The Reluctant Guest (14 page)

Theo was out, apparently. Ann hesitated in the darkening room and finally walked to the stable to see if Theo’s horse and saddle were missing. She found him kneeling beside the roan, using a cloth over the horse’s sweating neck.

“What’s happened?” she asked. He smiled up at her. “Don’t worry, Ann. That sister of mine put on a display, and when she got back the roan looked ready to drop and she turned on the boy and told
him
he hadn’t dosed the horse properly each week. He’s cooling down now.”

“Is he going to be all right?” she queried anxiously.

“
Yes. Elva loves horses—she just happened to be in a state when she went for the ride this afternoon.”

“Was it through me?”

He tossed away the cloth and stood up. “Come outside.” And when they were on the gravel path: “Have you spoken to Elva?”

“A bit—yes.”

“Did she accuse you of trying to snare the big boss next door?”

Ann nodded, confusedly. “In some ways she’s so sane and responsible. I can’t
think
she’d work herself into a fury over me.”

“Why not?”—with his rueful whimsical look. “You’re attractive in a very sweet way. She’s rather more handsome than pretty, that’s all. It wasn’t only about Storr,though. She’s acid to me when she feels like it, but it happens that she’s fond of me, too.”

“And grateful.”

He smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t say that. Each time I’ve rescued Elva I’ve imprisoned her somewhere. When I brought her from England I shut her up in a flat outside Johannesburg, and she had no money or car to get about with. Our next move, just after she’d squandered our modest bank balance on stocks and shares, was down here. As I’ve said, she’s fond of me, but she hates me, too.”

“Poor Theo. Supposing you did meet someone you wanted to marry rather badly. What would you do?”

“I’ve hardly thought about it.” His tones lowered. “You know, Ann, you’re the only person I’ve talked to about Elva. And I wouldn’t have talked to you if y
o
u hadn’t been just a visit, leaving soon.” He paused, and asked quietly, “You do mean to get out of Belati as soon as you can, don’t you?”

Impulsively, Ann answered, “No, Theo. No, I don’t
—
not before my month is up. You don’t know how much I wish I could help in some way.”

“Try to do exactly what Elva wants. Once Storr has left she’ll settle down again; I’ve seen it happen before.”

“As badly as this?”

“No, but then he hasn’t stayed so long.”

“Do you think she really cares for him?”

“Yes, I do. It’s not like the feeling she has for Piet Mulder, and it’s not passion. It’s just a terrible craving for a man who can give her everything she’s missed. A local sheep-farmer wouldn’t do because she’d have to stay put. Previously, Storr hasn’t been here long enough to cause more than a minor eruption.”

Ann
walked beside him, said casually, “Can’t you make her believe I’m not interested in Storr?”

“I tried. She kept saying that you’d have married me if I’d been the owner of Groenkop.”

“You didn’t believe it?”

“No, but I didn’t argue with her.”

“What can we do?”

He smiled, deprecatingly, put a friendly hand in the crook of her elbow. “There is one way of calming her, but you wouldn’t agree to it
.
”

Premonition a little tight ball within her,
Ann
asked, “What is it?”

“We could pretend to be engaged,” he said.

Her mouth suddenly dry, she looked at him, “An engagement isn’t really necessary, is it? I could be with you more often. Wouldn’t that do?”

“As a preliminary, yes. Would you mind very much?”

“It’s one of the things I came here for, isn’t it?”

He leaned towards her and ligh
tl
y kissed her temple. “I wouldn’t have let you in for this. Elva got out of me the sort of person you were, and that did it. She wanted to be herself and you too. When Storr used to
come down, he gave a party or two, and Elva would always ape the most popular of the women guests.”

“But why?” said Ann. “She’s quite a person in her own right.”

“She’s been unlucky.” He paused. “Not upset in any way, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Good. Let’s go in and find some supper. We always look after ourselves on Sundays, and tonight you and I will share the jobs.” He slipped his hand down and over hers. “If we try very hard we can feel as we did in Cape Town. We’ll have a shot at it—for Elva’s sake and our own.”

