Dark Moonless Night

by Anne Mather

  David looked as though he was about to make some startling explanation, but then thought better of it when he met Caroline’s cautioning stare. Caroline herself was trying desperately to think of some satisfactory explanation, but everything that occurred to her left the way open for Miranda to ask whether it might happen again. At last she decided to use the truth in a way that might relieve Miranda’s mind.

  ‘Well,’ she began carefully, ‘I expect Mr. Lizard was taking his morning stroll when he found himself passing through this room. And then you started screaming and David started shouting, and poor old Mr. Lizard thought: My goodness me, there must be something terrible going on here. I’d better not go any farther in case I get involved.’

  Miranda frowned. ‘You mean—you mean he—usually comes through our bedroom?’

  Caroline licked her lips which had suddenly gone dry. ‘Well—er—yes—and no!’ She paused, aware of David watching her closely. ‘I expect sometimes he comes this way, and sometimes he goes some other way, but today just happened to be the day for the Laceys’ bungalow.’

  Miranda suddenly let out another little scream as the lizard, clearly tired of waiting any longer, darted swiftly towards the window, ran up the wall and disappeared through the shutters. Even Caroline could not completely hide the desire to gather her skirts more closely about her legs, but at least now it had gone and the atmosphere eased considerably.

  ‘There you are,’ she managed, with as much nonchalance as she could muster. ‘He’s gone, and after today’s performance I doubt very much whether he’ll want to come back.’ Miranda breathed a sigh of relief, and David sat cross-legged on his bed, watching her as she picked her way gingerly across the linoleum.

  ‘I’m glad I’m not frightened of lizards,’ he remarked disparagingly. ‘I expect there are millions of them here—’

  ‘David!’ Caroline’s tone was sharp. ‘I will not have you deliberately frightening your sister like this! Now, I’m going to make some tea. If you two want to come along, you can. But put on your dressing gowns—and please be quiet! I don’t want to wake your mother and father.’

  ‘Oh, Daddy’s gone,’ remarked David airily. ‘He left about half an hour ago.’

  Caroline frowned. ‘Left? For where?’

  ‘For work, he said. He came in to say goodbye to us. They start terribly early here because it’s too hot to work later on.’

  That made sense. Caroline nodded. ‘Well, don’t wake your mother, then,’ she advised dryly.

  ‘I expect Miranda’s done that already,’ replied David practically, and Caroline gave him another exasperated look before turning along the passage towards the kitchen.

  She filled the kettle from the tap which Charles had explained the night before was attached to a large water tank outside. When the tank was empty, it had to be refilled from the nearby stream, and if it should rain, water was collected in barrels to be used as well. Plugging in the kettle, Caroline felt her spirits reasserting themselves. In spite of her broken night’s sleep, things seemed infinitely brighter this morning. It was all an adventure, and in spite of his attitude towards her yesterday, the knowledge that Gareth Morgan was only a few miles away filled her with an unreasoning excitement.

  While the kettle was boiling she took her first real look at La Vache. From the kitchen-windows there was little to interest her in a patch of scrubby grass and a belt of jungle-like undergrowth, although the purple-shadowed mountains beyond had a remote beauty. But the living-room windows overlooked the lawn at the front of the house, and beyond it the hard-baked track which served as a road.

  It was much bigger than Caroline remembered from the night before, with perhaps a dozen bungalows similar to the Laceys’ set at intervals beside the track. It seemed strange to see smoke rising from open fires in the African village when already the sun was spreading a golden rose colour over everything and washing the white-painted buildings with it warmth. Across the track, in the garden of the house opposite, a tall flowering tree drooped orangey-red blossoms, strange and exotic, a reminder of the burning heat of the sun at noon. A movement near the tree distinguished itself as a white-throated monkey, and a smile lifted the corners of Caroline’s mouth. The beauty she had sought to find in Ashenghi, and which had proved so elusive, was here in plenty if one chose to look for it, and only the whistling of the kettle dragged her away from her contemplation.

  By the time David and Miranda appeared, Caroline had found cups and a teapot, set them on a tray, and was on her way back to Elizabeth’s room. Making as little noise as possible, she opened Elizabeth’s bedroom door, but then saw that her employer was awake.

