Welcome to Paradise

by Jill Tahourdin

  After a while Richard said, ‘I noticed you weren’t wearing your ring at dinner, Alix.”

  “No.”

  “Is it...?”

  “Over? Yes, all over. Bernard came to see me. He knew he’d given himself away, you see. So we talked. We agreed we’d made a mistake. Grown out of each other, actually. So now he can marry Sandra. They—they’re terribly in love, Richard. Had you noticed?”

  “Well, it did rather leap to the eye, didn’t it?”

  “I suppose it did. Only I wanted to be sure before I—burnt my boats.”

  “So now ...?”

  “So now I shall leave here and go back to Aunt Drusilla, and start all over again. Pick myself dust myself down—you know the song?”

  “I do.” She had expected him to add, “You poor little girl” or some such expression of sympathy. But he didn’t. He merely gave her hand a congratulatory pat and said, “Bravo, Alix. I’m glad that’s all settled and you’re still, as it were, afloat.”

  That made Alix laugh. The word “afloat” conjured up a picture of herself as a small but sturdy dinghy in a popply sea, gaily and confidently mounting from the trough of one wave to the crest of the next. She told Richard that and they laughed together.

  Whatever Richard may have been feeling, however much he may have longed to take her in his arms and say “Now you’re mine, nobody else is going to have you,” he gave no sign. It was, he knew, far too soon. Instead he was cheerful and practical.

  “You’ll want to run in to the hospital and visit Sandra tomorrow, I suppose?”

  “Yes. And take her some flowers.”

  “Right. I’ll run you in. And then we’ll go and fix up our passages back to P.E.”

  “Our passages? You mean you’re going back there too?”

  He looked at her quizzically, his eyebrow raised. “You’re surprised? But why? I’ve done what I came to do up here. Or at least, I can tie everything up while you are shopping for your flowers tomorrow morning. Wouldn’t you like us to travel down together?”

  Alix didn’t answer at once. Tricky, she was thinking. “I’d love it,” she told him candidly at length. “You’re a very nice travelling companion, Richard. But ... well... you see...”

  He waited patiently, offering her another cigarette and lighting it for her.

  “You see—it’s Aunt Drusilla,” she burst out in a rush. Her face was pink with embarrassment, but perhaps he wouldn’t notice by the light of the distant stars. “Ah yes. Aunt Drusilla. Difficult,” Richard allowed. “I suppose, since you’ve left your car at the Murrays’, you’d offer me a lift back to Paradise, like before?”

  “That had been in my mind, I admit.”

  “But can you imagine Aunt Drusilla’s feelings—especially after your father’s behaviour at Northolme—if I arrived a second time escorted by a Herrold? Not by the Arch Enemy, but at least by his son, his collaborator? You can see it wouldn’t do, can’t you?”

  It was a problem, certainly.

  “Then how did you propose...?”

  “I must take the bus,” Alix said decisively. Richard was disappointed and said so. He had been hoping great things of a second day’s motoring with Alix. It was too soon to speak now. It might not be, then...

  “But surely...” he began to argue.

  But Alix knew it wouldn’t be right, and his arguments didn’t persuade her.

  “Don’t let’s talk about it any more or we’ll be having our first quarrel,” she begged. (In fact, the matter was to be settled for them, on their arrival at the airport in

  Port Elizabeth, in a way that neither of them could have expected.)

  The mosquitoes were beginning to bite—it was time to go indoors. Richard jumped to his feet and gave Alix a hand. He thought she looked very small and defenceless, standing there with the Starlight glimmering in her hair. But he knew she wasn’t in the least defenceless really. She had met her problem, and tackled it and solved it, with courage and good sense. She had lost, but she wasn’t whining.

  Apart from the fact that I adore her, Richard thought, I couldn’t admire her more.

  Next morning Richard drove Alix in to Salisbury in the small Morris that Sandra usually drove.

  When they came to the outskirts of the city, which had spread from a business centre—of offices, banks and shops, now largely of skyscraper pattern—to peter out in open country, Alix looked about with lively interest.

