Love This Stranger

by Rosalind Brett

  Tess hadn’t formed any picture of the woman; she had merely recalled the regular ivory features turned upon Dave in an intimate and knowledgeable smile. Vaguely she had thought Mrs. Redding would be sheathed in black with a touch of white at the neck, that she would smile sadly and lean upon Dave. Certainly she was unprepared for the thin creature in scarlet with garish circles of rouge on the prominent white cheek-bones, and dark eyes restless and fever-bright.

  Involuntary, she stepped forward to lend a hand as the woman reached the foot of the gangway. Dave was smiling politely — just as if, fumed Tess to herself, he were not almost carrying Avia Redding. On the deck Avia paused, ignoring Luke. Her interest centred upon the head of pale curls and the honey-tan face, one spoke in a small, dead voice.

  “So you’re Dave’s wife. You’re the reason I’m ill and unwanted...”

  Smoothly, Dave interrupted. “You’re not unwanted. Avia, and Tess has nothing to do with your being ill.”

  “She has everything to do with it ... everything.”

  “Come and lie down,” he said, “and the cook will fix you a meal.”

  Tess was trembling. She sought behind her, found a boom for support and let it have her weight.

  Luke muttered: “She’s just sick, Tess. Take no notice. Dave will be back soon and we three will eat together on deck.”

  “How dare he bring her here,” she breathed. How dare he!”

  “You don’t understand.”

  But Tess had twisted suddenly, almost frenziedly, at the sound of a klaxon.

  “Hey there, Tess!” a man called. “Have you forgotten our party? Where’s Dave?”

  “He’s busy,” she panted. “But I’ll come.”

  Luke snatched at her wrist. “You can’t, Tess.”

  “Can’t I?” Like a vixen she wrenched free. “If Dave wants me back he’d better come for me at midnight.” And she was up the gangway and flying towards the car.

  But as the anchor light of the Bondoa dimmed out, her whole being crumpled. That frightful woman ... and her ghostly voice! Most of all her voice.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THAT night Tess occupied the spare bedroom in the house of a young married government inspector. The suggestion was Dave’s. He had arrived at the party in the club just before eleven, and within five minutes had become convinced that Tess was too strung up to face the night on the boat. For one thing she could scarcely bear to look at him, and she shivered and turned away when he asked her to dance.

  So at midnight she found herself in the back of a saloon car, with Dave saying good night to her at the window. Several drinks had dulled the shock but made her sleepy and wretched.

  In her room on the Boulevard she slept heavily, and it was with a sense of loss and fear that she awakened late in strange surroundings. Her head ached and her mouth had the raw flavour of stale smoke. A houseboy brought tea and a parcel which contained her pink linen frock. Dave had sent it down, with a note pinned under the lapel.

  Walt will pick you up at twelve and take you to lunch and polo. Stick with him, there’s a good girl, and try not to hate me too much.

  She reeled from bedroom to bathroom and back again, put on the frock and brushed her hair. It was already ten o’clock, but her hostess still lay sleeping. In search of fresh air she went out to the verandah, but apparently the light wind still blew off the land. It smelled sickly and damp. She sat down and her head throbbed into the cushion against which it rested. It was a headache such as she had never before experienced, a blinding, dizzying illness of the brain.

  Her hostess had just trailed out in a dressing-gown and said good morning when an impeccably attired Luke drove up in a taxi. Good morning merged into goodbye and thanks, and Tess got into the ancient vehicle and closed her eyes against the bumps as it rolled down towards the club.

  “Rocky?” queried Luke. “Is it a hangover?”

  “And how,” she said faintly.

  “Taken anything?”

  “Not even an aspirin. There was no one about and I had no money.”

  “Filthy luck. We’ll put you right at the club.”

  He seated her in the thick shade of the club terrace and brought her two tablets and a bromo-seltzer. In a little while her keel evened, but she remained pale and listless. At one o’clock Luke insisted that they go for lunch.

  While they were eating, he said: “Dave and I didn’t sleep on the boat last night. He said I was to be sure and tell you that.”

