Welcome to Paradise

by Jill Tahourdin

Alix murmured politely.

  Fun! she was thinking rather wryly.

  I wonder...

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THOUGH somewhere in the slight daze in which she was still moving when she boarded the airliner for Johannesburg Alix was aware of the glimmer of a warning red light, she had to admit that she was glad Richard was with her.

  He was a seasoned air traveller. He knew the ropes. Thanks to him she was wafted through the formalities without pain. He was even able to calm, to some extent, her fears.

  For she was convinced that the enormous conveyance in which they were presently seated side by side would never get off the ground. How could it?

  “It can, and it will,” Richard assured her firmly. “And once we’re in the air you’re going to love it, I swear. The take-off’s always the worst part. But these chaps do it as easy as kiss-your-hand. And talking of hands,” he added with a laugh, “like me to hold yours when we start?”

  Alix smiled wanly. Though she didn’t say so, she thought she probably would.

  He did hold her hand, closely and warmly, when the pilot, having gunned up the engines to that final terrifying roar, began his take-off run. He had seen her white face and guessed how she was feeling.

  But he let it go promptly as soon as they were airborne. He noted her fearful glances at the tilted landscape below them; her qualms when the machine banked or bumped. He saw her relax, thankfully, when the airliner had finished its upward climb and had settled down to its stately progress above the clouds.

  “There! Wasn’t so bad, was it Alix?”

  She said shakily, “It was marvellous. Thanks, Richard, for the moral support.”

  “All part of our service,” Richard assured her airily. “I say, Alix . .

  He broke off as the pretty stewardess approached with magazines and her bright hostess smile. When she had passed on he asked, “were you surprised to see me at the Murrays’, Alix?”

  “You know I was.”

  “You didn’t mind?”

  “What right have I to mind your taking a business trip?” she countered coolly.

  Richard laughed.

  “Oh, that!”

  “You mean...?”

  He nodded. He gave her a meek propitiating look. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. She said severely, “But why, Richard?

  “You know why.”

  “But I’m...”

  “You’re going to meet your fiancé. You’re on your way to be married. I’ve no right to follow you round. I know all that. Of course I know.”

  “Then why on earth ...?” she demanded in exasperation.

  “That’s my business, isn’t it?” Richard countered. “Let’s say I wanted to look after you on the journey, shall we? You wouldn’t want to deprive me of that little harmless pleasure, would you? You wouldn’t be so hard-hearted?”

  “All I can say is, thank goodness Aunt Drusilla doesn’t know. She’d be furious.”

  “Ah, Aunt Drusilla,” Richard said thoughtfully. “Yes, I’m afraid she would. Especially after what happened at Northolme yesterday.”

  Alix started guiltily. In the shock of seeing him at the Murrays’, and her state of apprehension over this first flight, she had completely forgotten to ask him how the meeting had gone.

  “Especially after what happened...” she repeated. “What did happen, Richard? I ought to have asked you before, but I was in...”

  “A bit of a flap?” he supplied. “Yes, well. I’m afraid you’re not going to like this, Alix.”

  “You mean ... your father ... my aunt ...?” She looked so indignant that Richard broke in hastily, “Lady Merrick was marvellous. Magnificent. She made the speech of her life, I should think, in favour of Peace and Quiet and the Status Quo. She very nearly had them all convinced. She was grand.”

  Suspecting mockery, Alix didn’t find it when her eyes met his. The Herrold twinkle was there—that was all.

  “But...” she prompted.

  “But my father, I’m afraid, was even grander. He sailed in with flags flying and all his guns firing.”

  “Oh. What did he say?”

  “He said they were rusting away in Paradise. He said, ‘For Peace and Quiet, read Boredom, B-O-R-E-D-O-M.’ ”

  “And to counter boredom, I suppose he promised them the earth?”

  Richard grinned.

  “Very nearly. Newly surfaced road from the junction. Eighteen-hole golf course instead of the present ill-kept nine holes. Better water and electrical supplies. Weekly film show. Free membership of the Country Club for residents. The whole works.”

  “And of course they fell for it?”

  “Like ninepins.”

  “All of them?”

  “All except your aunt and Gore. Oh—and old James Gurney.”

  So her aunt’s old admirer had remained faithful? That was something, at least.

  “My father’s a wonderful chap,” Richard said with pride. “There’s nobody like him, absolutely. The only thing is—I never know from minute to minute what he may be up to next.”

  “What did he get up to next?”

  Richard said ruefully, “He turned his big guns on your aunt. Told her he wanted ‘Laguna.’ Told her it was in the interests of her friends and neighbours—and considering ‘Laguna’s’ actual market value, of herself—to let him have it. Told her he was sorry she didn’t see her way to accept the eight thousand pounds he’d offered for it. Said he was now offering her the best three-acre plot at the seaward end of the lagoon, plus a new house to her design, in exchange. Said, ‘That’s my last word, my lady, take it or leave it. Well, what about it? It’s over to you.’ ”

  “And of course my aunt turned it down?”

  “Of course.”

  “I wonder that even your father had the nerve.”