  This was where she was to have made her home; or rather, her home would have been some distance away, but her work would have been here. They drove along avenues planted with gorgeous flowering trees, past fine houses with big gardens of flower beds and shrubberies and lawns; and Alix could see that Bernard had been right, in these fine suburbs there would have been plenty of scope for her kind of work.

  But it was no good regretting. She must leave this mushroom city out of her calculations now, and look forward to making her career somewhere else. Oddly enough, now that she had made the break with Bernard, she found herself full of confidence, even of gaiety. The energies and skill she hadn’t been using during the past few weeks lay coiled like a spring inside her, waiting to be released. Soon she would be in a position, she hoped, to set them free.

  “It’s a handsome city,” she said to Richard as they drove past the gardens in the centre of the business area. “I think I would quite have liked it here.”

  Richard wanted to say, “You still can. I, after all, am shortly coming back here,” but wisely he kept quiet. There was something about her, today, that was friendly and even cordial but yet kept him at arm’s length. He thought, all right, we’ll play it her way. He had the fisherman’s virtue. He knew how to wait. Though not for a moment did he let himself think he might be waiting in vain.

  He began circling round to find a parking place—always a matter of acute difficulty in Salisbury. He found one at last and slid the car into it.

  “The Airways Office first, I think.”

  “Yes, please. I must send a cable to Aunt Drusilla when we know the day.”

  “Right. You can do that and buy your flowers while I’m visiting our office.”

  “Then out to see Sandra?”

  Richard shook his head.

  “By the time we’ve done all that we’ll have missed the morning visiting period, I fancy. So what we’ll do is to treat ourselves to a cocktail and lunch at Meikle’s—then we’ll drive out to have a look at Lake Mcllwaine. We’ll be in plenty of time for visit Sandra this afternoon. How’s that?”

  Alix thought the longer they could contrive to stay away from Punchestown the better. She was rather dreading all the explanations to the Barretts about her broken engagement and hasty departure, and planned to take the cowardly way out—let Bernard do the explaining for her, and trust to the Barretts’ tact not to dwell on things when she and Richard returned. So she agreed with enthusiasm to Richard’s suggestion.

  The charming girl clerk who attended to them at the Airways Office shook her head when they asked about an early flight to Port Elizabeth. Bookings, it seemed, were heavy all that week. Alix echoed in dismay, “Nothing till next Monday?”

  “I’m afraid not. Unless ...look, excuse me a minute, will you?”

  Miss Charming vanished into an inner office, remained closeted there for some time—they could hear her voice, faintly, making a telephone call—then came back all smiles.

  “I thought I might be able to help you,” she said pleasedly. “There’s a chartered aircraft—taking a business delegation—going tomorrow. I knew there were two empty seats and you’re lucky, they don’t mind your having them if that suits you. It’ll mean an early start and they hope to get in about three p.m. No overnight stop, so you may not like the idea, of course....” Richard certainly didn’t. He had planned to take Alix out for dinner and dancing. But it seemed there would be quite a saving in the fare, which must be a consideration with Alix now. Also she had an urgent feeling that the sooner she got down to starting her new life�
��whatever it was to be—the better. So—

  “Do let’s take it,” she urged. “We may not get another chance and I couldn’t bear to hang around till next Monday.”

  “I ought to get back too,” Richard agreed. “Okay, thank you very much, we’ll take the seats.”

  So it was arranged. That done, Alix cabled her aunt giving her the news of her imminent return, and the expected time of arrival. She didn’t suppose the message would cause any great surprise, and she knew that she was sure of a warm welcome back to Paradise.

  Now she and Richard parted to do their separate errands. Alix bought gladioli in gorgeous colours—she knew Sandra liked them—as well as the newest Vogue.

