by Isobel Chace
‘Do you often sleep down at the manager’s house?’ she asked, remembering suddenly that that was why he had come into the sitting-room the evening before.
‘Fairly often, during the week mostly. The house is too far away for overseeing the start of the day.’
Everyone, it seemed, called the Halifax homestead ‘the house’. Sara wondered why. It sounded as though it had become that when it was being built, when the Halifaxes had still lived at the smaller house and had watched the new one, high up in the cool hills, being slowly fashioned to their own specifications. It would be wonderful to actually build a house, to watch it grow, instead of occupying someone else’s dream.
‘I shall have to go up tonight, though,’ Matt went on. ‘Mother’s asked someone to stay and she expects me to play host. James will be out.’
He drew up in front of the manager’s house and jumped out to the ground.
‘Want a hand down?’ he asked.
She accepted gratefully, for she still found it difficult to get in and out the jeep.
‘Thank you very much,’ she said shyly. ‘And for the driving lesson.’
She looked young and tired, with dark smudges beneath her eyes and her face pale and practically without make-up.
‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘You’ll pick it up pretty quickly. But don’t, whatever you do, let Felicity have a hand in your instruction. She’s murder!’
She stood and watched him go before she went into the house. Matt Halifax, she thought, was really a very kind person — a thing which yesterday she hadn’t even suspected.
After a bath and a complete change of clothing, Sara made her way to the sitting-room. Another of the joys of Africa were the evenings, she decided. One knew just when the sun would set and one could plan accordingly. Two hours devoted to being social and then a dinner, not of one’s own manufacture, which was all the more delightful when you’ve spent years, as Sara had, cooking your last meal over one gas-ring in a bedroom.
Mrs. Wayne was still affecting sleep when she went in. She opened one lazy eye to see who it was and then shut it again.
‘What’s the time?’ she asked. ‘Not six yet, surely?’
‘Nearly half past,’ Sara told her.
She watched her aunt pull herself up to a sitting position and smiled at her with genuine amusement.
‘Slept well?’ she asked a little wickedly.
Mrs. Wayne pouted.
‘It’s all very well for you,’ she complained. ‘You’re young! I have nothing left to be energetic about. Help yourself to a drink.’
‘I won’t, thank you. I don’t really like alcohol, so I only ever drink on high days and holidays.’
‘But everybody does here!’ Mrs. Wayne assured her. ‘It compensates for the sudden drop in temperature or something. Anyway, you have to have something. Try one of those drowned whiskies that Felicity drinks.’
It was suddenly rather chilly, so Sara did as she suggested. It was not a very pleasant drink, but it had the desired effect of warding off the shivers that come so easily when one moves rapidly from one temperature to another.
‘Felicity’s out,’ her aunt went on. ‘Gone out with James of all people. They go off and drive miles into the blue every now and again, returning some time in the early hours of the morning. Not that it does either of them much good. Mrs. Halifax pretends that she doesn’t know anything about it, but she must be as blind as a bat if she doesn’t know how they feel about each other! What do you think of James?’
Sara jerked her glass upright so quickly that some of the liquid splashed over onto her dress.
‘James?’
‘Yes. You met him, didn’t you, when he called at the hospital?’
There was nothing slow about Mrs. Wayne’s news service.
‘Yes, I did,’ Sara admitted. ‘He was driving a Miss Davids up to the house, and they stopped because she had a headache.’
Here, it seemed, was something that her aunt had not known about, for she said touchily:
‘I didn’t know she was here again! Did Matt ask her? Or did Mrs. Halifax?’
Sara shook her head.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ she said. But she did know, she thought, and there was no secret about it so far as she knew, so why didn’t she tell Mrs. Wayne so?
Mrs. Wayne looked at her niece intently.
‘There was talk at one time about Julia and him,’ she said meaningly. ‘You mustn’t let him slip through your fingers.’
Sara wriggled uncomfortably in her chair.
‘There isn’t the slightest chance of there being anything between Matt and myself, aunt,’ she said hastily. ‘He — he’s my employer, nothing else, and it embarrasses me when you pretend that there might be something more.’
