Return Journey

by Ruby M. Ayres

  “And we might frighten the Arabs,” Constance said dryly.

  What a disappointment, Rocky thought, for somehow she had been sure that tonight Wheeler would ask her to dance with him.

  When dinner was over and she left the saloon he was waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

  “No dancing tonight,” he said.

  “No.” Her eyes fell before his. “I’m just going to get a wrap,” she said. “It seems a little chilly.”

  “I hope you didn’t catch cold in the bath.”

  “Oh no,” she laughed, and turned away.

  “I’ll be on deck,” he told her.

  “That means he will wait for me,” she thought happily.

  Wheeler strolled out into the starlit night, wondering with a half-embarrassed sense of happiness why life had seemed so different since the moment when he kissed Rocky’s lips.

  It had been quite an involuntary kiss, but it gave him a tender little feeling when he remembered her half-drowned appearance and the wet softness of her lips.

  He strolled along the deck smoking furiously, her face always before him.

  Of course the environment of shipboard was always conducive to romance; it was not the first time he had been attracted in the same way—well, no, not in the same way. He stopped and glanced back, wishing she would come, but there was no sign of her, and he had strolled on again when there was a patter of high heels on the deck behind him and Gina’s voice calling his name.

  “You walk so quick—you walk so quick.” She came up to him when he stopped, laughing and breathless, a gauzy scarf of midnight blue twisted around her head, and the many bracelets on her arms tinkling. “It is a beautiful night—yes?” she asked, holding her head on one side like a gaudy bird.

  “Yes,” Wheeler answered uncompromisingly. “Confound the woman,” he was saying to himself, and yet he could not very well protest that he was waiting for Rocky; he could only hope that Rocky, seeing his companion, would not keep away.

  Gina pattered on talking all the time. She had received a cable, it appeared, from her agent, and there were many offers waiting for her in Australia. It was good, of course, but—she shrugged her white shoulders—sometimes she was a little weary of the glamour —it was not real—it was—unsatisfying.

  She stole a side glance at Wheeler’s expressionless face. “You’re tired too?” she asked sympathetically.

  “Tired? Oh no, I’m not easily tired.”

  Gina sighed.

  “What it is to be strong,” she said, “like Rocky—does she ever rest, I wonder? Always on and on.” She laughed as if at something secret which amused her. “Soon we shall hear of a little romance,” she added slyly.

  Wheeler looked at her then.

  “Romance?”

  She laid a finger on her lip.

  “Rocky,” she whispered. “Little Rocky and that nice boy—what is he called? Clive!”

  He made no remark, and she went on:

  “I tell you a secret—just now … up on the next deck—I was walking there—it is so hot, and there is no air—-so I walk up there and”—her artificial laugh came again—”I see Rocky and the nice boy—kissing.”

  She paused expectantly, but Wheeler said nothing, though he turned his face sharply from her; and she went on, lowering her voice: “It is just a secret—you must not tell—I never tell secrets.”

  “Why should I tell?” Wheeler asked coolly. “It is no concern of mine.” But his heart felt cold with a sudden bitterness and hatred of Rocky, whom a moment ago he had been so dangerously near to loving.

  Women were all the same; his experience should have warned him that she was no different from the rest.

  And then suddenly behind them on the deck he heard her hurrying footsteps, footsteps which he would have known anywhere—even had he believed her to be a thousand miles away. But he did not turn his head—not even when he heard them slow down a little and presently stop….

  “Such a heavenly night,” Gina sighed sentimentally. “Look at the stars—so many of them-—and all so bright.”

  Sir John Stannard came to the smoking-room door.

  “Anybody seen Miss Esther?” he asked. “It’s amazing how you can lose people even in a ship of this size.”

  Mr. Bumpus, ensconced nearby in a deck-chair, answered him:

  “I heard her say she was going to read to her sister—a bit hot in the cabin a night like this, I should think.” He rose and glanced round to see if his wife was anywhere near. “What do you all say to a drink?” he asked.

