by Flora Kidd
'Oh, hello,' she said in a very English voice, 'I'm looking for Denzil Hallam.'
'He's away just now, at sea,' replied Tory. 'Won't you come in?'
She swung back the door and the woman, who seemed to be about ten years older than herself, stepped by her.
'I'm Tory Hallam.'
The woman, who was small and dainty, swung round and her deep blue eyes widened.
'Hallam? You did say Hallam?' she queried.
'Yes. Denzil and I have been married for nearly five months.'
A prettily-shaped mischievous-looking mouth curved into a smile.
'I'm Wanda Trelawney, and I was divorced from Mark Trelawney ... let me see now.' She put one finger of her white gloved hand to her smooth pink cheek as she thought. 'Yes, it must have been about five months ago. How strange,' she added, smiling again. 'I wrote and told Denzil and said I'd be coming to the Caribbean. I have relatives in Grenada.'
'I see.' Wanda seemed very pleasant and was amazingly colourful with her dark blue eyes and red-gold hair. 'Please sit down,' added Tory. 'Would you like some iced tea?'
'Thank you.' Wanda sat down on the edge of an armchair and looked about the room while Tory went into the kitchen to make the drink. When she returned to the living room with the drink she said chattily,
'As a matter of fact I'm just packing to go to England to visit my parents for two weeks.'
'I wouldn't if I were you. The weather has been awful, quite cold and wintry, down in Cornwall anyway,' replied Wanda. 'You sound as if you come from the north.'
'Yes, I do.'
'Then how did you get out here?'
Quickly Tory gave a résumé of how she had come to Airouna.
'I must say you're a bit of a shock to me,' said Wanda when she had finished. 'I'd no idea Denzil was married. I don't think his family do either. I saw his brother only the other day in Falmouth, and told him I was coming out here and hoped to visit Denzil. I'm sure he would have told me if he'd known about you. Has Denzil let his grandmother know?'
'I ... I don't know.'
'Oh, if he has you'd have heard from her by now. She's like that—always very particular about doing the right thing like sending birthday cards and so on. She would have written to you personally. I wonder why he's kept marriage to you a secret?'
The dark blue eyes had lost their good-humour and were surveying Tory critically. 'Denzil has never talked to you about me, has he?' was Wanda's next very pertinent question.
:No.' How foolish she was beginning to feel at having to reveal that she knew nothing about her own husband.
'I thought not.' Wanda watched her own slim red-tipped fingers as they smoothed the tassel on a cushion. A faint enigmatic smile quivered about her mouth. 'I'm the reason he left England,' she announced rather smugly.
'I'm afraid I don't understand.'
The dark blue eyes lifted to look at her rather pityingly.
'We were in love,' said Wanda with a wistful sigh, 'but I was married to Mark. I'd married him when I was eighteen. He was much older than I, more than twenty years, and I thought him quite fascinating at the time. But as the years went on the difference between our ages began to tell.' The pretty mouth curved in another gamine smile, 'I like to enjoy myself, to dance and flirt. I used to go to the local yacht club quite often, with friends. I met Denzil there.'
'Did he know you were married?'
The dark blue eyes glanced away. Wanda sighed wistfully again.
'I wore a wedding ring, dear, so he must have known, mustn't he?' she replied rather dryly. 'Anyway, my husband found out about our little affair. It caused quite a scandal in our part of the world.' Wanda
laughed as if she had enjoyed being the central person in a scandal. 'It also caused trouble in Denzil's family. I believe he had a row with his uncle. Anyway, the next thing I knew he had left in his yacht to sail across the Atlantic. His family, the Hallams, are very wealthy, you know.'
'No, I don't. In fact I don't know anything about them,' said Tory stiffly, watching her guest ease on her gloves.
'Well, there aren't many of them now. Denzil's parents were killed in an accident when he was young. His grandmother brought him up. There's his Uncle Trevor and his brother Garth, who is much older than he is ... about fourteen years, I should think, and then of course Granny Hallam who's an absolute dear. When do you expect Denzil to come back?'
