Second Best Wife

by Isobel Chace

  'Georgina, you little fraud! You've never cared before when I teased you! What did I say?'

  'Nothing, nothing at all!' she sniffed dismally. 'I like being told how unattractive I am!'

  Celine's eyes were as round as saucers. 'Georgina's crying!' she announced. 'Nobody ever cries here but me!'

  'I'm sorry,' Georgina muttered.

  'I think you're nice!' Celine crowed. 'You can't help being in love with William. Most married people fall in love — Stuart told me so. He says I'll fall in love one day and I won't have any more nightmares.' Her face flickered with a new anxiety. 'But I don't want to cry about it, I want to be happy! Why doesn't William make you happy?'

  'He does,' Georgina claimed, her voice muffled by her hand.

  'Do I?' There was a note in William's voice Georgina had never heard before. 'Then what are you crying about?' Her face crumpled. How could she possibly tell him that? She scrubbed angrily at her cheeks and fell back on the oldest excuse in the business. 'I'm tired and I have a headache!'

  He pushed the curl back from her forehead. 'Crying won't make you feel any better, my sweet. Why don't you skip the rest of dinner and go to bed?'

  Georgina was very conscious of Miss Campbell's silent contempt, pointing out the inadequacies of the new mistress of the household as eloquently as if she had enumerated them one by one.

  'I can't understand it!' Georgina said on a desperate note. 'I don't usually cry at all!'

  Celine stabbed her knife excitedly in the air. 'You're pregnant!'

  'I can't be!' Georgina wailed.

  'Not yet,' William confirmed, failing to control a yelp of laughter. 'Celine, behave yourself! You're embarrassing my bride of a couple of days!'

  'Is that all it is?' Georgina murmured, surprised. 'It feels much longer!'

  'An old married lady!' William mocked her, but there was a new gentleness in his voice that made her heart thump so hard she felt quite faint.

  'It feels like for ever!' she moaned.

  The glint in his eyes was for her alone. 'It is for ever! Off you go, my sweet. Sleep tight.'

  Once she was in her room, however, she didn't know what to do with herself. The sound of the rain on the roof was like distant applause and oddly soothing to her. She tried to tell herself that the rain was doing the tea a tremendous amount of good, but she didn't really care. She liked the noise it made and that was enough for her. For a few moment she sat on the edge of her bed and made herself think about William. It took all her determination and concentration not to dwell on the good bits and ignore the bad. She wanted to live again those few minutes she had spent in his arms before Celine had started screaming. Then she remembered that even then he had had Jennifer in his mind, though for once she had come out of the comparison the winner in her husband's eyes.

  Never had she longed more for the delicate, fair beauty of her sister than now! Just for once it would have been nice to have been Mount Everest looking down on Snowdon, instead of the other way round. Or, better still, to have been the only person in the world for William for a little while, instead of always being an also-ran, tagging along behind his greater desire for her sister.

  She picked up her night things and went into the bathroom. The light spluttered and flared when she switched it on and a long peal of thunder warned of a coming storm. Hastily she switched the light off again, afraid that the whole system would blow up when she saw the stream of water that was running down the walls. There was no hot water. It was very nearly the last straw, but she calmed herself and washed as well as she could in cold water and in the dark. Thoughts of various horrid insects she had read come out from their corners in tropical rain-storms happily remained only on the fringes of her mind. What she couldn't see, she wouldn't believe in!

  But she did see the gigantic shape that fleetingly went past the window. She was rooted to the spot in horror. It was taller than the house and made a peculiar rattling noise as it passed.

  She flung open the window and saw it again, disappearing down the tree-lined driveway. To her relief she saw it was nothing to be afraid of after all. It was nothing more than a gigantic stuffed scarecrow with a mask instead of a head.

  'Hey there!' she yelled out of the window.

  The masked figure wavered to a stop and then came slowly back towards the bungalow. 'Excuse me, madam. Did you want me or something?'

  'Yes. What are you doing with that thing?'

  A thin, wiry man stepped from under the plaited figure. 'Excuse me, madam, someone take it away. I take it back again.'

  Georgina eyed the figure with distaste. 'What is it?'

