The Primrose Bride (22 page)

It did seem there was nothing one could do about Rita. Before an improvement could happen between herself and Clive she had to do something herself. But what? Karen felt she would never know.

The house was quiet, and it remained so for several days. When Andrew was at home he either read or went through papers, and at meal times he was cool and polite. The night at Hill Lodge was a tangle of barbed wire covering the wall which had previously existed between them.

During the early part of that week there was just one sticky moment. He came in for lunch, saw that she was helping Anai set the table and motioned to the boy to leave. When the inner door had closed he said,
“
I was looking through the surgery register at the hospital this morning and I found your name there with Wilmot
’
s signature alongside. I had to ask him what it meant.
”

Karen rubbed a finger over the handle of a fork she held.
“
It was just a thorn in my foot. Nothing much.
”

“
It must have been painful before you went there, but you said nothing about it.
”

“
You probably saw the date. We were at the Residency the night before and you
’
d gone to Hill Lodge that morning.
”

“
When I met you on the beach that afternoon you still kept it to yourself.
”
He waited, but she said nothing. He spoke in deeper tones.
“
I actually had to ask Wilmot what had happened to my own wife.
Ask
him.
”

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
very quietly.
“
It was nothing serious.
”

“
I wasn
’
t to know that.
”
A pause.
“
I could probably have lifted the thorn out with tweezers before it set up a swelling, but you couldn
’
t come to me, of course. You
’
d rather suffer.
”

“
I didn
’
t want to go to the hospital. I begged Molly to have a go at it, but she wouldn
’
t. And how was I to know they
’
d put such a small thing on record? I
’
m terribly sorry you found out in that way.
”

He moved towards the passage door.
“
I had to pretend it had slipped my mind—as if it would! Don
’
t put me in that position again, Karen.
Ever
.”

That was the end of the subject, but his unemotional handling of it indicated the aridity of their relationship. He wanted nothing from her but an outward show of wifeliness. A future which was too bleak to be contemplated.

CHAPTER SEVEN

In s
uch a place as Nemaka it was natural to make a good deal of birthdays and other anniversaries. Apart from Christmas and Easter there were no standard public holidays, and though several feast days for the islanders had been declared, the European population found they had to make their own highlights. Some time during July the Governor would announce a long weekend known as the Queen
’
s Birthday, but from then until Christmas there was no respite from the five-day week with additional duty every other Saturday morning for most of the staff. So, inevitably, any birthday which fell during those months was used as an excuse for a large-scale celebration.

Mrs. Rawling, sprightly, thirty-eight and fond of organizing, was well liked among the government staff, and her first birthday party on the island, three years ago
,
had been such a success that as the day drew near each year she was cajoled and wheedled into repeating the effort. Being Cath Rawling, she attempted something bigger and better each time, and this year she proposed to arrange a whole Saturday on the north coast of the island and an evening party to follow.

When she came into the doctor
’
s house one morning, while Molly Mears and Karen were drinking coffee, she carried a list and a notebook. Her greeting was typically breezy.

“
Good morning, you two quiet ones. I
’
ve been to your house, Karen, and your servant told me you were here. You have to start being important. Do you mind?
”

“
I certainly do.
”

Mrs. Rawling accepted a cup of coffee, laughed a little.
“
It
’
s nothing, really. Andrew is the senior here and as his
wife you have to vet any list that includes people who aren
’
t government staff. I
’
ve made my party up to forty, and to do it I
’
ve had to ask quite a number of non-g
’
s.
”

“
Who did it before I came?
”

“
Andrew himself, but it
’
s the wife
’
s job.
”

Karen smiled.
“
If you
’
ve put them on your list you probably know they
’
re acceptable in the rarefied air of government circles. I pass your non-g
’
s without comment.
”

“
Who are they?
”
asked Mrs. Mears curiously.
“
The bank manager and his wife, of course, and Telson, the trading man. Who else?
”

Mrs. Rawling gave a few names, and hesitated. There was no pointed look at Karen, or even any particular inflection in her voice as she said,
“
I
’
ve got the Marchants
’
name down here. What do you think?
”

“
I don
’
t know.
”
Molly Mears pondered, then turned to
Karen. “These Marchants are a bit tricky. There’s the colonel, who runs the shipping here, and his daughter. There was some hushed-up trouble about the col
onel and
we decided we
’
d better drop them. But Jake told me only the other day that the Colonel wasn
’
t to blame for whatever it was that happened.
”
To Mrs. Rawlings she said,
“
I suppose you
’
ve heard that too, or you wouldn
’
t have considered inviting them.
”

Mrs. Rawling nodded.
“
My husband mentioned it. As a matter of fact I
’
m not at all sure he didn
’
t get it from Andrew.
”
She paused.
“
Yes, I remember now. Bob told me that Andrew said it would be a pleasant gesture to invite the Marchants up for a
film
show or something of that kind pretty soon, that it would demonstrate our regret for having believed the worst.
”
Quite artlessly, she said to Karen,
“
Andrew rather liked the Colonel and his daughter. The man is one of the old school gone tropical
—
fine-looking, very much the
w
hite master, but not averse to the company of freighter crews. He keeps open house for those men who are diving to find traces of the wreck.
”

“
You haven
’
t asked
them
,
I hope,
”
said Mrs. Mears. This caused amusement, and Karen found it unnecessary
to
make any reply to Mrs. Rawling. Not that there was
anything she could have said. Andrew had kept his promise to get Camilla an invitation; that was all.