  They went into the smoking-room, Gina no longer smiling; and presently when they were sitting round one of the tables, Rocky appeared in the doorway and looked across at them-—timidly.

  Wheeler was the only one who saw her, but he gave no sign and did not even answer her wavering smile. She waited for a moment, as if finding it impossible to believe that she was not welcome; and then, without a word, she turned away and disappeared into the darkness.

  Chapter

  13

  The day of the fancy-dress ball proved to be one of the hottest of the voyage.

  The depressed Edith said gloomily: “I don’t know why we’re having it so soon; as a rule we wait till just before we get to Colombo. I think it’s absurd.”

  “You would,” Clive answered. “Is anything ever right for you?”

  Rocky rushed to the rescue.

  “We’re having it now because so many people are getting off at Aden, and they asked the sports committee to have it.” But Edith refused to be mollified.

  “Why are people getting off at Aden?” she demanded. “It’s such a dreadful place.”

  “I suppose because they have to,” Rocky answered sensibly. “And, anyway, Mrs. Saunders—her husband is there with the Air Force, you know—says that she loves it, and that the English colony has a wonderful time. Of course, I’ve never been to Aden, but——”

  “It’s just a dried-up rock,” Edith declared, determined not to be cheerful. “There’s hardly a tree to be seen, and it’s as hot as——”

  “Hades,” Clive added for her as she paused for a word.

  “I like the heat,” Rocky said calmly. “And it will be lovely dancing on deck tonight.”

  “May I have the supper dance?” Clive asked in an undertone.

  Rocky’s eyes turned to a shady corner of the deck where Wheeler was lying in a long chair, his arms folded behind his head, and his eyes closed.

  He had not spoken to her all day.

  “You may have as many dances as you like,” she answered, and there was a hard little note in her voice.

  The depressed Edith went on, still pursuing her own gloomy line of thought: “If it isn’t cooler, I shall just wear ordinary evening dress—and you’ll find nearly everyone will do the same.”

  “Oh no, they won’t,” Rocky declared cheerfully. “The barber’s shop was packed with people this morning, all trying to make appointments to have their hair done, and buying wigs and things. I think it’s going to be fun.”

  Edith looked at her unsmilingly.

  “You think everything is fun,” she said reproachfully.

  Miss Esther came hurrying up to them.

  “Can I speak to you a moment?” she asked Rocky breathlessly.

  “Of course.” Rocky slipped her hand through Miss Esther’s arm and they walked away together. “What is it?” she asked.

  Miss Esther laughed a little shyly.

  “It’s about tonight. I don’t know what you’ll think—that I’m silly, perhaps—but—I should like to wear fancy dress tonight. You see, I’ve never worn fancy dress in my life—and——”

  “But of course you must” Rocky interrupted. “Have you brought one with you?”

  Miss Esther shook her head.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t, but—there are some in the shop—and I thought—it seems a pity to be quite out of the fun,” she added a little wistfully. “Of course, my sister won’t dress—I wish she w
ould. I think she would make a wonderful Britannia or something dignified like that—but she was horrified when I suggested it.”

  Rocky knitted her brows thoughtfully.

  “I don’t believe there’s anything in the shop that will quite suit you,” she said at last; and then, with a sudden bright idea: “I know! … You must go as a White Nun. It’s frightfully becoming and ever so easy. I was at a carnival in Paris once, and a girl there——” She broke off.

  “But I haven’t the proper clothes,” Miss Esther protested.

  “We can get them,” Rocky said confidently. “You’ve got a white frock, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, but——”

  “Then that’s all right,” the girl said confidently. “I can do the rest for you. It’s a long frock, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but——”

  Rocky interrupted once more. “Then all we want is a white sheet or a shawl—I’ll ask Mrs. Bingham, my stewardess—and a white handkerchief bound round your forehead—and we can make a little cross out of some silver paper. Oh, you’ll look just a darling!”

  Miss Esther’s eyes sparkled.

  “You’re sure it will be all right?” she asked dubiously.