  'Mahasona, madam.'

  'It's hideous!'

  'Oh yes, madam, but it mean nothing nowadays.' The tone was so soothing that Georgina suspected that the man wasn't half as sure about that as he pretended to be. 'We need it for the dance. This is the demon Mahasona. He gives you bad stomach, make you very ill—cholera, dysentery. Very bad demon!' He smiled with an effusiveness he obviously hoped would soften Georgina's stony expression. 'After the dance he go away and everyone keep well!'

  'I hope so,' Georgina observed. 'But surely you're not going to dance now, in this rain?'

  The man shook his head. 'The dance is finished, but someone took Mahasona away. Nobody mind that—but, excuse me, madam, the mask is very valuable. It is very old. It has always been used in my village. Now we don't know if the dance work.' He looked up into the skies. 'The rain brings bad stomachs, madam.'

  'Will you hold the dance all over again?' Georgina asked him. If Celine were to see this plaited demon for herself, perhaps she would lose her fear of it.

  'No, madam. Did madam wish to see the dance?'

  Georgina nodded. 'I thought most of the dances were held down at the coast?'

  'They dance too,' he agreed vaguely. He picked up the huge figure of the demon, now collapsing against the stick that formed its backbone. 'Come to the temple, madam. We make puja, very strong against this demon. Madam has no need to be afraid!'

  Madam was not afraid. Madam was extremely angry, on the other hand. No wonder Celine had been frightened out of her wits!

  'Is it heavy?' she asked suddenly. 'Could I carry it?'

  The man grinned through the open window. 'Madam wishes to try?'

  She climbed through the window without a second thought and struggled to hold the grips that the man pointed out to her. It was only then that she saw there were cords too that were attached to the mask and that when they were manipulated, the mask opened and shut, rolling its eyes and poking out its tongue. It was a horrible sight indeed in the almost total darkness. The whites, or yellows, showed up against the blackness of the reds and greens that only showed when they caught the light from her bedroom window. The tongue was like a snake's and, sure enough, there was a faint resemblance in the face to a bear which, coupled with the elephant-shaped head that was attached to it, was one of the most hideous sights Georgina had ever seen.

  ‘Why, anyone could lift this,' she remarked. ‘I wonder who did?'

  ‘Very bad thing, madam.'

  ‘Very!' she retorted with feeling. ‘I'd like to see it again in the light of day. Would your village mind?'

  ‘No, Madam. Mr. Kotalawala will bring you to the village if you ask him. I will tell the priest you are coming.'

  ‘Thank you. I'll be bringing another girl with me. Will that matter?'

  ‘Madam Celine.' He grinned, rolling his eyes. ‘Madam Celine is always welcome among us. The little madam too!'

  Georgina found herself laughing with him. ‘My name is Georgina. I'm married to William Ayres.'

  ‘The man who makes the river flow backwards? A good man!' ‘Yes,' said Georgina, and was surprised to find she meant it, ‘he is a very good man—and a generous one too. I'm sure he'll be properly grateful if we can reassure Celine that what she saw was this and not some figment of her imagination. Only who can have wanted to scare her with such a silly trick?'

  The man looked puzz
led. ‘My name is Rabahindre, madam.' Georgina shook him warmly by the hand. ‘I'll be seeing you, Mr. Rabahindre,' she said.

  The man laughed and wagged his head. ‘Not Mister— Rabahindre only. Madam and I are friends, no?'

  Georgina smiled back at him. ‘I hope so,' she said.

  It was much more difficult getting back through the window. She made one or two abortive attempts and then gave up the struggle and went round to the front door, hoping she would find it open. It was not. Feeling rather foolish, she banged on the solid wood portals, now wet through from the rain. The door swung open and William stood in the floodlit doorway, staring at her in open astonishment.

  ‘How did you get out?' he demanded.

  'Through the bathroom window.' She slipped past him into the hall, dripping water on to the floor. 'I saw Celine's demon. He's the demon of cholera and dysentery and his head has to be the most hideous thing I've ever seen. Rabahindre says we can go and look at it in daylight if we want to. He said someone took it away from his village and brought it up here. He wasn't best pleased about it.'