An
n
smiled at him in the dusk. But inside herself she knew that she could never feel as she had before coming to Belati West. Something big and immovable had come between the present and the past, so that looking back she saw a happy but colorless girl who had worked and lived with her parents and never dreamed of what life was really like. Now she was learning, and it hurt abominably. But thank heaven for a formal education which took care of the surface smile and an impersonal demeanour. There were less than three weeks to go; a short time or a long one, depending on the angle from which one viewed it

They cooked macaroni cheese and made a salad, decided not to awaken Elva and ate alone, companionably. Ann washed up and Theo dried, she crept in to look at Elva and decided to take her some warm milk and biscuits at ten. Theo got out cards and taught A
nn
some of the intricacies of poker; they had a harmless nightcap, and Theo went out to make sure the horses were locked up for the night while Ann prepared the warm milk. Elva grunted thanks in the darkness, and Ann left her.

In her own room, Ann undressed slowly. Her limbs felt heavy and the ache which had lain behind her eyes all evening became more acute. This was going to be the difficult time—the moment each night when she found herself utterly alone for several hours of darkness. It was a time she had always liked; she had used it for various small tasks in her bedroom, and had mostly sung to herself while she performed them. But when you feel as if you’re slowly being to
rn
apart you can’t sing; if you’re alone you can’t even force a smile.

Ann
delivered a ste
rn
rebuke to her reflection: “Theo is nice. Elva is hurt and needs helping. Forget everything else—do you hear me?”

For several days, surprisingly, life was smooth and almost pleasant Elva seemed completely to have forgotten Sunday’s upheaval, and she went about the farm work with her usual cynical unconcern. Each afternoon she dressed up a little and either went over to Storr’s house or used the old estate car for a trip into town. She appeared to do a great deal alone, and not to mind her own company at all.

Theo had put in hand several repairing jobs, and in the mornings he went off with his land-boy to keep them moving. When Elva used the wagon he took his grey horse, and on those occasions Ann would saddle the chestnut gelding and go with him. Two or three times they got back after Elva’s return, and she gave them one of her rather narrow, measuring smiles and poured tall drinks for them. One afternoon Storr was with her. He greeted Ann politely, gave Theo a nod and said he must be going. In the doorway he half turned and said,

“I brought over Miss Calvert’s rock-plants; they’re outside. She left them in my car last Sunday.” And that was all.

Elva had smiled a little more widely and gone out with him. She had not returned for two hours.

The very next day, when Ann had spent the afternoon in the house, Elva came bursting into the living room from the porch. Her eyes were sparkling, her mouth half open to show the gleaming white teeth, and she was breathing like someone who has been kissed to exhaustion.

“The greatest fun!” she exclaimed. “I took eggs across to Storr’s house and found him saddling a new horse—a huge thing that’s only half broken. I begged him to let me ride it, but he wouldn’t. And what do you think he did then? He got into the saddle and hooked me up in front of him. We raced across the veld and round the mountain!”

Ann’s lips moved in a smile. She saw the blue flower peeping out of Elva’s top pocket, imagined Storr lazily pulling the bloom and dropping it there; certainly Elva would never pick a flower. Or perhaps Storr had not been so lazy about it. He might even have picked the flower to demonstrate to Ann
...

She asked hurriedly, “Why does Storr need a new horse? Isn’t the black good enough?”

“He wants an extra for some reason.” Elva pushed back her hair with both hands in a sensuous and almost ecstatic gesture. “Life’s pretty good, isn’t it?” she said, and wandered along to her room.

Yes, Elva looked as if she had been kissed, or perhaps her sparkle was the effect of some inward rapture. At such moments it was easy to believe she would capture Storr, even against competition from the girl called Chloe, in Johannesburg. The little knife in Ann’s heart turned once more. Either out of malice, or because it was something he wanted to do, Storr had swept Elva up on his horse and galloped away. He would have compared them, of course:
Ann
stiff and half frightened, and Elva, thrilling to the muscular rhythm of man and beast.

Abruptly,
Ann
got up from her chair and crossed to the window. There was a limit to what one could stand and she felt she was getting near to it. While things drifted along quietly and pleasantly as they had done this last few days life was tolerable, but
th
e painful moments were becoming unbearable. It was strange to have to admit it, but Theo had become her salvation. He had developed into the sort of companion she needed. He was not the exciting and handsome person she had met and liked very much in Cape Town, but neither was he the slightly hangdog creature who had come back from Wegersburg wearing an unnecessary bandage about his wrist. He was slack and easy and very understanding; he had troubles of his own, quite big ones, but he was often conscious that something troubled Ann, and at those times he was gentle with her. Possibly he hadn’t much character, but he did his best with what he had. No man could do more.

