by Amanda Doyle
‘How do you know?’ Viv eyed her curiously.
‘Oh, from things Neil used to say. You can even tell it from that cable! Bossy and domineering, the sort who enjoys playing God. Send her out, he says, just like that. Who does he think he is?’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Do? Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Viv managed to appear startled.
‘Absolutely, definitely nothing. I mean, how could he expect me just to turn her over like that, when he never even bothered with her father, with his very own brother? I don’t know a single thing about him, do I, except that he sounds quite beastly and autocratic. Besides, I resent the way he says “neglected circumstances”. What right has he to say such a nasty and sweeping thing as that, after I’ve done the very best I can for Magda?’
‘Perhaps because, compared with what he can offer her himself, they appear to be neglected circumstances?’ suggested Viv gently. ‘You must admit you worry terribly about her, Rennie, and that the situation is anything but ideal. I love her too, you know that, but maybe I can take a more objective view than you. I mean, even now, she’ll hardly be discharged from hospital before you’ll have to put her back in that place so that you are able to go off to Fez.’
‘I know, I know.’ Rennie got up and paced about the room in a sudden, irritable burst of energy. ‘It’s only for a few weeks, though. And after that I can refuse any more overseas assignments. I agree it’s bad for Magda to be shoved around from pillar to post. I’ll just tell the agency that I’m not prepared to take work outside London after this.’
Vivien shook her head, her eyes softening at her friend’s obvious distress.
‘You can’t go on opting out of things for ever because of Magda, Rennie,’ she pointed out hesitantly. ‘You’ve given up enough already, and here you are again, talking of denying yourself professional opportunities that could further your career.’
‘Rubbish, Viv. What are a few modelling engagements, after all?’
‘I wasn’t referring necessarily to modelling engagements, if it’s engagements we’re talking about, Rennie,’ Viv returned dryly.
‘To what, then?’
‘To the traditional sort, actually. To your one with Keith.’
‘Keith?’
Keith! Odd how the mere mention of his name still had the power to hurt her! Viv had sprung it on her so abruptly that Rennie felt momentarily breathless with shock.
‘Keith and I were never engaged, Viv. You know that,’ she stated tightly, her voice quivering in spite of her effort to control it.
‘But you would have been—if it hadn’t been for Magda.’
Rennie shook her head.
‘All Keith wanted was—was a sophisticated sort of affair,’ she corrected bleakly. ‘And I wasn’t prepared to have one.’
‘No, Rennie, be honest. It wasn’t as simple as that’ Viv’s tone was compassionate, but firm. ‘That was because of Magda, too, really, wasn’t it? Because he wasn’t prepared to take on someone else’s child at the outset of his own marriage? If it hadn’t been for Magda, you’d have a hoop of diamonds on the fourth finger of your left hand, by now, and a wide gold band as well.’
‘Love me, love my dog—or rather, my little cousin,’ said Rennie hardily, but her voice was strangely husky and her eyes were misted over with unshed tears—tears which she was quite determined would never fall.
‘Oh, Rennie! Was that how it was? You issued a sort of ultimatum?’
She nodded miserably.
‘But so did he. Oh, Viv, let’s not talk about it. What’s the use?’
She couldn’t bear to remember Keith, had imagined that she had been successful in relegating him to the past.
He had been the one great experience of her life, Rennie admitted bitterly. He had taught her all she knew about love, in fact—that it could be rapturous, fleeting, absorbing, fickle. Too fickle, too shallow, too ephemeral to survive the presence of a little orphan-girl appendage with sober appeal in her gaze and thin scars on her cheeks and a worn-looking panda bear in her small, quietly hopeful hands.
Rennie had had lukewarm relationships with several men since then, but, after Keith, she found them lacking in some indefinable way. There was no magic, no spark, no chemistry. Or perhaps the fault lay with Rennie herself. Maybe she was a different person now, because she had allowed herself to be so deeply hurt. There was a certain comfort in being numb and cold and unresponsive. If you didn’t care, then you didn’t suffer. It was as simple as that. If you didn’t allow yourself to care, you were safe!
