“You had David on your side yesterday, so you feel secure, don’t you?” Deline’s narrow lips became compressed. “You’re smug with success, because you’ve managed the reverse of what I was after. Paul has gone, and Clive is still here! Inwardly, you must be crowing!”
“No, I’m merely relieved that something has happened to jerk Paul back to his senses. He’s the only one I’m concerned with.”
“Do you think I believe that?” Deline’s red head pushed back hard into the cushion. “Do you think I don’t know what’s going on in that girlish head of yours? Do you think I haven’t noticed the occasional flush, the fluttering and despondency—and all for David!”
Susan was white. “Aren’t you going a little far? There’s a good deal...”
“Don’t instruct me!” said Deline through closed teeth. “I knew from the beginning that you and I couldn’t live peaceably in the same house. I’ve never shared anyone or anything, and I’ve no intention of beginning now. I’m warning you, Susan...”
Deline stopped, turning to glare at Clive in the doorway. He strolled in, allowed his smile to rest for a moment on Susan, then glanced at Deline.
“I wouldn’t warn Susan any more, if I were you,” he said lazily. “It won’t do any good.”
Susan drew in her lip, gave him a smile that was bleak and uncertain, and went out into the garden.
Clive pressed out the cigarette he had been smoking and moved a little, so that he could lean against the frame of the open window, He looked sideways down at Deline, saw the coins of color in her cheeks, and smiled with a trace of mockery.
“It’s really got you, sweetie,” he said. “You’d have backed your influence with Paul against Wyn Knight’s any day. But the fellow’s in love, so you don’t count any longer. Poor little redhead.”
“What a humorist you are!” she said. “When you’ve finished enjoying yourself at my expense you can clear out and leave me alone!”
“Don’t behave like an idiot, Deline. I’m the only friend you have in this house.”
“If you’re trying out the old tricks, Clive...”
“I’m not.” He turned to face her more fully, and spoke deliberately. “When you see someone you’ve cared for making a hell of a mess of her own and other people’s lives, it’s human nature to take a step or two. What were you warning Susan about when I came in?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Perhaps I know already. You were telling her to keep her green eyes off David. Which means that you still think you have a chance with him.”
“My dear man...”
“Save it, Deline. I know your technique backwards.” He slumped again, with the wall at his back, but his glance remained intent upon her. “For a change you’ll listen to me. If you were the only eligible woman in Rhodesia David wouldn’t marry you. You proved it yourself, by faking an illness. He was worried about you, because he blamed himself, but if he’d been in love with you he would have behaved differently. As a matter of fact, I’ve studied David rather closely.”
“You can certainly do with studying a man like David!”
“I agree,” he answered carelessly. “But I studied him with you in mind, not myself. Before we went to Mozambique I watched him with you and didn’t see a single sign that he might be in love with you. However, knowing that he’s something of a poker player, I reserved judgment till we were away. Even then, there was no particular indication one way or the other, till you thought up that nasty headache.”
“David did everything for me. He turned straight back to Willowfield and immediately called a doctor.”
“But, Deline, my dear,” he remonstrated gently, “if I’d been the sick one he’d have done the same for me. You weren’t told the whole of it. David attended you because he was afraid whatever you had might be infectious; he wouldn’t let Susan near you in case she caught something.”
Deline stared up at him, her face a mask. “You’re lying. David said he knew it wasn’t infectious because I had no temperature.”
“David isn’t a doctor, but he’s well aware, like the rest of us, that some infections are obscure and don’t run according to book. In any case, he’s far too considerate to exaggerate your condition to you yourself. But just let’s suppose he’d been in love with you—what would he have done?”
“You tell me!”
“Very well, I will. He’d have wrapped you closely in blankets in the car, disconnected the trailer and zoomed home in half the time, leaving me to procure some other means of transport for Susan and myself.”
“Why should he do that?” she demanded angrily. “I wasn’t that ill.”
“Perhaps he guessed that, too.” He grinned suddenly. “It’s all against you, Deline. The man just doesn’t care enough, and you’re wasting your time and acting abilities. Do you realize he had to choose between leaving me with Susan and taking longer to get you back here?”
“If you mean what I think you mean,” she said with dangerous calm, “you’d better get out of this room. I’ve stood enough from you, Clive!”
He straightened slowly, the smile became set on his lips. “What a colossal nerve you have, my angel. So you’ve stood enough? Well, well. Let’s see if you can stand a little more. I’m leaving Rhodesia, and you’re going with me, headache or no headache. You can begin packing today, because we shall be leaving early tomorrow.”
“Oh, be quiet!”
“I was never more serious, Deline.”
‘The masterful pose doesn’t suit you, Clive! I know what you’ve wanted all along. You’ve done your best to spoil David’s impression of me because you thought that was the only way to get me yourself. Since I’ve been free”—the blue eyes were brilliant with fury—“you’ve dogged me as if I were an objet d’art for your sale-room. In England, you were so sure that at last I’d marry you, that you practically moved into the nursing home. And when I came to Rhodesia you followed, feeling pretty sure of yourself.”
