Full Tide (13 page)

“About this play-reading,” said Astra tentatively.
“You have an attractive voice and are pleasant to look at. Would you care to join in?”

Lisa shook her head, rather blindly. “Thanks, but I haven’t that kind of nerve.”

“Oh, but I’d say you have, and it’s wonderful practice.
”

“
Who knows, it might lead to something bigger.
”

“How could it—on the Wentworth?”

The candid grey eyes, a little misted with the effort to appear undisturbed, met veiled green ones. Both drama and tension were in this room; to Lisa the atmosphere was almost palpable, yet she couldn’t quite pin down
w
hat had made it so.

Astra drew a long, careless breath. “You’re an honest, unblinking sort of person, so I’ll try to be the same. You see, Lisa, throughout my stay in South Africa I shall need an assistant and secretary. My secretary in England is having a well-earned holiday, and I intended to get through the trip without one. But the fees for these colonial tours are massive, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t have all the help I can get.”

She paused, as if allowing this preliminary
announcement plenty of time to submerge.

Lisa,
said,
“
I expect they’ll provide you with an assistant in Johannesburg.”

“Possibly, but I hate having to get used to people.” Then, bluntly, “I’m offering you the post. I’d
pay you well, and I guarantee you’d find plenty in it to interest you. It’s not an ordinary secretarial position. There wouldn’t be much mail to handle, and you’d have the chance of doing walk-on parts in the plays, if you liked. In addition I’ll find you a good post if you wish to return to England when I go; I believe you’ve nothing to go back to.”

Lisa had no time to voice a dazed comment before Astr
a
went on, “I never ask for an immediate decision. For some reason people like you and Jeremy need a prodigious amount of persuading that acting is a craft which can be learned, but he will have told you he’s doing magnificently—so well, in fact, that I’m going to risk putting on one of my own plays first.”

Apparently, not only did she require no immediate decision from Lisa, but the subject, as far as she was concerned, was temporarily closed. She got up and thumbed the steward’s bell, gave herself an impersonal glance in the long mirror and came back to rest in her former place. Of the steward she requested iced coffee for Lisa and tonic water for herself.

“Jeremy has the morning free,” she said, “but he won’t be looking for you because I told him I had this in mind. I’m afraid, Lisa,” she said softly, “that you under-estimated our mutual friend. He’s undoubtedly keen on the stage
and
quite sure he could never follow engineering as a profession. You know,” she continued confidentially, “it often happens that we don’t realize our talents till an event comes along to test us. I admit that my first and only love has been the theatre, but
...
well, look at Mark. When war broke out he had just been called to the Bar, but by the time the war ended he was commanding a frigate, and had discovered that the sea was in his blood.”

So her first intuition about him had been correct, mused Lisa. He
was
a lawyer. What a combination: lawyer-sea captain. No wonder there was no getting past his defences.

“Did you know him before he went to sea?” she asked.

“No. We met during one of his leaves at a house party, and afterwards whenever he was in London he would come to the theatre, and we’d have supper together and dance. Each of us had something which the other needed. We still have it, but it has mellowed with understanding. I’ve liked a good many men,” she said abstractedly, “but he’s the only one I’d marry.”

Li
sa was grateful to the steward for coming in at that moment. She tri
e
d the iced coffee through straws and wondered how soon she could escape from Astra. Her brain was whirling and in Miss Carmichael’s company there was little chance of its becoming steady and able to think dispassionately.

The actress oozed power. She was so confident, so obviously accustomed to manoeuvring any situation, on or off the stage, that Lisa could feel herself being managed as if she were already a small-part player. Much of what
Astra said passed over her, but the even, famous voice became soothing as it went on to a monologue about the theatre and
_(:
its cultural associations. Listening required no effort.

It was nearly noon when Lisa was at last able to withdraw from the state room, but she did have the last wo
r
d.

“Thanks for a pleasant morning, Miss Carmichael,” she said. “I’ll think over your offer of a job, but I can tel
l
you right now that I’d be no good at play-reading. I’ll love watching, though.”

After that she marched back to her cabin like a scarred warrior from the battle front.

Having finished the jig-saw puzzle—it was one she had done before and therefore simple—Nancy took the most circuitous route to the promenade deck. She like cl climbing through the narrow after-doorway and finding herself in a small portion of completely deserted ship, and it always made her dizzy with a delicious fright to stare, quite alone, a long way down into the black boiling sea at the ship’s side
.
She came to the companion-way and saw, some way up the sun deck, a circle of seated, gossiping women. Near them, but not so near that she had to join in every discussion, sat Mrs. Basson, with the usual book open upon her lap and the usual far-away expression as she gazed oral the ocean.

Mrs. Basson was
different,
thought Nancy, and unlike most grown-ups she was never affronted by personal questions. Nancy had even asked her why she wore jewellery all the time, and Mrs. Basson had laughed a little and said that her husband had bought it and loved her to wear it, and somehow, she would feel lonely without it. Nancy could appreciate that; she had often put a book under her pillow for the same reason.

B
y now she had reached the deck rail, just in front of Mrs. Basson, and murmured a polite “Good morning.”

“Well, Nancy! What have you been doing with you
r
self?” came the immediate query. “No swim today?”

“Perhaps
...
later,” answered Nancy vaguely. “Have you seen Lee?”

“No. When did she vanish?
”

“
Quite early. She went to see the actress and didn’t come back.” With youthful inconsequence she dismissed the matter. She flipped a stubby pigtail over her shoulder and enquired seriously, “Do you think my father is wealthy?”