  “It will be marvellous,” Rocky declared. She was all excitement herself now. “You come to my cabin about six o’clock and we’ll have a dress rehearsal, and I’ll tell you what—we’ll have a dinner-party first—you come to our table—and we’ll ask Sir John too, and Mr. and Mrs. Bumpus.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I’ll see the head steward.” She turned quickly to go, but Miss Esther stopped her.

  “But my sister,” she said in alarm.

  Rocky laughed. “Oh, I’ll manage her—at least, I’ll try.”

  “And Mr. Wheeler?” Miss Esther said. “It seems a shame to leave him sitting alone—I’ve often wondered why he prefers to sit alone instead of joining up with someone.

  Rocky turned away.

  “I think he’s much happier alone,” she said shortly; and then hesitatingly: “But ask him if you like. He’s sitting up there in a deck-chair.” And she was gone.

  Miss Esther looked after her uncertainly. Didn’t Rocky like Mr. Wheeler, she wondered, and remembered that Sir John had once said that they made an attractive pair. That was at Port Said when they had met in the hotel. She glanced across the deck to the long chair where Wheeler was still apparently asleep, and then determinedly she walked towards him.

  “Mr. Wheeler!”

  He opened his eyes lazily and then rose to his feet.

  “Good afternoon. I was half asleep. Won’t you sit down?”

  He drew up a chair for her. “Hot, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Very hot,” Miss Esther agreed. She felt unaccountably nervous, and there was a little pause before she added: “You know it’s the fancy-dress ball tonight?”

  “Is it? I’d forgotten—though now I come to think about it, I have seen people dashing about with mysterious garments hanging over their arms.” He yawned, stretching his long legs before him. “Are you joining the gay throng?” he asked with a touch of irony.

  Miss Esther flushed a little.

  “I’m afraid I am,” she admitted. “At least, Rocky is going to help me make a dress.”

  “Oh,” he said dryly.

  “And—we thought—we thought it would be fun to have a dinner-party beforehand,” she went on. “To join up at one table, Mr. and Mrs. Bumpus and Sir John.” Her voice wavered ever such a little. “And me and Rocky and her friends—and so—will you come too?”

  Wheeler’s steady eyes were fixed on the blue sea.

  “You’re very kind,” he said. “But—well, I shall not be dressing, and so I’m afraid I should be rather a wet blanket.”

  “Rocky will be very disappointed,” Miss Esther said earnestly, and wondered why she was so sure that Rocky would be.

  Wheeler laughed.

  “Will she? I am flattered, but if you will forgive me——”

  “You mean you won’t come?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “I’m not much good at a—dinner-party of that sort, thank you all the same.”

  She looked at him reproachfully, but he avoided her eyes. “Sir John is coming,” she said, forgetting that as yet Sir John had not been invited.

  “Sir John is an ornament to any function,” Wheeler answered formally.

  Miss Esther sighed, but she tried once more.

  “It won’t be very enjoyable for you, sitting alone.”

  He laughed. “I don’t really deserve your kind sympathy,” he answered. “I am quite used to my own company.” And then he added: “Don’t think I am ungrateful, will you?”

  Miss Esther shook her head. “But I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll tell Rocky.” And she rose and left him.

  Wheeler watched her go, and there was something a little wistful in his expression. He liked Miss Esther, and the last thing he wished was to hurt her feelings, and yet——He half rose as if to follow her, then sat down again, his face hardening. He knew exactly what such a party would be like—noisy and horribly cheerful—and he was not in the mood for such entertainment.

  Rocky, of course, would be the life and -soul of it all. He wondered what her dress would be. In imagination he could already hear her laughter and her sweetly shrill voice rising above the rest, and for an instant he felt as if a rough hand had touched his heart. He leaned back again and closed his eyes against the bright sunshine, but he could still see her face with its eager grey eyes and unexpected dimple and the slightly turned-up corners of her brows which gave her that look of innocent childish enquiry.

