The Fire of Life (11 page)

and . . . well..

Well?'

Well I think she does.'

You're wrong.' Cary turned round, leading her. We'd better go back or Mother will send a search party, fearing we've fallen into the crocs. No, Aileen doesn't love me at all. Not any more than you do. You've got quite a thing for Burt, haven't you?' he asked, his voice changing again.

I like him'

Like? How does one define the difference between like and love?'

There's a very big difference,' Rayanne said quickly.

' And what is it, if I may ask ?' Cary was being his pompous self again. He must be angry about something, Rayanne thought.

Liking . . . well, you enjoy being with the person because you're relaxed, you share interests, you make each other laugh.'

That sounds to me more like an interpretation of love.'

' Oh, no,' she said earnestly. You can love

someone and still feel uncomfortable when you're with him When you love someone, you want to please him and you're often afraid of saying the wrong thing and hurting him. When you love someone you worry about that person being happy. You don't think of your own happiness, which is what you do when you like someone.'

I see. I hadn't looked at it that way.' Cary led the way up the stairs to the stoep. ' Would you play for us tonight, Ray?' he asked. Mother and

I did enjoy your music so much. Or are you nervous? I can't see why, when you play so well . .

Now she could see his face. He was staring at her in a strange way, a way she had never noticed before.

' You really want me to?' she asked.

' Yes, I do,' he told her.

All right,' she said, I will.'

She went and sat by the spinet and lifted her hands, half closing her eyes. What should she think about?

Liking and loving . . . the difference between them. It was funny, because you could be so happy when you like someone, and so miserable when you love them.

Her fingers touched the keys, moving as if of their own accord. She liked Burt. How happy she was with him. But she loved Cary . . . she loved him so much, so very much, and yet there were times when life no longer had any reason, when she wondered why love had to be like that . . .

The sounds came wistful, puzzled, but with happy moments followed again by hesitation as if the pianist was trying to put her problems into the sound of music.

The others listened silently and when she had finished, clapped their praise.

It's a shame you can't remember a tune,' Burt said. That would make a good record.'

It was a strange situation, Rayanne thought. The days were full and the evenings pleasant. Sometimes she was happy, sometimes sad.

Cary might be right in saying his mother was trying to push poor Aileen at him, but Rayanne undoubtedly missed Mrs Jefferson's affection and fussiness. Now it was Aileen who apparently mattered; no longer Rayanne! Then there was Burt, still friendly, yet sometimes the way he spoke made Rayanne wonder if he was getting serious. This worried her, for their friendship would have to end if he wanted it to be more than just a pleasant friendship

One afternoon, sitting quietly at the back of the lecture hall, looking at Cary as he stood on the dais, obviously at ease, joking as he told them about the time they had a baby elephant . . . she thought : ' How handsome he is in a rugged way.' A man of strength, determination. It didn't seem to make sense—this being chased by girls and letting his mother think she was matchmaking. Or was he right when he'd said she, Rayanne, had no idea of a real mother-and-child relationship?

She watched him tug at the lobe of his left ear as he described feeding the baby elephant with a bottle. Cary always tugged at his ear when he was searching for words. Not that he often had to seek, for he knew just what to say and when. How smooth his dark hair always looked; he never seemed to need

a shave: this was something she liked in any man. That and good manners. These were important to her.

Yet suppose Cary did the impossible and loved her? Rayanne asked herself. Could she be happy living here? Could she? Unconsciously Rayanne shook her head. What a stupid question to ask herself. Of course she could!

Burt nudged her. ' What did he say? I didn't get it,' he whispered.

Rayanne stared, hardly seeing him, for her thoughts were far away. ' What did he say? Well, I'm afraid I didn't hear either,' she admitted.

Burt shrugged and looked back at the dais. Rayanne looked, too. Now Cary was talking about baboons . . .

Was that why she came to these lectures? Not to learn or listen, but to look at Cary, relaxed, knowing no one was looking at her, not even Cary who might be watching with that amused supercilious smile she loathed. Did she loathe it? she asked herself. Of course she did!

After the lecture, Burt looked at her oddly. ' What were you dreaming about?' he asked.

They were caught up in the crowd of chattering, laughing students and swept along past the hostels to the big playing field where the students divided up to have some ' exercise '. Burt and Rayanne walked down the narrow hedge-lined lane that was a short cut to the house. Rayanne noticed that the hedge had been cut! So for once Cary had done what his mother wanted!

Later, lying in the deliciously refreshing bath

water, Rayanne tried to think sensibly, even logically. What should she do? Finish her thesis, basing it on what she had learned here, and return to England?

She shivered. She could imagine her father's eyebrows going sky-high. ` You're soon back,' he'd say. ' Can't you settle down at anything?' and then he'd sigh as if exasperated.

And her mother? She, too, would be disappointed. She had never said so in as many words, but Rayanne knew her mother would be relieved when her only daughter got married and was safely out of the way. With Rayanne at home, there were invariably scenes with her brothers. ' Why must you always quarrel with everyone?' her mother had once asked, in an exhausted voice.

' Because I won't let them get away with it,' Rayanne had said angrily. ' Just because I'm a girl . .

Her brothers? she asked herself. How they would laugh!

' Were you scared of the lions?' they'd ask, and probably pretend to bet that she'd run a mile the first time she saw a snake.

If only they would stop treating her like a . . . a nincompoop . . . that was a good word for it. If only they would let her be a person, if they would respect her.

Respect. Maybe if she could find a way to make them respect her, they would stop their infuriating teasing. Well, wasn't that what she had come for? Six thousand miles in search of ` respect ' and how far had she got? She hadn't even begun her thesis

. . . all she had done was to fall crazily in love with a man who found women a nuisance.

