Kelly's Man

by Rosemary Carter

  It soon became evident that Gary had lost his nerve, and that George was having to manipulate him back up the slope. There was a simultaneous expelling of breath as a fair head showed above the level of the path. Even then Gary could not manage the remaining few feet on his own. Alex reached him a hand and pulled him on to the path, where he sank down, exhausted.

  Kelly was about to kneel at his side when it happened. A rock was dislodged by Gary's foot. George dodged its fall. It missed his head, but struck his leg. An exclamation of pain, and then George had slipped back on to the ledge.

  The next hours were a nightmare Kelly would never forget. Kelly and Sheila remained on the cliff path by the overhanging rock while Gary and Alex went back to the hotel to seek help. The two girls were unable to go down to George. There was the danger that in their inexperience they too would slip, and this time the ledge might not stop a fall. They could only stay where they were, and call words of encouragement down the slope. After a while George ceased to answer. They knew already that his leg had been injured by the falling rock, and that he was in great pain. They did not know the extent of the injury, and when he lapsed into silence they could only guess he was unconscious. There was nothing they could do but pray that he would lie still until help came.

  There was little communication between the two girls. Kelly had been aware of Sheila's antagonism from the start; an antagonism that stemmed— judging by her comments—from envy of Kelly's money. Till now the antagonism had been veiled with a kind of joking asperity. Once Kelly had mentioned it to Gary, but he had said she was oversensitive, imagining something that did not exist. Although she did not agree with him, Kelly had not mentioned the matter again. She had in fact tried to get on with the other girl, because if she had allowed an argument to flare up between them, it would have become impossible for them to share a room. At times Kelly suspected that this was just what Sheila wanted, for she had made it quite clear that she had expected to sleep with Alex. So Kelly, to whom the status quo was important, had done her best to keep the relationship harmonious, at least on the surface.

  New, with George unconscious beneath them, there was silence on the cliff path. For once Kelly made no attempt to be friendly. It was as if the starkness of the accident had shown the futility of sham smiles and small-talk, had stripped away the differences between reality and pretence. It was a starkness which demanded honesty, which defied any effort at pushing unpleasant thoughts to the further reaches of the mind.

  Sitting on the rough scrub, with only a stunted acacia for shade, Kelly was forced to assess what had happened. In particular she was forced to think of her fiancé as he had revealed himself in the last twenty-four hours. She was forced to admit that the recklessness and impetuousness which had appealed to her were in fact parts of a personality in which selfishness yielded to nothing.

  For she had seen Gary's face when he had left the overhanging rock with Alex. For a short while after he had reached the sanctuary of the path he had been confused, uncertain, glad to have firm ground beneath his feet. There had been a look in his eyes which revealed that there had been a few moments when the threat of death had been very real.

  It was a look which lasted no more than minutes. By the time he left with Alex to go back along the way they had come, the old expression was in his eyes—the wildness, the daring. And something more—a stormy defiance, the resentment of one who was being made, against his will, to pay the price for his misdeeds.

  In vain Kelly had searched his face for a hint of remorse.

  Was this the real Gary? she wondered now, as the long slumbrous afternoon hours merged one into another. All the qualities which had once seemed so attractive, were they no more than the trappings of a man who was wilful and stubborn to the exclusion of anyone but himself? Thoughtfully she looked at the ring which sparked blue fire on the third finger of her left hand. Was it only the accident which made her so introspective, so that she felt she was engaged to a stranger whom she knew hardly at all?-

  It came to her quite suddenly that she loved Gary. Loving a person meant accepting his good points along with the bad. She had her own imperfections. How would she feel if Gary stopped loving her merely because her behaviour did not meet his expectations? Besides, she was engaged to him; she had made a commitment. And having made a commitment Kelly did not easily retreat.

  The afternoon moved on. Shadows formed, lengthened. Now and then Kelly walked a little way back along the path to a point where she could see some distance out of the mountain cleft and into the valley where the hotel was situated, but nothing stirred. Anxiously she looked down the slope. George was still motionless. She hoped he would remain so, for a returning consciousness would bring pain and the dreadful danger that he would move and fall from the ledge.

