‘Well, it’s said that, if a man drinks an extract made of the bark of the boabab, he’ll become mighty and strong,’ said Vivien, laughing softly. ‘During one of the rituals of the Venda people, Bernard was given this potion to drink and, because of his enormous physique, we’ve teased him about it ever since.’
‘No, he never told me,’ Olivia said, suppressing a giggle at the thought of sceptical Bernard King indulging in one of the fanciful legends of the Venda tribe.
‘By the way,’ Vivien interrupted her thoughts, ‘my tapestry is completed. How far have you got with yours?’
Olivia glanced at her own tapestry on the counter beside her. ‘I’m finishing it off at the moment.’
‘Good! We can send them off together then to have them framed.’ There was a slight pause before Vivien continued, ‘Look, I actually telephoned to ask if you were free on Wednesday evening. Are you, Olivia?’
‘Yes, I am ... why?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘I would like you to come and have dinner with Peter and me,’ came Vivien’s surprising reply. ‘It will be quite informal, and I’ve talked so much about you that Peter is dying to meet you. Will you come?’
Olivia’s mind raced uncomfortably, but she consoled herself with the thought that Vivien had not mentioned her brother at all, and, assuming that he would not be present, she said: ‘I would like to very much, thank you.’
‘Do you know where we live?’ Vivien wanted to know, the excited tremor in her voice coming clearly across the line.
‘I’m afraid I don’t.’
‘Well, if you turn left at the old stone church in the main street, and then—’ She broke off abruptly and continued hastily with, ‘Never mind, I’ll come and fetch you at ... six-thirty?’
‘That sounds fine, but I’m sure if you gave me directions
I should find—’
‘No, no, I’ll come and fetch you,’ Vivien insisted. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get lost, and Peter could always take you back if he isn’t called out during dinner. See you on Wednesday, then. ’
She rang off abruptly, almost as if she was afraid that Olivia would change her mind, but Olivia merely smiled as she replaced the receiver, and found herself looking forward to spending an evening in the company of Vivien and her husband.
Tante Maria came into the shop that afternoon and lowered her plump figure in the pink overall on to the stool beside the counter as she handed a letter to Olivia.
‘It somehow managed to get in among our post,’ she explained, eyeing the envelope with as much curiosity as Olivia. ‘Aren’t you going to open it and see what it’s about?’
Unable to suppress a smile, Olivia tore open the envelope and extracted a single sheet of paper. As she read through it swiftly, the frown on her brow cleared slightly.
‘It’s from the property agent in Johannesburg,’ she explained to the curious Tante Maria. ‘They’ve found a buyer for my aunt’s house and they want me to go through to Johannesburg as soon as possible to sign the papers for the sale to go through. ’
‘When will you go?’ Tante Maria wanted to know, shifting herself into a more comfortable position on the stool.
‘I don’t fancy travelling there and back in one day,’ Olivia replied slowly, returning the letter to the envelope. ‘Perhaps if I left just after lunch on Sunday, then I could stay over at a hotel, see the agent on Monday morning, and come back that afternoon. ’
‘That would be the wisest thing to do,’ the older woman agreed, frowning suddenly. ‘What about your shop?’
‘I’ll just have to close it for the day,’ Olivia sighed, unable to think of anyone whom she could ask to help out for the day.
‘You could always leave your keys with me so that, if anyone wanted something urgently, I could slip away quickly
and help them. ’
‘That’s very kind of you, Tante Maria,’ Olivia thanked her, ‘but I think Louisville can do without its bookshop for one day without falling apart!’
Tante Maria agreed wholeheartedly and remained a few minutes longer to ask how Olivia’s week-end had been before she heaved herself on to her feet and made her way reluctantly back to their shop next door. Olivia watched her go, considering herself lucky to have two such nice people close by to whom she could turn for advice if she should ever need it, but her train of thought was interrupted as a burly farmer entered the shop to collect his magazines.