'Later this evening. Perhaps you could come and see him tomorrow. I'll tell him you're here.'
'That's awfully- nice of you—considering,' said Wanda, rising to her feet.
'Considering what?' The woman was really quite tantalising.
'Considering I'm no longer married to Mark. What a pity Denzil didn't receive my letter before he married you ... not that I've anything against you personally, you seem a nice enough girl ... but he's in love with me, and we always used to say that if ever I found some grounds on which I could divorce Mark, we'd get married.'
Wanda left and Tory returned to her packing. The sun set in its usual blaze of glory. She ate her dinner alone, then Josh came to tell her that he had talked to Denzil over the ship-to-shore radio, and that Denzil had said he could not get back until the next morning; and she went to bed feeling miserable because he hadn't bothered to return for her last nighton Airouna.
In bed she lay awake thinking of Wanda. She had explained so much about Denzil, particularly his concern for herself when he had realised she hadn't known about Rita Jarrold. Think you're the only one who has been in this situation?, he had jibed once only to find himself trapped in the situation with her, marrying her to enable her to keep her job, only to learn, too late, that the woman he loved was at last free.
Tory tossed and turned all night, wishing he was there to answer her questions and stifle her doubts with his kisses, but he wasn't there, and he didn't arrive until she was ready to go to the harbour to catch the ferry.
He came straight to the bungalow from the big schooner which he had been skippering and came through the door just as she was about to go through it.
'I'm sorry, lover—' he began, but cross because she had slept badly and was anxious, Tory snapped at him,
'I bet you are I It shows how little you really care. You didn't even try to be here.'
'Look, Tory,' Denzil took hold of her shoulders, but she wrenched herself free.
'I'll miss the ferry and the connection at Antigua if I don't go now,' she cried, 'and then you'll be stuck with me like ... like a gooseberry when your real lover comes to see you.'
What the hell do you mean?'
'Wanda ... the ex Mrs Trelawney is here in Airouna. She came because she thought that now she's free you and she could get married, the way you had it planned back in the old days when she was still Mrs relawney.'
'Shut up! Denzil's voice was savage and his eyes blazed with green fire. 'You don't know what you're talking about.'
'That's not surprising, is it, since you've never told me anything about yourself? So you were caught stealing another man's wife ...'
'That isn't true! ' he thundered. 'Tory, for God's sake will you shut up and let me explain?'
'It's too late. There isn't time.' She clattered down the steps. Josh was waiting in the jeep in which her cases were already stowed. Denzil came after her, leaping into the back of the jeep as it shot forward. The ride to the ferry was a silent one apart from Josh, who like all islanders sang or hummed when he was working or driving.
The ferry was just about to cast off the warps which held it to the wharf when they arrived. Josh jumped out of the jeep and ran ahead to ask the captain to wait.
'Tory, you can't go like this,' Denzil's voice was low and held a note of desperation.
'Yes, I can, and I am. You can have your sweet Wanda to yourself I '
'You're coming back.' It wasn't a question, it was an 'arrogant statement of fact as he moved to stand in front of her and blocked her way. She looked up into hard clear eyes that glared down at her furiously and once
again it seemed to her he was standing in her way like an immovable rock.
'Oh, I don't know. I can't think. Please let me pass,' she muttered wildly.
Denzil moved and she dodged round him to follow Josh, who was carrying her cases to the gangway where they were taken by one of the crewmen. As she hurried up the gangway, Tory heard Denzil call after her, his voice clear and cutting.
'Tory, if you don't come back I'll never forgive you I ' She was aware of heads turning, of eyes staring at him, then at her, then she was on the boat and the embarkation gate was closed and the engines were
throbbing in reverse. Quickly she moved along to the bow of the boat so that she could see the wharf. Perhaps if she waved, made some signal such as kissing her hand to him, he would know that she intended to come back. But among the small group of people standing there waving farewell to the ferry she could recognise only one, the tall gentle black man called Josh. Denzil had gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TOWARDS the end of her first week in England Tory caught 'flu and suffered the usual aches and pains, shivers and sniffles. Since she was enjoying herself visiting all her friends and relatives, she gave herself only a couple of days to get over the illness. Then, through 'sheer neglect', as her mother put it very forcibly, she went down with a severe infection of the lungs that developed into pneumonia. By the time she was able to sit up and take nourishment again she was lighter in weight and she had been away from Airouna for over three weeks.