  “What difference would it have made if you had?”

  “Not much, but you might have wondered. We spent most of the night playing cards on the Mercury. Dave said—”

  “I’d rather not hear it, Luke.”

  “You’ve got to confront the facts some time.”

  “But I have to assimilate a few others first. I’m afraid they’re too horrible to take at one gulp.”

  “That’s foolish, and very unjust.”

  “I can’t help it. At the moment I feel that I never want to see Dave or the Bondoa again.”

  “Hell! Whatever he’s done he did for you.” In his exasperation Luke shoved away his half-finished pudding. “I made myself believe hard things about him, too, but you’ve got to hand it to him when he’s in a spot. You don’t suppose it feels good to have Mrs. Redding slung about his neck, do you?”

  Tess raised an unsteady hand to her forehead. “Please let’s leave it, Luke. I need some coffee.”

  During the afternoon Luke did his utmost to be normal and companionable. He drove her out to the river mouth where they could watch natives hollowing canoes from mahogany logs and the women washing cassava roots. They came back to a Hausa store and he made her select for him a couple of ties.

  “I may use a tie more often when we’re settled,” he told her. “I’m not going to be one of your shirt-and-trousers store owners. It’s time I started living.”

  “Is seafaring already getting you down?”

  “No, but I’ll be glad to have a place of my own.”

  “Aren’t you ever going to marry?”

  “Ever’s a long time, but the more I put it off the more remote the chance. The tropics have spoiled me for the domestic life. Apart from trying to make a man over and filling his rooms with junk, a woman can be the devil of a nuisance.”

  “You don’t have to choose the managing kind.”

  “The gentle ones go in for big families, and that wouldn’t suit me, either. I’d be content to watch Dave’s kids grow up.”

  Tess contrived a distorted smile and came out of the shop ahead of him.

  “Now we’ll go straight to the boat,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No, Luke.”

  “You’re not still scared?”

  “I’m just not up to it.”

  “Up to what? You simply go to your cabin and get some rest. I promised Dave I’d bring you back.”

  “That woman will be there.”

  “What of it? You can’t be afraid of a sick person, and anyway, it will be best for you two to meet again in daylight. It was pretty rotten for you last night, but you’ve been through worse than that.”

  “She may accuse me again.”

  “That was the drug talking. She’d been swallowing something to swamp her sorrows.”

  Tess closed her fingers tightly over his sleeve. “I’m not a baby, Luke, nor a moron. It was bad enough at the log-house. One can’t live through that type of experience more than once.”

  He stopped and gazed down at her, his lean face drawn into new lines of anxiety. “What do you know?” he asked quietly.

  “That ... Redding was the gun-runner who tried to poison me. Dave has always pretended that the gunrunner and Redding were two different men because he didn’t want me to realize that he had killed a man.”

  “Dave didn’t kill Redding — he wounded him. Redding took poison while he was in the clinic.”

  “Oh.” It was half sigh and half shudder. Tess had gone white and was leaning against him.


  “Tess.” He spoke urgently, close to her ear. “You had no idea about this till last night, had you?”

  “No. The woman’s voice ... I’d heard it before, at that house — but it was more lively then. It was she who made the man give me the coffee and turn me loose in the trees. Maria heard her, too. He didn’t want to do it.”

  “Oh, my God!” He muttered it twice. “Look, Tess. We’re going to the boat. If Avia’s about, ignore her. Slip into your cabin and lock it.”

  Luke was suddenly active. He marched her the last few yards to the waterfront, and whistled up the taxi.

  Ten minutes later it deposited them at the end of the jetty.

  As Tess reached the deck Dave appeared.

  “All right?” he asked quickly. “You’re tired, Tess.”

  “Sure she is.” Luke, conscious of Avia’s approach, gave Tess a small dig in the back. “Go and have a cold wash and lie down.” As she moved off he exchanged quick glances with Dave. “How about a short one to help the sun down?”

  “Suits me.”

  “You, too, Mrs. Redding?”