Wednesday evening arrived almost too quickly for Olivia as she stood in front of her wardrobe and contemplated which dress to wear. Vivien had stipulated that it would be informal, but Olivia glanced ruefully at her clothes, realising that she had day dresses and evening dresses, but nothing in between for an informal evening at someone’s home. If only she had had time to do some shopping, she thought agitatedly, determined now to do a tour of the shops while in Johannesburg that coming Monday.
Deciding eventually on her plain blue chiffon which was not as elaborate as her other evening dresses, she slipped it over her head and pulled up the zip before examining herself critically in the mirror. The colour matched her eyes, the sales lady had said when Olivia had bought it, and she had to admit that the style, plain though it was, did something for her almost boyish figure.
Glancing at the alarm clock beside her bed, she hastily checked her make-up, pulled a comb through her hair which had grown over the past weeks to fall softly into her neck, and fastened a silver bracelet on to her wrist. She just had time to grab her stole and purse before she glimpsed Vivien’s small blue Fiat coming down the street and, taking another swift glance at herself in the mirror, she hurried down to where Vivien was busy parking her car.
‘Hm ... you look nice,’ Vivien smiled, coming forward to meet her, ‘but you’re so small and slender that I feel like an elephant beside you.’
‘Nonsense, Vivien,’ Olivia protested as they climbed into the Fiat. ‘You have a lovely figure, and I’d give anything to be a little taller. ’
Vivien started the car and sent a humorous glance in Olivia’s direction. ‘So you could have reached the baobab tree flower without assistance?’
‘Oh ... ’ Olivia felt her cheeks redden and looked away as she recalled how Bernard King had had to lift her in order to pick a flower. ‘I should have known you would have been told about that. Did Mr. King ...?’
‘Frances told me,’ Vivien replied quickly, taking in the look of relief on Olivia’s face before returning her attention to the road ahead. ‘That child is extraordinarily fond of you, you know.’
‘I know, and it frightens me a little,’ Olivia admitted, her colour returning to normal.
‘Good heavens, why?’
‘I don’t know,’ Olivia shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m afraid of hurting her some day. ’
‘If Bernard had married again then Frances might have turned out quite differently, but he’s thirty-eight now, and I’m beginning to think that he prefers living the way he does,’ Vivien sighed, her lips tightening. ‘Of course, if Ilona had her way she would have been mistress of Mountain View years ago and, quite frankly, I dread the day when that happens.’
‘Do you think it might?’ Olivia asked conversationally, not caring one way or the other whether Bernard King married Ilona Haskins or not. Frances would, of course, be the one to suffer, but that was not really her concern, was it?
‘Bernard doesn’t say much,’ she heard Vivien remark disconsolately, ‘but Ilona drops enough hints that their relationship is developing in that direction. ’
They arrived at Vivien’s house within a short space of time, and Olivia paid little attention to the large white Mercedes parked at the gate as she feasted her eyes on Vivien’s rose garden, and the modern, two-storied house with its large windows and glass doors leading out on to a terraced garden which was bathed in gold at that moment by the last rays of the sun.
‘This way,’ said Vivien, guiding Olivia towards the entrance of the house with its panelled glass windows on either side of the door, but,
in the spacious entrance hall, the sound of a familiar deep voice made her halt abruptly and, but for Vivien’s detaining hand on her arm, she would have turned and fled instead of allowing herself to be led into the large, airy living-room where Bernard King sat talking to a lean, fairhaired man. At the sound of their footsteps on the tiled floor, both men glanced up and rose to their feet, and Olivia felt her knees shaking beneath her weight as Vivien said: ‘Peter, this is Olivia Logan. Olivia, my husband.’
‘Well, at last I have the pleasure of meeting you, Olivia,’ Peter O’Brien smiled warmly, clasping her hand in his and staring at her with interest deepening in his blue eyes. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from both Vivien and Frances that I feel as though we’re old friends.’
Conscious of Bernard King’s glowering expression, she smiled up at the man before her with a little more warmth than usual. ‘It’s kind of you to say so, Dr. O’Brien.’
‘Peter ... please,’ he corrected swiftly, releasing her hand. ‘No one calls me Dr. O’Brien except my patients, and you’re far too healthy-looking to ever be that.’ He gestured towards the man beside him. ‘You have met Bernard, I believe?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured, meeting the fierce intensity of those dark eyes with a calmness that was deceiving. ‘Good evening, Mr. King.’
