“Golly!”
“Golly nothing. Look, Val, do me a favour, will you?”
“Of course. Anything, Dick.”
“Well, then...”
With their dark heads together they planned for a minute or two. Then Valerie grinned.
“There you are. Best of luck, Dick.” And Richard grinned, too, and said, “Thanks, pal,” and left her.
She shook her head ruefully. She admired her brother tremendously, and felt a twinge of natural jealousy over Alix, while admitting to herself that she was just the sort of girl she would like best for a sister-in-law, if sister-in-law there must be.
But she did wish that Richard—with his looks and good humour, his force of character and sense of fun—hadn’t gone and lost his heart to a girl who wasn’t free to marry him. Like most attractive young men he had weathered a number of more or less mild affairs; but this, she was shrewd enough to see, was the real thing.
She hoped with all her loving heart that he wasn’t riding for a fall.
Later on, Alix went with Lady Merrick to the Espresso bar, to find it crowded and buzzing with talk, the air thick with tobacco smoke and a rich smell of coffee and cakes.
“Good lord, half Paradise seems to be here,” boomed Lady Merrick as they plunged into the fug.
In the next few minutes Alix was introduced to a bewildering number of her aunt’s friends. There were Colonel Braines and his mousy wife whom Lady Merrick greeted with marked reserve. The Maxwells who had farmed in Kenya till the Mau drove them out. The Pooles who had been rubber planters in Malaya. The Leighs and Greens and Holts from the Rhodesias. The Waynes from Burma. The Hunts from Singapore.
Expatriates, it seemed, one and all. Idly Alix wondered how they had all happened to converge on this one little spot on the globe.
They all welcomed her warmly. They assured her it was such a pleasure to have a new, pretty young face among them. They said, “We must arrange some parties for you, my dear.”
And Alix thanked them prettily and said how sorry she was to be leaving on Wednesday’s plane.
Whereupon their interest in her died a little. Because what they all really wanted to talk about, now that dear Drusilla had arrived, was what was going to happen to Paradise?
Soon they were all arguing heatedly. On both sides of the question. The Fors and the Againsts, as Richard had said...
As if the thought of him had conjured up his bodily presence, she saw him walking past the wide windows of the Espresso. He had seen her—she was near the door, stirring her cappuccino. His face lit up. He stopped in his stride—he was coming in. She shook her head at him severely. That would never do. She saw his eyebrow go up. He shot an ironic look at her aunt, shrugged, and went on.
There was nothing in the little interchange to excite her, Alix told herself. Or to bring back—as it undoubtedly had—that odd sense of elation, of meeting some challenge.
She looked round anxiously to see if her aunt had noticed. But Lady Merrick was treating Colonel Braines to some decided views and had her back to the door.
She doubted whether anyone but herself, and two giggling bobbysoxers spooning up ice-cream at a comer table and now obviously discussing her had registered the tiny incident.
She threw the bobbysoxers a cold look and turned her back on them. They were still giggling. Silly little creatures.
Tomorrow morning, she would have to tell Richard she was leaving almost at once for Salisbury ...
Driving back later to Paradise, they found the side-road leading from Edward more crowded than ever. A swarm of passengers milled round the bus waiting to take them out to the location three miles away.
Ahead of the Dodge, a cyclist wobbled on the very crown of the road.
“Drunk, I suppose,” muttered Lady Merrick, tooting vigorously.
The cyclist turned to grin over his shoulder, wobbled insanely, and fell off almost under their bonnet. Lady Merrick had to swerve smartly to avoid him, and in doing so struck her front tyre against the sharp edge of one of the upright stones that marked, at measured intervals, the verge.
There was a loud crack. The car bumped and swerved. Tight-lipped, Lady Merrick switched off.
“A burst. Today of all days, when the garages close early. Bother and blow!”
She got out to inspect the damage. The cyclist had picked himself up and mounted. With one scared look at her over his shoulder he pedalled off down the road as if the fiends were after him. His friends giggled nervously. A crowd gathered round the car, goggling.