She heard a hammering on her door and called out that she was in the bath. It was Aileen's voice that replied.

No hurry, Rayanne. I'll see you later. I've got some news.'

' Okay,' Rayanne called.

The warm refreshing bath had suddenly turned cold. She scrambled out, rubbing herself dry, choosing a soft lilac-coloured cotton frock. What good news could Aileen have? Rayanne wondered, as she peered anxiously in the mirror. Not that it really mattered what she looked like. She had long ago given up any attempt to equal Aileen's loveliness; or Christine's and Daphne's for that matter.

She went to the big picture window and looked out at the garden with its gradual slope to the river, the trees crowded close to the water with their bright flowers, and the distant mountains. It was so beaut . . .

She stopped seeing the view, as she saw Aileen and Cary, talking together. He was nodding, his face amused, and Aileen was talking excitedly, waving her hands about as she spoke. Was she telling him her good ' news? Rayanne wondered. For although Aileen had only said the word news, her excited voice had added the word good, though it was not spoken.

Now Cary and Aileen were walking up the garden, Cary nodding his head as if in agreement. But it was Aileen who was so excited, putting her hand on his arm, pausing to stand in front of him as she

talked.

Suddenly Rayanne was sure she knew what was going to happen next. The way Aileen looked up at him, the way Cary smiled. In a moment, he would take her in his arms and kiss her.

Rayanne turned away quickly, hurrying to the door, going to the drawing room. Was Cary lying about Aileen? Were they really planning for their future? Had they allowed Mrs Jefferson to believe that she had organised the marriage, for that would give her a great deal of pleasure?

But if so, Cary had lied. Lied when he said he was not going to marry Aileen. Somehow it was hard to believe Cary to be a liar . . .

Burt was sitting opposite Mrs Jefferson. He looked up with a grin.

' Our hostess is trying to teach me to play chess. She's brilliant at it.'

Mrs Jefferson hardly glanced at Rayanne. I

don't think Rayanne would enjoy it. It requires so much concentration,' she said, as she studied the little figures on the board. I'm not sure you're going to be good at it, either, Burt. Your mind wanders. Not like Aileen . . . She can concentrate and forget everything else,' Mrs Jefferson said proudly, almost as if Aileen was already her daughter.

Perhaps it was all settled, Rayanne thought, as she picked up a magazine lying on the long walnut coffee table and sat down. Perhaps it would be announced at dinner.

But it wasn't. Aileen and Cary came into the drawing room together and Cary handed out drinks

There was a general conversation over dinner which was, as usual, beautifully cooked and served. But Rayanne didn't enjoy it. She was waiting . . . and the longer she waited, the harder it got.

Aileen's eyes were shining and her voice kept rising excitedly even when she was talking about trivial matters. She kept looking at Cary and he would give her a little smile of understanding.

Perhaps it was that smile that hurt the most, for Rayanne, after dinner, pleaded a shocking migraine and an early night if they would excuse her.

Mrs Jefferson didn't even look up from the crochet she was doing. Of course. I hope you'll feel better in the morning.'

Cary was talking to Aileen, who was laughing, and neither looked up. Rayanne doubted if they had even heard what she had said. It was Burt who walked down the corridor with her, looking concerned.

' Is it very bad, Rayanne? Do you often get migraines? There's some very good drugs now for it. Is there anything you'd like?' he asked anxiously as he saw her to her bedroom door.

She shook her head. No, thanks, Burt. It's sweet of you, but all I really want is a dark room and sleep.'

The sleep was denied her, for she lay in bed, turning over, pummelling her pillows a dozen times. But she could not still her thoughts that seemed to be hurtling round her brain in circles.

Why was Aileen so excited, almost triumphant? Why was Cary suddenly devoting himself to Aileen, something he had never done before? Why did his

mother look so complacent, so pleased with herself?

It could only mean one thing . . . Yet did it?

Round about twelve o'clock, there was a tap on Rayanne's door.

' Are you awake?' Aileen called gently, slightly opening the door.

Rayanne sat up, switched on the bedside light. Yes. Come in,' she said, her voice husky. Somehow she must act as if it meant nothing to her. Nothing at all.

Aileen came to sit on the edge of the bed. She was glowing with happiness.

' I just can't believe it's true,' she told Rayanne.

Rayanne tried to smile. What is true?'

' About Cary. I mean, for all his funny little ways, he really is terrific. Such a darling. I thought I'd have a hard battle, but it was amazingly easy. I just asked him and . .

Asked him?' Rayanne almost gasped. Was it all right in these days of the so-called permissive society for the girl to make the proposal? she wondered.

Aileen nodded excitedly, her red hair swinging. Yes. You see there's this famous man, Alto Georgius. He's absolutely fabulous, right at the top, and knowing him would probably mean I'd get a job in South America at their research station, but it's terribly hard to get in. Someone told me Cary knew Alto quite well . . . that's why I came out here. It was sheer luck meeting his mother in Paris. Then I saw that in England he was talking at the conference, so I went along and introduced myself, and the rest . . .' she waved her hands about . . .

' easy as can be. I was frank with Cary, told him what I wanted, and he said he'd do what he could for me but would make no promise. Now he's been in touch with Alto and I'm to meet him in Cape Town. He's on tour round here and I may get the chance to go with him. Cary's coming, too, so it will be really great.'

Rayanne could only blink as she tried to grasp what she had been told. Aileen had come, not to hook ' Cary as Daphne would have described it, but in search of an important introduction. There had never been any question of Aileen being in love with him, she just wanted to use him.