Sally Wentworth - Conflict In Paradise

by Sally Wentworth

  Breathing heavily, he unbuttoned the pocket of his tunic and pulled out a notepad and pencil. 'Here,' he said after he had written on it. 'This is the address of my club in London. When you come to your senses contact me there and I'll come out and get you.'

  With trembling fingers Tansy took it from him. She daren't look up at his face; she knew that if she did the unshed tears that filled her heart would overflow, and she mustn't cry, not yet, not until she was alone with her grief and misery. He walked her to her garden gate, not touching her, a cold brittle silence between them. But he suddenly caught her to him, to kiss her with a desperate, bruising passion. Tansy forced herself not to return it, to stand rigidly within his arms. He raised his head to look into her eyes and then turned abruptly on his heel and marched away, his back ramrod-straight, leaving Tansy standing in the road feeling more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The soldiers started moving out their equipment the next day and by dawn of the following morning they were gone. Soon their place was taken by soldiers of other NATO countries who began to lay the tons of concrete needed for the runways. The noise of the bulldozer and the electric saw gave way to that of concrete mixers and lorries, while down in the valley the Aparoans began to pick up the threads of their lives again. New thatched houses began to take the place of the old ones and the bigger boats that now came into the harbour brought replacement supplies, building materials and furniture.

  A new clinic was one of the first buildings to be erected, and soon the house was clear of patients and Tansy could have her room to herself again. She welcomed the return of privacy and went often to sit for hours at the window, gazing out at where the knoll of trees had once stood. Just sitting—and remembering. The long, slowly passing days had done nothing to heal the ache in her heart, the terrible, agonising frustration of longing that filled her every time she thought of Blake. And she thought of him so much; only by concentrating on her work until she was exhausted could she shut out the memories. She felt like a woman whose fianc6 had been killed—having had the promise of shared happiness but having tasted only enough of its delights to leave her longing eternally for more.

  Over the next few weeks she became thin and wan, her usual vitality completely gone. Often her father would come upon her staring abstractedly out to sea, she would become aware of him and give a bright, artificial smile for his sake and start to talk animatedly, only to lapse into silence again after a few minutes.

  Everything seemed altered; even Ruari seemed different as he took on more of his father's work and responsibilities. One day Tansy was having a drink with him on the veranda when he casually announced that he had decided to get married.

  She looked at him in surprise. "This seems very sudden. Who's the lucky girl?'

  He looked down at his glass. 'Lait. She'll soon settle down once we're married.'

  'Yes, I'm sure she will,' Tansy had agreed faintly, and from then on she had seen little of Ruari. There had been a feast—the food supplied by the government—to celebrate the marriage, and after that she had seldom gone to Tupuhoe's house unless her father was with her.

  He was looking forward with anticipation to his new life in Sydney, writing and receiving endless letters from his Evelyn, whose photo now adorned the piano in the sitting-room. Nearly four weeks after Blake had left the island the plane that now brought the mail regularly instead of it coming once a month on the trading schooner brought a pile of letters for them. Eagerly Tansy sorted through them; there was a thick wad for her father, but nothing for her. Dejectedly she put them down; she didn't really know why she searched, it was a forlorn, lost hope. She knew that Blake had been too bitterly hurt for his pride to let him get in touch with her. If she wanted him she would have to be the one to make the first move, but she longed desperately for some word from him, to know how he was, if he was well, if he ever thought of her.

  Her father came in and picked up the bundle of letters from where she had dropped them on the table. There were two letters from Evelyn confirming the final arrangements for their wedding and these he read out to her.

  'I've been trying to arrange for that young Australian doctor to take over for a week or so while you come to Sydney with me for the wedding,' he told her. He pushed aside a couple of circulars and picked up a large, typewritten envelope. 'Ah, this looks as if it could be the Medical Board giving a yea or nay.' He opened the letter and began to read, drawing in his breath sharply as he did so. But Tansy didn't stay to hear the verdict; she had wandered out into the garden and went to sit on a stone bench beneath a trailing hedge of mauve bougainvillaea. Abstractedly she plucked a flower and closed her eyes as she lifted it to her face to breathe in its heady scent. It brought a vivid remembrance of the few short hours she had spent in Blake's arms. Her body ached for the touch of his hands, her mouth for the warmth of his lips on hers.