Alix had just got out to join her aunt when a big black sedan, with a uniformed native driver, pulled in behind them. Its owner jumped out.
One look at him told her who he was. These Herrolds certainly did go in for strong family resemblances. The same grey eyes (though these were set about with many wrinkles); the same humorous lift of one eyebrow; the same forceful nose and chin. This must be Tornado Herrold in person—come to their rescue. Laughter bubbled up inside Alix. How would her aunt take this?
“In trouble, I see, Lady Merrick,” the newcomer remarked genially. “These damn cyclists, heh? Ought to be a law against ’em. Tut-tut-tut. You’ll never use that tyre again, I’m afraid. Now let’s see, what can I do for you?”
“Thank you, Mr.—er—Herrold. I am quite capable of changing a wheel, if I am not interrupted,” Lady Merrick told him coldly—and not, Alix suspected, quite truthfully.
Andrew Herrold’s reply was kindly but brusque.
“Nonsense, madam. Can’t have a lady changing a wheel in the road in the middle of this mob. Kindly allow me to handle this. Here, Joseph”—to his driver—“you change it. And meantime I’ll drive the pair of you back to ‘Laguna.’ ”
He looked hard at Alix and added: “I take it this is your niece, the one my son drove here. How d’you do, Miss Rayne? Welcome to Paradise—heh? Now just get in here ... and you beside me in front, Lady Merrick ... have you home in a jiffy.”
“I haven’t the slightest intention ”
“Joseph will drive your car out when it’s ready. Mind your skirt, now.”
The door slammed. Lady Merrick’s indignation had got her nowhere. With a deftness and decision Alix couldn’t but admire, Andrew Herrold had them both in his car and travelling along the rough causeway to Paradise. His face wore a bland smile. In his eyes, she wouldn’t have minded betting, was an amused twinkle exactly like Richard’s.
Lady Merrick thanked him, as she descended at her own front door, with icy politeness. She didn’t invite him to come in, nor did she offer her hand.
Andrew Herrold remained unperturbed.
“Delighted to have been of use,” he said, genial as ever. With a grin he added, “I shall look forward to meeting you again—on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?”
“At Northolme.”
Lady Merrick bristled.
“You mean you intend to gate-crash our meeting?” The grin deepened.
“Gate-crash? Nothing of the sort, my lady. Didn’t you know I’ve bought out your neighbours on both sides? which makes me a Paradise property owner like yourself. So I qualify, heh?”
Speechless, unable to bear more, Lady Merrick turned on her heel and retired with awful dignity indoors.
Before Alix could follow, Andrew Merrick addressed her. IDs eyes held a familiar hint of laughing wickedness.
“And what do you think of Paradise, Miss Rayne?”
“I think it’s perfectly lovely.” Bravely she added, “Just as it is.”
“Believe me, you’d be bored to tears within three months if you had to live here. Nothing to do. Can’t live on a view, y’know.”
“You can swim, and fish, and sail, and...”
“In summer. When it’s fine. But what about when it isn’t? What about the winter season, when it’s a bit chilly for that sort of caper?”
“There’s entertaining, and Bridge, and—”
Herrold chuckled.
“You speak without conviction,
m’dear. You know perfectly well it’s a case of a lot of selfish elderly folk, here on retirement, wanting to keep the place to themselves till they die off, one by one. This is a place that ought to be opened up for youth to enjoy, as well as the oldsters. Just you wait till I’ve finished with it. I’ll make it one of the finest, liveliest resorts in all Africa. It’s got the climate, the setting. All it lacks is some civilised amenities. Proper facilities for campers and caravanners. A country club. Organised water sports. Later on, a hotel...”
“And a floating restaurant for the gourmets and connoisseurs,” Alix broke in, not without a little touch of malice.
He drew his barley eyebrows together in a frown. “And what’s wrong with that, young lady? Just wait a few months. You’ll see what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I shan’t, Mr. Herrold,” Alix told him coolly. “I shan’t be here.”
“Oh? Why not? Thought you’d come to stay for a bit?”
