Full Tide (18 page)

His whole bearing just then was arrogant and hateful. She couldn’t help feeling that he was throwing even more of his weight on Astra’s side, and hurt and puzzlement burned in her like an acid.

It wasn’t simply a matter of Jeremy’s career. The affair had expanded into something big and unmanageable, encompassing four people, and she stood almost alone against the other three, fighting for something which was of no perso
n
al importance to herself. It was crazy, yet unavoidable.

She moved sideways towards the porthole, felt the sudden wind in her short fine curls and heard the lazy crying of sated gulls. Against the glaring light there was an element of the untouched about her.

“In a better cause your tenacity would be admirable,”
he said abruptly. “It was a pity you had to lose your head over Carne.
”

“I haven’t lost my head over him,” she retorted instantly. “All this has come about accidentally, because I knew of his engineering degree and the lengths his parents had gone to, to give him a university education. It seemed sinful to me to waste all that.”

“It didn’t occur to you that if the fellow himself was willing to forget it you couldn’t do much about it. If the career he’d chosen meant so little to him
why should you concern yourself to keep him to it?” Sharply he added, “All right, you needn’t answer that one. I’m afraid; though, that Astra’s most recent move will defeat you. Carne hasn’t the sort of courage it takes to turn down such an excellent proposition.”

When Lisa faced him her eyes were no longer pure grey, but dark and smouldering. Pain and anger ran together in her veins, so that she sounded choked and fierce.

“You think you know everything about other men, but you don’t
!
You count on Jeremy’s being young with his way yet to make in the world, and you believe you’ve accurately assessed his character as feeble and grasping. But he’s not like that. I do admit he’s not a man of steel
...
”

“That’s big of you,” he mocked coolly
.

“… b
ut it isn’t the money which attracts
hi
m
to a stage career,” she finished, her pulses beating furiously. Then she swallowed and tacked on hotly and bitterly, “Astra must want him pretty badly to double
the stakes, but if she’s trying to persuade him that he has more than a mere gift for putting over callow heroes she might show her confidence by contracting to
give
hi
m work in England
when she goes back. She’ll stop short of that, because she hasn’t any doubt at all about his “capabilities!”

“Gets right under your skin, doesn’t it?” he said cynically. “You loathe the idea of failing where hard cash succeeds.”

“I haven’t failed yet!”

It was out before Lisa realized what she was saying, and it inevitably set the pattern for her immediate behavior. She saw Mark straighten and his jaw go hard and resolute. Instinctively her chin lifted and her nerves contracted to withstand whatever came.

He spoke quietly, the words sharp and clear, like pebbles upon ice. ‘‘Very well, go on trying and see where it gets you. Tomorrow night is your last aboard and Carne has promised his answer by then. If you want us all to part enemies go ahead with your cracked idea.”

Lisa moistened horribly dry lips and met his glittering stare. “You know very well I don’t want us to be enemies.
I
...
I’ve never quite understood how you came into it, Mark. What will you gain if Astra does get her own way with Jeremy?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’ve simply been looking on and offering the common-sense view.”

“Looking on but swayed by contempt,” she said huskily, “contempt for Jeremy and me. But you’ve been angry, too, because we’re not nearly important enough to cause Astra so much bother. We ought to have realized the immense honor she—and you—were doing us to notice our existence at all. You can’t forgive us the oversight.”

“That’s enough,” he said crisply. “Don’t work yourself up on me. I won’t have it!”

His imperiousness, the almost vicious snap of his teeth as he finished speaking made her eyes widen in unbelief. This was Mark, the impregnable. She had known him capable of anger, but the set cruelty in his expression was beyond anything she could have imagined. It was heart-shaking.

She turned back to face the blaze of the afternoon sun through the porthole, closed her eyes against it and felt fingers of flame beating behind her eyelids.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “Not for anything I’ve said but because I don’t care to have anyone
...
hating me.”

“Don’t talk like that. I couldn’t hate you, but if you were to allow Ca
rn
e to manage his own affairs you’d be amazed how quickly the antagonism between us all would melt.”

“I can’t do that. I just can’t stand aside, now.”

A spear flashed through her arm as he took her shoulders and turned her about. She heard the harsh intake of his breathy met the warning glint of his eyes.

“You really mean you w
o
n’t give it up?” he demanded.

“Mark, you’re hurting!”

“I wish I were!” But his hold slackened an
d
his thumb automatically smoothed the bone
of her shoulder.
“You don’t know what it is to be h
u
rt—not
re
ally hurt—because
you’ve never felt anything deeply enough!
”
He withdrew
his hands suddenly, as if they were seared “You mean me to understand you’re all for Jeremy. Is that it?”

Desperately, Lisa said, “Don’t you see that I’m
committed? C
an’t you view it as impersonally as you vie
w
everything else?”

