest and tucked her free hand through Elinor's arm. "Come on . .
Elinor had no choice and inwardly she was rather pleased to find herself in the group again, for Alison and Hugh were waiting, and almost at once proceedings were under way to form the committee. No one except Valerie seemed very willing to serve
on the committee, but her gay spirits made the little meeting amusing and Elinor found herself strenuously fighting the proposal that she should be on it and was more than chagrined to have Valerie say with affectionate exasperation:
"Oh, don't let's bother poor Elinor. She prefers to sit and watch . . ."
"While we do all the hard work?" Kit drawled, lifting those thick eyebrows of his quizzically as he glanced at Elinor. He and Hugh had been elected but Alison, too, had declined rather frostily.
Valerie glanced at her mischievously. "I don't really blame you," she said cheerfully. "It means hard work as Kit says, and I expect you like to rest a lot . . ."
Before Alison could speak, Hugh was seized with such a bad fit of coughing that everyone had to clap him on the back or rush to get him water and the moment had passed by the time he had recovered—but there was a twinkle in his blue eyes as he shook his head and said softly to Elinor: "That sister of yours!"
Elinor's cheeks were hot. "Wasn't it rather rude?"
"Do Alison the world of good—and of course, to you and Val she is an older woman. How she must hate it . . ." Hugh said quietly in nor's ear and then more loudly, "Now you and Alison must run along—we members of the committee have work to do . . ."
Elinor almost regretted her decision not to serve on the committee as she followed the stiff back of
Alison as they walked out of the room. But then she was glad again. Being on the committee would mean being a lot with Kit and giving him further opportunities to be annoyed by her.
But she still seemed to see a lot of him for Valerie, Hugh and Kit all came in search of her when the meeting was over and insisted that she put her name down for all the different sports.
"I shall be hopeless . . ." Elinor said miserably. "I'll only make a fool of myself . . ."
For a moment Hugh and Valerie were talking to one another and Kit turned in his chair to look at the young face by his side.
"Look, Elinor . . ." he said in the patient voice of a man dealing with a difficult child. "You have the wrong outlook entirely. No wonder you are a rabbit at most things. You must have faith in yourself. Faith can move mountains."
Elinor swallowed. "But how do you have faith in yourself . . . ?"
He considered her gravely, noting the quick way she flushed, the way her eyes would sparkle for a moment if she forgot herself, the sudden vanishing of that light, the retreat into herself. "Why are you so afraid?" he asked.
"I'm afraid of making a fool of myself," she confessed.
His eyebrows lifted. Elinor found herself clenching her fists, struggling to talk intelligently, wishing she was not always so tense when she was with him.
"Would that matter so much?" he asked. "So long as you do your very best, does it matter what others think?"
She gazed at him, staring into his dark eyes, trying to think, trying to find the right words.
"I suppose it oughtn't to matter . . ." she said very slowly.
"But it still does?"
She nodded unhappily. She could see that he despised h
er. Kit would admire women who were capable, efficient, self-assured. Women like Alison . . . like Valerie . .
"Maybe it's because Val is so good at everything . . ." Elinor confessed in a quiet voice.
Kit frowned. "Now don't use Val as a scapegoat for your cowardice . . ." he said sharply.
"Kit . . ." Valerie said in that moment. "We're going to see if we can have a game of table tennis. Coming?"
Elinor half rose but Kit's hand was suddenly on her arm as he drawled, holding her prisoner. "We're in the midst of an important discussion, Val. You two go and get some practice. Keep the court for us —Elinor and I are going to play later."
"Oh no . . ." Elinor murmured miserably.
When they were alone, sitting in the sunshine, Kit turned to look at her. "Why are you scared of me?" he asked abruptly.
She felt her face flame and was furious when he smiled.
"Go on, Lady Kia . . ." he said. "I know you can't tell a lie . . ."
"Why do you call me that?" she cried. "I hate
it!"
He chuckled. "If you knew the original Lady Kia, you would be honoured. But I'm not letting you wriggle out of this. Elinor, why are you scared of me?"