'I've written to Dr Jarrold and to Denzil to tell them why you haven't gone back,' said her mother. 'They should have received the letters by now. I wrote on the Monday you should have flown out and posted them the same day, so you should be hearing from them soon.'
But all Tory could think was that Denzil would believe she had run out on him.
Slowly she began to pick up strength, and soon she was able to take walks in the garden, well wrapped up against the cold March winds which blew in off the Atlantic across the flat fields of south-west Lancashire. Every day she looked for a letter from Denzil, and once or twice she tried to write to him to tell him that she was making progress. But each time she started to write she remembered the threat he had flung at her across the space between the ferryboat and the wharf at Port Anne: then she would think of Wanda, and wonder whether it was better not to write, to let him think she had run out on him, let him sue for divorce and be free to marry Wanda.
So she never finished her letters, but screwed them up into tight balls and dropped them in the waste basket.
She had been in England four weeks and was still under the doctor's care when two letters came from Airouna. One was from the Department of Parks and Gardens cancelling her contract with them because she had overstayed her leave. It was signed by the head of the department; Harold Ribiera, Rita Jarrold's father. The other letter was from Magnus.
His untidy scrawl brought him into the room, attractive, diffident, wryly smiling, hoping she would understand that he hadn't been able to do anything about re-negotiating her contract. He had hoped that she would return to Airouna anyway, to be with her husband. However, he had heard recently that Hallam had left the marina and it was now under new management. He assumed that Hallam had gone to England to join Tory there, so he could hardly expect her to come back to the island and help him finish the book. It was a pity, because she understood the way his mind worked and ..
The letter dropped from Tory's suddenly nerveless fingers. Denzil had left Airouna. When? Why? Where had he gone? Frantically she picked up the letter from the floor to read it again, hoping that there would be some indication of when he had left and where he had gone. As she straightened up a wave of nausea hit her, turning her dizzy, then everything went black and she fell.
She came round to find herself lying on the chaise-longue in the sitting room, and to see Dr Jones entering the room followed by her mother.
`Well, young woman! What have you been doing now?' he asked.
'I must have fainted,' she muttered. 'I remember feeling sick.'
`Let's have a look at you,' he said. `No, not the lungs this time.'
Tory glanced across at her mother, who was standing by the window. Pamela smiled at her reassuringly.
'I'm sure everything is all right, love, but it's just as well to have a check-up.'
The doctor was gentle, as he was always, and when he had finished the examination he sat on the edge of the chaise and took one of her hands in his.
'Do you know you're pregnant, Tory?' he asked quietly.
Again she glanced in the direction of the window, but her mother had gone, was in fact just closing the door of the room behind her.
'I thought I might be,' she murmured.
'About two and a half months, I'd say. Are you pleased?'
'Yes.' It came out rather forlornly. 'Don't tell my mother, please, I'd like to tell her myself.'
`Of course you would. It's your business, after all,' he said as he got to his feet. 'I'd like you to come down to the surgery next week for a proper ante-natal check up before you go back to the Caribbean. No chance of you staying in this country to have the child, I suppose?'
'There might be,' she said.
When he had gone she lay and stared at the twigs of forsythia tapping against the window. The tiny yellow flowers were just beginning to show. By the time Denzil's child was born it would be autumn. Panic streaked through her, causing her to sit up quickly. She was going to have Denzil's child and she had no idea where he was I
Perhaps a letter would come from him soon, telling
her of his whereabouts. Unless he had gone to sea again, or—pain twisted knife-like through her—unless he was with Wanda. Oh, if only Magnus had been more explicit, less vague—but then Magnus cared only about plants, about his wretched book. Sobs shook her suddenly. Oh, Denzil, Denzil!
