Sally Wentworth - Conflict In Paradise

by Sally Wentworth

  'It wasn't you? Then who?' Tansy frowned in puzzlement for a second, and then shrugged. 'But it doesn't matter. What does matter, Ruari, is that Major Aston has come to a decision on the island. He's going to..

  'So it seems that you're not the only person on Aparoa who speaks English, Miss Harland. Another of your little tricks, I suppose.'

  Tansy turned in surprise as a harsh voice interrupted them, and saw Blake standing just a few yards away under the branches of a papaya tree. They had heard no warning of his approach and Tansy guessed that he must be able to move as quietly as a cat, or Ruari, who had all the inborn instinct of a man used to living by his senses, would surely have heard him.

  Ruari moved now, stepping forward and placing an arm round Tansy's shoulders. Tansy moved nearer to his strong protectiveness against this, her enemy, and saw Blake's eyes narrow as he ran his eyes over her and noted her lack of clothing. He went to make a remark, but Ruari anticipated him.

  'You are quite mistaken, Major Aston,' he said in the excellent English he could speak when it suited him. 'Our deception in leading you to think that we spoke no English was not Tansy's doing. She was away from the island when you arrived. We prefer to keep strangers at a distance and learn more of them before we decide to extend to them the courtesy of our hospitality.'

  The reproof was there, polite but explicit, and Tansy gave Ruari a little nudge of approval.

  'Miss Harland, I suggest you get some clothes on before you catch cold,’ Blake said, apparently ignoring Ruari's rebuff.

  There was ice in Tansy's voice as she replied, 'Don't try to order me around, Major. I'm not one of your soldiers.'

  He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged and turned to Ruari. 'I believe you are the headman's son. There are a great many things I would like to discuss with you and your father, and, as we can now no doubt dispense with the need of an interpreter,' (with a scathing look at Tansy) 'I suggest that I call on you tomorrow morning. If you don't want me to come to your house I will meet you wherever you wish.'

  So Ruari's shot had gone home, after all, and he was unsure of his welcome in Tupuhoe's house.

  'I will await you at the meeting house tomorrow, Major Aston. I teach the children there and will be holding classes for a couple of hours.'

  ‘Very well. And now, if you're ready, Miss Harland, I'll escort you home—with or without your clothes.'

  'You? You must be mad if you think I'd even walk two steps with you!'

  'Nevertheless, I'm going to walk you home,' he said with a determined thrust of his chin.

  Tansy didn't have to ask why. Now that he knew Ruari could speak English he wanted to tell him of his report on the island himself; would probably fill his ears with the promise of large compensations, might even think he could try to bribe Tupuhoe, as the headman, with a bigger share. Then he could add in his report of the natives' co-operation and their willingness to have the fuel base. And word it so that it would be another feather in his cap, Tansy thought with bitter irony. Turning to face Ruari, she said baldly, 'He's going to fell the whole coconut plantation to make an airstrip and he's going to blow up the mussel beds in the lagoon to deepen the harbour.'

  The Major swore softly under his breath, then said savagely, 'Thank you, Miss Harland, you've now revealed yourself for what you are—interested in nothing but satisfying your own petty, selfish spite!' Then he was gone, melting into the trees as silently as he had come.

  Ruari gave her her clothes and Tansy put them on, feeling nothing but misery and desolation. Slowly, haltingly, she began to tell Ruari all that had happened since she first met the Major, leaving nothing out. She knew Ruari too well to have any secrets from him. 'I started to like him, Ruari, he was witty and charming. And now—now he's done this to us.' Her voice broke on a sob.

  'No, Tansy, it may not be too late.' Ruari's arm tightened comfortingly. 'Your father may still be able to do something and I will do my best to argue our case tomorrow. Perhaps it would be best if you didn't see the Major again; you're too involved now to behave rationally towards him.'

  'Yes, perhaps you're right. Goodnight, Ruari.' He laid the palms of his hands against hers, as was the custom, and bade her a soft goodnight before he, too, slipped away into the darkness.

