The Reluctant Guest (8 page)

“Theo!” she exclaimed. “Theo, I’m so glad you’re back!”

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad to be here.” He dropped an arm across her shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I thought you might have given me up, and gone.”

She couldn’t stop looking at him; knew, suddenly, that she had half forgotten everything about him except the stupendously fair head and the light blue eyes. He seemed thinner all over than she remembered, and of course he was less immaculate. In Cape Town he had worn newish sports clothes and gay ties, or a well-cut lounge suit. At the moment he was shabby in crumpled slacks and a dark blue shirt that was open at the throat.

An awkwardness mounted in her. “How’s your wrist?”

He showed a white bandage. “All right
.
The house is empty—let’s go indoors.”

“Haven’t you seen Elva?”

“Not yet I got in about half an hour ago.” He sounded guarded and unnaturally cool, and said no more till they had entered the living room. There he nodded at the walls, smiled faintly. “This is you, I suppose. I thought I’d come into the wrong house.”

“It isn’t finished yet. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thanks. I had a drink as soon as I got in.” Then, a little offhandedly, “That’s why I didn’t kiss you.”

She said quickly, “We weren’t really on kissing terms, were we? There was only the peck as we parted.” Before he could speak she hurried on, “Im terribly sorry you didn’t know your sister had invited me. I felt horrid about it; in fact, if you’d been here I might have left the same day.”

“You mustn’t feel badly. Elva meant well, and I’m happy to have you here.”

She gave him a direct, hazel-green stare. “Are you
—
really?”

“Of course. We’ll have to have a talk soon.”

She moved slightly. “Theo ... I don’t want to stay.”

“Oh, come now.” He sounded a little more at ease, as if he felt safer now that he knew she was uncertain of herself. He sat on the edge of the table, looking sideways at her. “I didn’t invite you here, because ... well, I’d given you a different picture in Cape Town. I’ll never forget those two weeks. They were something I couldn’t possibly have had if you and your parents had known I wasn’t particularly respectable. They t
h
ought I was a comfortably-off farmer—not rich, but sound and straight. Instead of which I’m a pilot who was grounded—and that isn’t the same as being retired!—and I detest growing mealies and watching cows.”

“You did tell me you’d been a pilot
.
”

“It added glamour
...
didn’t it?”

She nodded. “It isn’t very important, now. Even if I leave right away we can still be friends.”

“Not with two or three hundred miles between us. And I’ve a hunch that once you leave this place you’ll never want to come back, or see any of us again.”

She was startled. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “I happen to know myself—and my sister. I was unwise enough to tell her about you and the house you live in. A week or so later there was an item in the daily paper; it said that Storr Peterson was back in the Union after a successful tour of North Africa and Europe. She must have thought things out and written you. I wasn’t sure of it till I came here and saw this room—but I’m sure
... now.”

“But, good heavens,
anyone could have done this job.”

“Not so swiftly, thoroughly and cheaply. And it wasn’t only the house. I’d told her the sort of person you were
—
correct and fastidious and rather sweet. You have all the qualities she lacks, and I’m sure she wrote to you with the intention of getting what she could out of you before Storr showed up. Too bad for Elva,” he ended laconically, “that he made his appearance before you did.”

“It’s fantastic. I just don’t understand.”

He stood up and looked out of the door. “We can’t talk here; Elva w
il
l be in at any moment. Let’s run out and park somewhere
...
”

But it was too late. A horse cantered into the garden, the grey with Elva in the saddle, and straight behind her came the big black horse named Joe. Ann felt her sinews contract, a coolness over her skin.

Under his breath Theo said, “Just my luck. Stay right here, Ann
...
please.”

She stood erect beside the table, put on a smile as Elva came in with Storr. Elva, in riding breeches and a sparkling white shirt, her blonde hair tied back carelessly and a rub of colour on her lips, looked gay and sporting.

“Well, if it isn’t the old boy himself,” she said. “You made it in the four days, after all. Are they going to amputate?”

“Not this time,” Theo said easily. “Hallo, Storr.”

“How goes it?”

“Nothing wrong with the wrist-bone, I’m told. Staying long at Groenkop?”

Storr’s eyes had narrowed. “Everyone asks that, and they’re all surprised when I say a couple of weeks.” He glanced at Ann a little sharply. “Happy now?”

“What do
you
think?” said Elva with a grin. “Let’s have a drink to Theo’s return. Whisky, Storr?”

She poured liberally, gave Ann a glass of orange with her usual remark, “You’ll never get rash on that,” and tossed down half of her own rather stronger mixture. Theo sipped his whisky.

“I rang those people in Wegersburg this morning,” he said. “The machine is already on a freight train.”

“Too bad you had to try and lift it all by your little self,” commented his sister. “Did you get into one of those moods?”

“Maybe.” He surveyed her. “You look pretty good today.”

“I feel pretty good.”

“I notice the lane is in better shape, and someone has mended the gate.”

“Brave of you to come that way, not knowing. Didn’t you like the idea of driving round Storr’s land?”

“I arrived at our own gate without thinking.”

“You’ve been coming the other way without thinking for a long time.” Elva smiled the sting from her comment. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, anyway. Do you like my alterations here?”

Without looking about him, Theo said, “They’re quite an achievement. Don’t you think so, Storr?”

“Remarkable,” was the answer. “Now you’re back you’ll need your own horse. I promised to lend Miss Calvert the chestnut gelding, and if she cares to go with me now she can ride it back.”

“Tomorrow will do,” Ann said quickly.

“The horse may not suit you. Come and see it first.”

