Dark Moonless Night

by Anne Mather

  ‘So what did you do yesterday?’

  Caroline sighed. ‘Well, Gareth came down to bring some medical supplies for Lucas Macdonald, and he—he took me up to see the construction site—where they’re building the dam.’

  Helen raised her eyebrows. ‘I see. And what did you think of it?’

  ‘It’s very impressive.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Helen considered the liquid in her cup. ‘It’s going to be quite something when it’s finished. Nyshasa will be quite civilised in a few years.’

  ‘Yes,’ Caroline agreed. This was safe ground and she relaxed a little. But then Helen’s next words brought her alert again.

  ‘Do you like Gareth, Caroline?’

  ‘I—he’s very nice.’ Nice! Her stomach plunged. What a description to apply to Gareth.

  ‘Yes.’ Helen was unaware of her emotional upheaval. ‘Yes, he is nice. I like him enormously. But then everybody likes Gareth. I simply can’t understand why his marriage should have ended so disastrously.’

  Caroline made a negative sound, feeling that no reply was needed, but Helen went on:

  ‘I think it’s such a pity, don’t you, that the nicest men get the bitchiest wives?’

  ‘Yes.’ Caroline wished they could talk about something else. ‘I—I expect it’s hard for a young woman—living in Africa.’

  ‘Huh!’ Helen snorted. ‘It was no harder for her than for any of us.’

  Caroline shrugged. ‘Well, these things sometimes don’t work out.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Helen held out her cup for some more coffee. ‘But when you’re fond of someone as I am of Gareth, you want to see them happy, and Sharon—that was his wife, you know—she certainly didn’t make him happy.’

  ‘I—I don’t think it’s any concern of mine…’ began Caroline uncomfortably, but Helen didn’t seem to hear her, or if she did she chose to ignore what she had said.

  ‘Once she said to me that Gareth was to blame—that he’d only married her on the rebound from somebody else —and maybe she was right. But she made little effort to save the marriage. She soon got bored stiff with our lack of amenities, and she’d take herself off to Ashenghi for weeks on end.’

  ‘Helen, please—it’s nothing to do with me!’

  ‘I know. But it’s long past now, and I’ve no doubt she’s having a good time wherever she is. I just feel sorry for Gareth.’

  Caroline steadied her cup against her lips with both hands. ‘Why should you?’ she challenged, rather unevenly. ‘I—I mean, he has—Sandra now, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Sandra Macdonald?’ Helen sounded disgusted. ‘You don’t suppose she could make a man like Gareth happy, do you?’

  ‘I—I think Gareth—thinks so.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Helen’s eyes were sharp, and Caroline felt the tell-tale colour rising in her cheeks again.

  ‘I—I don’t know. I—I just thought that—well, he’s often with her, isn’t he?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not denying that Sandra would like to think she’ll be the next Mrs. Morgan,’ said Helen honestly, ‘but in that unlikely event I hope they move away. I’d hate to see Gareth disillusioned again.’

  Caroline replaced her cup in its saucer. ‘Will you have another biscuit?’

  Helen shook her head, her eyes suddenly thoughtful. ‘Tell me something,’ she urged, ‘don’t you find Gareth attractive? If I were ten years younger, I would.’

  Caroline took a deep breath. ‘Well—yes. He—he is an attractive man, I’ll agree with you there.’

  ‘Then why don’t you do something about it?’

  Caroline gasped. ‘Like what?’

  Helen made an impatient gesture. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to draw pictures, Caroline. Or does the idea of staying in Africa have no appeal to you either?’

  ‘Helen!’ Caroline rose abruptly to her feet. ‘You can’t organise people’s lives for them, you know!’

  ‘I do know that,’ remarked Helen quietly, and Caroline turned, contrite.

  ‘Oh, you know I didn’t mean—that is, I wasn’t referring to your personal affairs, Helen!’

  Helen forced a smile. ‘No, I’m sure you weren’t, Caroline. But nevertheless, you’re right. I am an interfering old woman.’

  ‘You’re not!’ Caroline spread her arms. ‘You—you don’t understand—certain things, that’s all.’

  ‘About you and Gareth?’ asked Helen perceptively.