  'Of all the infernal impudence! Tansy, just look at this!'

  Her reverie was shattered by her father's angry command and she opened her eyes to see him holding the letter out for her to read. Quickly she took it, wondering what on earth could have made him so annoyed, but he was so irate that he hardly gave her time to see that it was from the Medical Board before he began to tell her himself.

  'Do you see what they have the temerity, the nerve, to write to us? They accept my resignation all right, but they refuse your application for the post! Say they've decided to appoint a Commissioner to take over the running of Aparoa during this difficult period and that he insists on appointing his own medical staff! Have you ever heard such damned nonsense in your life? As if anyone could be more suitable for the job than you! And I shall write and tell them so, too. These damn men sit at their office desks and think they know everything. Just wait till I tell them what I think of them, I'll ..David Harland broke off as he saw the look of shattered bewilderment on his daughter's face as she stared at the letter in her hand. 'There must be some mistake, Tansy. Now don't you worry, I'll get them on the radio and..

  'They don't want me,' Tansy said slowly, in little more than a whisper. 'I gave up so much. I let him go and now they're not going to let me stay here.' She looked dazedly up at him, gave a small, uncertain gasp and then began to shake with hysterical laughter, her breath choking between laughs and tears of despair. Immediately her father took her in his arms and she clung to him unashamedly as the hysteria gave way to great, racking sobs that seemed to fill her chest to bursting, as though she would choke on her own unhappiness.

  'Tansy, my dear child!' There was consternation in her father's voice as he tried to comfort her. 'What did you mean, let him go? What is it, my dear?'

  In a small, broken voice she told him of her love for Blake and of the two other loyalties, to himself and to Aparoa, that had combined to make her send him away.

  Appalled, he listened to her with mounting distress. 'Why on earth didn't you tell me? Something could have been done, something would have been arranged.'

  'What? What could you possibly have done except give up all thoughts of Evelyn so that I was free to go with Blake?' She shook her head and then picked up the letter from where it had fallen to the ground. 'And now it seems as if they don't want either of us,' she said bitterly.

  'They don't even have the courtesy to tell us the name of the new Commissioner, only that he's been appointed and will be arriving as soon as possible to take up his duties. But, Daddy, how will the islanders manage with a stranger over them, somebody who probably won't even speak their language?' There was deep concern in her voice as she asked the question.

  Her father stood up and began to pace up and down the lush green lawn. 'You know, thinking about that,' he replied at length, 'it occurs to me that perhaps we're wrong. Perhaps the government are doing the right thing in sending strangers here, after all. Life on the island has changed completely now, whether we like it or not, and the islanders will have to learn to adapt, be taught a new way of life that will fit in and a
round the fuel base. Learn new trades so that they can be employed at the base and gain independence that way. But we represent the old life, my dear. If we stay here we might hold them back, our longing for the old Aparoa might be greater than theirs, for to them there was nothing wonderful about it; only to us, who have seen other ways of life, was it a precious thing to be fought for at all costs.'

  He turned to draw her to her feet and put an arm round her shoulders. 'Do you know where your young man is now?.' Tansy nodded and he went on, 'Then you must write to him straight away while the plane is still here.'

  Her eyes widened as she looked at him. 'But what can I possibly say?'

  He patted her shoulder reassuringly. 'You'll find the words.'

  But her father's easy assumption was far from reality. She had spent two hard, frustrating hours trying to compose a letter to Blake; in one effort being stilted and cold, in another pouring out all the aching desire and longing that she felt for him. But every time they ended in the waste- paper basket This letter mattered so much; she was afraid to say too much, afraid to say too little. If only she could have picked up a telephone and spoken to him! She knew that at the sound of his voice everything would have come right, but to have to try to put it on paper! In the end she had run out of time and the letter she finally sent was a short, rather formal one that merely told him that her plans had changed and she wouldn't be staying on Aparoa after all. She ended by saying that she would probably go to Sydney with her father and try to get a job there.