  Avia inserted an arm in Dave’s. “A long one,” she said languidly. “A very long one.”

  In the main cabin it was Luke who poured the drinks. His first intention had been to draw Dave aside for a lightning consultation, and thereafter to let him handle the situation. But Avia was sticking close, as she had no doubt done all day, and in spite of weakness, she had the air of a woman in fair control of herself. So Luke gave her a whisky-and-soda and pushed a similar drink across to Dave. There were no more chairs, so he perched uncomfortably on the edge of a bunk.

  He lifted his drink. “Here’s to the living ... and the dead,” and he took a sip.

  “The toast was in very bad taste,” said Avia.

  “Merely a warning,” he remarked. “I’ve been learning all about you, Avia. I’m rather curious as to one thing. Cast your mind back a bit. You never saw Tess while she was in that log-house, did you?”

  Avia’s whole face compressed and an excessive whiteness was visible each side of her nostrils. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had no knowledge of the house till Francis was dead. I’ve stated that under oath.”

  “I remember that, but it’s rather odd. Because Tess saw you.”

  Dave sprang up. “What are you trying to do, Walt? Tess has said she saw only the two Portuguese and Redding?”

  “Meeting Avia last night reminded her of an incident which occurred just before she was taken from the house. She told me about it less than an hour ago.”

  He paused. “Perhaps you will answer just one more question Avia. When you persuaded your husband that the girl he had captured from the freight train was dangerous and would have to be put out of the way, were you aware that she was Dave’s wife?”

  If Luke had expended hours rehearsing for his effect it could not have been more shattering. Every drop of blood seemed driven from Dave’s face as he watched the scarlet-clad, shaking creature in the canvas chair.

  For a full minute Luke feared he had overdone it. Then he heard Dave pull out a breath from the depths of his lungs and speak to the woman.

  “You haven’t answered, Avia!”

  “Don’t stare at me like that, Dave. I’m ill ... you know I’m ill” Avia jerked up her glass and dashed half the whisky down her throat. “Yes ... I did go to the house, but I was too terrified to admit it at the enquiry. I didn’t see the girl, and if I had I wouldn’t have known her. We ... Francis was frantic because he had traced through a cheque-book that she had some connection with you. I had no inkling what the connection might be till we returned to Lokola, and Brigham let out that you were married. Then I pieced all the happenings together.” Hoarse with anger, she turned upon Luke. “If she told you she saw me she’s lying. Francis would never let me be seen by anyone.”

  “Did I say that Tess saw you? I meant that she heard you, and last night recognized your voice.”

  By the aid of whiskey, Avia had regained some of her command. command. With creditable poise she rose to her feet.

  “Seeing that you’re only half-informed, I’ll be gracious and give you the rest. It was I who pressed Francis to enter the gun racket. I wanted money — casks of it — because I was sick of being despised and living at the wrong end of the station; I’d lived that way all my life. I told you I had married a Belgian, but I only lived with him—”

  “Call a taxi, Walt,” said Dave sharply.

  Avia lifted her shoulders. “Let him go. I’d just as soon only you heard it, Dave. Goodbye, Walt,” she called after him.

  “Come out on deck,” Dave said grimly.

  “No. When I walk out I’ll do it alone, thanks.” Avia’s features went cold and still her lips hardly moved. “At Lokola I became ambitious. I was after enough money to make me free of Francis Redding, and I rather thought that you and I might make a go of it one day. Now that I’ve met that girl I can understand the coolness in you, which always piqued me before. She’s nice, Dave. She hasn’t been kicked around, like I was —”

  “Shut up and go!”

  “I haven’t finished. Confession is necessary to a soul in torment. I heard an evangelist yell that once. Well, here’s some more of mine. I didn’t deceive myself when you were so kind to me in Fort Leppa. Obviously you felt bad because the man you had shot was my husband, and had been your friend, and you were determined to make the road easy for me. I got the impression that everything would come my way ... if Francis died.”

  Curtly, Dave replied, “You’ve already said too much.”