She ran lightly up the steps of the tall cream building in the Regency terrace where she and Vivien had their apartment, and buzzed for the lift.
At the top floor, she emerged, shut the grille automatically, and fished in her handbag for her key.
Her fingers were still scrabbling when the door opened.
‘Oh, Viv, thanks. You’re early, surely?’
‘And you’re late. How was she?’
‘Magda?’ Rennie unfastened her raincoat, slipped it off and placed it on a hanger in the hall. ‘So-so. A bit quiet, I thought, poor mite. Sort of depressed. Or maybe I was and it rubbed off, although I certainly tried to be at my brightest.’
Vivien gave her an odd glance—
‘Well, you’ll need to keep trying, Rennie, I’m afraid—to be your brightest, I mean!’
Something in her tone made the other girl pause in her actions, eyebrows raised questioningly.
‘What is it? Not—?’ She hesitated. ‘Not another cable?’
‘You’ve guessed it in one. They must have tried to phone it, but we were both out, of course. The envelope was on the floor when I came in. Here.’
Rennie’s fingers were shaking unaccountably as she opened it, and read the message. She was silent for so long that her flat-mate finally had to prompt her anxiously. ‘Well, Rennie? What does it say?’
‘Read it. Read it out aloud, please, Viv, just so that I’m sure I’ve got it right, will you.’
Viv obliged.
‘Kindly despatch Magda Sandasen at earliest convenience stop Consign to Mascot airport Sydney stop Advise ETD and flight number stop Finance available in my name London Branch Kattelko upon identification.’ Viv paused. ‘That’s all. Except for the signature.’
‘Chalford Sandasen again. How I’m beginning to loathe that name!’
‘What are you going to do this time?’
Viv’s voice was concerned. One couldn’t but be aware of the glitter of anger in Rennie’s lovely brown eyes, the dangerous flush of those high-boned cheeks, the brittle gruffness in her usually tranquil tones.
‘I’m going to send him an answer right back, right now.’ She marched to the telephone. ‘May I have it, Viv? Is it reply-paid again?’
‘It is.’
Rennie’s teeth flashed in amusement at her companion’s gesture; of resignation as she returned the cablegram to its rightful owner.
‘Don’t worry—I know how to deal with his sort,’ she assured her friend scathingly, as she gave her number, and then she was dictating her reply with measured confidence.
‘To Chalford Sandasen, Kattelko, Sydney. This is a human being we are discussing not a pound of sausages stop Refuse dispatch pending further information regarding character and personal credentials. Renata Bentmore.’
‘That should fix him!’ said Rennie with some relish, as she replaced the receiver.
Only, of course it didn’t, although for a full week afterwards Rennie was under the impression that she had silenced that subtle persecutor from the furthest Antipodes, whose suggestions had recently caused her so much soul-searching and loss of sleep.
The next communication was in the form of an airmailed letter, and it wasn’t from Chalford Sandasen at all.
It was from a firm of solicitors—his solicitors—and one only had to note the impressive number of additional qualifications after the partners’ names, feel the pleasingly substantial textu
re of the watermarked notepaper, to sense that they were a firm of eminent respectability.