  And yet she wasn’t a child; she had had more experience than many women twice her age. An unkind memory showed her to him again as she had looked that night in Paris in her too-smart, too-old frock in the unhealthy atmosphere of her father’s apartment. Funny how she had appealed to him even then, so that her presence had followed him out into the silent streets and had forced him back again in the grey morning to slip that envelope through her letter-box with money which at the time he could ill afford.

  A queer smile twisted his lips at the memory. What would she say, he wondered, if he told her that it was his money that had made her escape from Paris and this trip possible? His money which had paid for her clothes—even for the gay little bathing suit she had worn that morning when, with sudden loss of self-control, he had kissed her lips?

  Why was it that a slip of a girl like that could make such a fool of a man? It was not as if with him it was a first experience.

  And then suddenly he heard her voice again.

  “Clive! … Clive! … It’s all right—we’ve fixed it up. The steward was a perfect lamb, and he’s promised——”

  Wheeler suddenly sprang to his feet and walked away in the opposite direction, but Rocky’s voice followed him—went with him—just as sometimes, when he was alone, he imagined that her quick footsteps were pattering beside him.

  As he was going down to his cabin Mr. Bumpus waylaid him in the passage-way, his arms filled with mysterious-looking articles of clothing.

  “Coming to the party, Wheeler?” he asked cheerily, and there was something young and excited about his elderly voice; and then, as the younger man shook his head, frowning slighdy, he said: “Oh, but you must come. We’re all going to be sixteen tonight— and not a day older. Of course you must come, my dear fellow.” And then, lowering his voice, he added, with suppressed laughter: “It’s supposed to be a secret, but I don’t mind telling you that my wife and I are going to be dressed as Jack and Jill.” He guffawed loudly. “You must come, Wheeler. Get a costume and join in the fun. What do you say?”

  And what Wheeler said was: “If I came—it would be as a skeleton, the skeleton at the feast.”

  “God bless my soul!” Mr. Bumpus said blankly.

  He stared after Wheeler’s departing figure for an instant and then shrugged his shoulders and hurriedly made for his cabin. A decidedly odd you
ng man, he decided. Why couldn’t he come off his perch and join in the fun? For his own part, he was proud to say that he felt just like a schoolboy—like a very mischievous schoolboy and not a day over sixteen.

  From six o’clock that evening the ship was a veritable beehive of hurrying people, excited voices, and subdued laughter from behind closed cabin doors.

  The stewards and stewardesses, who had gone through the same thing dozens of times before, entered into the spirit of the fun as if it was a first experience.

  Mrs. Bingham bustled in and out of her passengers’ cabins, fetching and carrying, putting in last-minute stitches and safety-pins, criticising and admiring and suggesting as if she was entirely responsible for the evening’s success.

  Rocky had had a little tussle with the elder Miss Pawson when she had visited her cabin to give an invitation to the dinner-party.

  “Please come,” she begged in her charming voice. “It’s going to be such fun, and you needn’t dress if you don’t want to—I mean, lots of the passengers will wear just ordinary evening frocks—and Sir John is coming—and he’ll be very disappointed if you don’t come.” The last words were entirely her own invention; but Miss Pawson’s stern face certainly softened a little as she said:

  “I hear that my sister is to wear some absurd costume. Well, that is her own affair, but I shall certainly not make myself so ridiculous——”

  Rocky broke in with breathless eagerness: “Then you will come? Oh, thank you. I think it’s sweet of you. I’ll go and tell the others.” And she fled before there was time for further argument.

  “She’s coming,” she announced excitedly, rushing into her own cabin, where Mrs. Bingham was admiring Miss Esther, who was already dressed.

  “Rocky dear, I’m sure this head-dress will fall off,” Miss Esther began in a troubled voice as Rocky threw open the door; and then she broke off to say in blank amazement: “She’s coming! Are you sure? I can’t believe it.”

  “It’s true,” Rocky said gaily. “And I believe she’s quite pleased about being asked—and your head-dress won’t fall off, and you look a perfect angel.” Her grey eyes softened as she looked at Miss Esther, very young and pretty in her nun’s white costume. “If somebody doesn’t fall desperately in love with you tonight I shall be surprised,” she added.