  But there was danger also in his unconsciousness. As hot as it had been during the day, Kelly knew that once the sun set it would grow cold very quickly. She and Sheila had their cardigans; they could even huddle together if it grew really cold. But George wore only shorts and a cotton shirt. He could die of exposure. If only they could find a way of keeping him warm...

  She glanced at Sheila, who was leaning back on her elbows, her expression remote. 'I hope the men reached the hotel safely.'

  'Alex will certainly hear from me if they dawdled.'

  'Do you think...' It was hard to say the words, when the implications of the question were so serious. 'Do you think the rescue party will find its way in the dark?'

  'They'd better.' Sheila's voice was hard. 'I have no intention of spending the night in this Godforsaken spot.'

  'You don't care about George, do you?' The words were out before Kelly could stop them, her dislike of the other girl so intense that she forgot her resolve to be tactful. 'He could die of exposure.'

  'He knew the risks when he took your money.' There was no mistaking the malice in Sheila's tone, nor the emphasis on the word 'your'. She went on before Kelly could speak, 'And don't pretend to be so shocked. You knew what you were doing when you bribed him.'

  Kelly bit back the retort which sprang to her lips. It was futile to argue. Sickened, she looked away into the growing darkness.

  It was dark when the rescue party arrived, an eerie darkness, with just a narrow wedge of star- studded sky visible in the cleft between the mountains rising high on both sides of the canyon. Kelly breathed with relief at the first sight of flickering torchlight.

  It was another half hour before the rescuers finally came to the rock. Gary and Alex were with the party, but it was the man called Nicholas who claimed Kelly's startled attention. He did not speak to the girls, except to ask them a few necessary questions. Then he began to direct the rescue operations. As Kelly watched him, she was caught by his air of authority and a decisiveness that was sure without being over-confident. She did not know who the men were who comprised the rescue party, but she saw that they worked as a team, looking to Nicholas as their leader, accepting his orders without question.

  Though the operation was fraught with danger, there was no sense of panic. It was as if the team knew that the man who led them would make the wisest decisions possible in the circumstances, that he would do what had to be done without creating unnecessary hazards. Kelly knew how they felt because she felt the same way, though she could not have explained the reason.

  Nicholas was more than a man who gave directives. Kelly watched him climb down the slope to the ledge where George lay. She was not consciously aware that she was holding her breath, that his safety was in some peculiar way important to her. But when George was hauled at last to safety, and when Nicholas reached the cliff path once more she was filled with relief—also an inexplicable pride.

  Gedrge was laid gently on a stretcher and covered with blankets. He stirred once and groaned, and Kelly wondered if he was coming round. Then he lay still again and she was glad. The way down the mountain would be bumpy. Better for George to be unconscious than to suffer extra pain.

  AS THE
RESCUE PARTY STARTED ON ITS WAY NICHOLAS LOOKED AT KELLY. THERE WAS NOTHING CASUAL IN THE GLANCE. IT EXCLUDED SHEILA, EVEN GARY AND ALEX WHO HAD WATCHED THE ENTIRE PROCEEDINGS SILENTLY AND WITHOUT ANY OFFER OF HELP. IT WAS A HARD LOOK, LOADED WITH UNSPOKEN CONTEMPT. IT WAS AN EFFORT TO MEET THAT LOOK, BUT SOMEHOW KELLY MANAGED IT. THE SILENT INTERCHANGE LASTED NO MORE THAN A FEW SECONDS. BUT INSIDE KELLY, AS SHE BEGAN TO FOLLOW THE SWAYING STRETCHER WITH HER FIANCÉ AND HIS FRIENDS TENSION FORMED A TIGHT KNOT OF PAIN.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHEN Kelly awoke the next morning she dressed quickly and went to the office. She learned that George had been taken to hospital and that Mary, his wife, was with him. Nothing was known yet of his condition, except that it seemed likely that his leg was broken. It seemed there was nothing she could do except to ask the desk clerk to convey her regrets for the accident as well as her best wishes. She would have liked to remain at the hotel a while longer, at least until there was more definite news of George, but even last night, as they had walked wearily back to the hotel through the darkness, Gary had been adamant about leaving. Nothing would induce him to change his mind. Alex and Sheila felt the same way.