“I won’t dispute that, because there’s a grain of truth in it. I did come to Africa to try my luck for the last time, but queerly enough I completed the cure instead. I wouldn’t marry you now if you begged me to.”
“Then why should it matter to you when I go back to England?”
“It matters for someone else, my pet. You’re in the way—very much so. I’ve already explained that David’s concern at the camp was more for Susan than for you. I just wish you could have seen the look he gave me when I put my arm round her! Come, Deline, you’re not obtuse.”
She lowered her legs and stood up. The color had gone from her cheeks, leaving them wax-pale, and those angry blue eyes were dark. “I won’t listen to any more!”
“There’s just this. That threat I made about giving David the whole works if you didn’t let up on Paul Darcey still holds good—only the conditions are a little different. Before lunchtime today you must tell him you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“You’re pretty low, aren’t you?” she said softly. “You think these tactics will get results, but they won’t.”
“The tactics are solely for you, Deline. I won’t have to use any with David. He’ll find the truth a great relief!”
“I refuse to listen to any more. Seeing that you won’t go, I’ll go myself!”
“Fine. Let me know if you want any help with your packing.”
But Deline was gone, snapping the door shut behind her.
Clive remained where he was for the moment, his expression unchanged. Then he turned and stared moodily out at the garden, and a faint bitterness pulled at his mouth. He sighed heavily. Thank God for the cynic’s guise.
Susan, meanwhile, was at the cottage. Because it was difficult to sit still she had moved about the rooms, and in her own room she had paused and tried to take an interest in Clive’s native curios. There were buckskin shields, steel-pointed assegais, figurines in tropical woods, clay heads, printed leatherwork and a few ostrich eggs mounted on polished quartz and painted with
native figures.
Her steps in the house sounded hollow, because the boy had taken up the rugs for a beating while Paul was away. In true African fashion he had upset the house and gone off for the day; he was probably having a great time looking forward to a lazy week.
Susan looked in the fridge and found it almost empty, then she sat down on a kitchen chair, rested her arms on the table and tried to work out what she would do if Paul married Wyn Knight. After a moment it came to her that she wouldn’t be here, even for their wedding, For a while at least she would be in the south of France with her mother and Henry Westham, and after that she would have to find a job.
Well, that was life, and she had never expected miracles. Life did seem to have dealt her a few raw blows during the past weeks, but there was nothing to be gained from lying down under them. She was lucky, really, to be leaving Africa and its reminders, but she did wish, desperately, that the parting was behind her.
She got up and filled the kettle, set it to boil on the spirit stove. She noticed that the legs of the white-enamelled able were already scarred, the curtains soiled by grubby fingers, and she regretted that she had not given more time to the training of the houseboy. Still, she had made him into a good cook, which was important. Perhaps while Paul was away she could work alongside the boy and teach him the value of a little care with the furniture.
Waiting for the water to boil, she rearranged the china cupboard so that the articles continually in use were nearer to hand, and tidied the cloths and mats in the drawers. She made some tea, but when she had poured a cup found she had to drink it black or go without.
It was after she had emptied the teapot and washed her cup and saucer that she heard a step in the living-room. Her heart beats became hammer-strokes, and it needed an effort of will to move towards the door that stood ajar.
“Oh, hallo,” she said, moving her throat to ease the constriction. “I thought you’d be out till lunch.”
David was just faintly paler than normal, and his mouth looked as if he had been holding it in and now found difficulty in relaxing it. “I guessed you’d be here,” he said, “but there’s not much pleasure in an empty house. Why did you come?”
“I often come here when the house is empty.”
“Yes, I know.”
She looked at him curiously, saw something in his glance that was unnerving, and looked away again. “Have I ... offended you in some way? I mean ... some new way?”
“No, of course not. Susan...”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been talking to Clive. It seems a few things have occurred while I was away at the sheds, and he was very ... enlightening.”
“Was he?” was all she could manage.
He gave a brief strained laugh. “My dear girl, don’t look like that. I’m only hoping to heaven he knew what he was talking about!”
Her head bent. “He’s usually reliable, even though you don’t care to believe it. What did he tell you?”
“Among other things, that he and Deline are leaving Willowfield tomorrow.”
“Leaving?” She stared at him. “He told you that himself? Why should they go suddenly, like that?”
“I’m not sure, but I can make a guess. We’d come to a point where something had to happen, and this is it.”
“But—Deline! She can’t possibly have agreed to it.” He replied a little shortly. “I didn’t see Deline, but Amos said she had asked for her cases to be taken to her bedroom, so Clive’s news was true enough.”
“Are you ... going to let her go?”
He laughed suddenly. “Good Lord, yes! I shall take the greatest pleasure in driving them both to Salisbury. By the way”—his pause seemed charged—“that wasn’t all Clive told me.”
“It was enough, surely? It will alter the set-up considerably. You’ll have your house to yourself. I shall have to move over here tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid you will.” His eyes were dark, with small lights in them. “How do you feel about Clive’s departure?”