‘Dear Madam,’ they began with traditional and satisfying deference, ‘We have been instructed by our client, Mr. Chalford Sandasen, to communicate with you on his behalf regarding his proposal for the legal adoption of his niece, Miss Magda Sandasen, who is at present, we understand, under your voluntary .guardianship. As Mr. Sandasen is a figure of impeccable standing and having substantial interests in the Australian pastoral industry, including Barrindilloo Pastoral Company, Mawsby Investments, Koontilla Pty., and Emu International, together with extensive lesser interests, and as the child Magda Sandasen is legally already his niece, Mr. Sandasen considers that he is suitably placed to give her the best possible opportunities in life. He has instructed us to emphasize the precarious nature of your own occupation as a fashion model; the inexperience of life inevitable in a single woman of a mere twenty-three years and her attendant shortcomings as a permanent guardian; the vagaries of London’s climate, with possibly injurious effects upon the health of an unfortunate child, who is evidently unable to share your own frequent excursions to sunnier climes; the lack of financial stability and continuity of schooling. Our client is confident that, upon consideration of all the above-mentioned aspects, you will concur with his wishes in the matter, thus obviating the painful necessity of further legal procedures against you on his part. In this we share our client’s optimism, and trust that your good sense will prevail in this matter. May we add, Madam, in the anticipation of further correspondence, that it is most inadvisable to question Mr. Chalford Sandasen’s financial, moral or social status. He was, not unnaturally, greatly displeased at the implications of such a query, and we would suggest in all humility that henceforth it would be prudent to resist an impulse possibly engendered by both distance and ignorance. We remain, Madam, your most humble and obedient servants.’
The letter was promptly reinforced by the arrival of yet another cable.
It was brief and to the point.
‘Final offer to receive child into my household stop Am prepared finance your chaperonage on trip plus sojourn of three months to accustom Magda to altered circumstances stop Option closes midnight tomorrow Australian time stop Remember we are ten hours ahead. Chalford Sandasen.’
Rennie sank on to the sofa, momentarily stunned.
‘Ten hours ahead! Why, that means I have to make up my mind right away!’
She gazed in perplexity from the message still held limply between her slender fingers to her flat-mate, who was already in the act of pouring them both a reviving cup of coffee.
‘Viv, for the first time in my life, I just don’t know what to do,’ she confessed miserably.
‘It’s quite a decision to make, Rennie, I agree—one that you could tear yourself apart over, in fact.’
‘He sounds such a—a brute. And as for those lawyers, they’re not my humble and obedient servants, whatever they avow at the end of that horrible letter—they’re his! The entire document reveals his nasty mind at the back of it, all the way through. Precarious nature of your livelihood, he says. Huh!’ She gulped a mouthful of coffee indignantly, found it too hot, and replaced the cup hastily back upon its saucer. ‘And, Viv, what can he possibly mean by that bit about Magda being unable to accompany me on my excursions to sunnier climes? Do you suppose he has actually found out about the—the children’s homes?’
‘It certainly looks that way,’ admitted Viv reluctantly. ‘Remember his very first message began “Upon investigation”.’
‘A private detective, maybe?’ Rennie’s voice held disgust. ‘But that’s snooping! It’s despicable! And that nasty crack about sunnier climes—you’d think I’d gone off on a holiday each time, instead of those hours and hours of dreary posing, changing, posing, until I could have screamed with boredom and ended up aching in every muscle. It—it’s downright unjust!’
Vivien shrugged.
‘Life is, though, isn’t it, at times? I mean, look at poor little Magda herself, the innocent victim of that awful crash. When one thinks of what she has been through in the hospital, too, it seems unfair that it’s all had to happen to just one small girl.’
There was utter silence in the flat following this remark.
Rennie sat hunched and preoccupied, staring miserably at the small gas fire that glowed from the wall near her legs, while the other girl finished her own coffee and began quietly to replace the cups on the tray beside her.
It was Vivien who spoke again—haltingly, with a gentle, half-apologetic glance at the dejected figure of the slender model-girl at her side. Even at her most despondent there was a beauty and individuality about Rennie that at this particular moment moved Viv to pity. Her very loveliness made her appear more vulnerable, somehow.
‘Rennie darling, I don’t want to sway you one way or the other, or interfere, you know that, but well—all that sunshine! I mean, just think of it. The sun, the sea, those lovely beaches for a child to romp and play on—Sydney’s supposed to have dozens of them, right up the coastline; no money worries, and very probably some other children as playmates, too. He did say he wanted to receive her into his household, didn’t he, and that indicates a wife and a family.’
‘You think I should let her go?’
‘I’m only trying to point out that it does seem like a chance in a million for Magda. An opportunity that may never come her way again. And he is her closest relative. I fully believe what his solicitors hint, too, in their letter—that he’ll stop at nothing to get her.’