Mrs. Wayne ate an exotic-looking chocolate she had found, still wrapped, somewhere in her clothing.
‘You mustn’t mind me, my dear,’ she said indifferently.' ‘But I always say what I think, and you’d be a fool to pass him by!’
She pursed her lips up thoughtfully and savoured the remains of the chocolate. Sara waited for her to change the subject, but she did nothing of the sort.
‘Don’t you like him?’ she asked. ‘He’s quite the pick of the Halifaxes.’
‘I don’t really know,’ Sara said carefully. ‘So far I haven’t been able to forget that he doesn’t want me here at all!’
Her aunt gave her a shrewd look and her eyes suddenly twinkled.
‘I like you!’ she exclaimed. ‘And you’re quite right! I’ll leave it to you, I’m sure you’ll cope admirably, and it will be so much easier for me if I have to do nothing more than supply the applause when you’ve captured him!’
Which was worse than ever! Sara met the twinkling eyes squarely and found herself laughing back.
‘You’re quite incorrigible!’ she scolded her. ‘But I like you too,’ she added, and was almost surprised to find that she really did.
It was something of a relief, however, when the African came in to announce dinner. Having missed her lunch, Sara was very hungry, and the meal she knew would be good, having already experienced some of the cook’s efforts.
Mrs. Wayne led the way into the dining-room, changing suddenly from the sluttish creature on the sofa to a dignified hostess taking her guests in to dinner. It was a pity, Sara thought, that there was only herself to see the transformation, for in this new role Mrs. Wayne was terrific, even if it only lasted for the time they took to eat their meal.
The evening before Sara had been a little doubtful about the silent African standing behind her chair who attended to all her needs, but this time she was glad to see him. She was beginning to understand what Felicity had meant when she had said that she would find her own job more than enough for her. It was ridiculous to expect her body to put up with the same demands as it had in the more temperate climes of England, at any rate at first! She would take things slowly, Sara told herself, until she was thoroughly acclimatized, and then she would let herself go and make the most of every free minute at her disposal. There were so many things that she wanted to see and places she wanted to visit in her week-ends off. Nothing was impossible in this amazing country. She could fly astounding distances as often as she could afford to, and she was determined that that would be as often as possible.
As part of her role as hostess, Mrs. Wayne began to ask Sara about her day at the hospital. It was incredible the amount of knowledge about the estate she had at her disposal, in spite of her refusal ever to go out.
‘Lucy Mgweri was trained at Matt’s expense,’ she told Sara. ‘He’s very keen that Africans should fill every post that they can — he was, even before Independence, so it made very little difference to us here.’
‘Nurse Lucy seems very efficient,’ she said pleasantly.
Mrs. Wayne nodded.
‘Oh very!’ she agreed warmly. ‘But so lonely for the poor girl with no one else of her own kind around. Matt should have thought more about her
future, I think, before he agreed. She has her family, of course, but they are completely uneducated. Lucy went to a Mission school, you see.’
Sara did see. The pioneers of European education were bound to be lonely, casting off their tribal superstitions and with them much of their oneness with their people.
‘Lucy seems happy enough,’ she said doubtfully.
‘She probably is. She holds a very honourable position—’
‘Memsahib,’ an African broke in quietly at her shoulder. ‘The Nurse Memsahib is wanted on the telephone.’ He spoke in Swahili, so Sara glanced inquiringly at her aunt to find out what it was all about. Immediately she was on her feet.
‘It must be the hospital,’ she could hear Mrs. Wayne thinking aloud as she left the room. ‘Though what they can want at this hour, I really can’t imagine!’
It was Dr. Cengupta.
‘I am so sorry to disturb you, nurse,’ he began in his sibilant Eastern tones. ‘I have just brought in an emergency case. Appendicitis. I want to operate within the hour and I wondered if you would mind coming over?’
‘Of course not, sir. I’ll be over in ten minutes.’
