Anne Hampson

by Beyond the Sweet Waters [HR-1467, MB-433] (epub)

  Jeanette sat up as a motor launch skimmed the waves; there was a gay greeting from those on board, and she, responded, her call awakening Craig from his half sleep. They both watched the launch, owned by a family who lived further along the beach. They were Turkish, and had become friendly with Craig just after they bought the white-painted, high-storied yali three years ago.

  The launch became a toy on the horizon and Jeanette turned, aware of Craig's regard. Their eyes met, and smiled. A surge of happiness swept through her. Nothing seemed to matter but the present. Even though their stay on the island was coming to an end, there were still five days to go and she would not allow her thoughts to drift any further than that.

  Craig rose, and they wandered slowly up to the house. He too seemed happy, without a care in the world, and she felt gratified by the knowledge that she had contributed to this state of mind, for the book had gone very well indeed and Craig had asserted with confidence that it would be finished by Christmas.

  'What do we do this evening?' he asked as they sat under the trees in the garden having their tea. 'Shall we eat out, or at home?'

  'At home,' she said quickly, and he smiled at her eagerness.

  'I prefer that, too,' he said. 'We can walk afterwards, if you like?'

  She smiled and nodded.

  'I'd like that.' Their walks were always pleasant, taken in the cool of the evening, and usually through the pine woods, away from the lights and the Crowds.

  On returning from their walk they stayed for a while outside the yali. There had been a sudden shower and the air smelled freshly of rain. Craig Was in a strange mood -had been since dinner. He was neither distant nor very close. He seemed to have something on his mind; seemed filled with indecision. His carefree attitude of the afternoon had disappeared. Jeanette accepted his mood, having decided long ago that, as far as she was concerned, there would always be something enigmatical about Craig. She would never understand him. Wonderful though her stay on the island had been, she was ever conscious of Craig's varying moods. Often he had shown impatience, and on occasions she had detected a hint of mockery, and even contempt, beneath his apparently teasing manner. At other times his gentleness had brought tears to her eyes and with a sense of guilt she would find herself once more envying the woman he was soon to marry.

  'Do you want to go in?' he asked at length.

  Another evening gone. A tightness came to Jeanette's throat. If they went in now there would be the usual quick drink and they would go up to their rooms, Craig, she knew, to work mentally on his book, and she herself to lie awake also, but for quite another reason. She felt a sudden urgency to prolong the evening and she said quickly,

  'It's so lovely out here. Can we stay for a little while longer?'.

  Her words had a strange effect on him; he obviously favoured the idea, and the indecision of a few moments ago disappeared. He took her arm and they wandered down the garden towards the little jetty where his yacht lay moored.

  Jeanette sighed, realizing the futility of her endeavours. What was there to be gained by keeping him at her side for another hour?

  They stood by the jetty, under a star-filled sky, watching the lights from the numerous little fishing boats bobbing about on the water. Craig's hand was still under her arm; his fingers moved almost caressingly. An automatic gesture, she knew, but she trembled under his touch.

  'You're not cold?' he,asked with gentle concern. 'Shall we go back?' She could only shake her head dumbly, again wondering what benefit she derived from keeping him here- He sensed her dejection and said unexpectedly, 'What is it, child? There are times - and this is one of them - when I gain the impression that you would like to weep on my shoulder.' Her eyes darted to his. Was it her own lack of caution? - or Craig's almost uncanny perception? 'Well—' he lifted an eyebrow quizzically, 'are you going to deny it ?'

  She shook her head, giving him a wan smile. 'I do sometimes feel - rather depressed,' and, immediately regretting her admission, 'But it soon passes.'

  A fishing boat came near the shore, and Craig's attention appeared to be diverted for a moment.

  'What have you to be depressed about? Can't you tell me?'

  Tell him! the thought bleakly. He was the last person she could tell.

  'It soon passes,' was all she could find to say, and he moved impatiently. The eagerness with which he had agreed to their staying out a while longer was replaced by an odd disappointment which puzzled her.

  'But it returns.' He regarded her fixedly, his mouth tight. 'I don't expect you'll thank me for what I'm going to say, Jeanette, but I'm going to say it, all the same.' A slight hesitation and then, 'Mark has told me about what happened to your fiance.' He paused again, for her reaction; she remained silent, waiting for him to continue. It was odd, she mused, that she was how prepared to talk about Ned, feeling no pain at reviving the memory. But her silence aroused his anger and his voice became cold and harsh. 'Are you intending to dwell on the past for the rest of your life?' he demanded. 'Do you think the man who loved you would want you to go on living with a memory?'

  His words astonished her, for although he had always spoken his mind, she would not have expected him to be so forthright as this over what to him should have seemed is most delicate matter. But, strangely, she did not take exception to his outspokenness and her voice was quiet and serene when she spoke.

  'I'm not, Craig.' She now wanted to confide in him, to tell him that the memory no longer hurt. 'I'm not; you see-'

  'You are!' he exclaimed wrathfully. 'I'm not minimizing your sorrow, but it's almost four years since it happened. You can't live with it for ever!'