'I've brought you a cup of tea, love.' Her mother's matter-of-fact voice broke through the storm of emotion. 'Now whatever is the matter with you?'
Tory gulped, wiped her eyes and took the tea-cup and saucer.
'The government of Airouna has cancelled my contract because I overstayed my leave.'
' Oh, how silly of them! Surely your Dr Jarrold can put it right? Once you're back there I'm sure something can be done.'
'I'm not going back.'
'But, Tory, you must. You're married to Denzil.'
'He isn't there. He's left, and I don't know where he is. It's in Magnus's letter. Oh, Mummy, what am I going to do?'
'Well, just now you're going to drink that tea,' her mother said. 'Then you're going to wash your face and comb your hair and have some lunch—Robin and have had ours. Then you're going to help me pack for tomorrow. Remember we're catching the early train for Penrith so that we can reach the cottage in the afternoon. We're going to be busy for the next few days to get everything warmed up and ready by the time your father and George come up on the Thursday.'
'But supposing a letter comes from Denzil while we're away?'
'Your father will bring it with him when he comes. Now buck up, love, I'm sure there's a good explanation for what's happened. Maybe Denzil is on his way here. You know the post-has been most peculiar lately. I'm sure we haven't received all the letters sent to us.'
Tory tried to feel reassured by her mother's calm attitude, and even managed to enjoy the journey north the next day; a journey she had made every Easter and every summer holiday for as long as she could remember.
The brown fells lifted to a pale blue sky, looking as remote and as mysterious as they had always done, and the lakes glinted with wan silvery light. The small stone cottage looked solid and squat and as always, its windows brimmed with gold when the sun set. All night the nearby beck rushed noisily over the rocks and eventually its tinkling sound lulled Tory to sleep in the room she shared with her sister.
The next few days passed in peace as fires were lit, beds were aired, furniture was polished and dishes and glassware were washed. In the garden crocuse
s, yellow and purple, thrust through the winter-bleached grass. In the woods primroses and wild violets peeped from hiding places under silver birches drooping pale catkins. The sun grew warmer as the week advanced, and March gave way to April, and by Thursday the daffodils were bursting yellow from their pale beige sheaths.
On Thursday afternoon Tory was- sent to pick daffodils from the edge of the lake. She squatted to pick them because bending made her feel sick. Every morning she examined her waistline to see if there was any change; so far she had not told her mother.
`Tory, Tory, Dad's here!' Her sister Robin was running down the hill from the cottage, her blonde hair flying out behind her. `He's brought someone with him besides George, and Mum says you're to come at nce. She said it just like that. No argument. You're to go at once.'
`Who's he brought?' asked Tory, leaning forward to take the steep slope.
'Oh, I dunno, some man. I didn't get a chance to find out 'cos Mum sent me to get you. Come on, hurry up George has brought his girl-friend. You'll never guess what her name is. It's Priscilla, and that's worse than Victoria! '
With that parting taunt she rushed off. Tory followed slowly. Once she had been able to run up the hill like Robin; now it made her breathless just to walk up it.
She went in through the kitchen and left the daffodils in the sink. Hearing Pamela talking in the sitting room she went through to it and stood stock-still in the doorway, her eyes wide and incredulous; because the man who was there listening politely to her mother, and who was wearing a dark brown suit of corded velvet, had dark curly hair which grew down his lean cheeks in long sideburns.
'Denzil,' she said, and he turned to give her a hard unsmiling stare.
'I'll leave you two alone for a while,' said Pamela diplomatically. 'We'll be having tea soon.' She went out, closing the door firmly behind her.
'Denzil, what are you doing here?' exclaimed Tory foolishly.
'I'm not quite sure,' he replied coolly. 'Your father seemed to think it was a good idea for me to come.' He glanced round the cosy, over-furnished room and flexed his shoulders as if he felt trapped in it.