  Elizabeth lay on her back, the mosquito net thrust aside, staring broodingly up at the fly-marked ceiling above her head. When Caroline entered, her eyes turned in her direction and widened appreciatively when she saw the tray of tea. Struggling up on her pillows, she patted the bed beside her, and Caroline went forward and put down the tray, bending to pour tea for both of them.

  David and Miranda hovered near the doorway. They knew better than to come bounding into their mother’s bedroom without first ascertaining what kind of mood she was in, and although she was sipping her tea with evident enjoyment, Elizabeth did not look particularly happy.

  ‘Charles has gone,’ she remarked unnecessarily. ‘He must have woken the children as well as me before he left, because there’s been the most ghastly racket coming from their bedroom ever since.’

  Caroline glanced at the children, still hesitating beside the door, and took pity on them. She felt like asking why, if Elizabeth had heard Miranda screaming, she hadn’t gone to see what was the matter with her. Had she no maternal instincts whatsoever? But she decided against creating any more friction, and said instead:

  ‘A lizard frightened Miranda, that was all. It ran away when I went in to them.’

  ‘I see.’ Elizabeth looked rather warily about the room as though expecting to find the unwelcome visitor in her room now, and then looked at her son and daughter. ‘Well, come on in, if you’re coming, can’t you?’ she cried irritably. ‘You know I can’t stand people who won’t make up their minds what they’re going to do!’

  Miranda moved slowly over to her mother’s bed. ‘It was the most ‘normous lizard, Mummy,’ she began, and then paused as David snorted derisively.

  ‘It was not!’ he declared. ‘It was a harmless little thing, Caroline said so.’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s enough about the lizard,’ said Caroline sharply. ‘Miranda had a fright. But she’s over it now.’

  ‘I was very scared,’ went on Miranda, clearly intent on deriving the maximum amount of sympathy from the incident, but Elizabeth wasn’t listening to her.

  ‘Charles said he’ll be back as soon as he can,’ she was explaining to Caroline. ‘And in the meantime we’re to have breakfast and look around.’ She shuddered. ‘Although what he expects us to look around at I can’t imagine.’

  ‘Oh, but there’s lots to see,’ replied Caroline, trying to arouse her enthusiasm. ‘It’s a wonderful morning, not too hot yet, and I’ve already seen the most beautiful tree in the garden opposite.’

  ‘How exciting!’ Elizabeth was sarcastic. ‘Caroline, I’m beginning to wonder what kind of fool I’ve been in coming here! I mean—well, back home in England it all sounded quite easy—a holiday almost. But what kind of a holiday can anyone have when there’s no hot water, hardly any bathing facilities, a houseboy who hasn’t the first idea how to cook food, and no distinguishable sign of civilisation!’

  ‘Try and look on it as an adventure,’ said Caroline. ‘After all, what’s the point of coming to Africa and expecting it to be like an extension of England? It’s not. There are no similarities, not in climate, or vegetation, or culture. You’ve got to take what there is and, for want of a better phrase, make the best of it.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, I know that sounds trite, but honestly, Elizabeth, there are more things in life than hot water and well-cooked food!’

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bsp; Elizabeth’s lips twisted. ‘What a pity you’re not Charles’s wife, instead of me,’ she remarked. ‘The battle would have been won without a single shot being fired!’

  Caroline bent her head. ‘Why does there have to be a battle, Elizabeth? Heavens, Charles works here because he has to, because it’s his way of providing for you and the children. The least you can do is try and see it his way. How would you have felt if Charles had come home on leave, turned his nose up at the meal you’d provided and then stormed off to bed like a child in a tantrum?’

  ‘I think you’ve said enough, Caroline.’ Elizabeth was beginning to look aloof, and Caroline realised she had gone too far. All the same, someone had to talk some sense into her, or she was going to make these six weeks purgatory for all of them.

  ‘I’m only trying to make you see his side of things, Elizabeth,’ she added quietly.

  Elizabeth looked at her bent head, and then her expression softened. ‘Oh, yes, I suppose you are,’ she conceded at last. ‘But I’m not like you, Caroline. I can’t stand too much heat—or too much physical discomfort of any kind. I just go to pieces. My nerves simply won’t support me.’