“
There
’
s one other rather important thing, Karen,
”
said Mrs. Rawling.
“
Last year Andrew let me put on my party in your house. Your living room is rather larger than anyone else
’
s, and naturally your veranda is correspondingly more roomy. I must say I feel a bit diffident about asking you this year, but it
’
s either that or I must cut down my number of guests for the evening. I promise you it wouldn
’
t cause you any trouble whatsoever. I
’
d bring servants and food and drink, cutlery, napkins, towels
...
everything. In fact, the whole thing could be arranged in the afternoon by the servants, while we
’
re all out joy-riding. And naturally, my boys would clear up afterwards.
”
She smiled.
“
If you say no I shan
’
t mind a bit. I mean that.

How could a newcomer refuse such a request? Karen said cordially,
“
Go right ahead with your arrangements, Mrs. Rawling, and if I can help you in any way,
I’ll
be glad to.
”

Mrs. Rawling had gone and Karen was standing, ready to slip through the garden to her own home, when Molly Mears commented quietly
,
“
That was going a bit far—
asking
to use your house as if Andrew were a bachelor. I might tell you that Andrew didn
’
t offer last year; Cath Rawling asked, as she did just now.
”

“
It
’
s only one evening. I don
’
t mind.
”

“
Of course you do—any woman would mind. If you
’
d been established here a little longer she wouldn
’
t have had the nerve to suggest it. Cath
’
s a nice woman and a good friend, but she does have to be reminded that others can throw parties and cook and generally make life co
m
fortable for the men. She could easily have kept her list down to about twenty-five, and managed the party in her own house.
”

“
Maybe I
’
ll assert myself next year.
”

“
Perhaps,
”
said Mrs. Mears with a motherly smile,
“
you won
’
t have to assert yourself. It might happen that you
’ll
have to keep the house quiet of an evening!
”

Karen said goodbye, a little jerkily.
“
Thanks for the coffee. It
’
s been a cosy morning.
”
And she disappeared behind the gaudy hedge.

Since the rain the weather had been soft and warm without being oppressive. Halfway through that week
there
was a full moon that shed brilliance over the island for most of the dark hours. An immense moon which turned from silver to pale green, and showered a pathway of diamonds and silver coins over the sea.

The evening following the full moon, Andrew said,
“
The sea is beautifully calm. How would you like to go over to the reef in a canoe after dinner?
”

“
Very much,
”
she replied, in the careful tones she used these days.
“
I haven
’
t been out in a boat since I came here.
”

It was about eight-thirty when they went down to the beach. Andrew pulled a canoe from its shelter under some bushes, dragged it to the edge of the water, helped her into it and pushed out. It rocked as he got in, but dexterous use of a paddle eased the motion, and soon they were moving slowly but smoothly towards the reef.

In the almost stagnant air, jungle scents stole out from the land and there was a faint sound of music from the dancing ground at the harbor. Karen could see a few lights over there, but trees shut out most of the waterfront. Anchored offshore, there was the black shape of
a
small ship, lanterns at port and beam.

“
That
’
s the
Vesica
,”
Andrew said.
“
Those salvage types are living aboard now instead of in tents.
”

“
Aren
’
t they leaving soon?
”

“
Their permit for the job they set themselves expires in about three days, but we
’
ve nothing against them. They can stay in port as long as
t
hey like.
”

“
Do you think they
’
ll hang on very long?
”

“
Maybe a week or two. Men of their sort can
’
t afford to be idle for very long. They occasionally tote freight for a man in Hong Kong, and he let them have the ship for this venture on a fifty-fifty basis.
”
He shrugged.
“
Two decently educated chaps and a mechanic. They
’
re a type that just can
’
t settle into a community and do an ordinary job.
”

For some reason, Karen wished she could see the thing start moving out to sea, right now. It didn
’
t
,
of course. It seemed to be static, about a hundred yards from the waterfront.

The gloss of moonlight shut out the underwater life, but it sharply etched the coral rocks which encircled the bay and outlined the palms on the shore. They were between the two, smoothly crossing the lagoon. As they approached the reef, Andrew stopped paddling.

“
Listen intently,
”
he said.

She did. There was a soft droning sound in several keys, an eerie music which seemed, though muted, to be all about them.

“
What is it?
”
she whispered.

“
You
’
ve heard of the singing coral. You can hear it best in a slight breeze, but tonight there seems to be plenty of underwater vibration. If you stare at any of the shadows close to the coral you
’
ll see plenty of fish.
”

“
They look like drifts of tinfoil.
”

“
Phosphorescence. We
’
ll come out in daytime and
I’ll
get you a coral candlestick. You can choose it for yourself from the canoe, and I
’
ll go down for it. This used to be a good lagoon for mother-of-pearl, but it
’
s gradually been almost emptied and a ten-year ban had to be imposed, so that the stuff could build up again.
”
He looked at her.
“
Do you find it a bit scary?
”

“
I wouldn
’
t want to come here alone.
”

“
That
’
s as it should be. Want to go back now?
”

“
I think so, but very slowly. It
’
s so peaceful out here.
”

“
It
’
s no
t
exactly riotous in the house,
”
he remarked with irony,
“
but I know what you mean. Out here you feel as if you
’
re away from it all. I wish I did.
”
He paddled a few yards before adding,
“
I didn
’
t mean anything by that—nothing harsh.
”

“
I
’
m glad.
”

He was silent for a moment. Then:
“
Have you been hoping for an apology from me?
”

“
No,
”
quickly.
“
No, of course not.
”

“
What am I to infer from that—that you
’
re anxious to
forget?
”