  Caroline nodded. ‘Yes. About Gareth and me.’

  Helen put down her cup and saucer. ‘And you don’t want to talk about it?’

  Caroline shook her head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘That’s all right—’

  ‘No!’ Caroline hesitated. ‘No—wait!’ It would be a relief to tell somebody, and there was something about Helen that she instinctively liked. ‘Actually—actually I knew Gareth years ago.’

  Helen listened attentively. ‘Before he was married?’

  ‘Yes.’ Caroline linked and unlinked her fingers. ‘I—I was the girl, you see. The one he wanted to marry.’

  ‘You mean Sharon’s story was true? He did marry her on the rebound?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Caroline was cautious.

  ‘And did you know he was here when you came?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he know you were coming?’

  ‘Not from me. But he learned indirectly through Nicolas.’

  ‘I see.’ Helen shook her head in a perplexed manner. ‘Then—what has happened? If you knew he would be here you must have wanted to see him.’

  ‘I did.’ Caroline’s voice wobbled. ‘Oh, Helen, I—I love him! I thought—I hoped that he might still love me!’

  ‘And he doesn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure.’ Caroline nodded her head over and over again.

  Helen sighed. ‘What a situation!’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Caroline paced restlessly about the room. ‘Well, now you know.’

  Helen followed her progress thoughtfully. ‘But are you sure about this, Caroline? Sure that you love him—and that he doesn’t love you? I mean, it must be several years since you’ve seen him. What if you were motivated by a desire to recreate something that—well, has magnified itself out of all proportion in your mind? Maybe the fact that you’re not married—or engaged—’

  Caroline swung round on her. ‘You’re implying that I’m desperate for a husband, aren’t you? In the politest possible way? Oh, don’t deny it! Gareth’s already accused me of that in a much less courteous manner!’

  ‘Caroline—my dear—’

  ‘Well, it’s the truth. That is what you’re saying. But it’s not like that!’ Caroline pressed her palms together. ‘I don’t know whether you’ll believe this, but before I left England I was engaged—engaged to a man who has everything—looks, a good job, plenty of money—but whom I didn’t love! Oh, we’ve been engaged for a while, and he wanted us to get married. There was no reason why we shouldn’t. We had none of the usual problems of lack of funds or accommodation. Jeremy has three homes—plus a villa in the South of France.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘So what are you thinking now? That he turned me down? That he jilted me?’ She shook her head. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. He—he’s crazy about me.’ Her voice broke. ‘But—but I found that Gareth was no longer married—that he and his wife were divorced—and—and I couldn’t go on with my engagement.’

  Helen stood up and caught the younger girl’s hands. ‘Oh, Caroline!’ she exclaimed helplessly.

  Caroline tried to compose herself. ‘Yes, farcical, isn’t it? Jeremy loves Caroline, Caroline loves Gareth, and Gareth loves someone else!’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I doubt very much whether it’s as simple as that. These things never are. Have you told Gareth about this man in England, this Jeremy?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Why—of course not?’

  ‘Helen, whenever—whenever Gareth and I have
been together, our conversations haven’t exactly been cordial. Besides, it’s no use. I know exactly what Gareth feels for me, and it isn’t love.’

  Helen released her hands to move regretfully to the window. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yes, so am I.’

  There was silence for a few moments and then, unexpectedly, there was a knock at the outer door. Caroline frowned, rubbing her palms vigorously against her cheeks to hide any tell-tale signs of emotion. Who could be calling at this hour of the morning? The only person she could think of was Nicolas, and with a helpless look at Helen she went to answer the door.

  But it wasn’t Nicolas. It was Sandra Macdonald, and she looked beyond Caroline into the hall, saying: ‘Hello. May I come in?’

  Caroline was taken aback, but she stepped back at once. ‘Of course. What can I do for you?’

  Sandra looked into the lounge, not immediately noticing Helen by the window. ‘We’ll go in here.’ Then: ‘Oh, hello, Helen! I didn’t realise you were here.’

  Helen half smiled. ‘I’m just leaving, Sandra.’

  Caroline looked from one to the other of them. ‘Oh, please,’ she appealed to the older woman. ‘Don’t go! I—I was going to ask whether you’d like to stay for lunch.’