  Caroline looked at her. ‘We could all be a little like that,’ she observed dryly. ‘You don’t suppose any of us are going to find it easy, do you? No. It’s just that—well, at least keep an open mind. Don’t prejudge everything. I think you might find there are compensations.’ She hesitated. ‘Surely it’s good to be with Charles again?’

  Elizabeth allowed a small smile to curve her lips. ‘Oh, yes, I suppose that’s true. All right, Caroline, I’ll try and not show my feelings too blatantly, but don’t expect miracles.’

  Caroline smiled, ‘I won’t.’

  By the time she had carried the tray back to the kitchen, washed in more of the tepid brown water in her bedroom, and dressed in a scarlet shirt and navy shorts, Thomas had arrived to make breakfast. He greeted her with his usual good humour, obviously finding the sight of her long slender legs much to his liking.

  Caroline left him to go and attend to the children. While they washed and cleaned their teeth she sorted through their clothes, putting most of their things away in a cedar-lined chest, similar to the one in her room. Then they dressed in tee-shirts and shorts, too, omitting their vests which had been a necessary item in April in London, but were superfluous here.

  Breakfast comprised of rolls and fruit, very like what they had had the morning before in Ashenghi, and the coffee was every bit as good. Elizabeth had joined them, albeit in her dressing gown, and seemed to appreciate the simple meal. She drank several cups of strong black coffee with the cigarette she always enjoyed at this hour and looked more inclined to be affable afterwards. But when Caroline suggested that they might all take a walk later on, she shook her head vigorously.

  ‘Not me, darling. I’m not dressed yet. But you three go, by all means. I’ll be fine here. I’m going to ask Thomas whether I might take a shower, and then I’ll accustom myself to my surroundings before Charles gets back. I might even supervise the cooking of our lunch.’

  Caroline looked at the children’s expectant faces and nodded. ‘All right, we’ll go. Perhaps it would be best anyway, just in case Charles returns while we’re out.’

  Some time later, walking along the sun-hard track that meandered its way between the bungalows of the European population towards the African village, Caroline was glad she had agreed to the outing. Although it was hot, the sun had not yet assumed the fiery sharpness that burned at midday. There was a haze of heat ahead of them that shimmered like a living thing, blurring the edges of their vision, and casting a sympathetic cloak over the harsher aspects of the settlement. It endeavoured to conceal the pitiful poverty of the mud dwellings that spread beyond the orderly rows of bungalows, the skeletal thinness of the few cattle which turned to regard them with mournful eyes, and the unpleasant lack of sanitation.

  And yet, in spite of everything, the people themselves looked healthy, and happy, enough. The babies, who ran naked to their mothers at the appearance of this strange white woman and her children, had plump, rounded little bodies and bright, inquisitive eyes. There was a distinct absence of men to be seen, except for a few ancients seated cross-legged beside an open fire, smoking pipes and talking incessantly. Caroline assumed that all the able-bodied males were working, either at the mine or perhaps at some form of agriculture, although there seemed little scope for cultivation of crops about here. The women looked at them without interest, but Caroline was not disposed to linger. She felt that they were intruding somehow, and in spite of the children’s disappointed protests, turned back the way they had come.

  They were perhaps half way back to the bungalow, when a low-slung American limousine came cruising alongside and stopped just ahead of them. A man leaned out, a dark-haired, thick-set, handsome man, who smiled a greeting. Caroline stiffened. Surely they were not about to be accosted in this remote outpost?

  However, to her surprise, the man knew their names. ‘Hello,’ he called. ‘You look too young to be the children’s mother, so you must be Miss Ashford, is that right? And that’s David and Miranda.’

  Caroline took a few tentative steps forward, holding both the children’s hands firmly. ‘Yes, I’m Caroline Ashford. But I’m afraid—’

  ‘I know.’ The man thrust open his door and climbed out. revealing that he was only a little taller than Caroline herself. ‘You’re naturally wondering who I am. Well, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Nicolas Freeleng. Gareth may have mentioned my name to you.’