  There was no sign of Nicholas in the dining-room or in the grounds of the hotel, and Kelly told herself that she was glad. His contempt as they had begun the walk down the mountain was still very vivid in her mind.

  Breakfast was an uncomfortable meal, hasty and tasteless. It was as if Gary, Alex and Sheila could not wait to go. When they had finished eating the men bundled the suitcases into the car. As they drove down the long winding path that led from Great Peaks Lodge to the main road, Kelly noticed that none of her companions turned back to the hotel for a last look.

  They had been out of the mountains for some hours now. The countryside was less dramatic but still beautiful, green and gently undulating in a manner very typical of Natal, but Kelly saw none of it.

  'We ought to go back,' she observed.

  'That's the fourth time you've said it.' Gary was impatient. 'You're beginning to sound boring.'

  Alex and Sheila said nothing, but they had made their comments already. Kelly knew that they felt as Gary did; George Anderson had known what he was doing when he had agreed to guide them up the mountain. The accident had been unfortunate, but they were in no way to blame. As far as they were concerned the matter was ended.

  'George didn't know you would go down the slope.' Kelly bit her lip, knowing the remark would incur her fiance's anger. 'He tried to call you back.'

  'Give me a break, Kelly!' The hands that clenched the wheel were white-knuckled, the eyes that turned momentarily from the road blazed with uncontrolled fury. 'I didn't mean to slip. None of us are perfect.' He paused. When he went on his tone was edged with malice. 'Though perhaps having so much money gives you an illusion of perfection.'

  A hushed silence followed his words. Kelly stared at Gary as if at a stranger. Every nerve quivered with anger and disappointment. Words rushed to her lips, but she bit them back as something inside her urged her to keep silent, telling her to leave further discussion of what had happened until a time when emotions had cooled. This was only the first crisis in her life with Gary. There would be others. Unless she learned how to deal with them there could be no happiness in their marriage.

  And then she knew that she could not keep silent, no matter the consequences. In a tight voice she said, 'When we get to Estcourt you can drop me at the station.'

  'Honey...' There was a new look in Gary's eyes, one which Kelly wished she had not seen. It was a look which was oddly out of place in her exuberant fiance, as if he was seeing a prize vanishing from his fingers and wondered what he could do to prevent it happening. His voice too held an unaccustomed note of panicked conciliation. 'Look, honey, perhaps I've been a bit hard, but...'

  She could not bear to hear any more. She did not want to see Gary debase himself. 'Leave it now.' She forced a smile. 'I'll take a railway coach back to the hotel. I want to make sure George is all right.'

  'We could all go...'

  'No.' She shook her head a little too firmly. More than anything else she needed to be on her own for a while. 'I'll meet up with you in Durban. No, Gary, please don't say anything more. I'm going back alone.'

  The desk clerk looked only mildly surprised to see her. In response to Kelly's question, he said that he thought Mrs Anderson was resting; she had spent most of the night at the hospital.

  A little disconsolately Kelly turned away. She had returned to Great Peaks Lodge with the purpose of seeing Mary Anderson. She still would see her. But for the moment she was uncertain what to do next. It did not occur to her to ask for a room. After she had spoken to George's wife she would make her way back to Estcourt and from there to Durban.

  She walked a little way from the desk in the direction of the big french doors which led on to a wide slastoed verandah. Sooner or later, she supposed, Mary Anderson would emerge from her room. Then she would talk to her. In the meantime, it seemed there was nothing to do but stroll around the garden a while and enjoy the view of the mountains.

  'Well, if it isn't Miss Stanwick!'