“I’ve changed my plans. I leave for Rhodesia on Wednesday.”
Andrew Herrold studied her thoughtfully.
“Ah, well. Things sometimes turn out differently from what we intend,” he observed. “Now, if by any chance you decide to come back here, I shall have something to offer you. My son, tells me you’re a qualified garden planner, horticulturist and what not. Well?”
“Yes, I am. But I really...”
“Now don’t be hoity-toity. It’s just an idea I have, that you might turn up here again. If you do, you’ll be the very person I’m looking for to lay out a really first-class garden area for my caravan park and club. Interesting job. And the hotel grounds later, of course. And then I’d need you to stay on to supervise maintenance. Fine prospects—if you measured up.”
Alix had listened with rising indignation. She was normally even-tempered, but she felt anger beginning to sizzle inside her as her eyes met Herrold’s speculative scrutiny. Really, this was too much.
Her chin lifted. She said clearly, “Please understand, Mr. Herrold, that I’m leaving for Rhodesia on Wednesday to be married. So I’m afraid I shan’t be in a position to consider your kind offer. Please excuse me now—I see my aunts wants me.”
He looked down at her, from under the barley eyebrows with a kind of irascible benevolence.
“Off you go then, m’dear. You’ve got spirit, I’m glad to see. I like a girl to have spirit. But remember—if you do change your mind and come back, be sure to contact me, and see if the job’s still open.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Alix explosively. Without waiting for more she turned and ran indoors.
It was just as if he knew all about her. Or at any rate, as if he guessed she was simply putting a brave face on things. As if he knew how very uncertain the future was for her. Yet how could he know? Of course he couldn’t. And why on earth had she lost her head and lied to him about getting married?
He’s impossible, she told herself angrily. No wonder Aunt Drusilla detests him ...
Up in her own room, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Flushed cheeks, eyes over-bright as if with unshed tears ...
“ThoseHerrolds,” she muttered.
At that moment her resentment included both of them. Father and son...
Effelina had laid out lunch on a table on the veranda. Dressed crab, caught by Francis in the lagoon. Cold guinea fowl, shot no doubt by Eric Gore, and a salad. Fresh fruit and cheese. Delicious—all of it. Yet neither Alix nor her aunt ate with any appetite. Alix could see that Lady Merrick was still very much put out by the encounter with Herrold. She pulled herself together and tried to divert her.
“How did they all come to Paradise, Aunt Drusilla?” she demanded vivaciously. The people she had met that morning, she went on to explain. From the ends of the earth—or at any rate, from what Daddy used to call the Outposts of Empire.
“Why here?” she wanted to know.
Her aunt waved a vague hand.
“Oh well. Once your uncle and I had settled here, I suppose the buzz went round. The world is full of people of our vintage, you know, dear, whose working lives have been spent in far-off hot countries—and who, when at last they’re due to go back Home, find they can’t take the British climate—let alone the taxes and lack of domestic help.”
“I suppose they’re all looking for a dream place?”
“That’s it. And Paradise seems to be the answer. It’s got pretty well everything, you know. Except, of course, excitement,” she added with her neigh of a laugh. “And most of us have had plenty and to spare of that in our lives.”
Incautiously, Alix exclaimed, “If Mr. Herrold has his way, you’ll probably get that too”—then bit her lip. Hadn’t she started this conversation to get away from thoughts of Herrold and all his works?
Her aunt stiffened again at the mention of her enemy.
“That creature,” she growled, basso profundissimo. “You can see now just what he is. A steamroller. A bulldozer. He and his son, both alike, I’ve no doubt. Bulldozers pretending to have charm. Pfui! Don't let’s think of them or I’ll have indigestion. Come, Nelson, my lamb. Mother wants to give you your lunch.”
As she left the room a sudden thought made Alix smile.
All the same, she told herself shrewdly, Aunt Drusilla and Andrew Herrold admire each other—in an exasperated sort of way. If only I were going to be here—to see how their battle works out...
