by Hilary Wilde
that, is it? So I can't see that it's really fair to hate them, because they can't help acting that way. Besides, it's a lovely conversation-starter. People just stare at me as if I'm mad.'
' It's a beautiful garden . .
Yes, I love it.'
A shadow crossed them. Rayanne looked up. It was Cary.
Gossiping as usual,' he said, sitting down. You sound like a couple of mynah birds.'
We were talk . . Rayanne began indignantly, caught Mrs Jefferson's eyes, and smiled. Is that a compliment or an insult, Cary?'
He looked startled. Was it because this was the first time she had called him Cary? she wondered. Or because she had smiled when he teased her?
A compliment, of course. I brought Cary up to be polite to young, ladies,' said Mrs Jefferson. She looked at her son. Cary, I told you I wanted the hedge between us and Jefferson Hall tidied up. You've done nothing about it, and it looks awful.'
You're right, it does. I'm afraid I forgot,' Cary said meekly. I'm sorry. I'll arrange it this afternoon. How did you get on this morning, Ray?'
Fine, just fine.'
She found it most interesting,' Mrs Jefferson joined in eagerly. She liked Kwido, too, found him very helpful.'
Yes, he's good. I'm thinking of sending him over to the U.S.A. to do a course on conservation of soil and water. They're doing some interesting experiments there that might help us.'
, He seems to know an awful lot already,' Ray-
anne began, and stopped abruptly, for Cary was smiling.
' How right you are, Ray, but there's much more for him to learn. Later I hope to start another reserve of a different nature, and one day Kwido might be head warden. I believe in training men to take responsible positions. That's a sign of genius, you know.'
His mother chuckled. Inherited from me, of
course. Isn't lunch ready?'
At that moment a bell tinkled
' Lunching with us, Cary?' Mrs Jefferson asked. He smiled. But of course. Uncle Joe's goddaughter must be given V.I.P. treatment.'
Rayanne felt the anger surge up inside her. Had he got to be so beastly? She clutched the back of the chair and fought her anger, finally smiling.
' How lucky I am that Uncle Joe is my godfather,' she said sweetly.
CHAPTER III
Life was certainly different for Rayanne now she was living with Mrs Jefferson. It wasn't only the large, beautifully-furnished bedroom with the pale pink silk curtains and bedspread to match, the polished floor with large soft white rugs; nor was it the clean water in which she could shower or bathe several times a day; nor the excellent food; not even the beautiful garden where they so often sat watching the hideous crocodiles slowly submerge in the muddy water or move with their slow crawl—a frightening, almost relentless crawl—across the mud. No, it was Mrs Jefferson. She was the one who made all the difference.
When Rayanne came home, driven by Kwido after trying to make notes, to work out what she wanted to write, there would be the 'plump, white-haired little woman, waiting eagerly. It was a warm, delighted welcome; such a welcome as Rayanne had never known before. Mrs Jefferson liked her . . . no, even more than that, she loved her. And Rayanne was beginning to love the talkative little woman who was always laying down the law to her big son and bullying him—literally bullying him into doing what she wanted done. And there was Cary, standing so quietly, saying meekly that his mother was quite right and he shouldn't have forgotten what she had asked him to do. A different Cary, an inconsistent Cary in many ways.
It was pleasant, Rayanne found, to have someone
interested in what you had been doing; someone who would ask questions eagerly and listen to your answers, someone who fussed over you, made sure you had the kind of food you liked, that you were not too tired.
One day Rayanne found herself alone in the garden with Cary. Mrs Jefferson had murmured something and gone indoors. The amused smirk on Cary's face annoyed Rayanne
' Your mother is a darling,' she said, and wished she hadn't, because it sounded so childishly defiant. ' I'm aware of that,' he said coolly.
Then why don't you do what she asks you to do?' Rayanne sat up in her chair and glared at him. ' It's four days she's been asking you to have that high hedge cut and . .
Asking me?' Cary sounded amused. You mean ordering me to have it done.'