  Kelly spun round. Lost in thought, she had not seen him approach. He was looking down at her, hands stuck carelessly in the waistband of well- tailored cord trousers, grey eyes narrowed and watchful. She knew his full name now—Nicholas Van Mijden. Irrelevantly it came to her that no man had the right to look quite as virile and masculine as he did.

  She swallowed. 'Hello, Mr Van Mijden.'

  'I understand you and your friends had left.'

  'We had. I... I decided to come back.'

  'Why?'

  For somebody who, it seemed, must be employed at the hotel—hard though it was to see Nicholas Van Mijden accountable to anyone but himself— there was an arrogance in his tone towards a guest which was surely inappropriate.

  He was waiting for her answer. For a moment she was tempted to turn her back on him. Then she thought better of it. The memory of his contempt on the mountain had in no way faded. For some reason she needed to redeem his impression of her. It did not occur to her at that moment why this should in any way be important.

  'I'd like to help,' she said simply.

  His eyes held hers steadily. 'Interesting,' he murmured without expression.

  Kelly could have left it at that. Her business was with Mary Anderson, nobody else. But the direct gaze of the steady grey eyes was doing peculiar things to her heartbeat. She was filled with the sudden need to talk, anything to lessen the tension that was building inside her.

  'I'll be speaking to Mrs Anderson.'

  'Mary is resting. In the meantime, I'd like to hear about this offer myself.' He gestured. 'We'll talk in the card-room.'

  'No!' The exclamation bubbled hysterically from her throat. She knew the card-room. She could not go there with this man. It would be empty at this time of the day, and she did not want to be alone with him. Not that he would harm her in any way, but there would be an intimacy, even if only she Herself was aware of it, which she could not endure.

  'Yes.' An impatient command. A hand gripped her arm, as if he meant to force her to go with him to the little room near the office. When she could catch her breath she would resent his autocratic manner. But for a moment there was only the tingling feeling on her skin where the lean fingers held her.

  Abruptly she shook herself free. 'All right,' she agreed jerkily, 'though it's really no business of yours.'

  'Where's Mr Sloan?' came the unexpected question, when the door of the little room was closed.

  Kelly's chin lifted defiantly at his tone. There was no reason for this insufferable man to know the truth. 'He had to get back to Durban.'

  'Leaving his fiancee to make amends on her own.' She saw the gleam in the dark eyes as he cut off her protest. 'Don't bother to defend him. What interests me is your own offer of help.'

  For a few seconds she toyed with the idea of remaining silent. But there was something about this man—the tall bro
ad shoulders blocking the doorway, the inherent sense of unyielding authority— which seemed to demand an answer.

  'I intend to give Mrs Anderson some money.'

  'Really?' he drawled, and it came to her that he was in no way surprised. 'So you've come back to play Lady Bountiful?'

  'No need to make it sound so ugly!' She threw the words at him tightly. 'I had the feeling it might be of help.'

  'Because you remembered George saying that money would be useful right now.' There was an ominous quality in the quiet voice.

  'Well, yes...'

  'Tell me, Miss Stan wick, do you buy your way out of every situation?'

  She was stung by the deliberate insult. 'How dare you!' she exclaimed angrily.

  He laughed mockingly. 'You don't like the truth?' A slight pause. 'Or is it just that your tribe of hangers-on tell you only what you want to hear?'

  Anger surged through her, but even through the anger his words had the power to hurt. 'I don't care for your implications, Mr Van Mijden.' Somehow she managed to keep her voice low and controlled.

  'No?' His gaze lingered on her face, taking in the stormy eyes, the flushed cheeks. Then it descended slowly, blatantly, to the intensely feminine curves of her figure. 'Perhaps it's just that as you're the only daughter of a millionaire industrialist none of your other acquaintances has ever thwarted you?'

  She was shaken. He knew more about her than she had realised.

  'I didn't think my father's name had spread this far.' She tried to keep her tone light.

  'We do read newspapers in the backwaters of the Drakensberg.' There was a sardonic light in the glance he threw her. 'Even without that—there was the gossip of your friends.'