  At the mention of Gareth Morgan’s name, a wave of hot colour swept into Caroline’s cheeks. But of course the name was familiar. Wasn’t it for Freeleng Copper Incorporated that Charles worked?

  Allowing her fingers to be engulfed in the man’s broad palm, Caroline managed to nod and say: ‘Yes, I do recall your name, Mr. Freeleng. How do you do?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you.’ He let her withdraw her hand from his rather reluctantly. ‘I don’t feel I have to ask you that question. You look quite—delightful, if I may say so.’

  Caroline’s colour did not subside as she introduced the children. Inevitably, David had a question and for once she was glad. While Nicolas Freeleng explained the dials on the car’s dashboard to his enthralled listener, she had an opportunity to study the man.

  He was quite young, much younger than she would have expected him to be, perhaps thirty-nine or forty, with square shoulders and a rather heavily-built body. He was dressed in khaki shirt and trousers, and there were already signs of perspiration on the shirt’s crisp surface.

  When he could extricate himself from David’s curiosity, he turned back to Caroline, and said: ‘Perhaps I can give you a lift back to Lacey’s bungalow, Miss Ashford. Actually, I was on my way there to see Mrs. Lacey when I saw you. I was about to suggest that you all dine with me at my house this evening.’

  Caroline glanced down at the children. ‘I’m sure Mrs. Lacey will love that, Mr. Freeleng,’ she replied. ‘However, I hope you will understand that I couldn’t accept your invitation myself.’

  ‘Why not?’ Nicolas’s brows ascended.

  ‘Well—because I’m here to look after the children—’

  ‘If necessary the children can come, too,’ declared Nicolas, with a certain amount of arrogance. ‘I insist that you join us. You can’t remain aloof in a community like ours, Miss Ashford. We all depend upon one another too much for that.’

  Caroline sighed. ‘It’s not a question of remaining aloof, Mr. Freeleng—’

  ‘Is it not? Then you will come.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But we are wasting time. Come, get in the car. We’ll go and see Mrs. Lacey. I’m sure she’ll see it my way.’

  Elizabeth was not about when they entered the bungalow, and excusing herself, Caroline left Nicolas with the children and went in search of her employer. She could hear Thomas singing in the kitchen as she went along the passage and a frown drew her dark brows together. Where was El
izabeth? Why hadn’t she appeared when she heard them come in?

  She knocked at her employer’s bedroom door almost perfunctorily, and then her frown deepened as she heard Elizabeth call: ‘Go away! I don’t want anything!’ in a harsh, grating voice.

  Caroline hesitated, and then knocked again, and this time Elizabeth demanded who it was.

  ‘It’s me, Elizabeth. Caroline. Can I come in?’

  ‘Oh, Caroline! Yes, yes, come on in. I thought it was that idiot Thomas.’

  Caroline opened the door and entered the room and then stared at Elizabeth in surprise. She was still wrapped in her dressing robe, and she had not even bothered to comb her unruly curls.

  ‘Why, Elizabeth!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why aren’t you dressed? I thought you were going to take a shower.’

  That was obviously the wrong thing to say. Elizabeth flung herself off the bed where she had been lounging and glared at her. ‘So I was,’ she stated dramatically, ‘so I was! And you may well ask why I haven’t. I’ll tell you! That idiot Thomas spent half an hour filling the water tank so that I could take a shower and then omitted to explain how the damn thing worked. Of course, I pulled this sort of release valve and the whole tank emptied itself, and there I was—wet, but unwashed. I asked him to fill it again, but he said he had other jobs he would have to do before Massa Lacey came home, and therefore, I would have to wait.’

  This whole statement was issued with an immense amount of emphasis, and when Elizabeth had finished she flopped down on to the bed again as though she had spent herself.

  ‘So?’ she added. ‘And how did you enjoy your walk?’

  Caroline gathered herself. ‘That’s why I’m here, actually. You’ve got a visitor.’

  ‘A visitor!’ Elizabeth sprang up again. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Who is it?’

  ‘You didn’t give me much chance to say anything,’ pointed out Caroline patiently. ‘Actually it’s Nicolas Freeleng.’