  ‘I’d love to, Caroline, but I’m afraid Laurie wouldn’t be very pleased if I wasn’t home to prepare something for him. No, I must go, thanks all the same, Caroline.’ She smiled encouragingly at her. ‘I’ve enjoyed our little chat. You must come over to the mission again before you leave.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Excusing herself for a moment, Caroline accompanied Helen to the door, and after she had waved her off she returned to the living room.

  ‘Charles has taken the children to the mine,’ she remarked, gathering the empty coffee cups together. ‘But I shouldn’t think Elizabeth will be long.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Sandra’s smile was thin. ‘I can wait.’ She seated herself on the couch. ‘I didn’t realise you knew Helen Barclay so well.’

  Caroline looked up from her task. ‘Oh, we don’t know one another that well. It’s just that we seem to hit it off together, that’s all.’

  Sandra nodded. ‘Oh, I see.’

  Caroline lifted the tray. ‘Er—would you like some coffee?’ She had to be hospitable even if Sandra’s attitude was somewhat less than friendly. She didn’t know what it was, but Sandra had a definite look of hostility about her.

  Sandra hesitated, then she nodded. ‘Why not?’ She glanced round. ‘Where is Elizabeth, anyway?’

  Caroline walked to the door. ‘I expect she’s getting dressed now. She didn’t hurry up this morning when Charles was taking the children out.’ She omitted the fact that Elizabeth didn’t hurry up any morning.

  ‘I see.’

  Sandra nodded and Caroline left her to ask Thomas for more coffee. When she returned, Sandra was flicking impatiently through the pages of a magazine.

  ‘You have it pretty easy, here, don’t you?’ she challenged, as Caroline came into the room.

  Caroline was taken aback. ‘I—well, if you say so.’

  ‘I do.’ Sandra thrust the magazine aside, her eyes hard and accusing. ‘I mean, you’re pretty familiar with your employers, aren’t you? And they seem to go out of their way to be considerate towards you.’

  ‘We get along very well, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘That’s not exactly what I mean, and you know it. I’ve noticed that in this household you’re treated more as a friend than a nanny.’

  ‘I’m not really a nanny,’ pointed out Caroline mildly. ‘I agreed to come out here to help Elizabeth with the children, that’s all. My real occupation is schoolteaching.’

  Sandra frowned. ‘Then what are you doing playing at being a nanny?’

  Caroline curbed the desire to tell Sandra that it was no business of hers really, and replied: ‘Elizabeth asked me to come, and I—I found the idea very interesting—’

  ‘Not least because you knew Gareth Morgan was here, I suppose,’ snapped Sandra.

  Caroline felt as though someone had hit her in the stomach. ‘I—I don’t know what you mean—’

  ‘Oh, yes, you do.’ Sandra glared at her. ‘I know you came here to see Gareth. He told me.’

  ‘He—told—you—’ Caroline couldn’t take it in.

  ‘Yes,’ Sandra sneered. ‘I don’t know how you had the nerve to do it! Come here, I mean. You’ve made things very awkward for Gareth.’

  Caroline felt faint. ‘I—don’t see that—’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t. You’re only interested in your own selfish ends.’

  Thomas came in with the coffee, smiling pleasantly at them both, but Caroline couldn’t respond. She felt sick to her stomach, and her pale cheeks must have communicated her condition to Thomas, because he said: ‘You feeling all right, miss?’

  Caroline managed to nod. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine, thank you, Thomas. Just put the tray here, as before.’

  After the houseboy had gone, Sandra eyed her companion critically. ‘I must say you do look pretty sick!’ she observed, without sympathy. ‘But it’s time somebody told you a few home truths!’

  ‘So you took it upon yourself to do it, is that right, Sandra?’ Caroline asked, forcing a calmness she did not feel.

  ‘Someone had to,’ retorted Sandra scornfully. ‘It’s rather pathetic really, were it not so damned insolent!’

  Caroline tackled the coffee cups automatically, wincing when the pot clattered against a rim, almost upsetting the liquid. She pushed a cup towards Sandra, wondering how one could continue to perform such mundane tasks when the person opposite was mentally annihilating you. Then she rose to her feet.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll tell Elizabeth you’re here.’