  As she gave the envelope to the pilot of the mail-plane she almost snatched it back; she hadn't said anything that she really wanted to say, hadn't told him she loved him, hadn't begged him to come to her just as fast as he could. But it was too late; already the pilot had stuffed it into the mail bag and was climbing up to the flight deck.

  That had been over three weeks ago. And since then she had heard—nothing! There had been no cable that Blake was coming, no message over the radio, no letter by the mail-plane. At first she could reassure herself that it was too soon, that he couldn't have received it, but she had asked for the letter to be sent on by air-mail and knew that he should have received it within a few days. Then she convinced herself that he must have been away and it had to be forwarded on to him, but as the days dragged on with still no word her thoughts had begun to be tortured by doubts. Did he still want her? Or had he had time while he was away from her to regret his impetuosity? Maybe it was the beauty of Aparoa that had thrown an enchantment over him, and now that he had returned to a more sophisticated world, he would look back on those few hours of love as an interlude of summer madness when the magic of the island had awakened him to a brief passion that he was now glad to have escaped?

  Eagerly one morning she cycled to the base as soon as the mail plane flew in, not even trusting one of the little native boys to collect the letters for her, but again this morning there was no envelope for her in Blake's firm, thick writing. Her face set, she politely thanked the nice man at the base who sorted the mail and looked at her so curiously, then turned her bicycle round to ride slowly, unseeingly down to the clinic. There was the usual line of people and Tansy listened to all their complaints, patiently and gently treating them, advising them as she had always done, but there was a dullness in her face, a depth of unhappiness in her eyes that held them back from asking any questions; instead they brought little gifts to try to please her and make her smile. One of them even brought her a carved model aeroplane that he had copied from the aircraft like the one that even now came in to land, and which had already become so commonplace that the islanders no longer ran out to watch every time one flew over.

  At length the last patient had gone, clutching his bottle of medicine, and Tansy slumped back into her chair, feeling physically exhausted. Reluctantly she realised that she couldn't go on like this; hardly eating, lying awake half the night and then only sleeping fitfully, waking with jangling nerves at the slightest sound. She didn't want to resort to sleeping pills, but her father was becoming increasingly concerned about her and she didn't want to worry him further. Automatically she straightened her hair in front of the mirror, the dark shadows under her eyes accentuating the thinness of her face. The blouse and skirt she was wearing were also too large for her now. She had never worn her sarong since the earthquake; those carefree days when she was just one of the island girls had gone for ever.

  Tansy came out of the clinic into the sunlight and then stopped abruptly, her heart palpitating in her chest. Blake was leaning nonchalantly against a tree trunk, his arms folded, just as he had stood so long ago on the day that he had arrested her and put her in the prison! She blinked hard and then looked again—it was all right, it wasn't a mirage, he was very real. He straightened up when he saw her but made no move to come to meet her. He was in uniform, but a different one from that he wore previously. This time he had trousers instead of shorts, and in place of the beret he wore a peaked hat that shaded his eyes so that she couldn't see them. Slowly, quiveringly, she walked towards him.

  He looked down at her enigmatically, his expression unreadable, deliberately waiting for her to make the first move.

  'H-hallo, Blake,' she managed, her eyes desperately searching his face for some sign of emotion, but he continued to look at her stonily.

  'You sent for me.' His tone was cold, almost impersonal.

  'Oh, but I…' she said swiftly, but then broke off as she saw the sudden spark of fire in his grey eyes.

  'Did you or didn't you?' he asked forcefully.

  Tansy looked down, her heart beating painfully. 'Yes,' she breathed, and slowly raised her eyes to look at him appealingly.

  'Get in the jeep.' He turned and walked towards the vehicle, climbing in without waiting for her, letting her walk round and get in by herself, not looking at her. As soon as she was beside him he started the engine and drove along the coastal road for a couple of miles until they came to a track leading to a small, jungle-flanked cove. He pulled up on the edge of the beach and took off his hat to run a hand through his dark hair before tossing the cap on to the back seat. Getting out of the jeep, he walked towards the water's edge.