‘You are not too tired?’ he asked. ‘I have Nurse Lucy here, but she is not fond of theatre work — her eyes pop out,’ he added laughingly. He loved English idioms and used them much as a fifth former uses his latest French phrase.
‘I’m not too tired, sir. I’ll just change into uniform and then I’ll come.’
‘Thank you, nurse.’
Sara put the receiver down on to its rest thoughtfully. She liked theatre work, but she wished that she was fresher and less tired. It had been a very long day and her feet ached.
Mrs. Wayne came bustling out of the dining-room. She was quite short when she was standing up and she had to look up at Sara.
‘Do you have to go out again?’ she asked.
Sara nodded. ‘Emergency operation,’ she explained briefly. ‘I don’t know how long I shall be.’
‘Well, hurry up and I’ll drive you over,’ Mrs. Wayne shot at her.
Sara was completely unable to hide, or even disguise, her surprise.
‘Can you drive?’ she asked.
‘Of course I can drive! Who do you suppose taught Felicity?’
A few minutes later Sara discovered that her aunt drove with very much the same style and dash as Felicity. Twice she was thrown against her door, the second time knocking her elbow against the handle that winds up the window, which made her fingers go dead for a few seconds. It was quite something to be standing on her own feet again outside the hospital.
‘Thank you very much, Aunt,’ she said gratefully. ‘I should have taken much longer if I’d walked.’
‘Longer, but safer?’ her aunt teased her. ‘And don’t call me Aunt!’
The hospital stood in a little pool of light, freckled by the netting across the windows to keep the insects out. Sara saw the doctor’s shadow as he crossed from one side of his office to the other, and hurried inside to join him.
‘Is that you, nurse?’ he asked. ‘Nurse Lucy has prepared the theatre, so just get yourself ready, will you? I’m coming to scrub up in about five seconds, but I have to get somebody’s permission before I can do the darned thing!’
He went back to the telephone and Sara went on into the theatre.
Nurse Lucy was busy checking the instruments on the tray. ‘You’m come pretty quick,’ she said over her shoulder.
‘Mrs. Wayne drove me over,’ Sara told her, struggling into the green overall that had been put out for her. ‘Can you tie these strings for me?’
She was only just ready when Dr. Cengupta came in.
‘I can’t get any answer up at the house,’ he said in worried tones. ‘And I can’t get hold of the boy’s parents, because he comes from the other estate near Arusha. See if you can get anyone while I dress, nurse,’ he ordered.
Sara almost ran to his office and grabbed the telephone. The list of numbers to all the various parts of the estate were on a printed card in front of her, and she settled down to ringing the top number.
There was a long, unbelievably long pause and then someone at the other end said ‘Hullo!’ in extremely irritable tones.
‘This is the hospital here,’ Sara said clearly. ‘We want permission to operate on David Mbudu. May I speak to Mr. Halifax, please?’
‘James Halifax here,’ said the voice. ‘Is that Sara Wayne?’
‘Yes,’ Sara admitted.
‘Well, Matt’s out. Mother’s around somewhere, though, she would do. Hang on, I’ll get Felicity to call her!’
Sara could hear him talking to someone else for a few seconds and then he came back on the line.
‘Still you, Sara? Good. Look, for heaven’s sake don’t breathe a word about Felicity being here, will you? Her mother would go off the deep end if she knew we were really getting serious. She thinks we just go off for a drive at intervals — Hey! You are still there, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I’m still here. But I should have thought Aunt Laura would have been delighted!’
‘Not with me! You’ll find out why soon enough, so I shan’t tell you, and anyway here’s Mother!’
And then Mrs. Halifax’s cool voice came over the line assuring Sara that it would be quite all right to operate.
‘I can give consent. In loco parentis I believe is the correct phrase. Though it would be better if you could get Matt. You might catch him at the airstrip. We’ve had some rather bad news from Arusha and he’s getting out the Auster to fly over. Is that all you wanted? Well, good night, then.’
Sara hurried down the corridor to the theatre and relayed the consent to Dr. Cengupta.
‘Would you like me to try and contact Mr. Halifax, sir?’ she asked.