But Mark had swung op
e
n the
d
oor.
“I’ve no wish to,” he replied curtly. From the doorway he looked back
with a tight, malicious smile. “All right, go ahead. You’ll have to work hard and fast, little one, and don
’t
underestimate your opponent. She’s an expert.
”

It was not till some minutes after he
h
ad gone that Lisa’s muscles began to relax. She felt as exhausted as if she had run a race, and her b
r
ain had gone thick
and woolly. She leaned back against, th
e
end of the built-in wardrobe and thoug
ht
how h
e
artbr
e
aking it
w
as that
th
e
barrier between hersel
f and Mark had to become stronger at
almost every encounte
r.

Just before six the ship left Eas
t London and sailed
away from the hot
and golden
sunset. The
spectacular eastern sky, a soft blue fleeced
with flame w
hich darkened richly every moment, drew many people
to the deck, and it was there that Lisa met J
e
remy.

His day, he confessed, had bee
n
gruel
ing
. His second cousin, whom he had visited, had insisted on telephoning his mother at the small farm near Durban. He had spent an uncomfortable hour awaiting the cal
l
and nine ghastly minutes talking first to his mother and then to his father.

“I felt an absolute snake,” he said broodingly
.
“They’re
so happy about my coming home and they’re planning party. You’d think I’d pulled off a miracle instead of just scratching through my finals after a second go.”

Lisa did not pass any of the soothing, encouraging remarks to which he had become accustomed. She nodded once or twice and let him join
his arm with hers, but she felt she had already said everything. And, strangely, during the last few hours she had come to care very little
what Jeremy decided about
hi
s future. She had defied Mark instinctively, not because she was determined to work still harder upon Jeremy; there was nothing more she could do in that direction. In fact, she found herself with singularly little mental energy to expend upon this matter which had cropped up so early in the voyage and proceeded to grow into something monstrous and threatening.

That night she did not go to the saloon for dinner. She did some packing
and,
over a glass of milk and some sandwiches, worked out the state of her finances. She would have liked to have an exacting job of work to do, but Mark had put “Hospital Row” out of bounds to passengers, and there was
n
othing else with which to tire herself.

She saw Nancy into bed and took a few turns on deck while the child slipped off to sleep. It was still gusty, but the quality of the wind was changing, acquiring the blanketing softness of warmth and humidity. Once more they were heading for the mysterious and romantic sub-
topics
, but mystery and romance were outside Lisa’s world. For her the days ahead bristled with hard facts, the biggest and most bruising being the knowledge that soon she and Mark must part.

She wished it were possible to keep to her cabin and avoid the risk of a definite severance of all connection with him. Then it occurred to her that events were sure to move more or less as he directed, a vaguely cheering realization which sent her to bed just a little less troubled.

The next day was long and unsettled, Nancy, now that the voyage was nearing its close, was inclined to be nervy. She bought a pipe for her father, wrapped and labelled it, but said, suddenly, that she did not want to meet him yet; it would have been so much nicer if he had met them at Cape Town. Perhaps he wasn’t so anxious to have her, after all.

“He’s a doctor, darling,” Lisa said reasonably. “He couldn’t leave his practice for so long, but he’ll be at the quay tomorrow, you’ll see.”

“I'd rather stay on the ship and go back to England,” Nancy almost quavered
.
“W
o
uldn’t it be wonderful if all the passengers stayed on and we all went back together— and if we picked up Mrs. Basson at Cape Town
!
”

For a moment Lisa allowed her heart to be swayed. Yes, it would be wonderful, so
long as Astra and Jeremy were left behind
!

“In three weeks,’’ she said, dragging her mind back
to
realities, “you’d be living with Aunt Anthea at Richmond, and longing all over again to go to your father.”

Nancy sighed. “I wouldn’t mind so much if you were staying in Durban,” she said for the twentieth time.

All day, much to Jeremy’s disgust,
s
he kept close to Lisa, and after her supper she helped with the rest of the packing. Oddments acquired here and there swelled the contents of the trunk till it seemed unlikely it would ever close down. It took both Lisa’s and Nancy’s full weight to bring the hasps together.

Both had got to their feet, victorious, when the steward knocked
and handed
a note to Lisa. “No reply, miss,”
he said.

S
he slit the envelope and read four lines of feminine writing. “Captain Kennard and I would like you and Jeremy to join us for dinner in the private dining room next to the saloon. Shall we say at seven-thirty?” It was signed by Astra Carmichael.

No invitation this; a command, rather. The cool nerve of Astra
!
Lisa’s thumbs came together on the sheet of paper as if to rip it across; then she pushed and the paper crumpled in her hand. She had never dined at Mark’s table and thi
s
was her last chance of an evening with him. It was to be a sort of farewell and the occasion for Jeremy’s decision, perhaps also for a firm and final negative from Lisa. She had an inner conviction that Mark had suggested this dinner for four, and that he would not be surprised if she declined., He couldn’t know, of course, that part of her wanted so badly to be with
him that,, she would face arrows and stones rather than be deprived of this opportunity; the remaining part of her felt quite sick at, the thought of a farewell dinner.

Farewell to love, she reflected hollowly. One-sided love, through which ran a hard core of bitterness. Not for Lisa the joy, the sweet pains and terrors of passionately returned love. Mark was a stranger, now and for ever.