  “Perhaps, but it doesn’t matter now. You’ve guessed, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. Each time you visited your husband in the clinic you begged him to take a doctored drink. You left the tablets in his bedside cupboard so that it would appear like suicide.”

  “Quite right. I did.” Her heavy lids drooped, as if she were weary. “Though I did have hopes that the stuff wouldn’t be detected, so that you would blame yourself for his death. Perhaps you can imagine the jolt I got when Brigham flapped around squawking that you had a wife?”

  “You’re trash ... and crazy besides. Redding was decent enough till you fastened your claws into him. We’ve nothing more to say to each other. You a better go.”

  Her teeth closed hard over her lower lip and when they released it a spot of blood oozed over the carmine. Dave lowered his gaze. Like this she was a pitiable object.

  She squared her shoulders. “I ought to thank you for not handing me over to the authorities. If I were a man you’d have twisted my neck. I’m sorry I’m ... not a man.”

  Dave didn’t see her go; rather, he sensed the removal of her presence from the cabin. He drank down the whisky, and tried to relax his rigid muscles while he unlocked the medicine-case and sought through it for luminal. If Tess were given some hot milk and a couple of capsules right away she might sleep through till dawn. Armando could be sent ashore to round up the other two seamen and before daybreak the Bondoa could be well out and heading south. He’d be glad to have done with West Africa.

  But Dave was reckoning without Avia’s final gesture.

  Mechanically, Tess had begun to follow Luke’s advice. She bathed her face in cold water and shut herself into the cabin; but she did not lie down. She stood between the two blue-blanketed bunks and held clammy fingers to her pulsing temples.

  The ventilator had been shut off and the air was stuffy and stagnant. The walls pressed in upon her as her skull seemed to be pressing upon her brain. Presently she tugged open the porthole. The sinking sun slanted in, hot and golden. The sea was flat and treacly pitted with flying fish. A launch chugged abeam of the Bondoa. Tess heard the raucous Portuguese pidgin common in these-waters and guessed that a party of seamen were going ashore for the evening. Caged and stifled, she roamed the narrow cabin, and finally she unlocked the door and mounted the companionway.

  The deck was deserted, but Luke was hurrying to the head of the
jetty, a rangy-looking puppet at this distance. Tess followed him with her eyes till he disappeared behind a truckload of merchandise which had recently been unloaded from a vessel.

  A cold, moist hand touched her bare arm, and in sudden terror she faced round to look into the haggard, hollow-eyed countenance of Avia Redding. Instinctively she recoiled.

  Avia slowly shook her head; her red mouth widened into a long, crooked smile. Without speaking, she dragged up the gangway and for a moment she stood outlined against the sky, a vividly lonely figure. In a state of half-paralysis Tess watched her walk forward as though each step called for fresh physical effort. She noticed that the woman had her head raised, and she had the frightful conviction that the dark eyes were closed. Avia was making straight for the edge of the stone-jetty.

  Horrified, Tess watched the stumble and the headlong topple into the water. An instant later she screamed, and sprang from the side of the ship. She struck out towards the spot where Avia had disappeared and swam around till the dark head surfaced. Whatever happened she must keep her eye rigidly averted from the dead-white, dripping mask and the floating black hair.

  She reached out and grabbed at Avia’s waist, but was unprepared for the maniac force of the other woman s fist against her collar-bone.

  “Get away, damn you!” Avia tugged herself free and let out hard with her foot. Her eyes glittered now, like smooth jet.

  Tess felt the shoe in her rib, instinctively doubled with pain, and went under. She came up in time to see the lank tresses spread like seaweed over the oily water before they were drawn down into the black depths of the harbour.

  A terrible sob wrenched her, and then another. Her mind and limbs had almost ceased to function She was conscious of Dave’s arm across her breast and of tears burning over her cold skin from the outer corners of her eyes as he swam with her to the boat. Luke leaned over to lend his strength as Dave lifted her aboard.

  She lay on the deck, knees drawn up in an abandonment of convulsive weeping while Dave knelt at her side, pushing back strips of hair from her forehead and wincing as if her anguish were his.