Anne Hampson

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

  Silence. Jeanette slipped her feet into her shoes and then straightened up.

  'We slept in the open, Mrs. Fleming, in sleeping bags.'

  The knitting was lowered slowly on to Mrs. Fleming's knee. She turned to regard her companion in rather mild astonishment for a space and then, with a shrug and the merest shake of her head, she remarked that she must be getting old, for she failed to understand the ways of modern youth, and Jeanette was reminded of that other occasion when this woman had made a similar subtle thrust, hinting on the impropriety of her staying stt the yali with her son. But this time her insinuations were more pointed, probably because her son was not involved, Jeanette concluded, and Mrs. Fleming's next words supported this idea.

  'I know that sort of thing is accepted nowadays, but I must confess I'm glad that Craig is older - and a stickler for the proprieties.'

  Jeanette's eyes flashed; she was about to ask what was meant by 'that sort of thing' when she pulled herself up, quelling her anger. She was Craig's guest; he mustn't come in and find her quarrelling with his mother. But Mrs. Fleming's next words made it more difficult than ever for Jeanette to maintain her calm, for she expressed surprise that Mark had countenanced the trip, adding that Craig would never have done so, had Jeanette been a sister of his.

  'I think I told you once before, Mrs. Fleming, that my brother wouldn't presume to interfere in my actions.' She ignored the reference to Craig, but something in his mother's manner convinced Jeanette that she was curious to know whether her son was aware of the fact that they had all slept out in the open, and that she was manoeuvring the conversation into channels where the question could be asked without appearing too outrageous. Jeanette waited, debating on her reply, but the question did not come. Mrs. Fleming seemed, to realize.. that so bald an inquiry could not be put to Jeanette herself... but Jeanette was sure it would later be put to her son.

  Quietness reigned for a while, with the older woman becoming absorbed in her work and Jeanette watching the window for the headlights of the car, while at the same time listening for the return of Mark and Diane.

  They all came in together, Craig having parked the car at the front door just as the other two came up the drive.

  'All right ?' Mark smiled, without evincing much concern, and it was apparent that Craig had assured him that she was now free from pain. Mark turned to his friend. 'It's good of you to run us home, Craig. I could have gone and fetched the car, you know.'

  Craig shrugged that off and, taking Jeanette's coat from the back of the chair where he had placed it when they came in, held it out for her to put on.

  'Thank you, Craig.' She smiled up at him, aware of his mother's narrowed gaze, and also aware of the strange and flickering glance that passed from Diane to Craig. Jeanette felt her colour rise. Could it be that Diane was displeased by this little attention which her future husband extended to another woman? Surely not, for wasn't it Diane herself who had encouraged Craig to walk back home with her? Yet Craig's glance, too, was strange, as he looked back at Diane. Was he apologizing? - trying to explain that, as Jeanette was his guest, he had a certain duty towards her?

  Jeanette's shoulders sagged; the pleasure she had derived from having Craig's sole attention, brief though it was, became crushed under the weight of misery that now engulfed her.

  Craig was merely performing a duty, had been doing so from the moment he realized he would have to bring her back home. And now he was apologizing to Diane who was - perhaps understandably - annoyed.

  But as she and Mark preceded Craig out to the car Jeanette saw the smile that Diane suddenly bestowed cm him, a smile that promised a wonderful making up, later, when they could find themselves alone.

  Mrs. Fleming and Diane left Istanbul at the end of the week. On the evening before their departure they had dined with Mark and Jeanette, Tony haying accepted a previous invitation to visit some friends. Jeanette would have liked to make some excuse to go out, but she could not let Mark down and she resigned herself to another evening of strain. Craig on this occasion was more attentive than ever to Diane and it was plain that he hated the idea of the coming parting even though it would, this time, be only temporary.

  Mrs. Fleming's satisfaction was unmistakable; she watched Diane and Craig all the while, just as she had on the evening when they had all dined at the Hilton, and, forgetting all her usual decorum, she turned' impulsively to Jeanette and said,

  'It's good to see my son so happy. I have waited a long time for this.'