Her spirits sank again. She realised with painful clearness how much she dreaded meeting Bernard, for better or for worse. Since it might be for worse ...
Effelina, coming in to clear the table, looked at her downcast face and asked shyly, “Miss Ellix sed today?”
“No, Effelina, I’m not sad. I hope you aren’t any more, either?”
The coloured girl smiled smugly.
“No, Miss Ellix. Meddam pay my husband fine. He coming out today.”
“That’s nice for you.”
“We going to get merried nex’ mont’. My two little shildem going be bridesmaids. I going to wear a wreat’ an’ weil.”
Alix said “Oh” again. Love and marriage seemed to be happy-go-lucky affairs for these people. “I hope you’ll be very happy,” she added.
“Heppy? I don’t know,” Effelina said vaguely. “But if we merried, my husband can help to keep the shildren. Their fathers don’ pay me nothin’. It heavy, Miss Ellix.”
“It must be,” Alix agreed sympathetically. Good heavens, she was thinking. Poor girl ...
But the satisfied sway of Effehna’s hips as she left with her tray reassured her. Effelina was going to be merried.
Lucky Effelina!
CHAPTER FIVE
A SMALL wind from the west was combing up the water into ripples when Alix and Nelson splashed through the shallows next morning. They had to wade out farther than the previous day before they could swim. Nelson snapped at the swarms of tiny fish; he grinned, water dripping from his eager jaws.
There was no sign of Richard’s boat. Alix wondered if it was perhaps the wrong sort of weather for fishing. Or had Richard taken her at her word, and wouldn’t come?
What did it matter, anyway?
Then why the disappointment that took some of the sparkle out of the morning? ...
As soon as the water was deep enough she flung herself at it and swam hard. Whenever she lifted her face, there was Nelson’s, anxiously wrinkled, alongside. His four feet worked with the effortless precision of pistons; he looked as if he could go on for ever.
She herself tired fairly quickly—she was out of practice, of course. Surfacing, she looked again for Richard’s boat, and thought she saw it, but far away, just leaving the jetty near which he kept it moored.
Long before it came near enough for her to be sure, another craft appeared, moving at high speed, with a great white moustache of water at its bows, from the seaward end of the lagoon.
It was a handsome white motor launch, driven by two powerful outboard engines. A red ensign fluttered at its stem, and at the wheel was a tall f
igure, blond headed, wearing khaki slacks and a brown suede windcheater.
Three natives sat up on the deck forward, gutting some very large fish, and tossing the gory fragments to the sea-gulls that wheeled and squawked round the craft.
The noise of its engines died down to a gentle hum as it drew near Alix. At a crisp word of command, one of the boys dropped an anchor.
“Good morning,” Eric Gore’s light voice called out gaily. “May I join you for a swim? I’ve been out all night, fishing.”
Alix called back, “You seem to have made a big catch. The water’s lovely this morning.”
But she was wondering, a trifle uncomfortably, what Richard would think when ... if ... he arrived.
Eric Gore went below, into the cabin, and came out a couple of minutes later in swimming trunks. He stood poised for a long moment on the counter, flexing his arm and showing off his excellent torso, then dived cleanly overboard and swam towards her.
“Race you to that buoy over there,” he cried. For a few yards Alix swam hard, then she gave up, panting. Eric Gore swam as expertly as—she gathered—he did everything else. He turned and came tearing back to her at high speed.
“Tired?” he asked concernedly. “You mustn’t overdo things at first, you know. Look, I’ve got a flask of coffee on board. Come and have some, won’t you?”
Alix hesitated.
Richard’s boat lay at anchor now, a little distance away. She could see that he had brought two rods, and was baiting them both. His back was towards her, and looked unconcerned—if a back can express emotion, she thought with a little grin.
Eric Gore’s hand was on her bare shoulder. He had started to propel her towards the launch.
No, she thought.
“Thank you, Mr. Gore,” she said. “I’d love to see your launch some time. But not now. I’m just going to have a lesson in casting.”
Welcome to Paradise Page 5