  Tansy watched him for a few moments, unable to recognise this person as the man who had made love to her so passionately only a few weeks ago. He was so forbidding, a tall, implacable stranger of whom she almost felt afraid. Hesitatingly she got out and followed his footprints across the white sand. He turned and watched her walk towards him, his eyes appraising her so that she stopped uncertainly a few feet away from him.

  Her lips quivered. 'Blake, I…' She tried hard to control herself. She wanted so much for him to take her in his arms, but he deliberately refrained from touching her.

  His voice suddenly savage, he said, 'That was one hell of a letter!'

  Miserably she lowered her head, her hands clasped tightly together. 'I'm sorry. There was so much I wanted to say, but I…' She looked at him unhappily, his face was still set and cold. Desperately she said, 'Blake, I know how much I hurt you and I….’

  'No!' he interrupted harshly. 'You'll never know how much!' He swung away from her and walked a little further down the beach to lean against a high rock, his hands in his pockets, gazing out to sea. 'So you're not going to take over your father's job?' he asked at length.

  'No. The—the government have appointed a Commissioner to take control of the islands. He wants to choose his own medical staff.'

  'I see.' He turned round to face her. 'So now that you can't stay on Aparoa, you've sent for me.' With a slight sneer in his voice he went on remorselessly, 'I don't like being second best, Tansy. Especially to a damn island!'

  She stared at him despairingly; how could she break down this iron barrier that he had erected about himself, how convince him that she needed him so much? There was only one way that she knew. Taking a deep breath she said as firmly as her quivering heart would allow, 'I love you, Blake.'

  Eagerly she scanned his face for some answering e
motion, but beyond a slight tightening of his jawline there was none. 'You said that before,' he said in cruelly scathing tones. 'It didn't seem to mean much to you then. Why should it now?'

  Flinching as if he had struck her, Tansy turned away, unable to bear his coldness any longer.

  'Stay where you are!' he ordered harshly before she had taken more than three steps. Unwillingly she obeyed, but didn't turn round to face him.

  Blake came to stand behind her and she could feel his breath stirring her hair. 'I've been given a fresh posting. It's in a rather primitive part of the world, miles away from anywhere, and I shall be there for at least two years. It might be better if you took a job in Australia— perhaps I'll look you up when I get leave.'

  Tansy turned round then, her eyes large and staring as she looked into his. She wanted to beg him to stop hurting her like this, to throw herself into his arms, but she could only say woodenly, 'Can't you—take me with you?'

  Inscrutably he looked down at her. 'Yes, I can take you. But if I do, it will be on my terms.'

  'What—terms?'

  'That you come to me without reservations. Follow me wherever I'm sent.' There was urgency in his voice now, and for the first time a hint of the emotions that he held so rigidly in check showed in his face. 'Well, will you come with me?'

  Almost shaking with relief, Tansy found that she couldn't speak, could only nod her head. Tentatively she held out a hand towards him, but he made no move to take it.

  'Are you sure?' he asked relentlessly. 'This time there'll be no backing out, Tansy.'

  She let her hand drop to her side and bit her lip. He demanded no less than complete and utter submission. Then she raised her head to look steadily into his dark eyes. 'Yes, I'm sure,' she managed. 'If—if you still want me.'

  'Want you?' His voice had changed now, become husky and ragged. He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. Tansy began to tremble beneath his touch, the touch that she had yearned for for so long. Slowly he drew her towards him. 'Yes, I still want you,' he murmured, and with infinite slowness, almost as though he were afraid to do so, he bent his head to seek her lips with his. For a few seconds his mouth was gentle against her own, but then he pulled her roughly against him, imprisoning her hands against his chest, his lips ravaging hers compulsively, forcing them apart. He kissed her with the fervour of a man who has been marooned on a desert island for years, and held her so tightly that he bruised her flesh. Tansy returned his kiss ardently, her only thought the aching desire that he aroused in her, that and the necessity to convince him of her need for him.