It was a worried little voice that answered him. "Because I always seem to annoy you."
Kit leaned forward, his handsome face worried. "Annoy me?"
Elinor swallowed. "Yes—on the train and the ship . . . and even before that, at the restaurant in Jo'burg . . ."
His face changed as he looked amused. "You saw me . . . ?"
Blushing painfully, Elinor nodded. What must he think of her? "You were frowning as if I had angered you."
"You were rather a noisy crowd . . ." he said slowly.
"They were our friends . . . wishing us goodbye . . ." She was on the defensive at once. "Would you want us to sit around and weep?"
Kit burst out laughing. "My dear child !"
"I'm not a child . . . nor your dear . . ." Elinor burst out, unable to bear it any more, getting up and almost running down the deck.
She heard his footsteps close behind her and when his hand closed like a vice round her wrist she stopped dead, unable to control the shiver that went through her. Kit stared down at her, his face suddenly blank.
"You are afraid of me . . ." he said slowly, almost as if he had discovered something terrible.
"You are . .. rather alarming . . ." Elinor said lightly, trying to joke.
"I suppose I am . . ." he said and released her wrist.
Without thinking, she began to rub it, longing for his hand to be on her arm again, remembering the thrill that had shot through her when he touched her.
"Don't dramatise the situation . . ." Kit said coldly and she saw that, again, he was vexed with her. "I didn't hurt you all that much . . ."
She stared at him in dismay and realised what her instinctive gesture must have looked like. "I didn't . . . you didn't . . ." she began.
He was not listening. "I want you to meet my mother . . ." he said and led the way down to a lower deck. Meekly, she followed him.
He led the way to where an elderly woman was sitting in the sunshine in a wheelchair. She turned an eager face as she saw them.
"Why, Kit, my dear boy, and this is ..." she said warmly and held out a welcoming hand to Elinor.
"This is Elinor, the eldest of Aggie's nieces . . ." Kit said and went to find chairs.
Elinor gazed down curiously at the lined pale face that was smiling up at her. Mrs. Anderson had white hair, beautifully set, but her face was devoid of make-up and her grey eyes were gentle. "You'll love Aggie, my dear," she said softly. "And how happy
Aggie will be to have you girls. She leads a lonely life in many ways for her husband is very ill. You'll be a great comfort to her."
Kit had returned with the chairs. He grinned as he sat down and Elinor saw, with something of a shock, how very much he loved his mother.
"This is the elder sister, as I said, Mother. The sensible one . . ." he began.
Elinor's cheeks burned. "I didn't know you thought me sensible—" she was stung into saying.
Kit chuckled. "Somehow I've got you all confused with the way I think."
Elinor drew a deep breath. Of course he was joking—but oh, if he only knew how very confused she was. She was suddenly aware that Mrs. Anderson was looking puzzled. Perhaps Kit saw it also, for he stood up, patted his mother's hand.
"Everything under control, Mother? Hip not hurting too badly?" He waited for her smiling reassurance. "Good—" he went on. "Now I'll leave you to get to know Elinor but I'll be back in half-anhour." He looked suddenly grim as he gazed at Elinor. "No running away, mind, for I shall track you down." He turned to his mother again. "I'm going to teach Elinor to play table-tennis . . ." he finished and was then gone, striding down the deck with long easy movements.
Mrs. Anderson was quiet for a moment as they both gazed at the sea—and then she turned to the girl who was sitting so quietly, her hands folded tightly together, a strangely unhappy look on her young face.
"Now tell me, dear child, the whole story. I've known Aggie for many years but she had no idea of your existence. I remember her talking sadly about her brother who had died in South Africa and that they had lost touch with the wife and children—that there had been a bad epidemic of diphtheria in Johannesburg and they had always feared the children had died in that. Tell me, why did you get in touch with her?" she asked gently. There was only friendliness in her questioning, Elinor realised, and she began to explain everything.