  Luckily there were only a few patients at the clinic the next day, because Tansy could only concentrate with half her mind. The other half was constantly wondering how Ruari was faring in his interview with Blake Aston. She gave an injection to one patient, her legs swollen massively with elephantiasis, and could only be thankful that the disease was gradually dying out in the islands, though a cure had come too late for this poor woman.

  At last she was able to go back to the house and, as the children were now freed from their lessons, gave her bag to be carried by the child who could count the highest. Ruari was waiting for her on the veranda with Tupuhoe, and Inara brought glasses of beer as soon as Tansy arrived; the natives' innate courtesy of manners would not allow them to take any refreshment in another's house without their host being present.

  Tupuhoe spoke sadly in his native tongue. 'We have talked to the officer and he has shown us all on the map. He says it is most important that boats and planes should be able to come for fuel. I tell him—"Why do you not go to Papeete on Tahiti where there are already many boats and aeroplanes?", but he says this will not do. It must be in this chain of islands. He tells us the government will look after us. No one will go without food in their stomachs and clothes for their backs.' The old man looked at Tansy intently. 'But he does not think of us as men. Tansy. He does not think of our pride. I try to tell him of this through Ruari's mouth, but the officer does not understand. You must talk to him, Tansy. You are your father's daughter, but you are also a daughter of the island. You must go to the officer and tell him that we are men and must not be treated as cattle in the plantation.'

  Tansy stared at the old man for a long moment, then turned questioningly to Ruari, who made a helpless gesture and said in English, 'My father is convinced that you will succeed where we have failed, because both you and the Major are British. I have tried to explain that Major Aston will not listen to you either, but he won't believe me.'

  Twisting her hands together, Tansy wondered how to tell Tupuhoe that she despised Blake Aston and never wanted to see him again, but then she looked up and saw the look of pleading in the proud old' man's eyes and knew what this must mean to him. Before that, her own feelings were as nothing. She managed a small smile and said as lightly as she could, 'It might work at that. Anyway, it's worth a try.' The old man smiled too, his teeth still white and gleaming in his wrinkled face, and Ruari touched her hand gratefully.

  So Tansy found herself walking up to the grey lava- stone prison building the following afternoon, after having racked her brains for something to say to the Major that would persuade him to leave them in peace. A soldier was cleaning some equipment near the massive doors of the gallows gate, but he sprang up as Tansy approached, looking her over appreciatively as she stood slim and straight in a cheese-cloth blouse and cotton skirt.

  'I'd like to speak to Major Aston, please,' she said formally.

  'Yes, miss. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to him.'

  He led the way across the courtyard, the high walls, topped with metal spikes, plunging all but one corner in deepest shade, and then up two flights of stairs to the old council chamber. This was a large room, sparsely furnished with an old table and a cupboard built into the wall, but it had been changed from the dusty room that Tansy remembered into an office. Maps and charts were pinned to the walls and papers were spread out on the table where John Andrews sat busily pounding a typewriter. Blake Aston was standing with his back to her, making some annotations on a partly finished, large scale chart of the lagoon, but he turned as the soldier opened the door and then straightened up abruptly when he saw Tansy behind him. John, too, stood up as she entered.

  'Miss Harland.' Blake's voice was devoid of expressio
n.

  Pansy clenched her fists; this was going to be even harder than she had supposed. 'I—I should like to speak to you, please.'

  Time seemed to stand still as he looked at her steadily for a long moment, then he said, 'Very well. John, would you mind?'

  Tansy heard a chair scrape, the door close, and then they were alone.

  'Well, Miss Harland?' His tone was as hard as his face.

  "Th-there's something I'd like to show you.'

  'Look, if this is some trick to try and persuade me to alter my report, then you're wasting your time.'

  Leaning forward to grip the edge of the table, Tansy said intensely, 'You're threatening to take everything we have away from us. You owe us the right to do everything in our power to put our case.'

  His grey eyes looked at her speculatively and saw the effort this was costing her. 'All right, I grant you that. What is it you want to show me?'

  'It's quite a long way from here. It would be quickest in the jeep.'

  'I'll have the driver bring it round.'

  'No, please.' Tansy reached out to touch his sleeve as he walked past her, then hastily drew her hand away. His mouth tightened as he noticed her quick withdrawal. 'Just you.'