  Why this increase of anger? His lack of patience hurt. He had no right to show impatience when he himself continued to live in the past. But as always he assumed the role of mentor, telling her what to do without any intention of following his own advice. Her eyelids pricked; she longed for a return of his gentle manner, and she said quietly,

  'I'm not living in the past, Craig, although it may seem so to you—'

  'Then why are you so dead set against marriage? You're obviously determined on a life of spinsterhood. Explain that, if, as you say, you're not living in the past?' His tones were quieter now, but no less impatient The tears were on her lashes as she murmured huskily,

  'I can't ever marry, Craig, not now. I can't tell you why, but it isn't - it isn't what you think.' Before she had even finished he was sighing impatiently, and she knew he had paid no attention to her last words. Not that it mattered, for she could not have explained further.

  'Why...? I know why.' He shrugged an angry resignation. 'Very well, have it your own way. I'll neither offer advice nor even mention the matter again. Let's go back to the house.'

  Dumbly she walked beside him, but they had not taken more than half a dozen steps when they both turned as a launch came up to the jetty. Murad jumped out and handed Craig a letter.

  'From England,' Jeanette heard him say, and then began speaking in Turkish. But now and then Craig put in a word in English, obviously so that Jeanette could understand the conversation. Murad had brought the letter because he thought it might be urgent, coming from England. It had arrived just about tea time, but Murad couldn't come earlier because he had had difficulty in borrowing a launch.

  Craig thanked him and Murad was soon on his way again, speeding away across the dark waters.

  Immediately on entering the sitting-room Craig opened the envelope and took out the letter. Jeanette stood there, her heart fluttering almost painfully as she watched his face.

  'Roy - Diane's husband - died on Tuesday,' he told her, still staring at the letter. His face was set and grim, but there was a certain sadness in his expression, and also in his tone when he spoke. 'It's tragic, for he was a fine man, but... but it's a relief for everyone concerned.' He fell into a pensive silence, and, quietly, Jeanette bade him good night. He did not hear, and she turned and left the room.

  She had little sleep, merely dozing now and
then, between long hours of wakefulness, and at seven o'clock she decided to get up and take a walk along the shore. Her cardigan was in the sitting-room and she went to fetch it.

  The letter lay open on the table, where Craig had left it on going to bed. Despite herself Jeanette found her eyes drawn to it.

  '... on Tuesday. I am helping dear Diane, and soon we, shall be coming over. I hope, my son, that you and she will now find happiness together. Diane never mention your future together, and neither do you, but I know this is what you have been been waiting for—' Jeanette dragged herself away from the table, ashamed of her lapse, and took up her cardigan from the couch.

  The beach was deserted; she walked slowly, seeing nothing. A breeze wafted in from the sea, but although it soothed the feverish heat of her brow it brought no relief, to the persistent little throb of pain in her temples.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  By the middle of September Jeanette was back at school, throwing herself into her job by day and into the gay round of parties and other entertainments in the evenings. Cetin still made up one of the crowd, though he rarely spoke to Jeanette and she knew that his interest had waned. Often he would ignore her altogether, not even asking for a dance, and although Sally and Gwen remarked on this, being plainly puzzled by the change in Cetin, Jeanette remained silent about what had happened during the holiday.

  Diane had come over for a short stay, accompanied by Mrs. Fleming, but this was only by way of a break before plunging herself into the business of disposing of her husband's estate. From something Mark said soon after their arrival Jeanette concluded Diane was selling everything without delay.

  'Then she's coming here - for good?' Her throat suddenly hurt, so that her words were scarcely audible. 'Will she and Craig be married here ?'

  'From what Craig's mother says they're to be married in England. Then they'll live here until Craig moves to Greece. He plans on settling on one of the islands there.'

  'It seems odd,' she couldn't help saying, 'that Craig doesn't want to settle in England. After all, his mother has no one else in the world - at least, that's what Diane once told me.'

  There was a slight hesitation before her brother spoke.

  'Craig's mother is a very possessive woman, and a managing one. She's always suggesting to Craig that she knows what's best for him - and, as you can imagine,' he added with a grimace, 'he's not the man to tolerate anything like that. But I do know he has a deep affection for her, and would never deliberately hurt her feelings.' Mark paused for a moment and Jeanette's thoughts went back to that night on the island when she and Craig had returned rather late from their walk. Craig's eyes had glinted when his mother glanced at the clock, but when he spoke there was no indication of any anger or resentment in his voice. 'I really believe that's the reason he came away from England in the first place - in order to get away from her. Craig has his own subtle way of handling his affairs, so that she has never guessed at the truth. Had he set up his own establishment in England it would have been clear that he didn't want to live with her. That would obviously have upset her, and I imagine, knowing her, that it could have caused a deep and lasting rift. Naturally, Craig wouldn't want anything like that to happen.'

  'Do you - do you think it's definite that Craig and Diane will marry?' Jeanette spoke with difficulty, flushing as her brother threw her a flickering, sidelong glance. 'I mean - you once said that - that people change. .. ' Why refer to that? she asked herself, with swift impatience. It had merely been an incidental remark passed by her brother, expressing his opinion at the time, a vague opinion which he had immediately dismissed as of no importance.