During the following days Ann slipped into the habit of regularly going off with Theo after lunch. Often, this being the off-season, there was no work to do, and Theo would drive out into the hills, or down into a lush green valley where the river meandered and fell in cascades over
r
ocky ledges. Ann like the river, and she always asked him to slow down at a certain spot, where native women washed their clothes on stones and hung them to dry on the bushes. It was while they were parked close to the river, one afternoon, that Theo pointed to a small circling plane.

“I believe that’s the Skipalong—Storr’s private crate. I wonder who’s bringing her in.”

As Ann gazed up at it her throat contracted. “What does it mean—that Storr’s leaving?”

“Maybe. He must have phoned through for it.” He looked at her with a jaded grin. “It lands a few miles away from Groenkop. Like to go along and see it?”

“Yes.” But Ann was not eager. In spite of the afternoon heat she felt cold.

Theo backed the car and turned, let it out at its best speed. They came back to the main road, ran along it
f
or a few miles and then turned off, away from Groenkop and towards an old
farm
which lay in some of the flattest ground in the district. Theo explained that the farmer allowed landing space to the two or three private plane owners in the vicinity and accepted seasonal help in return.

About three hundred yards beyond the farm drive they saw the plane, a small silver thing with red wing-tips, at rest in a field. Theo opened the gates and drove across the field. A figure in ordinary sports clothes waved to them from his lounging position on the grass.

Theo grinned. “It’s Neville Braithwaite. He joined the company about a couple of months before I left. A good chap.”

The young man came to meet them, bringing them in elaborately with his arms as if the car were a plane. He was black-haired, his round face had a boyish smile and his brown eyes twinkled. He looked at Ann, lifted an eyebrow, and looked back at Theo, who made the introduction.

“Surprise landing?” he asked.

“No, the boss’s orders. I had to bring a few papers for signature and some other things he asked for. I believe I’m staying overnight.”

“Waiting here for someone?”

“I started away too early. I’ve an hour to kill.”

“I’ll take you—save Storr the trip.”

“Good. I’ll make sure everything is O.K.”

“Mind if I look it over?” asked Theo. “I see this one is Skipalong the Second. What happened to the First?”

Neville Braithwaite laughed. “Chloe De Vries has it
—
totes her father about in it. She wanted to come down here instead of me, but I knew better than to hand over my instructions to someone else.” He stood by, till Theo emerged from the cockpit. Then he asked, “What’s going on? It’s more than two weeks since the big chief left Jo’burg.”

Theo lifted a hand, as if the other man’s guess were as good as his. “You know Storr. His own master, and all that.”

“But it’s unusual. Even on tour he was in touch with us nearly every day. His telephone call this morning was the first for four days. Think he’s going rustic?”

“I doubt it. He’s just taking a holiday.” He waved at th
e
car. “Shove in your grip and climb after it.”

But at that moment another estate car entered the field, the gleaming vehicle belonging to Storr. He was alone. He pulled up beside Theo’s car and got out, looked briefly at Ann as she sat in the other car and then smiled at the young pilot.

“Well, Neville. How are you doing?”

“Fine, thanks. I got in a bit early.”

“That’s all right. I saw the plane and guessed it was you. Did you bring everything I asked for?”

“It’s all in the grip. Oh,” with a grin as he took a letter from his pocket, “this is extra. Miss De Vries gave it to me at the last moment.”

Ann saw the pale green env
e
l
o
pe, rather bulky, the name and address in large round writing. Storr slipped the letter into his jacket pocket, said casually,

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get the papers back to Johannesburg fairly early tomorrow morning, but we’ll do our best for you tonight.” He turned and spoke to Ann and Theo. “Perhaps you two and Elva will come to dinner? There’ll be several others.”

“Thanks,” said Theo.

Ann
made no answer at all; she couldn’t even look at
him
.
The young pilot’s grip was stowed away, he got into the front seat of the other car a
n
d Storr slipped behind the wheel. There was an odd moment of suspense while Storr waited for Theo to move first. But Theo sat still, and eventually Storr started up his engine and drew away.