  “So did I,” Richard assented. She glanced up at him, met the incorrigible Herrold twinkle, and said scornfully, “I suppose you think it was clever? I suppose you think...”

  “In point of fact, I blushed for him.”

  “And so you jolly well should,” Alix retorted with heat. “He’s—he’s impossible. He—he—oh, you Herrolds,” she finished with a gesture of repudiation, of them and all their works. “I’m revolted. I don’t want to hear any more. I ought to be with my aunt now, supporting her and—and comforting her, instead of sitting here, hobnobbing with the enemy. I ought to ... oh,” she finished furiously, “will you please go away?”

  Turning sideways to get a better look at her Richard saw that her eyes were actually throwing off sparks; her cheeks were the colour of his favourite species of rose.

  He gestured to indicate the passenger cabin in which they sat, where every seat was taken. He turned out the palms of his hand and lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. He said deprecatingly, “Sorry, Alix. No parachute.”

  He saw her chin quiver. She was pressing her lips together, trying not to laugh. The comer of her mouth was lifting—that small dimple he adored appeared in the cheek nearest him. She had given in. She was laughing. How he loved that laugh of hers!

  “You’ve forgiven me?” he asked softly.

  “I oughtn’t to.”

  “It isn’t our quarrel, Alix.”

  “I know, but...”

  “Look, we’ll be coming in to land soon. They put us up at the Carlton for the night. You don’t know Jo’-burg, do you?”

  “N—no.”

  “Then promise to dine with me, and afterwards I’ll show you the town.”

  “I shouldn’t...”

  “You should. Darling Alix, Jo’burg is a must. And you can’t see it alone. So ...?”

  Turning on him with sudden impatience, Alix collided head-on with the eager, beseeching, demanding look in his eyes.

  It brought her up short. She caught again the flicker of the warning red light.

  What was she doing? Agreeing—or on the point of it—to spend a gay, glamorous, romantic evening in the City of Gold with a man w
ho had done his best to show her that he had fallen in love with her?

  An undermining sort of evening, fair neither to Bernard, nor to Richard, nor to—herself?

  No! she thought. No. It won’t do. I must get out of it somehow. Not now—that’ll only lead to an argument I might easily lose. Later ...

  So she shrugged and answered sedately, “Thank you very much. I would rather like to see Jo’burg.”

  “You shall. We’ll have a wonderful evening.”

  The stewardess, bringing them tea, interrupted them. When she had gone, Richard began telling her some of the places they would look in on. Dinner, dancing, cabaret, a drive by moonlight ... Alix knew she would have loved every minute of it. That in itself was enough to warn her she must not. Not while she was still engaged to Bernard.

  Some time later the plane began circling to lose height. When they were below the cloud ceiling Alix was able to look down, fascinated, at the great city sprawling below. Skyscrapers, broad streets crammed with people and traffic, suburbs in spacious green gardens, great lion-coloured dumps of cyanide that would have looked less out of place alongside the Pyramids in the desert. So this was Johannesburg.

  Now the terrors of landing struck cold into her heart. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks; she let Richard fasten her safety belt for her; she didn’t demur when once again he took her hand in his. It lay curled up in his palm as if it belonged there, warm and safe. But of course it didn’t. Only till this frightening experience was over and they were safe on terra firma once more...

  The landing strip was rushing up to meet them. They were going to crash. They were travelling so fast they would never be able to pull up...

  “There we are. Hold tight,” came the stewardess’s soothing voice. There was a slight, a very slight jar. Richard let go her hand and gave it a pat.

  “So we’re safely down, Alix,” he said cheerfully. “Jo’burg, here we come!”

  The cocktail lounge of the hotel was gay, with a tremendous coming and going and a sense of vigorous life. There was something invigorating in the atmosphere of this city. It even permeated indoors. People looked alert, purposeful, full of zest.

  Sipping the White Lady Richard had prescribed for her, Alix suffered a pang of regret for what she was going to have to say. It took her quite a time to steel herself to saying it.

  Came the moment when Richard said, “Time to go up for your bath now, Alix. Shall we meet down here in about an hour’s time?”

  Now for it.

  She put a hand to her head—said hesitatingly, “I’m terribly sorry, Richard. I’m afraid I don’t feel quite up to going out this evening. My head—perhaps it’s because I’m not used to flying. If you’ll forgive me, I think I’d better have them send up something later. I’ll take my bath now and get into bed.”

  Had she done it convincingly? Whether or not, Richard was outwardly all sympathy. If he had looked a little taken aback at her rather sudden indisposition, he made no comment.

  He said gently, “You poor little girl. Too bad. But of course you must go to bed at once. Have you got aspirins? Then take three, and try to sleep. Later on, if you wake up, telephone Room Service to send you up some soup. Will you do that?”

  “Yes, Richard”—submissively.

  He fetched her room key for her, and went up with her in the elevator to the door to her room. This he unlocked for her.

  “There you are,” he said. “Bath first, to relax you; then aspirins and bed. Sleep well, dear ... Alix. I’ll ring you in the morning about eight.”

  “Thank you, Richard. I’m so sorry about tonight.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said, smiling at her as he closed the door on her.