Theo said, a lit
t
le tautly, “Yes, go on, Ann. You’ll be glad to have a horse of your own while you’re here.”

She hesitated, then crossed the room and went out. She heard Storr say, “So long. See you later,” and then he was at her side and whistling Joe. They walked ahead of the horse, out of the garden and into the orchard, and neither spoke till they were halfway towards the big house.

Then Storr said, with sarcasm, “Not too happy, our Theo. Didn’t you greet him lovingly?”

“I daresay he has problems, like the rest of us,” she answered shortly. “Do I really have to look at the gelding today?”

“There’s no compulsion. I only insisted on it because you looked tightened up.”

“Being with you is hardly relaxation.”

He smiled down at her with some of the charm she knew he reserved for his own special occasions. “I won’t kiss you today—not even if you infuriate me. I promise. Why were you wound up in there?”

“It had nothing to do with Theo.”

“Elva?”

“Not really.” Afraid that he would sarcastically ask, “With me?” she went on quickly, “Everything here is so different from what I imagined. Oh, not the district—I don’t mean that.”

‘Then you must mean the people.”

“Yes, I suppose I do, though it’s really more circumstances than people.” And that was enough, she thought. She had no intention of telling him that Theo had deceived her in Cape Town.

He pulled at a pear leaf in passing, said meditatively, “You just aren’t the Belati type, little one. On the surface, you’re one of these rather perfect specimen—no nicks or scratches, no flaws. Back in England you grew up in a bright confined world where everyone was good, or tried to be good. Your parents made your rules for living
—
sound ones, but they kept you in a narrow groove. They told you you should always be friendly and polite, but not become familiar too quickly. Right?”

“Well, yes, but
...
”

“Instant liking for someone wasn’t to be trusted, they said.”

“Neither is it!”

His smile probed. “Did you like Theo at once?”

“Yes”—determinedly—“but I went right on liking him.”

“Yet it didn’t look as if you were overjoyed to see him again today,” he said, as though puzzling over such problems was one of the hobbies he most enjoyed. “How are you going to feel living in the same house with him?”

“I don’t know. I think he’ll be considerate and kind, and in any case, I may not stay the full month.”

“Which means you’re apprehensive.”

She looked down at the sun-baked track. “It’s my own business, isn’t it?”

“To a point, yes.” A pause. “A moment ago, when I described the sort of person your parents had made of you, I said it was only on the surface. I believe the real you is quite different.”

“It isn’t,” she retorted.

He laughed briefly. “Don’t jitter—I’m not going to refer to your mouth again. It’s simply that I can’t believe in the person you pretend to be. Tell me something—does your mother ever talk to you about men?”

Ann felt hot colour fly into her cheeks. “I’m not embarrassed—don’t think that! You merely have the knack of making me angry.”

“It was a simple question,” he stated mildly, “and all it called for was a simple answer. Let me answer it myself. Yes, your mother does talk to you about men. She says that love is a gentle thing, that one first falls in love with the idea of loving and then finds some man who is established in a good job and eager to provide a nice little house
...
and marries him. Am I near the mark?”

He was so near it that Ann fought for a moment between vexation and laughter; neither quite won, but her eyes were bright and very green as she looked at him.

“You’re the most maddening man I’ve ever met. You’re so used to imposing your will on others that it possibly never occurs to you that they may have ideas of their own. Actually, I have quite strong opinions about love and marriage.”

“How interesting. Go on.”

“And have you laugh your head off? Not I. Keep your cynical views.”

“But think,” he said softly, “what a relief it would be to knock holes in my outlook. Even without being aware of it you try it each time we meet. Did you know that?”

“I don’t think it’s true. Whatever happens is merely the impact of opposing personalities.”

“Do you agree with what your mother says about love?”

“Not entirely, but it’s refreshingly old-fashioned. She’d be
horrified if she knew I’d listened to your cold-blooded decisions about it.”

He nodded, said coolly, “I suppose she would. I wouldn’t mind betting that she’d also be appalled if she knew that you’d accepted an invitation to dinner with someone yet ignored it completely when the time came.
”

Ann felt moisture in her palms. “You know why I didn’t come to your house with Elva the other night. You can’t bully me and push me around one day, and expect me to turn up full of smiles and forgiveness the next. I’ve as much pride as you have!”

“All right. Is your pride salved?”

“You sound as if you’re trying to be nasty again.”

He caught her elbow as they walked, snapped, “And you say
I’m
maddening! You don’t want to agree with anything I say, do you? While we’re at loggerheads you feel safe. Why?”

T
h
e statement was so true that Ann felt her knees go weak. How in the world did this man, who was conceited about his own imperviousness to women, know so much about her own reactions to him? Why couldn’t he be ordinary and friendly, or just leave her alone?

“We’re strangers,” she said, as calmly as she could. “Strangers who happen to have very little in common. That’s all.”

What happened next was so alarming that
Ann
never quite remembered the details of its beginning. What she did remember very clearly was the light wrench in the region of her diaphragm as Storr, already in the saddle, whipped her up off the ground and placed her in front of him, on Joe. The next moment his heels spurred on the big black horse, and Joe was away, skimming through the remaining few yards of the orchard and straight across the drive in front of the house.

They swept down a lane between mealie fields, galloped straight out into the broad acres of veld where the sheep grazed, and up a rocky hillside and down into a valley; up again, with the horse straining as if his life and reputation depended on how he acquitted himself in the furious chase. Ann fought for breath against the iron arm that held her, felt her hair streaming into the face which was a few inches behind her own, and knew that a wildness beat in her veins, an untamed thing that she hadn’t realized existed. She felt faint with it, faint and unbelieving.