  'I think it's very definite that they'll marry,' he replied, ignoring her last remark. 'Mrs. Fleming couldn't talk of anything else when I was over there last evening; besides, you've only to see Diane and Craig together.' Jeanette was struck by the odd note in his voice. It brought to mind that element of compassion that had entered into his manner immediately on her regaining consciousness after the climbing accident. But there was something else in Mark's voice now, a sort of despair, an almost bitter resignation. 'And that reminds me,' he added suddenly, 'you and I are going over to Craig's place for dinner tomorrow evening. He phoned this morning and I accepted, on your behalf. You hadn't arranged anything important?'

  She shook her head. Mark knew that her evenings were spent in a frivolous round of parties and dances. She guessed at his disapproval, and was hurt by it, but how could she explain the reason for embarking on this totally aimless existence? But she wished Mark hadn't accepted the invitation for her. She had seen very little of Craig since their return from the island, having determinedly avoided him on all possible occasions, and she had hoped, more than ever, to avoid him while Diane was here. There was no sense in adding to her misery by seeing him and Diane together. Nor had she any particular inclination to see Mrs. Fleming again, for she sensed her dislike, even though she could find no reason for it. However, Mark had accepted, and Jeanette could think of no feasible excuse for declining the invitation.

  Diane and Craig were standing on the patio, very close, their faces glowing in the softly-shaded light, and a stab of pain caught at Jeanette's heart as she recalled that other evening, when she had come alone, and when Craig had stood there alone, waiting for her. So intimate a meal it had been, and they had remained on the verandah long after it was over, their thoughts seeming to be in complete harmony as they sat there, under a star-filled sky, their quiet conversation often interrupted by long silences when they would just stare out across the strait to the distant twinkling lights along the eastern shore of the Bosphorus.

  And now Craig stood there with Diane, both appearing so happy, and so suited to one another. No doubt about it, Diane was incredibly beautiful, and she had such an attractive way of looking up at Craig, which she did now, after smiling a welcome to Jeanette and Mark as they approached the steps of the patio.

  Craig bent his head to whisper something to Diane, and they both laughed softly. What was it like, Jeanette wondered, to be free to express one's love after years of enforced restraint? Jeanette was conscious of Craig's eyes upon her, and of the movement of his arm as he reached down to take Diane's hand in his. In spite of herself she gave a trembling little sigh, and at that moment her brother's arm came round her as they mounted the steps of the patio. It was an automatic gesture of guidance which any man would extend to a woman he happened to be escorting, a gesture of which Mark himself was probably unaware. Yet it brought her a much needed comfort and she turned to give him a smile of gratitude and thanks.

  Throughout the meal Jeanette was constantly reminded of her brother's words, 'You've only to see Diane and Craig together'. If there had been a hint of doubt in her mind before, it was completely dispelled now, for Craig was all gentleness, all tender concern. Diane responded to his attentions with a loving smile, yet underneath it all Jeanette sensed a sadness about her and knew that although her husband's death had given her the freedom she desired, Diane did in fact experience a deep feeling of loss. How in keeping with her character -that she could genuinely mourn the loss of the man who had stood between her and Craig for so many years. Jeanette thought once more that it was no wonder Craig had waited so long and so patiently for the day when she would be his wife.

  When the meal was over Mrs. Fleming, complaining of a headache, went up to her room for a rest, saying she would be down again later. The others went into the sitting-room for coffee and as Mark and Craig became engrossed in the subject of sailing, Jeanette and Diane sat together on the settee, conversing on rather trivial matters for a while. Jeanette several times tried to offer sympathy over Roy's death, having been unable to find a suitable opportunity during dinner, but again she experienced difficulty until Diane herself finally provided an opening.

  'I love it here, and could do with another couple of weeks, but I must get back home - for a while at any rate. I suppose you know I'm selling my house — the whole of Roy's estate, in fact?'r />
  Jeanette nodded, taking advantage of the opening to express her regret and sympathy. Diane thanked her and although there was a distinct note of sadness in her voice, she did add that she was glad the end had come, for her husband's sake.

  'He was in great pain, and it hurt us all to see him. He wanted to go - had wanted it for some considerable time.' She lapsed into silence, and Jeanette was reluctant to break into her thoughts. But after a while Diane spoke again, her glance flickering oddly as she half turned so as to face her companion. 'I hear that you once went through a sad time, too, Jeanette.'

  The matter of her fiance's death was brought into the conversation so subtly that Jeanette experienced no more than the merest sense of surprise.

  'Did Craig tell you about it?' she asked, her glance flickering to him as he sat with Mark, on the other side of the room, deep in conversation.

  'Mark told me, about eighteen months ago when we met by accident in a cafe. I didn't know you then, of course, though I knew, when we were at university together, that Mark had a kid sister.' She smiled, that enchanting smile that was now tinged with sorrow 'Craig knows all about it, though—' She broke off, sending Jeanette a slanting glance, and then looking down again as if undecided about her next words.

  'Mark told him about the way you feel - that you never intend to marry.' She turned impulsively. 'Do you resent my talking like this, Jeanette? I know we're not terribly well acquainted, but I'm sure we're going to be friends.'