  Mark's eyes had met those of his sister, in that sort of comforting way which was becoming more and more mystifying as time went on.

  When they were leaving Craig fetched Diane's wrap, and as he held it out she turned so that, he could put it round her.

  'Thanks, darling.' She twisted her head to smile. Craig's hands remained on her shoulders, holding her close to him. With an almost imperceptive movement Craig's head came down and his lips touched Diane's hair. Jeanette looked away, pressing her fingers against the sudden stab of pain in her temple.

  'Be careful, dear,' said Craig a few minutes later when, going down the steps, Diane appeared to stumble. 'Give me your hand.'

  Mark and Jeanette walked down with them to the end of the garden where they all stood for a few more minutes, talking. The Bosphorus, turbulent from ,the crosscurrents coming down from the Black Sea, seemed to match Jeanette's mood to perfection. Never had she been so restless, so gripped by tumult. And for the next few weeks she threw herself once more into the gay and aimless round. There were parties in the little wooden cafes on the shores of the strait; there were dinners and dances and night clubs, both the fashionable kind and those to which a man never takes his wife.

  But this kind of night life was exhausting, and by the middle of October she was spent. Moreover, it was all so futile; she could never forget Craig while she lived so near.

  It had been arranged that she should move in with Sally and Gwen when her .brother's term at the university expired, but now Jeanette had practically decided to return to England with Mark at Christmas.

  She mentioned this to him one Sunday afternoon when they were alone. He lowered his book on to his lap and cast her a sidelong glance..

  'It would mean breaking your contract.'

  'Yes, I've thought about that, Mark, and I know it isn't the right thing to do.' She stared at him broodingly, wondering at the strangeness of his expression.

  'It would go on your report,' he warned. 'And it would go against you if you ever applied for a job abroad again.'

  'I'm not contemplating working abroad again, so it wouldn't matter very much if it did go on my report.' Strange, she thought, that he hadn't inquired as to the reason for this sudden decision to return to England after what would be only two terms at the school. There was again that hint of compassion in his eyes, that pity and concern she had first encountered on the day of the climbing accident, and on so many occasions since.

  He spoke at last, in tones edged with regret.

  'When I asked you to come out here I thought it was for the best, that it would help you to forget that other misfortune; instead, you've—' He broke off, realizing his slip. Jeanette stared, once again recalling the day of the accident.

  'Mark....'

  'Yes?'

  'When I was under the influence of the drugs - when I was rambling - what did I say ?'

  He looked thoughtfully at; her, undecided for a while.

  'You talked about Craig,' he told her slowly at last, and her colour heightened.

  'What did I say?'

  Again he hesitated, and then,

  'Enough,' he answered riefly.

  She looked past him, unseeingly, to the dark outline of a clump of cypress trees away on a distant ridge.

  'So... you know?' She brought her gaze back to stare at him bleakly. 'I wondered at the time what I'd been saying - I felt it was something that had upset you, but I didn't think I'd have talked about - about Craig.'

  They bo
th turned as, unobtrusively, Metat entered the room with the tea-tray. He drew forth a small table and set the tray upon it. Then, silently, he went out, closing the door behind him. Jeanette poured the tea and they sat in silence for a while, neither seeming willing to voice their thoughts. But at last Mark spoke regretfully of having asked her to come over to Turkey, saying again that he'd thought, at the time, that it would help her to forget the past.

  'You don't know how I feel,' he went on, in tones of deep concern. 'It never entered my head that you might - that Craig would appeal to you — damn it, Jeanette, how did it happen? You knew, dear, from the first, about Diane.'

  How did it happen? Again she glanced bleakly at him ... and suddenly she was astounded by his expression. His face was grey, almost as if he were suffering just as much as she. He mustn't be troubled like this, must not feel so guilty and unhappy on her account.