His eyes were instantly mocking. ‘Good evening, Miss Logan. ’
‘For goodness’ sake!’ Vivien exploded beside Olivia. ‘Drop this “Mr. King” and “Miss Logan” nonsense, both of you, or I shall choke on the dinner I’ve taken so much time to prepare!’ The tension eased slightly as Olivia was shown to a chair, but Bernard remained standing, his empty glass in his hand.
‘I’m about to help myself to another glass of wine. Could I get the same for you ... Olivia?’
The sound of her name on his lips jarred her nerves, but she managed to smile stiffly. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’
‘I could do with a refill myself, so I’ll get Vivien’s,’ said Peter, rising to his feet and following Bernard from the room.
‘You never told me that—that your brother would be here as well,’ Olivia accused the moment they were alone.
Vivien leaned back in her chair and crossed her shapely legs. ‘Would you have come had I told you?’
‘No,’ Olivia replied with complete honesty.
‘There you are, then,’ Vivien smiled with satisfaction. ‘He’s not such an ogre, Olivia. You’ll see, my dear.’
Olivia remained unconvinced, but the men returned and they were forced to discontinue their conversation. To her dismay, Bernard did not return to the chair he had occupied before their arrival, but, after handing her her glass of wine, he lowered himself into the chair directly beside her own, making her painfully aware of his large, imposing frame in grey slacks and matching jacket with the whiteness of his open-necked shirt accentuating the darkness of his bearded features.
‘What do you think of Louisville, Olivia, after living in Johannesburg for most of your life?’ Peter brought the conversation round to her eventually.
‘I think it’s a lovely town,’ she replied truthfully, conscious of Bernard’s dark, enquiring gaze resting on her as she continued. ‘It’s very quiet, but I like it that way.’
‘Does the lack of night-life not trouble you?’ that deep voice shivered along her sensitive nerves, forcing her to glance in his direction.
‘I never had much experience of Johannesburg’s nightlife, so I don’t miss it at all.’
‘I bet you left a few broken hearts behind,’ Peter observed mischievously.
‘Peter, you’re embarrassing Olivia,’ Vivien interrupted, noticing the pinkness of Olivia’s cheeks.
‘Nonsense,’ Peter insisted jovially as he leaned forward in
his chair and pursued the subject. ‘Did you leave a few broken hearts behind?’
‘None that I can think of,’ Olivia answered, wishing that she was not so conscious of Bernard’s unfaltering gaze.
‘Oh, come now,’ Peter laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘A girl as pretty as you must have had a retinue of admirers.’
Olivia’s lips curved into an involuntary smile. ‘You flatter me, but I’m afraid I—I never had much time to indulge in that kind of occupation. ’
‘What could have kept you so fully occupied, I wonder?’ Bernard remarked beside her with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
‘Really, Bernard, that’s none of your business,’ Vivien sprang to her defence instantly, her brows drawn into a straight line of disapproval that made the likeness between her and her brother so very obvious.
‘I was merely curious,’ Bernard replied, quite unperturbed. ‘But if Olivia prefers to be mysterious about her past, then it’s up to her to say so.’
‘There’s nothing mysterious about my past,’ Olivia protested, her fingers tightening on the stem of her glass. ‘I had my job as a librarian, and my books at home.’
‘Your parents?’ Bernard persisted, his glance compelling.
‘They died when I was two, and I was brought up by my mother’s sister,’ the words came out jerkily.
His eyes darkened perceptibly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘And so you should be,’ Vivien interrupted forcefully.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Olivia said quickly, anxious now to ease the tension between Bernard King and herself as he rapped out yet another query.
‘Your aunt? Is she still living in Johannesburg?’
‘She died about ten months ago,’ Olivia confessed, lowering her lashes swiftly to hide the pain from Bernard’s prying eyes.
Brother and sister glared at each other as Peter stepped hastily into the breach. ‘You must think us brutes to question you like this on a subject that must still be painful to you, Olivia.’