  'And you went out like that?'

  Georgina looked down at herself, noting the way the wet cloth of her thin dress clung to the shape of her body. 'He'd have gone if I'd waited to get a coat,' she said defensively. 'Besides, it's dark outside.'

  'Well, it isn't dark in here,' said William. He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her round until she had her back to him and forcibly propelled her down the wide corridor to her bedroom door.

  'Aren't you pleased?' Georgina shot at him over her shoulder. His hands felt warm and intimate and hard and masculine against her shoulders.

  'That you're doing your best to drown yourself when you ought to be tucked up in your bed?'

  'No, silly, that Celine did see her demon!'

  His hands dropped to her waist. 'Damn all demons! For heaven's sake, go to bed, Georgina, and this time stay there! Can you manage, or shall I send Miss Campbell to you?'

  She leaned back against him, weakened by his touch. 'I can manage. I don't require Miss Campbell's services ever! William, are you coming to bed too?'

  His hands squeezed her so tightly she cried out. 'Not tonight, Josephine,' he said, turning on his heel. 'Tonight you look like a cross between a drowned rat and my canary —'

  'Charming!'

  'More charming than you know!' he flung over his shoulder. 'All the curves in the right places and our marriage lines in my pocket.'

  The tip of her tongue protruded against her upper lip. 'Well then?' 'Go to bed, Georgina. By yourself!'

  Her eyes fell before the look in his. 'Because I'm not Jennifer? I'll never be she, though! Can't you — '

  'Not tonight, Georgina!'

  'Then I'd rather you didn't come calling at all!' she shot at him mutinously. 'I don't like you any better now than I did when you were fifteen! You were horrid as a boy, and you're equally horrid now!'

  He was graceless enough to laugh at her. 'I haven't got a scarlet racing-cycle now. Is there some new attraction?'

  She was down the corridor towards him before she had thought, intent only on wiping the smile off his face, but this time he was ready for her. He caught her up between arms of steel and carried her into her room, dropping her from a height on to the centre of her bed.

  'Be thankful you look enough like Little Girl Lost in the storm for me not to turn you over my knee, Georgie Porgie!' He bent down and kissed her hard on the mouth. 'Goodnight, Georgina!'

  Her lips felt stiff and the warm masculinity of his lingered long after he had gone. 'Goodnight, William,' she said to the empty room, and her voice sounded as weak and vulnerable as she felt. And still the rain came down, pounding a tattoo on the tin roof of the bathroom. Georgina lay there and listened to it for a long, long time before she struggled off the bed and changed out of her wet clothes into her nightdress and, pulling the sheet up over her head, went fast asleep.

  Stuart Duffield stretched his legs out in front of him and allowed Celine to press some lemons into a glass and add iced water and sugar for him. He watched her every movement, Georgina noticed, an oddly contented expression on his face.

  'So you girls want me to escort you down to the village?' he said. 'How did you get to hear about their dances? I shouldn't have thought either of you were the type to be interested in demonology.'

  'Not as such,' Georgina affirmed. 'Just one demon, Mahasona, whose image apparently walked out of the village and all the way up to the bungalow by itself. It scared Celine silly, and I'm not at all surprised. It has the most hideous face I've ever seen.'

  Stuart's interest was caught. 'You saw it too?'

  'I saw it being taken back to the village by one Rabahindre. I want to see it again in daylight when it will be a lot less scary. I'd like to know who played such a silly trick on us too, but I'm not hopeful about that.'

  'What did Rabahindre say?'

  'Nothing. But he did invite us all to a ceremony at the Hindu temple. I don't think he knows how it got here any more than we do. His chief concern was the mask the creature wore. Apparently it's old and valuable. It's certainly hideous!'

  Celine's hand shook, clinking the ice in her glass. 'I didn't see a mask, Georgina. I keep telling you, it moved! It drank some red stuff that looked like blood out of an elephant's head. A mask couldn't do that!'

  'We'll see,' said Georgina. 'I'm almost sure this one could.'

  Celine looked unhappy. 'But I'm always seeing things like that. It's nothing new. I'm touched in the head— I have been ever since my mother died in that fire. My father took me from hospital to hospital to find out what was the matter with me, but none of them ever found out. Mostly they thought it was caused by guilt because I wasn't sorry when my mother died.'