  Thus armed, she found her way to Meikle’s Hotel and sat down to wait for Richard. Large numbers of people were there, sitting, standing, walking from table to table in the bar lounge, enjoying their aperitifs and the gossip of the day. Alix too enjoyed it all very much. When Richard came in she greeted him with a happy smile that made his heart leap.

  “Business all finished?” she asked.

  “All finished. So now you and I are going to enjoy ourselves.”

  She saw that there was a light in his eye. A light of ... she didn’t know what. Whatever it was, she hadn’t any doubt they were going to enjoy themselves.

  “I’m ready,” she told him gaily. “Shall we begin?”

  Alix found the chartered plane a very different matter from the stately airliner in which they had made the journey up. It looked alarmingly small, for one thing. For another, it made—not often, but too often for Alix—the most frightening upward and downward swoops, like a crazy lift.

  It would have been easier to bear if she had been seated next to Richard. But she had been allotted to a single seat; while Richard sat next to a man who, it turned out, had once met him on the Rugby field years ago, and on the strength of that was prepared to talk rugby to him for the duration of the flight.

  Listening to his “Man, remember this?” and “Man, remember that?” Alix thought Richard must go mad. But no—aren’t men odd?—he seemed to be enjoying it.

  She yawned, saw that it was no use trying to see anything below because her view was blocked by a wing, read for a time, did a spell of thinking, and finally composed herself to sleep.

  It wasn’t easy to drop off because of the liveliness of the aircraft; but in time she managed it, and actually slept till the order came to fasten safety belts, which meant they were nearly there.

  Richard came over to her then.

  “All right, Alix? Been asleep, I’m glad to see. Don’t worry about the landing—this chap knows his stuff, I can see that.”

  “I’m not worrying,” Alix assured him mendaciously.

  “Good girl.”

  He returned to his own seat, and Alix tried worrying about other things to take her mind off the horrors of the descent to earth. Would the Murrays be able to put her up again? Would there be a bus leaving for Edward tomorrow, or if not, how long would she have to wait? And so on and so on.

  By the time she had thought of all the difficulties she might be going to meet—simply because she would not once again appear at Aunt Drusilla’s front door in Richard Herrold’s car—the aircraft was losing height and very soon, indeed, had touched down and was travelling along the runway, pulling up turning, taxiing to its stand.

  Alix could see the people—not many of them—gathered outside the terminus as they drew near. One of them was waving a coloured scarf. When she stepped out of the plane, a few minutes later, she saw, with surprise and delight, that the owner of the scarf was none other than Aunt Drusilla, in her tweed suit, and the familiar toque, and with Nelson on a lead at her side.

  “Oh, isn’t that marvellous?” she exclaimed. “Look, Richard, there’s my aunt, come to meet me.”

  “Quick work,” Richard commented. “She must have set off the minute she got your wire, I should think. Good lord!” He finished in a tone of complete disgust: “Look who’s with her.”

  Alix looked. Her face fell. Standing behind her aunt, bare-headed, blond, debonair, was Eric Gore.

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice. Richard, she saw, was looking grim.

  “So I shall be leaving you in good hands,” he said, not at all pleasantly.

  “Richard, please,” Alix begged in sudden agitation. “Don’t let my aunt see us together. You go on ahead. Try not to let her see you. Please. You do understand, don’t you?”

  He gave her a hard look.

  “Perfectly,” he said.

  “Oh—” she began. But he was striding on ahead. By the time she had cleared her luggage and joined Lady Merrick in the reception hall, he had vanished.

  She felt both relieved and worried. She hated to think they had parted so abruptly and unfriendly. She knew she had been foolish—but the fact was that the mere sight of Eric Gore had caused her to lose her head for a moment.

  Richard had been so sweet to her. He had done everything he could, yesterday, to make her forget she had been jilted. He had made her feel precious, desirable—and all without saying a single intimate word. She felt she had treated him very shabbily. She hoped he would forgive her...

  Well, no use dwelling on the matter now. She ran to her aunt and hugged her warmly.

  “How sweet of you to come all this way to meet me, Aunt Drusilla,” she cried. “How are you?”