Is that why you haven't? Because you can't take orders?' Rayanne felt her control of her anger slipping away. It was such a stupid thing to get angry about, but she 'hated that smug, supercilious smile he was giving. You meekly tell her you'll do a thing, but you've no intention of doing it, have you?'
None at all,' he agreed, and offered her a cigarette which she refused, then lit one for himself. Why should I?'
She is your mother.'
' That wasn't my fault . .
Rayanne slid along the seat as she tensed with fury. How dare you say such a horrible thing! If you knew how lucky you are to have such a
wonderful mother. Why do you meekly say you'll do it when you have no intention of doing what she wants done?'
He smiled. She knows very well I have no intention of doing what I—to quote you—meekly agree to doing. She doesn't expect me to do it.'
' Then why does she?'
He lifted his hand to silence her. It's a game
we play.' His voice changed, losing its amusement, becoming grave. I think the saddest thing about you, my little Ray, is the fact that you have no conception whatsoever of a true parent-and-child relationship. Mother and I understand one another. You see, my father was a strong authoritative man who laid down the law. Mother was always meek and biddable; she knew Dad wasn't well and mustn't be upset, so she gave way about everything, even against, as she often said, her principles. When he died and we lived together, we came to an undiscussed arrangement. We didn't need words. We understood one another. For the first time in years, Mother could throw her weight around, could boss me, order me about. So she did it, knowing full well that I would do what I thought best and certainly wouldn't do what she said if I didn't agree with her—but I always pretend to agree meekly and she knows I'm pretending, so she can say the most outrageous things . . . you haven't heard anything yet! . . . and we understand perfectly what we're both doing. Do you see?'
Rayanne stared at him. She did see, yet it was hard to believe. On the other hand, if his mother expected him to do what she said, would she still love
him so much when he deliberately did the opposite? Surely, Rayanne thought, then it makes sense?
You're very lucky,' she said, moving to stand up and sliding with a bump on to the grass. She must have caught her sandal in something.
Clumsy! ' he teased as he stood up quickly, bending to take her hands in his and pull her to her feet.
Her cheeks red, she thanked him.
My pleasure,' he told her, his eyes amused.
' Well . . .' she began, then stopped, for he was still holding both her hands tightly, looking down at her, his eyes thoughtful. Well . .
Ray,' he said slowly, have you no understanding like that with your mother?'
She shook her head. I'm afraid we don't . . .
well, in a way we do, but you see, she's so busy running round looking after Dad and . .
Your five brothers. How it irks you, doesn't it? It seems sad. Most girls would be delighted to have five older brothers.'
' I'm not most girls.' She heard the defiant note creeping back in her voice. If only he would let go of her hands, she thought, and then knew that that was not what she really wanted, for she loved the touch of his fingers as they curled round hers.
That,' he said drily, is obvious. I wonder what started you feeling this animosity towards your brothers. Can you remember when it began?'
Rayanne stared up at him. It was absurd, she knew, and she kept telling herself it though it had no effect on her feelings, but just to feel his hands round hers, just to be so near, made it hard to think.
' I
'm ten years younger than my youngest brother . . . when I was little I always wanted to play with him, but he'd have nothing to do with me. Then I hated it when he had his first girl-friend, because he was my brother . . . and suddenly he wasn't. Then at school—well, I wasn't very bright and . .
She paused as his dark tufty eyebrows lifted.
You must have been pretty bright,' he said, to get where you are.'
Again her cheeks burned. ' I had to work hard and just scraped through my exams. All my brothers got Honours and hardly had to work. They were just naturals, like Dad.'
You're like your mother?'
Rayanne nodded. Yes, except that she's lovely. She's tall and slender with high cheekbones and gorgeous red hair. She looks absurdly young and never seems to grow old.'
But she has no brains?'
That's what my father says, but I think he's wrong. Mother helped me a lot with my studies.' Your father didn't?'
' He was always too busy with the boys. He's a lawyer, you see, and so are my brothers and . . Your father wanted you to be one?'
Rayanne shrugged. I don't think he thought for a moment that I could be one, but definitely he'd have liked it. He wanted to be proud of me, as he is of the others, but I let him down.'