  'It will pass,' she said lightly, smiling as she picked up the cake-stand and held it out to him. 'It isn't anything -anything deep, because, as you say, I've always known about Diane.' She gave a little laugh, hoping he hadn't noticed how broken it sounded. 'He's rather attractive, and it was nice being escorted by him, but it's - it's only infatuation—'

  'Stop it, Jeanette. You're not convincing either yourself or me.' He waved aside her offer of the cakes, and she put down the stand abruptly. 'Why, for heaven's sake, did you go to the island? That was only adding to your misery, surely?'

  'I explained, Mark, that I really had no alternative.

  Don't worry, it didn't hurt...' What was the use? To

  her consternation her eyes filled up and despite her efforts at control the tears rolled unchecked down her face. She found a handkerchief and dried her eyes, while Mark watched her, his own eyes dark with anxiety and remorse.

  'If only I'd thought — used my sense—'

  'Don't blame yourself; you mustn't. No one can foresee these things, Mark. They just happen and no one can help it.' She looked steadfastly into her brother's dark, handsome face ... and wondered at his expression. It was unfathomable; his gaze was distant, his lips tight and hard and for a moment he reminded her of Craig at his most austere.

  'They just happen. ..,' He spoke to himself, forgetting, her presence. 'Yes, they just happen and no one can help it.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  Very little was seen of Craig for several weeks following the departure of his mother and Diane, for he spent every week-end at the yali, and although he attended the usual round of Consulate functions with Mark and Tony, his evenings were also often taken up with his book. On occasions he would invite Jeanette and the two men to his house for dinner, but Jeanette invariably found an excuse for declining the invitation. At other times he would be Mark's guest, but again she contrived to avoid his company by arranging to go out with her friends. Inevitably they did sometimes meet, but Craig had now adopted that air of cool indifference which had characterized his attitude towards her during the first few weeks of their acquaintanceship. In fact, he seemed at times resolved to ignore her presence altogether. If he did speak, it was with a mingling of mockery and contempt. Jeanette accepted all this with pain and resignation, having known from the first that his interest in her must come to an end.

  Having learnt from Mark of her determination never to marry, to remain loyal to Ned's memory, Craig had, for some inexplicable reason, set out determinedly to divert her from her chosen path, to draw her out, and away from her aversion to marriage. Having failed in his endeavours, he'd now lost patience - and interest. Perhaps he had at last asked himself why he should bother anyway. His own life was all straightened out and the passage ahead was smooth. Why waste time on a girl who was, as his mother remarked, just an acquaintance? The thought of that brought a quiver to Jeanette's lips. Undoubtedly now, they were drifting into that sort of relationship ... but they had been more than acquaintances. There had been times, during that unforgettable month on the island, when she and Craig had come very close, when she had felt him to be her true and sincere friend.

  And now even his interest was lost.

  For this she began to be grateful, much to her surprise. For even the slightest interest bestowed upon her brought a return of that hopeless longing,which was always followed by a feeling of utter emptiness and despair.

  He should never have interfered in the first place. Had he continued to ignore her, to treat her with that initial indifference, she would never have begun to care. It was his sudden and unexpected interest. ... Jeanette pulled herself up. No, Craig Fleming had exerted a forceful and magnetic influence on her from the moment she had set eyes on him. Hadn't she bitterly resented that influence? - made a determined effort to dislike him, blaming him for the guilt she experienced at the knowledge that she was gradually recovering from the pain of losing Ned?

  No, much as she would like to blame Craig for this heartache, in all fairness she found herself quite unable to do so..

  One evening Mark mentioned that Craig was coming over later and would stay to supper.

  'Do you mind if I go out?'- she asked apologetically, feeling guilty at these repeated excuses. 'I don't want to be here when he comes.'

  'No, dear, you go.' He paused. 'Anything special in view?'

  'There's a party at the flat - fancy dress. I said I wouldn't go....'

  'You'll enjoy it, surely?' He seemed concerned and Jeanette gave him a rather wan little smile.

  'They're a nice enough crowd, only...'

  'Yes?'

  'They become rather rowdy after a while."