“A doctor?” Mrs. Basson made no sign of being disconcerted by the sudden change of topic. “He may be comfortably off. Why—are you thinking of the pony you’re going to ask him for?”

“No. I was wondering about Lee.” Artlessly, she tacked on,
“
She hasn’t much money and she has a horrid time worrying over evening clothes. I hope my father will buy her two beautiful frocks so that she’ll have a splendid time on the way home.”

"That would be grand,” said Laura Basson, quietly watching the small, intelligent face which was half-turned to the sea. Carelessly, she put a question,
“
You’re fond of Lisa, aren’t you? Would you like her to marry your Daddy?”

Nancy’s stare became fixed and startled. Then her face crumpled with merriment and she gave her rare, hearty little laugh. “Daddy’s nearly fifty! Lee would think that very funny—so would my Aunt Anthea.”

“
What about you? Do you think
i
t funny?”

Nancy considered, then said more gravely, “I’d like to keep Lee with me always, but I wouldn’t want her to be my stepmother. Lee is fun, and stepmothers aren’t. I’m glad,” she ended with solemn passion, “that my father hasn’t married again.”

She shifted her weight to the other foot and took to examining the plump Dutch woman at her loom. What a lovely pattern the bright colors made, and how wonderful, at the end
of the voyage, to be able to show the roll of woven material as something she had made while everyone else played or got bored. Nancy inspected the plain features of the weaver and found them expressionless except for a dimple which had a mole at its side.

She wished Lee would hurry up because she wanted permission to go and see Snippy and Tubs. Maybe she wished extra hard this time, for Lisa did turn up, walking along the deck with her short, light stride to halt at Mrs.
Basson’s side with a smile. Nancy barely allowed time for the greeting before begging, with more than necessary earnestness, to be permitted to go aft and exercise the puppies. She went off at a run, and Lisa naturally took her place at the rail.

Mrs. Basson’s upward look held a kindly curiosity. “Have you had an upsetting morning?”

“Upsetting? Not particularly.” Lisa’s fingers went quickly to her hot cheeks and her smile was strained. “That’s not quite true, but
...
well, I can’t talk about it.
You don’t mind?”

“My dear, my only interest is in dispelling the darkness in your eyes. You’re a happy person, Lisa, so it’s noticeable when your smile tightens up.”

She spoke of other things, wanting, while she did so, to banish the hurt which peeped elusively from Lisa’s face? She had, known for several days that something big was happening to Lisa, and at first she had slightly rejoiced. Jeremy Carne was not nearly good enough for the girl but if he lit the occasional small stars in her eyes and caused the clear, inward glow, then Laura Basson had not much against him.

But gradually it became apparent that Jeremy kindled
no fires. Lisa laughed and played with him and at the meal table they were the best of friends, but he had no power over her, nothing in him which
c
reated a need in Lisa and
a
fter all, that was the essence of love—the need which budded simultaneously in two people. Then who was the man, Mrs. Basson asked herself, well knowing that there is a certain look in a woman which can have only one cause.

Separately
,
she had eliminated
the
other young men on
board. She had watched Lisa on deck, in the pool and in the lounge, and done some slow speculating. Many times she had seen Lisa enter the dining saloon, her quick g
la
nce at the big round table and the delicate pink which had risen under her skin when Captain Kennard chanced to meet
the glance and return her a nod.

Surely Lisa had passed the stage of girlish hero-worshipping? And surely
...
surely she was m
u
ch too bedrock to let her feelings run so dangerously away with her.
For it was certainly dangerous to let a man like
M
ark
Kennard unleash one’s emotions. He was too self-contained, too capable, in his withdrawal and impenetrability, of inflicting imperishable scars.

Disturbed by her own imagining, Mrs. Basson talked desultorily about the other passengers. But she was thinking what an awkward task it was to hand out unsought advice, and how unlikely it seemed that such advice would be followed. For the first time since the stark period after her husband’s death she found herself exclusively concerned with someone else. Yet, upon mature reflection, she realized there was almost nothing she could do for Lisa.

As Jeremy Carne joined them her head lifted. What an amazing good-looking man he was, and how endearing that way of his of sliding a hand into the crook of Lisa’s arm and gently squeezing. He was fond of Lisa; no doubt about that. She could make something
fine
of him if she wished.

Jeremy leaned down and said charmingly, “Mrs. Basson, may I carry off Lisa? We’ve a frightfully important discussion ahead of us.”

“By all means. Be sweet to her, Jeremy!”

He promised airily and drew Lisa away. Laura Basson’s thoughtful gaze went after them. She would have given a good deal to listen
in, unseen, to the “frightfully important discussion.”

J
eremy, as he led Lisa to a couple of chairs which pointed away from the sun deck and cornerwise faced the sea, was the blithe person Lisa had met that first afternoon on the
Wentworth.

“Darling, you’re tired,” he said. “Astra did that to me, too, at the beginning, but she doesn’t any more. I’ve got her measure. Are you comfy?”

Lisa nodded and nudged back into the couple of cushions he had placed for her. She would be glad to sort out her feelings in words, she felt.

“You might have warned me what I had to expect,” she said on a sigh.

“I meant to before bed last night, but you disappeared.” Was it only last night—this morning, rather—that she and Mark had sat together for those fleeting minutes in the
surgery, drinking tea and talking? It seemed a whole world away.

“Never mind. I didn’t do so badly with Astra. She doesn’t shake me as she might a man.” She looked his way. “You didn’t think I’d accept her offer, did you, Jeremy?”