  He raised an eyebrow quizzically. 'Have I your word that this isn't just another trick?'

  Tansy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Too much was at stake for her to lose her temper now.

  "Then we'd better get started.'

  Soon Blake was driving them along the coastal road, sometimes so close to the sea that the ocean spray spammed across the road and engulfed them in a million rainbows. Tansy directed him up a narrow inland track, but after about half a mile this petered out and he drew to a stop, looking at her questioningly.

  'We have to walk from here,' Tansy explained. 'The path follows the river for a little way and then branches off.'

  They began to climb along the path that wound gradually uphill alongside the tumbling river into undergrowth that became more wild and dense. Rain came suddenly, a tropical shower, warm and heavy, strong with the scents of the jungle across the river. They took what cover they could beneath the spreading branches of a tree, but soon they were both soaked to the skin, their clothes clinging to them. As soon as the rain stopped Tansy moved out on to the path again, the intense heat of the sun drying them almost as quickly as the rain had wet them.

  Tansy didn't try to talk to Blake as they went along; she didn't want to get drawn into any arguments which might prejudice what she had in mind. The river had become much shallower now and they were able to ford it and enter the jungle on the other side. Here great trees, strangling beneath twisting lianas and with vine- ropes woven between them, fought the sun, trying to keep it out of their domain. Stray birds, distant and alone, flew through the trees, darting from one shaft of light to another. The dim haze of the gloomy daytime seemed like twilight here and they could see no more than a few feet into the dense growth on either side of the path. No breath of air moved, making the atmosphere oppressive and forbidding, but there was a sweet, heavy scent which hung everywhere; the odour of the jungle, which had a slightly aphrodisiac quality, a fact which the natives learned long ago.

  At last they came to the end of their climb and emerged at the end of the coconut plantation furthest from the sea where cacao trees grew haphazardly to form a barrier between plantation and jungle. Here, deep in the grove, Tansy led Blake to a small house that would have been impossible to find for anyone who didn't know the way.

  'What is this place? Who lives here?' Blake asked sharply.

  'You'll see in a moment. It's all right, they know you're coming. You will be welcome.'

  Blake looked at her keenly, then nodded and followed her towards the native hut, a building with a solid teak- wood base and a roof of heavy thatch with walls of woven coconut palm. The walls were built in two halves, the upper halves being propped open to let what slight breeze there was cool the interior. A boy of about ten saw them coming and called to someone inside. In answer to the call a man came to the door. His hair was white, his face deeply lined from years of constant pain, the reason for which became clear as he limped out to greet them and they saw that his body was misshapen and twisted. Nevertheless, there was a singularly warm smile in his eyes as he came courteously to greet them.

  'Tansy. Major Aston, you are welcome in my house.' Although a native he spoke very good, if heavily accented English. He motioned them to precede him inside and here a native woman shyly indicated the pandanus mats spread on the floor for them to sit on. Tansy immediately sank gracefully down and, after a moment's hesitation, Blake joined her.

  'My name is Damaru,' the native told Blake as he sat opposite them. 'And this is my wife, Yaka, and my son, Dakua. You will eat and drink with us.' The words were more a command than an invitation and soon Yaka had brought them coconut cups of toddy and bowls of raw fish dipped in salt water and coconut sauce. Tansy smiled at Yaka and thanked her in Polynesian, for the woman spoke no English.

  'We live very simply, Major,' Damaru began. 'But it is because I choose to do so. The coconut trees and the jungle provide us with most of our food and materials for our shelter, and the cacao seeds we barter to furnish our other needs. We saw you when you and your men were measuring the plateau, but you did not see us, I think.'

  'No,' Blake admitted. 'I had no idea this house was here.'

  'And if the airstrip is built here. Major? What will become of us?'

  Blake's jaw tightened. 'The runway won't come as far as this, but I have to tell you that this area may have to be cleared in case our planes overshoot.'

  'I understand.' Damaru looked steadily at Blake, but the Major returned his look without flinching, his face completely impassive, nothing of what he must be thinking betrayed in his face. Tansy sat with the native woman and the boy and silently watched the two men; so different, and yet in some way the same, for they both had extremely strong characters.