  The look of shock on Stuart's face was enough to tell Georgina that this was far more than Celine had ever said on the subject before. What was more, she had said it in the lucid terms an adult would use to describe her case, not at all as the child she usually pretended to be.

  'I never believe in figments of the imagination until there's absolutely no other possible solution,' Georgina answered in matter-of-fact tones. 'Your other demons probably have a similar explanation if anyone had cared to look for it.'

  'But I wasn't sorry when Mother died,' Celine told her.

  'I don't suppose you felt anything. One doesn't when one's shocked. Everyone knows that, Celine!'

  'Father thought I was mad. He didn't like being with me afterwards. He was never at home, though Miss Campbell was always telling him I would be better if I saw a little more of him. She was in love with him.'

  Stuart hooted with laughter. 'Miss Campbell?' he snorted.

  Celine opened her eyes very wide. 'The ugly have to make up in other ways,' she explained carefully. 'She wanted him for herself long before Mother died. I felt sorry for her. Mother didn't lift a finger where Father was concerned — she was always out with other men and things like that. It didn't seem fair. You wouldn't understand, Georgina, because men like you, but if they don't, what does one do then?'

  Georgina was shocked into spilling her drink. 'Darling, anyone as beautiful as you are —'

  'Has to look out!' Celine finished for her. 'I've known that for a long time. Beauty inspires hatred, not love. That's why Miss Campbell hates me. She was jealous of my mother, but she can't be jealous of me, can she? I'm not likely to take any man away from her.'

  Georgina stared at her. 'Does she hate you?'

  Celine nodded. 'She only stayed to be close to Father.'

  'Then why stay now?' Georgina prompted her.

  But Celine's glance wandered away from hers, whether deliberately or not it was impossible to say. 'William says she's going away!' she remarked in delight. 'I hope she does go, but she never has gone in the past. Sometimes I think she'll stay with me for ever and ever!'

  Georgina made to speak, but Stuart stopped her, putting his hand over hers, his fingers tightening to gain her attention.
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  'Celine, why do you stay with her?' he asked.

  She smiled a wry smile. 'How unobservant you are! Because I'm only ten pence in the shilling, or whatever the expression is. I'm afraid of being on my own. I see things that scare me, and I have frightful nightmares and, when that happens, even someone one hates is better than nobody at all!'

  'You ought to get married,' he suggested.

  Her mouth trembled and she shrugged her shoulders. 'Nobody'd have me!' she said.

  It was Georgina who was first aware that William had come out on to the verandah to join them. She hadn't seen him since the night before and the colour rose like a tide in her cheeks as she realised he had seen the way Stuart had his hand over hers. She snatched her own away, looking inexplicably guilty.

  'The sun's shining,' she said foolishly. 'It all looks different in the sun, doesn't it?'

  William tossed a letter down on to her lap. 'Does it look more or less romantic?' he challenged her.

  She had no answer, so she busied herself opening her letter, delighted to have one so soon from her family. 'Goodness!' she exclaimed as she read the opening paragraph. 'Jennifer wants to get away from Duncan's reproaches. She wants to come and visit us here. She's hopeful!'

  William took the letter from her and began to read it aloud: 'Poor Jennie misses you unbearably, my dear, as she always did when you were away. She has so few friends of her own and yours seldom come when you're not here to receive them. I wonder why? Your father and I have always thought she has by far the nicer nature. Perhaps we were wrong to insist she always looked up to you as the elder sister. Poor poppet, she was dreadfully upset over your marriage to William and she never let anyone guess it at the time. I must say, Georgie, I think you very wrong to have come between them. I know she thought she wanted Duncan, but you might have known that would never come to anything. None of us can understand why you let her talk you into telling William in the first place, unless of course you wanted him for yourself? One can't help feeling sorry for him when you think what he might have had!'

  'It's from my mother,' Georgina said unnecessarily. She snatched the letter back from him. 'And it's addressed to me! If I want to tell you what's in it, I will when I've finished it. You may be my husband, but you have no right to read my letters in my book!'