Ray, you're so wrong,' Cary began, then dropped her hands quickly, as if they had burned him or even stung him. Mrs Jefferson came out to join them, but if Cary had let go of Rayanne's hands
because of that, then he had left it too late for his mother had a happy, almost triumphant look on her face as she beamed on them both.
You'll be home the day after tomorrow, Cary,' said Mrs Jefferson. She didn't ask. ' I'm giving a little dinner party for Rayanne I thought we'd ask those two nice vets, what are their names? Leslie Van der Mer and Loftus Jones? And Sister Macintyre and Christine Horlock. I haven't asked them over for some time and they must think it very rude of me.'
Cary nodded. That's fine, Mother.' He looked at Rayanne and his eyes were twinkling. This time I won't forget.' Then he left them.
Rayanne sat down and Mrs Jefferson followed suit. They sat in silence, Rayanne knowing that her companion was bursting with things that mustn't be said, questions that shouldn't be asked.
It's a lovely day,' Rayanne said to overcome the awkward silence.
Is it?' Mrs Jefferson looked vague and then smiled. ` Yes, dear child, I can see it is.' She positively beamed and Rayanne felt herself blushing, for she saw that Cary's mother had completely misinterpreted Rayanne's words. Mrs Jefferson thought it was a lovely day for Rayanne because Cary, her wonderful son, had been holding Rayanne's hands!
And wasn't it? that mocking little voice that so often hides inside us asked. Wasn't it a lovely day?
You have met Daphne and Christine?' Mrs Jefferson asked. Both of them are crazy about poor Cary and chase him to death. They must be
mad.'
They're both very attractive.' As usual, Rayanne found herself leaping to the defence of anyone criticised.
Good looks! ' Mrs Jefferson said scornfully. Comes out of pots. But they're most unsuitable for Cary. Daphne is so bossy and she just can't talk about anything, anything at all. As for Christine . . . all she thinks about is her microscope. She isn't a bit interested in the animals, you know, and Cary thinks the world of them.' There was a little silence and then Mrs Jefferson turned to smile at Rayanne. I'm so glad, dear child, that you and Cary get on so well together. You're perfectly matched.'
Rayanne was looking at the little old lady and saw beyond her Cary standing in the open doorway, a huge grin splitting his handsome face. He must have heard every word his mother had just said. Rayanne couldn't resist it..
' I certainly find him very attractive, but . . . but actually we're very different, Mrs Jefferson. I 'find him far too arrogant.'
Arrogant?' Mrs Jefferson sounded shocked. He doesn't mean to be, I'm sure. It's just that he has such a responsible job and has to give orders.'
' I'm not accustomed to obeying them.'
Mrs Jefferson chuckled. That's the whole point, dear child. Just pretend to and go your own sweet way. I always do. It works well and makes life more fun.'
Rayanne, staring over Mrs Jefferson's shoulder, saw Cary lift his hand as if in final salute and then
he walked away. She felt her tense body relax.
You're being very kind to me,' Rayanne said, deliberately changing the subject. ' I'm so grateful.'
Mrs Jefferson leant forward and patted Rayanne's knee.
Don't thank me, dear child, I love having you here. I've always wanted a daughter—someone like you. I don't think I've ever felt so optimistic about the future before.'
Again Rayanne felt her cheeks go hot. If only Cary's mother would stop planning the impossible. Rayanne was certain that Carry didn't see her as a woman . . . a woman he could love. Indeed, she wondered if he saw any women as people he could love; most of them seemed to be headaches '.
Do you dress up when you give dinner parties?' she asked, more as a ruse to guide Mrs Jefferson's thoughts away from her son's possible marriage. I don't think I expected anything like that. I thought this would be purely a working holiday.'
Let's have a look at your wardrobe.' Mrs Jefferson stood up and then paused. Is that impertinent? I mean, I didn't mean . .
Rayanne smiled. Of course I know you didn't, and I don't mind in the least showing you.'
They walked down the stoep to Rayanne's door, which was never locked. Inside, Rayanne showed Mrs Jefferson the few cocktail party dresses she had.
Do the others dress up?' she asked.