  As he walked back along the corridor he was thinking ruefully, Poor little Alix. Got an attack of conscience, I suppose. I’ve been rushing her too much. Patience, my lad. The fisherman’s virtue. Patience till you’ve met this Bernard, taken his measure, seen the form. Less of this Herrold bulldozing, and a little more finesse. But oh damn, I was so looking forward to taking her out, dancing with her, seeing her eyes sparkle...

  In her room, alone and lonely, Alix had plenty of time to tell herself that she had been a fool, ungrateful and unkind. She took a bath, lay in it for a long time, then zipped on her silk wrapper and telephoned Room Service.

  Not for an invalid’s bowl of soup, though. She had discovered that she was ravenously hungry. When the waiter appeared with the menu, she ordered herself a substantial, delicious-sounding meal. Since she had elected to spend this evening in solitude, at least she didn’t mean to starve.

  Luckily she had a new novel in her case. She took it out, thinking, It had better be good.

  She had barely settled in the armchair and opened it when her doorbell rang.

  “Come in.”

  A page entered, carrying a big sheaf of gladioli in Cellophane, and a vase. Under his arm was a big bundle of shiny magazines—all the ones she liked best.

  “From the gentleman in number 506,” the page told her with a smirk.

  “Thank you.” Seeing that he didn’t at once go, she remembered that of course he was waiting for his tip. When he had left, satisfied, she looked at the card that was tied to the flowers.

  “Wake up well. Love. Richard,” was all it said.

  It made her feel more of a heel than ever.

  But she knew that tomorrow, when she was face to face with Bernard, she would be glad about tonight. Though hadn’t someone said, somewhere, that when you are old, the only things you really regret are the things you didn’t do?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RICHARD’S pleasant voice over the telephone said, “Good morning, Alix. Feeling better?”

  “Much better. Quite recovered, in fact.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Thank you for the flowers and magazines, Richard. It was very sweet of you.”

  She heard him laugh.

  “Yes, wasn’t it? The Herrold touch, m’m? Look, Alix—if you really feel up to it, I’d like to hire a car. We’ve got the morning—I could show you the sights before we need to report at the air terminal.”

  At least I owe him that, Alix thought. She said at once,

  “I’d love that, Richard. If you’ll let me go Dutch on the car...”

  “I won’t let you go Dutch,” came his decisive reply. “Think what I saved on you last night! What I will do is collect you down below, in the foyer, in half an hour’s time. Can do?”

  She felt suddenly gay, don’t care.

  “Can do,” she echoed. “Shall I pack and bring my air-cases, so that we needn’t come back here?”

  “Do that. We’ll go straight on to the airport when we’ve finished seeing the sights.”

  So they spent the morning together, seeing the mines, and the cyanide dumps, and the streets of skyscrapers, and the fine shops, and the lovely homes and gardens, complete with swimming pools and tennis courts, of the rich Johannesburghers out in the city’s lavish suburbs.

  Richard was careful to be just the charming escort. No lovemaking, either by word or look. He succeeded so well that Alix thought he must have seen the glimmer of the red light too.

  She had awakened feeling nervous. Butterflies had fluttered inside her as she reminded herself that in a few hours she would have met Bernard. She would know the best—or the worst, she supposed... Richard’s calm cheerfulness soothed her.

  She said suddenly, “Stay with me, won’t you, and meet Bernard?”

  “If you wish. But only for a minute. You’ll have such lots to talk about.”

  “Yes. Yes, we shall, of course.”

  He said gently, “I hope you’re going to be very, very happy.”

  She smiled with her lips. Not he noticed, with her eyes. She was worried, he could see.

  He had been right to back his hunch.

  She managed to get through the take-off, and the landing, without needing to have her hand held this time.

  “Quite the season
ed air traveller now,” Richard said, smiling at her.

  “I believe I’m actually beginning to enjoy it,” she said. “Do you like flying, Richard?”

  “Love it.” He had his B license, he told her. He was a member of the new flying club at Edward.

  “I’d like to take you up one day,” he said.

  “Oh, please do,” she said, glowing. Then bit her lip. She had forgotten that she wouldn’t be there.

  She was quiet after that till the airliner touched down. As it taxied towards the air terminal she thought, suddenly panic-stricken, This is it.

  She was wearing her suit of green jersey because Bernard had always liked her in green. The little angora cap hugged her head and her angora topcoat was hung over her arm. Richard walked beside her, tall, very well turned out in his town suit of mid-grey. He gave her elbow a squeeze and said softly, “Chin up, Alix.”

  She said rapidly, “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to meet Bernard alone. We’ll see you later, in the reception hall. Do you mind, Richard?”

  “No, I don’t mind.”

  She was scanning the crowd behind the barriers with eager, frightened eyes. Someone waved—someone with rough hair and very blue eyes, dressed in khaki bush shirt and shorts and carrying a broad-brimmed hat. Bernard. Her heart tripped at sight of him. She waved back. Then she was swallowed into the Incoming Passengers section, and it was some minutes before the formalities were completed and she was free. Free to join Bernard...