He nodded briefly. ‘I want something in writing if it’s possible. If not, we’ll have to carry on without. I hate operating on anyone, though, without the proper formalities!’ He sounded quite irritable, which was unlike him, and Sara scurried back up the corridor in response to the tone. But when she got through to the airstrip Matt had already left.
‘He’s gone in the car,’ the African mechanic told her. ‘I am getting out the Auster while he’s away. One passenger went with him.’
It was plain that he didn’t know anything more about Matt’s movements, and, with a sigh, Sara put the telephone receiver down and went back to the theatre.
Dr. Cengupta had finished scrubbing up and was waiting for someone to help him into his operating clothing. Sara hastily pulled out a sterilized apron and helped him into it, tying the strings behind for him.
‘He isn’t at the airstrip,’ she said. ‘He’s gone to get a passenger in his car.’
The doctor looked at her over his mask.
‘He may be coming here. Perhaps someone is hurt?’
‘I don’t know. Mrs. Halifax just said they’d had bad news from Arusha.’
But Dr. Cengupta proved to be quite correct, for hardly had she finished speaking than there was the screeching sound of brakes being applied in a hurry outside and a second later they could hear Matt’s firm footsteps coming towards them.
‘What’s up, Matt?’ the Indian called out, his voice oddly muffled by his mask.
‘I want Nurse Wayne!’ Matt rapped out. ‘Hurry! What’s going on here?’ he added as he walked into the theatre.
‘Emergency appendectomy,’ Dr. Cengupta said wearily ‘You can sign the form of consent while you’re here. Fetch it, nurse.’
Nurse Lucy sped off to get the form, while Sara paused uncertainly on the edge of the conversation.
‘I need Nurse Wayne here,’ the doctor said. ‘She has more experience of theatre work.’
‘I’m sorry, Karim, but you’ll have to make do with Lucy Mgweri tonight. My patient is fretting and I’ll have to take Nurse Wayne with me.’
The doctor sighed.
‘I suppose you are right,’ he agreed. ‘Nurse Wayne has specialized in that field.’
&
nbsp; ‘Quite!’ snapped Matt. ‘I wanted to take you personally, but the boy will need you, so I’m afraid you will have to let Nurse Wayne go!’ He grinned and slowly the doctor smiled reluctantly back.
Sara felt a fleeting thrill fountain up inside her as she realized that she was going to fly with Matt to Arusha. It would be tremendously interesting to see the other estate and find out more about the complicated working of this family business.
At a sign from the doctor she tore off her green overall and hurried down the corridor to her office to get her emergency bag, blessing the impulse earlier in the day when she had fully checked its contents thus saving her from having to do it now. She grabbed her cloak and veil and hurried back.
‘I’m ready, sir,’ she panted.
Dr. Cengupta gave her a look of approval noting that somehow she had managed to put her veil on straight and looked once more a demure nursing sister.
‘Then you’d better go and leave me to my operation,’ he smiled. ‘Are you ready, nurse?’
Nurse Lucy nodded her head. Sara was amused to notice that her eyes did indeed pop out, but otherwise she looked calm and competent and she had no worries about leaving her to assist Dr. Cengupta. She had done it all many times before when Sara had not been there to call on.
‘Have you everything you need?’ Matt asked her.
‘Yes, Mr. Halifax,’ she replied, feeling a little as though she had been asked whether she had a clean handkerchief.
‘Matt,’ he said briefly. ‘No one will know who you mean if you go round calling me that!’
Matt! She savoured it on her tongue, wondering if it was short for Matthew, or for something else that he preferred to keep dark. Something like Matthias or Hermatus!
‘Come on!’ he called to her. ‘Hop in!’
She hurried down the hospital steps and jumped into the passenger seat of his car, clutching her bag on her knee.
‘How long will it take us to get there?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘A few hours. Three, usually. The Auster’s pretty small, but it makes a terrific difference to us. Nearly all the big estates have some sort of aeroplane at their disposal now. Flip down to Dar-es-Salaam, or across to Zanzibar! Wonderful!’