‘I’m glad it was you who said that, Peter, because that’s what
I’ve been trying to point out for the past half hour,’ Vivien said icily before Olivia had time to scrape together a reply. ‘Don’t think too badly of them, Olivia. They’re not always so callous.’
It felt to Olivia as if the pleasant, restful evening she had envisaged had suddenly exploded into a million fragments, leaving her tense and withdrawn from the other occupants in this beautiful living-room with its cream-coloured furnishings and wine-red curtains at the windows. To her relief the conversation at the dinner-table remained light and amusing, and although Bernard King was the only one who appeared to notice that she had shrunk into a world of her own, he fortunately did not bring it to the notice of Peter and Vivien, but Olivia, seated opposite him, was constantly aware of his dark eyes regarding her so intently from time to time, and aware, too, of an uneasiness she could not explain.
‘Have you completed your tapestry?’ Vivien asked Olivia suddenly when they reached the coffee stage, and Olivia squirmed inwardly when everyone’s attention was all at once focussed on her.
‘Yes, I have,’ she replied, swallowing nervously.
‘Good,’ Vivien said brightly. ‘I’ll collect yours tomorrow and send it off with mine.’
‘Well, I ... ’ The words seemed to dry up in her throat and she had to force herself to continue. ‘I have to be in Johannesburg on Monday, so I thought perhaps I could take them myself. ’
Vivien’s dark glance sharpened. ‘Were you going to travel by car?’
Olivia nodded. ‘I thought I’d leave Sunday afternoon and stay over in a hotel so there wouldn’t be so much travelling all in one day.’
‘But why go all that way by car when you could fly there on Monday morning with Bernard?’ Vivien argued, and Olivia’s heart almost leapt out of her throat as she saw Vivien glance across at her brother. ‘You are still going through to Johannesburg on Monday, aren’t you?’
Bernard nodded slowly. ‘I am, and you’re welcome to come with me, Olivia.’
‘Oh, but I couldn’t! I mean—’ She broke off abruptly, realising how ungrateful she must sound judging by the hint of mockery in Bernard’s eyes. ‘I
should hate to be an imposition,’ she ended off lamely.
‘Nonsense!’ Vivien protested, dismissing Olivia’s argument with an imperious wave of her hand. ‘It would be silly for you to drive all that way when you could get there so much quicker in Bernard’s Cessna.’
‘Olivia doesn’t care for flying,’ Bernard said smoothly, and Olivia was almost certain that this frightful man opposite her was laughing at her again behind his beard.
‘It’s not that,’ Olivia said at last, her cheeks scarlet. ‘I just don’t like inconveniencing anyone.’
‘Then you will go with Bernard?’ Vivien demanded.
Olivia sighed inwardly and nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Wonderful!’ Vivien exclaimed, leaning her elbows on the table. ‘Now, what about your shop on Monday?’
‘I thought I’d just close it for the day.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Vivien shook her head firmly. ‘I’ll come in on Saturday morning so you can show me all there is to know, then I could help out on Monday while you’re away.’ Olivia drew her breath in sharply. ‘I’d never dream of of allowing
you to do any such thing!’
‘But I insist!’
Peter, who had been listening silently to their conversation, shook his fair head at last and laughed shortly. ‘When Vivien says, “But I insist” in that tone of voice, you don’t stand a chance, Olivia, so give in gracefully and let her have her way.’
Olivia leaned back weakly in her chair and smiled across at him with a little gesture of defeat. ‘It seems I shall have to.’
When they returned to the living-room a few minutes later, Olivia wondered confusedly why she had allowed herself to be forced into taking this trip to Johannesburg with Bernard King. It was bad enough that she had to tolerate his presence there that evening, but to spend several hours alone with him in an aeroplane would be absolutely unbearable, she decided, shrinking mentally from the mere thought of it.
The clock on the mantelshelf finally chimed ten and, sighing inwardly with relief, Olivia rose to her feet. ‘Vivien, it’s been a lovely evening,’ she said politely, ‘but I must go home now.’
Magic of the Baobab Page 8