Mrs. Anderson was a good listener. Elinor felt better by the time she had explained the situation.
"My dear, you must not feel disloyal to your mother," Mrs. Anderson said gently. "I am sure you have done the right thing. Aggie is probably like her family—not easy to understand—and your mother was so very young and probably scared . . ."
They had not heard Kit's approach. Now he loomed above them.
"Like her daughter. Somehow we've got to cure that," he said almost curtly. "Come on, Elinor—the court, or rather table, is free. I'm going to teach you to play well . . . I'm going to teach you a lot of things," he added sternly.
Elinor followed him.
CHAPTER FOUR
KIT HAD said he would teach her to play table tennis well and he was undoubtedly a man of his word. Elinor felt she had never run so much in her life before as he played with her, giving her difficult shots to practise, handing out praise when deserved.
"It was a funny thing," she remarked later to Hugh. They had put two chairs in front of the gymnasium and near the swimming pool. From the open window, they could hear the light-hearted laugh Valerie kept giving as she played a swift game with Kit. "I'in afraid I'm inclined to do silly things when I'm playing with Kit," Elinor said. "It never seems to worry Val if she does anything wrong . . ."
The sun was beating down on them. The blue sea sparkled. Children were diving into the swimming pool, parents hovering anxiously round the smaller ones who wanted to do the same.
Hugh turned his lean, good-looking face towards Elinor. His smile was kind. "You try too hard," he said.
Elinor frowned a little. "Maybe I do . . . now when I play with you . . ."
"You play a good game," Hugh told her. "It's only when you are with Kit that you flap and start doing silly things."
"I know . . ." Elinor spread out her hands on her lap and stared at them. It was all very well for Hugh to talk.
"Why are you scared of Kit?" Hugh asked abruptly.
Elinor sat up suddenly and stared at him, her eyes wide. Was it so easy to read her thoughts? She saw that Hugh was smiling, as if amused.
"I'm . . ." She began to deny it fiercely, but what was the good? "He's . . . he's . . ." She hunted for the right words. "I don't know, Hugh," she admitted miserably and knew that it was not the truth. She knew why she was afraid of Kit. It was because she so badly wanted him to like and admire her .. .
"Lazy good-for-nothings . . ."
Valerie teased and Elinor looked up and saw Valerie standing before them, her hand carelessly swinging in Kit's. Valerie was flushed, her red hair disordered, but her face was alight with excitement. "I beat him . . . just think of that, Elinor," Valerie said eagerly and accepted, with a quick smile, Hugh's chair. The two men sat down on the deck, clasping their knees.
"And I didn't let her . . ." Kit said suddenly, quirking an eyebrow quizzically at Elinor.
She felt her face flame. It was just what she had been thinking! It seemed as if everyone could read her thoughts.
"Oh, Lady Kia . . ." Kit said in that slow drawl she knew so well, now. "Don't look like that. One day you'll beat me . . ."
"He's good, Elinor . . ." Valerie put in, "but he has a weakness . . ."
"Like all men . . ." Kit drawled, laughing as he looked at the excited pretty girl.
Elinor stared down at her fingers, afraid if she met his eyes that he would read her thoughts. It was hard to imagine Kit with any weakness. He always seemed so strong, so self-assured . . .
Valerie jumped to her feet. Sometimes Elinor wondered if Valerie ever sat still these days. She seemed to have been wound up to be so excited and afraid to lose a moment that she could not be still.
"Come on, you two .. ." she said to the men. "We've got a committee meeting, remember? See you later, Elinor . . ."
Elinor felt rather bleak when they went off together and she was left alone. The children were squealing in excitement as the water was slowly drained out of the pool and even the tiny ones could play in a few inches of .water.
She stood up and began to walk along the deck, balancing herself as she walked, adjusting herself to the slight roll. How beautiful it all was—the blue sea sparkling in the sun, stretching away to the far distant horizon. It was her own fault she was not with the others. It was inconsistent and downright stupid to feel they had neglected her. She could have been on the committee. It was her own fault .. .