  “Very well, my dear. It’s splendid to see you again so soon—splendid for me, I mean. Did you have a terrible flight in that nasty little machine? You look quite pale.”

  “It wasn’t too bad. A bit bumpy.”

  “Eric has gone to order some coffee and sandwiches for us. He’s been such an angel. He happened to be at ‘Laguna’—on business connected with Herrold, needless to say. I’ll tell you all about it later, you won’t believe the man’s outrageous effrontery!—when they telephoned your cable. And my dear, nothing would do but we must jump into his car and drive off there and then to meet you. We drove like the wind. Quite petrifying—though of course Eric drives superbly.”

  “I’d been wondering about the bus. Oh, Nelson, darling.”

  As Lady Merrick talked Nelson had been trying to get in a word with Alix. Now, desperate, he stood up on his hind legs, put his front paws on her shoulders, and gave her chin a loving lick.

  “Down, Nelson,” ordered Lady Merrick sternly. “Sorry, dear. It’s just his way of making you welcome. He never forgets a friend.”

  Alix pushed him away from her and rubbed his head behind the ears.

  “Beautiful boy,” she said. He smirked and licked his lips. He knew quite well how beautiful he was!

  “Come over to the buffet, dearest,” said Lady Merrick. “Ah, here we are, Eric. Here is Alix.”

  Eric Gore stepped forward. If he didn’t actually click his heels and make her a bow, he gave the impression of doing so. Alix wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he had taken her hand and kissed it, so Teutonic did his blond head, light eyes, and something almost military in his carriage and bearing seem to her.

  He said smilingly, “Welcome back to Paradise, Miss Rayne. It was more than we had hoped for, to see you again so soon.”

  “It was very kind of you to drive my aunt over to meet me, Mr. Gore,” Alix said formally.

  There was something almost wolfish in the smile which accompanied his bland reply. “It was my pleasure.”

  He’s a phoney, I’m certain he is, Alix thought. It was my pleasure. People—men, ordinary Englishmen—don’t talk that way. His presence caused her a suffocating feeling of discomfort.

  He led them to a table, and a steward brought hot, fragrant coffee and a plate of tongue sandwiches.

  Though she had felt very hungry when they touched down, Alix found that her appetite had fled. She was upset over her treatment of Richard, worried over Gore’s unexpected appearance—as if he had the right to come and meet her—and felt tired and out of humour. Gone was the gay confidence she had felt on starting back to
Paradise.

  Eric Gore, however, seemed not to notice her mood. He plied them both assiduously with coffee and sandwiches. He kept up a suave, easy flow of small talk, questions, little jokes. He offered a sandwich to Nelson too, but Nelson fastidiously turned away his head.

  “He’s been trained not to take food from anyone but myself,” Lady Merrick hastened to explain.

  ‘Ah, a very obedient dog,” Eric Gore said; but Alix could see he was offended.

  She saw he had noticed she was no longer wearing her ring, but he didn’t, thank goodness, mention it. Her aunt had noticed too. She kept eyeing her niece with smiling approval.

  Despite her setback at the hands of Mr. Herrold, she seemed in excellent spirits. She laughed a lot. Perhaps, like Mr. Herrold himself, she was exhilarated by drama, opposition, a good fight.

  She looked, now, at her watch.

  “I suppose you’d like to be on the way, Eric?”

  “Whenever you’re ready, Lady M.”

  The big American car was waiting outside. Eric Gore settled Lady Merrick with Nelson in the back seat, which she insisted she preferred, put Alix in front, stowed her aircases in the boot, and took the wheel. He had pulled on a pair of pigskin gloves. He drove with a kind of elegant nonchalance, as if controlling a powerful car at high speed was as easy as falling off a log. The soft hat he had pulled down on his head gave him a rakish, swashbuckling air. He’s, doing everything for effect, Alix thought distastefully. Far from being grateful to him, she found herself positively resenting him, his car, his sophisticated talk, everything about him, in fact.