Theo was looking at the graceful lines of the plane. With a shrug he said, “Sweet, isn’t she? Funny to think I may never fly again.”

Normally, Ann would have assured him that some day he would certainly fly again. But the meeting with Storr had roused the pain once more. Quite vehemently she didn’t want to go to dinner at the big house tonight
.
However, about three hours later she was dressing for the event, putting on a turquoise frock which had a pattern of golden flowers all over it and brushing her hair into its usual neat waves. In the living room, with only one lamp glowing, the hair looked fine and coppery, with gold lights.

Elva had surpassed herself. The frock she had bought about a week ago in Belati West and which Ann had altered for her, looked as if it had been fashioned for her particular type of beauty. It was a rich dark red with a wide pleated sash of black silk, and the strong and lovely neck rose from a wide halter neckline that was edged with black. The heavy hair was drawn back into a loose knot. In the cottage she looked a little weird and out of place, but the moment they entered the big old hall of Storr’s house, Ann felt that some instinct had led Elva away from her normal prosaic dress sense and into choosing that particular frock. Against the heavy golden panelling, among the old portraits, the vast Dutch cabinets containing antique glass and china, the velvet-seated chairs with their spiral carved backs, the Shiraz and Aubusson carpets, Elva was magnificently right.

Others noticed it too. When Ann was seated with a cocktail she found herself next to Sheila Newman, that charming little woman who loved the neighborhood and its gossip ... the woman who had first told Ann about Chloe.

Mrs. Newman was happily voluble, in an undertone. “But what a change in Elva, my dear! She looks older than twenty-five, but so
...
handsome! Even that strange skin of hers is absolutely in keeping with her dress and the way she holds her head. I’ve never seen such a metamorphosis in anyone!”

“Yes, she looks superb,” Ann agreed.

“And I hear she’s dolled up the little house, too.
I’
m so glad. Someone said the other day that she’s making an all-out effort to tie up Storr Peterson—but what if she is? He certainly seems to have brought out the best in her.”

That was one way of looking at it, of course. But were Elva’s efforts, the debt she was running into at the Belati West Stores, her lies about the house and garden, to be all for nothing?

Sheila Newman was still speaking. “It’s a good sign that Storr is
still
here at Groenkop, though they say he won’t stay much longer. I do wonder if he finds Elva more attractive than any other girl he knows—” a gentle nudge
—
“the one I mentioned to you, for instance.”

“There’s no knowing, is there?” said Ann tritely, her tones a little scratchy. “I’d like to see Elva really happy and serene.”

“And how are you getting along with Theo?” was the next question. “He seems so devoted to you.”

“I don’t think he is,” Ann managed. “We find it very easy to be friendly, that’s all.”

Then, to Ann’s relief, Neville Braithwaite sat down at her other side and gave her his youthful and openly admiring smile.

“Hallo,” he said. “Remember me? We met this afternoon.”

“Yes, I remember. Are you enjoying yourself? But what a silly question. I’m sure you always enjoy yourself.”

“Practically always. Do you ever go to Jo’burg?”

“No, I’ve no reason.”

“Pity. I’d love to show you round.”

“I’m sure you would,” said a cool voice behind them.

The young man stood up. “Can’t blame me for trying, Storr,” he said ingenuously. “If a girl is pretty and unattached you try to know more about her. It’s human nature.”

Strangely, it was Elva who spoke next. She had joined Storr and was standing directly behind Ann. “Ann’s pretty, but she’s not unattached, Neville. My brother has first refusal.”

“Just my luck,” mourned the blithe young pilot. “Am I allowed to ask if they’re engaged?”

Storr said, in those cool, level tones, “Engaged? Not so that you’d notice it. Are you, Ann?”

For the sake of politeness she had to stand and face
them, and she found that Theo was there as well, looking watchful. They were waiting for her to reply, but somehow the sight of them there, cold-bloodedly willing her to speak, kept her silent. And silence is a form of consent.

Elva clinched it. “An understanding between two people isn’t necessarily an engagement, but it mostly develops that way. It’s what Theo wants, isn’t it, darling? He’s just too bashful to propose.”