  'I will tell you a story, Major Aston,' Damaru said softly. 'A story of war. Once there was a young boy of nine summers, of Dakua's age.' He pointed to the boy who smiled at the sound of his name. "This boy lived on an island many hundreds of miles from here. Soldiers of a far country came there and they made the people give them food and shelter. Then other soldiers, who were fighting the first, came and tortured the boy's father, the headman of the village, until he told them where the first soldiers were hiding. When they found out they killed him. But some of the first soldiers escaped and they came seeking revenge. The father was dead, so they tortured his son instead and left him to die. But the boy survived and he swore that he would go to a place where no soldiers, no matter of what nation—for all soldiers are of the same breed—would ever come to. So when he became old enough he travelled many miles and visited many lands until he found a place where he and his family would be safe for the rest of their lives.' Then, abruptly, he said, 'How old do you think I am, Major? Please tell me truly.'

  Surprised, Blake looked at his white head and said, 'Between sixty or seventy, I should think.'

  'No, Major, I am not yet fifty years old. I was the young boy, and the island on which I lived was called Guadalcanal.' With great dignity he spread his hands to indicate the grove around them. 'Major Aston, if you take this away, where in the world can I go to escape your kind?'

  He began to get slowly, painfully to his feet and Blake automatically rose to help him, but Damaru ignored his outstretched hand and managed alone. Blake immediately turned sharply and walked out of the house.

  After a quick word of goodbye, Tansy hurried after him, afraid that he might get lost if he tried to traverse the jungle alone. But he was waiting for her in the cacao grove out of sight of the house, a look of savage fury on his face. Tansy stopped precipitately and stared at him. Above them a flock of birds, green, red, purple and yellow lorikeets swirled and eddied through the grove, their cries harsh in the still air. The shimmering, iridescent leaves of the cacao bushes, shading
from brightest vermilion to deep red and from pale green to purple or yellow, made the grove one of the loveliest places on Aparoa, but Tansy had eyes for nothing but her enemy standing so menacingly before her. And she knew that she had failed. Damaru's pitiful story had meant nothing to him.

  'I thought you said you weren't going to pull any tricks!' he said furiously.

  'It wasn't a trick. I wanted you to see what…'

  'I know what you wanted to do,' he interjected before she could finish. 'You wanted to play on my sympathy to try to get me to change my mind. Well, it won't work!'

  'No, I should have known that with you it wouldn't. You're too heartless to care about anyone else,' Tansy retorted, the fragile hold on her temper shattered.

  'My God, Tansy, do you think I won't have that man and his family—this whole island—on my conscience for the rest of my life?'

  He had called her by her christian name for the first time, but Tansy was too blazingly angry to notice. 'Conscience?' she jibed. 'I don't believe you have one. I think you care about nothing but yourself and your career. If you had any real feelings for these people then you could easily alter your report, tell NATO that Aparoa wouldn't be any use to them.'

  Contemptuously he said, 'You want me to lie to my superiors?'

  'I'd rather have a lie on my conscience than the desecration of a whole island!' Tansy said tensely. Then, when he remained silent, she went on quickly, 'These people have always been independent of others. They're a very proud race. Slowly, they are beginning to accept progress and learning to cope with it while still maintaining their old traditions. One of these is that they provide for their own. If you build them new houses, give them clothes and food and all the other things they need because the men are unable to do so, then you will take uway their human dignity; they won't be able to lift up their heads as men any more.' She stopped and looked up at Blake with desperate appeal in her eyes.

  He continued to look down at her for a full minute and for a few breathless heartbeats she thought that she had won, after all. But then, 'No, Tansy,' he said on what could have been a sigh. 'This decision is too crucial for that. If you hadn't spent your whole life cooped up in this remote place you would have been able to work that out for yourself. Don't you ever read a paper or listen to the radio? The eastern bloc countries have stepped up their armaments programmes; it's vital that we have a base in this area.' He reached out and took hold of her arms, shaking her gently as he tried to make her see his viewpoint. 'Can't you understand? It's to prevent anything like Guadalcanal ever happening again that we must be strong. Only by being as strong as them will we prevent another war. Don't you see that?'