The plump little woman chuckled. ' And how! It's a positive battle, Rayanne dear. It's very funny, but also very sad. I wonder.' She stood
back, looking at Rayanne's figure. ' I wonder .. . Just wait a moment. I'll be back.'
Rayanne nodded and hung up her black trouser suit that was far too hot for this climate. Her green sparkling dress—that was also too hot. The evenings were so humid that anything but the thinnest dresses clung to your damp skin.
Mrs Jefferson came hurrying back; hanging over her arm was a pale blue satin dress. She shook it out and held it up before her. It came to the ground and had frills on the short sleeves and a high waist—
line, embroidered and smocked.
It's beautiful . . . I ' Rayanne exclaimed.
Try it on, try it on,' Mrs Jefferson told her excitedly. I can't wait to see it on you.'
Rayanne slipped out of her yellow cotton frock and carefully put on the soft satin one. It fitted her
perfectly. She looked in the glass.
It's absolutely fabulous ! ' she said slowly. But
how did you know my size?'
She saw Mrs Jefferson's reflection in the mirror. The little old lady was shaking with laughter, unable to speak. Rayanne swung round. What's the joke?'
Oh dear . . . oh dear me . . . I'm sorry, Rayanne dear, but I can't stop laughing.' Slowly she gained control, then wiped her tearful eyes and smiled.
' It was my nightie, Rayanne—my trousseau nightie. My mother gave it to me. She said the colour was romantic. I never wore it—Cary's father loathed pale blue. He had a passion for white underclothes, as we called them in those days.' She
chuckled. You look beautiful in it. Of course, I
was much thinner in those days. I couldn't get into it now.'
' I can borrow it?' Rayanne was looking in the mirror again. The colour certainly did something to her. It was just too beautiful for words and absolutely fashionable.
Mrs Jefferson laughed. No, you may not
borrow it, dear child, but I'm giving it to you. It's lain all these years in a drawer, it must be bored to tears, poor thing. It's far too beautiful to be hidden away, so please let me make it a gift.'
Rayanne caught her breath and stared at the happy, beaming little woman. It's wonderful of you! ' Impulsively she hugged the older woman, kissing her. You're such a darling!'
I'm . . . I'm glad you think
. . . think so,' Mrs Jefferson almost stammered, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She turned and hurried out of the room, leaving Rayanne puzzled, but she soon forgot the generous little old lady, as she gently stroked the satin and turned round, gazing in the mirror. It really did things to her.
As the time for the dinner party grew near Rayanne's self-confidence diminished. The beautiful pale blue satin dress delighted her, of course, but she wasn't happy with her hair. She had washed it—as she did every few days, for the dust from her Land Rover trips with Kwido was dreadful—but today it seemed limp and without life. Carefully she made up. If only she was beautiful, she thought, leaning forward, gazing in the mirror as she carefully applied
her eyelashes. If only she was tall and slim, with long lovely legs, and high cheekbones and her mother's red hair! If only .. .
What good would it do? she asked herself cynically. As if it would help matters! Cary, the only person who really mattered in her life, wouldn't notice any difference if she suddenly became beautiful, that was for sure. Cary wouldn't notice anything about her, she thought miserably.
Yet, later that evening, it seemed that she was wrong. She had been waiting with Mrs Jefferson for the visitors. The little old lady wore a scintillating pale pink voile gown, decorated with sparkling beads. Her white hair was piled high, her cheeks slightly flushed, her eyes shining.
' We'll show them, Rayanne my dear,' she said, holding Rayanne's hand for a moment. ' We'll show them,' she repeated triumphantly.
Rayanne wondered what she meant, but at that moment the visitors arrived.
Christine Horlock was first. The tall blonde with her lovely face and blue eyes was wearing a long black dress, slit on either side to show her beautiful long legs. She wore a long necklace, three times twisted round her throat, of sparkling gems.
' Mrs Jefferson, how well you're looking. This is very kind of you,' she said in her attractive voice. She glanced at Rayanne ' Hullo,' she said casually. ' You're looking very smart today,' she added, her voice amused.