For several reasons, the chief being that her evening dresses were packed away, Lisa put on a powder-blue tailored silk frock and navy linen shoes. With the short pale curls brushed back from her wide forehead and her lips straighter than she normally held them, she looked young and a little sad and resigned.

Jeremy, when he came to confirm that she as well as he had received an invitation, was perplexed that her vexation had so soon abated. He had even
been somewhat angry himself at the tone of Astra’s note.

“Well, this is it,” he said, watching her with narrow
-
eyed expectancy.

But Lisa was silent. Tonight, when everything was so near the end, his needs and frustrations had not even a ghostly importance. For once she was thinking only of herself ... and Mark.

At exactly half-past seven they left Nancy in the top bunk and went straight to the private dining Cabin. Mark and Astra were already there, seated in upholstered tub chairs near
a cocktail cabinet of which the doors stood wide, displaying many bottles and winking glasses. They were drinking Martinis and smiling as if sharing an intimate joke. Mark
stood up, let the smile rest upon Jeremy and then upon Lisa. The penetrating blue gaze went keen as a blade as it moved over the small composed face, but when he looked away his whole expression became non-committal.

“What will you drink, Lisa?” he inquired.

“A small sherry, please.”

Astra broke in. “Give her gin, darling. Sherry is an old maid’s drink, and Lisa, will never be one of those. She’s much too attractive.” The brown wings of her eyebrows rose at Jeremy. “Whisky for you, my dear?”

She was in a sparkling mood. Her dusty pink brocade cocktail suit was of the usual taut and tantalizing cut, and she wore tiny circlets of diamonds in her ears and a single, very beautiful, solitaire ring on her right hand. Her longish features were raised to catch the soft glow of the lights, and her eyes became deceptively deep and tender.

Mark did not give Lisa gin. He put the sherry glass into her hand, let his fingers feel hers and said very quietly, “You’re chilly. Down it, child, and try to relax. I want what’s best for you, Lisa ... do believe that.”

The dining table was an oval one,
set under
a
wide window over which heavy red-and-gold curtains had been pulled. Except for the ventilator shaft this might have been the dining room of an English country house. The chairs were tapestry and mahogany, and the rich tan of the table gleamed between plain linen table mats and gave back the glitter of glass and the pool of light shed by an electric chandelier. In the centre of the table gardenia blooms floated in a long yellow bowl; white waxen petals resting upon dark, glossy green leaves in a bed of saffron.

Mark was across the table from Lisa. She saw him behind those static candles, with shadows beneath 'the high cheekbones and a darkness in the deep-set eyes which robbed them of color. Smiling and enigmatic, he poured
a
light wine and eventually helped himself from the tray
of
hors d’ouevres
served by the steward.

For Lisa it was a ghastly
meal. Jeremy at her left ate stolidly, as though stoking against an imminent ordeal, and at her right Astra tried a forkful of most things. Mark seemed to be eating more or less as usual, too, but Lisa found it nearly impossible to swallow a single mouthful. The conversation, managed by Mark, winged back and forth with ease, but Lisa took no verbal part in it. Her smile had become so fixed that it hurt, and
though she still felt shivery, spots of high color had appeared in her cheeks and the hand clenched in her lap clutched a sweat-damp handkerchief.

At last the table was swiftly cleared while the four transferred to the enveloping chairs, about
a
low table. Coffee and Chartreuse were brought, a huge box of cigarettes was opened and the stewards vanished.

“It’s odd how quickly these three weeks have passed,” said Astra, inhaling gently. “On another ship it might
have been a bore—that’s why I insisted on sailing with you, Mark. You’ve saved my sanity more than once in the past and I was looking to you to do it again.”

“Nonsense,” he said with the lazy inflexion that invariably set Lisa yearning. “You’re the sanest woman I know, Astra. In fact, you’re the only woman of my acquaintance who combines an excellent business brain with physical beauty.”

“Why, thanks, my sweet!” Astra gave a brief, surprised laugh. “Such a compliment from you is a compliment indeed. Sometimes, though, I’m a little doubtful about my business acumen. I begin to wonder
whether it isn’t built on emotion
.
You may not believe it, but I can be emotional in my own right!”

Quite what Astra was getting at remained obscure to
L
isa—but not, apparently, to Mark, or to Jeremy. Mark’s glance at Astra was comprehending and reassuring, and Jeremy shifted and swallowed his coffee with the air of one marshalling reinforcements behind defences he had not yet made use of.

The next few minutes were the longest Lisa had ever lived through. Astra talked smoothly, in lovely tones, Mark slipped in remarks and Jeremy, the poise he had gained from contact with Astra only slightly askew, contrived to look fairly pleasant and suave, if somewhat preoccupied. Lisa was quiet and still; her unsmoked cigarette smouldered away in the metal ashtray, its slow spiral of smoke diminishing as her dreams had diminished.

The seeming casualness was like a veil which cloaked a stark tension; at least, it was to Lisa. Her nerves were strung tight, awaiting the subtle heightening of the atmosphere which would mean that Astra was ready to cross swords.