  'Too much to drink?' he queried, and she nodded her head.

  'I'd rather go there than meet Craig, though.' She hesitated. 'I'll be glad to be home, Mark.'

  'So will I. It won't be long. What did they say when you handed in your resignation ?'

  'They weren't pleased.' She gave a little grimace.

  'It certainly isn't the done thing to break one's contract. As you said, I'm finished as regards getting a post abroad again.'

  'Pity. You might, just want to after a while. Still, it's done now. They did accept your resignation, though?'

  'I shall know in a few days' time, after the meeting. But I did emphasize my determination to leave at Christmas.' No use carrying on in this way. While ever she remained in Istanbul she would never be able to forget Craig.

  Having declined the invitation, Jeanette naturally had nothing to wear. This troubled her for a while and then, remembering that there were several fancy dress costumes at the flat, she felt sure one of her friends would be willing to lend her something.

  'Is someone coming for you?' Mark glanced at the clock. 'Or do you want me to take you ?'

  'If you don't mind, Mark. Could you?' He looked tired, she thought, remembering that the odos had blown up again, and wondering if he was feeling the effects of it

  'Certainly,' he assented, smiling. 'What about coming home?'

  'I don't know. I haven't arranged anything.' Sally would willingly run her home, she knew. But Cetin would be there, and should he offer her a lift she could not very well refuse without offering her friends some explanation. 'If you could manage to fetch me?'

  'Of course. What time?'

  'Oh—' She shrugged. 'I should say about twelve. I don't expect the party will be breaking up by then, but it's late enough for you to be coming out.'

  'You're sure? I'll come any time you like.'

  'I'm sure, Mark. I shall have had enough by then.' The dejection in her voice troubled him and he said gently,

  'Stay in if you prefer it, Jeanette. Craig isn't coming until about nine; and you could make an excuse and go to bed immediately after supper.'

  She shook her head emphatically.

  'No, I'd rather go.'

  Sally and Gwen were delighted that Jeanette had changed her mind, and Sally immediately set about finding her something to wear.

  'I've lent out several costumes, and haven't had them back, but there's all this filmy draping. You won't object to be
ing a slave of the harem, will you?' she said with a grin.

  'What will I wear underneath?' Jeanette regarded with acute distaste the filmy length of cloth. It was so transparent it would provide scarcely any covering at all. 'Have you nothing else I can wear?'

  'This will be all right. You can wear my bikini underneath. You'll look fine!'

  Jeanette shook her head. She felt ready to go home, but she could hardly ask Sally to take her back when the guests were even now beginning to arrive.

  Gwen dashed into the bedroom.

  'How goes it? You should see Mustafa - he's come as the Sultan; he looks fabulous!'

  'Jeanette's not very thrilled with being Mustafa's slave,' Sally returned with a laugh. 'Don't you think she'll look great with this over my bikini ?'

  'Just right. Teresa's come as a slave of the harem, and she's got a filmy thing like that over a bikini.' She glanced down at her own dress; she was in the Turkish peasant costume. 'Wish I'd thought of it myself - though I rather fancied this. Do come on, you two,' she added. 'The Grand Vizir's pouring drinks.'

  'Who's the Grand Vizir?'

  'Cetin. He looks great!'

  There seemed nothing for it but to wear the bikini and the tulle, and a little while later Jeanette, complete with yashmak, emerged from the bedroom and joined the gay, gaudily-attired throng in the sitting-room.

  Several others arrived dressed as ladies of the harem, and two young men came as Sultans, to Mustafa's great disgust There weren't enough slaves, he grumbled.

  'How are we to share them out? I thought I was to have five all to myself!'

  Soon the party was in full swing. As the men were requested to bring a bottle of wine as their entrance 'fee' there was plenty of drink to go round. Jeanette had never acquired the taste for Turkish wines and no amount of persuasion would tempt her to take any now.

  Gary, a young representative for one of the oil companies, fetched her an iced lemonade and stood talking to her while they watched two of the girls trying unsuccessfully to perform a belly dance.