“I somehow sensed he’d be leaving soon. He’s enjoyed Rhodesia, but he doesn’t really fit in.”
“I meant personal feelings.”
“Clive’s nice, but there’s nothing personal in what I feel for him.”
“Are you sure?”
She looked at him, startled. “I know what you’re getting at and the answer is still no. I’ve never lost my head over Clive.”
“But you seem to have found him a great comfort at times!”
“Perhaps that’s why I liked him,” she replied stiffly. “For Paul’s sake I’m glad Mrs. Maynton is going.”
“Is that all? Not for your own?”
Her legs were weak. Not to look at him was like resisting a magnet. “What do you want me to say—that I’m glad to be relieved of the necessity for staying in your house?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t ever say that. You need Willowfield, Susan, and you need me.” He gave a queer laugh. “I’ve waited far too long for this moment. And for heaven’s sake don’t start a debate just now. Just come into my arms and be quiet!”
The hands at her sides were cold and clammy. She couldn’t move, and for a moment neither did David. But his arms were there, reaching, compelling, and she was hauled close to him and held there, while his hand moved roughly over the back of her head. To Susan it was like a long waking dream ... till he held her away from him and she met eyes that were like banked furnaces. Then he kissed her, drugging her senses.
“I don’t know who invented the kiss,” he said at last, a little indistinctly, “but whoever it was sure knew what he was about. It says so much without the banality of words.”
“You kissed me once before.”
“You resisted me then, with every nerve-beat.”
She rubbed her cheek against his shirt-pocket. “David, I so want to believe this.”
“You shall,” he said gently. “This is where you start to be happy, really happy. I was beginning to despair of ever holding you like this and knowing we belong. I seem to have been aching for you for ever.”
“Then why has everything been so ... horrid?”
He slightly relaxed his arms. “It’s been hell, hasn’t it? But this makes up for it. Another kiss, my darling.”
A little later they came out of the cottage into the sunshine. A bird was trilling with penetrating sweetness, and up at the sheds the kaffir dogs were yapping at play. New frangipani blossoms were coming along to scent the breeze, and above the green screen the scribble of lilac mountains was like a mirage.
“Willowfield was never more beautiful,” said Susan fervently.
“That’s the sweetest of compliments,” he teased her. “For me, it’s going to be more beautiful still when we’re living over at the house together. I’m afraid I’ll consider Clive and Deline something of a blot for a while.”
“And I thought you were falling in love with Deline!”
“God, no. Bringing her here was the mistake of my life. I never did tell you that she asked to come, did I?”
“Couldn’t you ... see what she was after?”
“She hadn’t long lost her husband, remember, and she’d lost her vitality, too. How was I to know it would show up in some other form?”
“But I saw it almost the first day.”
“You’re so clever, my lovely,” he mocked her. “You saw it because you’re a woman, and were looking for it. I meant her to get well and go home, but I did notice, right away, that she was against having a pretty young thing like you about the place.”
“What about you?”
“I felt a little odd about it, myself. I’d had a sort of compulsion to come home from England—and here you were! Waiting for me.”
“But you’d brought Deline.”
“That was the devil of it. I thought things over and decided to write to Clive, repeating the invitation I’d given him in London. He’s not an obvious sort of chap, but I did get the hang of how he felt about Deline
, and I thought if I phrased the invitation distantly and diplomatically it would work. And it did.”
Susan moved her fingers in his grasp. “You stole Deline’s letter to Clive. I practically saw you do it.”
He laughed. “After we’d left England Deline spoke slightingly about him and she told me he had had the bad taste to propose marriage while she was still in the nursing home. I think that was the first warning I had that she wouldn’t jib at double-crossing anyone. Clive’s not my type but he does observe a code; I was pretty sure he couldn’t have asked her to marry him so soon after her husband’s death. So when I saw that letter of Deline’s on the verandah table I slipped it into my pocket, because I thought it fairly certain she’d told him to stay away from Rhodesia.”
“She didn’t, you know. She loves situations, and more or less challenged him to come.”
“Clive must have told you that. Where he’s concerned, Deline wallows in a feeling of power, but I rather think it’s the other way round now. Clive holds the whip.”
“Oh, dear. I do hope he doesn’t marry her!”
David shrugged, drew her through the archway and on to the path. “If he does, he’ll know better how to handle her than any other man possibly could. He’s had so much experience in that direction.” He stopped. “We won’t go back to the house. Let’s take a drive, get lunch at the hotel, and perhaps go on for tea to Maringa. I want everyone to know that the owner of Willowfield is going to take a wife!”
“But secrets are so lovely,” she pleaded.
“We’ll still have secrets, my darling—but not that one. I’m proud and happy, and I don’t care who knows it! We’ll issue a few invitations for a celebration party next week, and bring back the Colonel and his wife for dinner tonight. I think that’s the sensible way to handle it, and Clive and Deline will take it best that way. Then tomorrow you can go over to Maringa while I drive those two to Salisbury.”
Portrait of Susan Page 20