  Sandra looked up. ‘Just one more thing, Caroline. Two days ago Gareth asked me to marry him. I accepted. So keep away from him in future, will you? He’s simply not interested.’

  Caroline turned away, unable to say another word, walking blindly out of the room. She heard movements in Elizabeth’s bedroom, but she didn’t attempt to speak to her. She walked unseeingly to her own room, and then flung herself on the bed, aching sobs racking her body. Let Elizabeth find Sandra waiting for her. She didn’t care how long the other girl might have to wait.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BY the following day, Caroline had achieved a rather precarious form of composure. There was no point in pretending any longer that Gareth might change his mind about her, and the sooner she accepted this fact the easier it would be. Besides, he was now engaged to Sandra, and was as inaccessible as he had ever been. She would simply have to wait out the days until they returned to England and then resume her life as though this period in time had never happened. But the constant dull pain in her stomach could not be dismissed so easily, and the heavy ache near her heart might become a permanent fixture. Only one certain thing had come out of all this. It would not be fair to her to marry Jeremy feeling as she did about Gareth. She would never be sure that should Gareth ever come back into her life, she would be able to prevent herself from going to him in the unlikely event of his wanting her to.

  It was fortunate that Charles and Elizabeth should choose this particular day to have another of their periodic rows. Charles had promised to take Elizabeth and the children to Nicolas Freeleng’s for lunch, but a sudden emergency at the mine had necessitated his presence there and Elizabeth had refused to go alone. They had argued violently for several minutes and then Charles had stalked off saying he would get someone to give him a lift to the mine so that if Elizabeth should change her mind the car would be available to her.

  After he had gone, Elizabeth had locked herself in the bedroom and Caroline was left with the children. Not that she objected. Charles and Elizabeth’s absorbtion with their own affairs had prevented them from noticing how pale and heavy-eyed she was looking, and she was glad of the children’s company to help banish her depression.

  ‘W
hat shall we do?’ she asked brightly, as David and Miranda were moping about the living room. ‘Would you like to go for a walk?’

  Miranda sniffed. ‘Why do Mummy and Daddy have such awful rows?’ she asked tearfully. ‘Do all mummies and daddies have rows?’

  Caroline sighed. ‘I expect there are occasions when everyone loses their temper,’ she comforted. ‘You’ll see. Daddy will come home this afternoon and everything will be fine.’

  ‘Yes, but we won’t get to go to Mr. Freeleng’s, will we?’ demanded David moodily. ‘I like going there, and that’s why Mummy got so angry—because Daddy wouldn’t take us.’

  ‘Daddy had an urgent job to do at the mine,’ said Caroline firmly. ‘He couldn’t neglect his job to take you to Nyshasa.’

  ‘Huh!’ David scuffed his toe. ‘Well, now we can’t go at all. Mummy won’t take us.’

  Caroline bit her lip. ‘Well, the car’s outside. I suppose we could go for a drive, if you like.’

  David’s eyes widened. ‘To Nyshasa?’

  ‘No—no, not that far.’ Caroline tried to ignore his disappointed face. ‘I meant—well, just a drive. Wouldn’t you like that, Miranda?’

  Miranda hesitated. ‘I s’pose we could. But where could we go?’

  Caroline considered the question. ‘We could go to the Mission,’ she suggested.

  ‘That’s only a tiny distance,’ returned David scornfully. ‘Why can’t we go to Nyshasa?’

  ‘Because I don’t intend to drive that far!’ stated Caroline, half impatiently. She was beginning to wish she had never suggested using the car. ‘Don’t you think you’re being rather unreasonable? I mean—I might have expected us to just stay here.’

  David shrugged. ‘Well, I’d rather do that than go to the Mission,’ he declared.

  ‘Why?’ Caroline stared at him. ‘I thought you liked playing with the children there.’

  ‘It was all right.’ David was evidently set on going to Nyshasa and nothing would budge him. ‘But I don’t want to go there again.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to stay here,’ said Caroline, flopping down into an armchair. ‘It’s too hot to argue.’