Rennie sighed. There was resignation and defeat in that sound.
‘You’re right, of course. I’ve known it myself, all the time, I think. I just didn’t want to part with her, I guess. She has become my raison d’etre, somehow, Viv—a part of my life.’
‘Or an excuse for opting out of it? Forgive me, Rennie,’ her friend added hastily, seeing the wounded look in the beautiful tawny eyes, ‘but you’ve made Magda the reason for not meeting other men, ever since Keith. Oh, yes, you have! And you can’t go on opting out for ever, you know. Come to that, I’ve always felt that you and he might still—’
‘Do let’s leave it!’ begged Rennie, the old anguish flooding through her. ‘At least I shall be able to go out with Magda, and see for myself that she is really going to be happy,’ she continued brightly, determinedly forcing her mind away from the painful topic of Keith Stamford. ‘It’s something to be thankful for, that—that I’ll be able to see her new home for myself.’
‘And quite generous of him, too. I mean, think of it, three months on that sunny southern continent! I’m beginning to envy you, Rennie!’
The other girl spread her fingers in a disparaging gesture.
‘Generosity is relative to one’s means,’ she pointed out tersely. ‘I dare say, from what those solicitors said in their letter, that my return fare from England is just a tiny drop in the ocean to their precious client. It’ll mean no more to him than a ticket on the tube from Piccadilly to Oxford Circus! And he’ll be there, won’t he, Viv, for the whole of my sunny three months? In all his autocratic splendour? So I don’t think you need envy me too much. I detest his very name! I shall hate every minute of it!’ she declared with uncharacteristic vehemence.
Viv pursed her lips and wisely changed course.
‘What about Morocco, Rennie? Will you still go? And when do you plan to leave with Magda?’
‘As soon as she’s discharged, I expect. She’ll be able to have the necessary vaccination in hospital, I’m sure, if I have a word with the Sister. There’s no point in waiting longer, and it would hardly be worth her while starting school again here, for such a short time. As for Fez—’ she shrugged fatalistically—‘I shall have to cancel it, that’s certain. I don’t suppose they’ll ever ask me again, they’ll be so fed up. Ah, well, it’s all one can expect, in my particular livelihood—it’s so competitive, and there’s always someone just waiting to take one’s place, and step right into
one’s shoes, and oust one from the lists. Maybe that’s the precarious bit that that odious man referred to!’ There was a bite in her voice, because she was endeavouring to hide her very real disappointment.
It was for Magda’s sake, though, she reminded herself grimly, and she had done so much for the little girl, ungrudgingly, already, that she must try to make this final gesture in as warm-hearted a manner as possible.
Poor dear little Magda! It wasn’t her fault, after all!
Rennie went to the telephone, and sent the reply that was obviously expected of her, and when she put down the instrument it was with a sense of finality, irrevocability. And foreboding? Surely not! What was there to feel apprehensive about, after all? As Viv had rightly said, it was a chance in a million for the child, and for herself it meant a mere three months’ leave of absence. She would soon pick up the threads again when she returned, even if some competitor had jostled her out of her position at the top.
She became absorbed in the problem of how best to broach the topic to Magda.
It would need to sound like an exciting and enjoyable adventure, a marvellous excursion to a magical land, to a mystery-place, a continent seamed with antiquity, where barren ranges erupted out of limitless plains, and slow-moving rivers writhed tortuously into billabongs as they lazed, groping their way to soak finally away into the depths of the earth itself, and strange marsupials—the oddities of the nature world—bounded through endless scrub, and magnetic anthills stood high and desolate—sequestered graveyards paying homage to the north—and the pallid trunks of ghost-gums rose like lonely sentinels against the ochre of crumbling red ridges. A land of a thousand horizons, of shimmering sunsets and blazing dawns, of aborigines and boomerangs and kangaroos and swagmen—of all the things, indeed, that Rennie, and others like her, had gathered from those inviting travel posters and documentaries that one sees from time to time, luring the reader and the viewer to that other, distant hemisphere.
