Welcome to Paradise (17 page)

Her voice was higher than she knew. She heard footsteps running. A voice—Richard’s blessed voice
—
called “Alix?” She almost shrieked, “Here, I’m here.” She didn’t remember, afterwards, exactly what happened then. She saw Eric Gore turn, his face a mask of fury. She saw Richard’s hand grasp his arm—and then, so suddenly had he let go of her wrists, she lost her balance and fell back on the seat. When she recovered, Gore was picking himself up from the ground. He was rubbing one wrist with the other hand as if it pained him. He said through his teeth, “You dare to use your dirty ju-jitsu tricks on me! You’ll pay for this, Herrold. I’ll
kill
you for this!”

Richard said shortly, “You’re welcome to try.”

Eric Gore turned his baleful eyes on Alix. He said,
“As for you, you ” He flung an evil word at her;
she felt she could bear no more. With a little cry she went to Richard.

“Richard, please, take me away,” she cried, “before he can say any more.”

“Of course. You’ve got your handbag? And this is your stole? Come along. And you—keep quiet unless you want me to throw you again.”

Oddly enough, Eric Gore made no move to stop them. He stood and watched them go, with a sneer on his too-handsome face. He looked like a devil.

Richard tucked Alix’s hand under his arm.

“You’re shaking, poor little thing,” he said kindly. “We’ll walk around a bit, shall we, till you’ve calmed down a bit. Had a fright, didn’t you? What was it all about?”

“He asked me to m—marry him, and when I said no, he accused me of ... of ... he was
terrible,
Richard. Like somebody in one of those awful crime thrillers. I thought he was going to strike me.”

“The swine!”

“Thank heaven you came, Richard. How did it happen you were there?”

He put a hand over hers and gave it a brotherly squeeze.

“I’d been watching him. Didn’t like the look of him
—
sort of all lit up, and yet not drunk or anything like that. Sort of fanatic look. I saw him hauling you off willy-nilly outside. I thought maybe I’d better come outside too, and hold a sort of watching brief. When you yelled I fairly sprinted. I’d lost sight of you—was I glad when you called ‘Here!’ I was lucky to catch him unawares with that throw. He’s a big chap, stronger than me in an ordinary fisticuffs, I should think. But my ju-jitsu trick scared him. Lucky it did.”

“Yon were marvellous, Richard,” Alix said warmly. “I can never thank you enough.”

Richard’s eyebrow went up; his look was quizzical. “Never?” he echoed.

But he didn’t pursue that line of thought. He said, “If you feel up to it, how about giving me that dance?”

“Of course.”

The orchestra was playing a medley of old tunes
—
Begin the Beguine, Night and Day, Deep Purple, Some Enchanted Evening, Some Day I’ll find You.

Dancing with Richard—whose performance was no more than adequate, for like Bernard, he had never really been a dancing man—Alix felt relaxed and at ease for the first time that evening. This is Richard, whom I know and can tr
ust, she thought dreamily. Dear Richard...

They didn’t talk much. Once he said, “Nice your hair smells.” Once he said, laughing, “No more rides in super launches and rich limousines, Alix. D’you
min
d?”

“You know I don’t.”

Once he said, laughing again, “Lady Merrick is giving me some very stern looks. Do you think I’d better take you to her, and discreetly fade away?”

The leader of the orchestra was playing that long elaborate twiddle on his saxophone that meant the end of that particular dance. Alix looked at Richard from under her lashes.

“Maybe you had,” she said.

“You’ll have some rather difficult explaining to do, won’t you? She’s going to be disappointed, isn’t she? She didn’t know what he was.”

“No. Did
you,
Richard?”

“Nothing definite. Just a feeling I had that he was a phoney. Actually I know very little about him. Always a bit of a mystery man. And then all that money. Out of my class.”

Ali
x said, “I was always—afraid of him.”

Richard gave her a quick look. He tucked her arm in his. “Come along,” he said. “Chin up. Get it over
—
then forget it.”

“I’ll try.”

“There are better things—and people—to think about. M’mm?”

“I know, Richard. I’ve said I’ll try.”

It wasn’t much fun, though, later—when they had thanked their host, who behaved as if nothing at all had happened, though the look he gave Alix as she said her formal thanks was chilling in its malice—telling Aunt Drusilla.

Alix got it over in the car, driving back to Paradise. She finished flatly, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Drusilla, but there it is, that’s the sort of person he is.” Lady Merrick
was
disappointed, bitterly. But she was also a sensible, honest-minded woman. She saw that she had been foolishly wrong about Eric Gore—blinded by his looks and his money and the way he had gone all out to charm her.

“Thank heaven,” she said, “we found out in time.” Alix said soberly, “Thank heaven Richard turned up when he did.”

“Yes. And I suppose it wasn’t just a lucky coincidence, was it? I suppose he’s in love with you too, isn’t he?”

Alix said, “He was. Now I’m not sure.”

“And you?”

Suddenly impatient, Alix said sharply, “Do I
have
to be in love with anybody?”

Then she was ashamed of her little flash of temper. “Forgive me, Aunt Drusilla. The fact is I don’t know quite where I am. This business of Eric Gore, coming so soon on top of ... of Bernard ... I feel uncertain, a bit bewildered. I don’t think I’m
ready
to fall in love.” They were turning into the gates of ‘Laguna.’ The lights were on in the house, and an agitated Effelina, with her hair screwed into tiny plaits and a sheet draped round her, was talking to a native policeman on the front veranda. She was holding Nelson by the collar. Lady Merrick said, “What on earth
...?”

She got out of the car, and lifting her long skirts in her hands, picked her way up the steps.

“Something wrong, Constable?” she boomed. Effelina said excitedly, “Meddam, Nelson barking, barking. This fellow was walking round, he came to see what the noise about. He saw somebody hiding in the bush by the gate.”

“Didn’t you catch him, Constable?”

“No, madam. When Effelina came out
,
he ran away.”

Lady Merrick tut-tutted crossly.

“That’s what comes of Herrold bringing all these labour gangs into the district. I suppose there are the usual percentage of thieves and rascals among them, and none of us will be able to sleep peacefully in our beds till they’ve gone. Drat the man!”

But Alix wondered if the prowler could have been Francis, whom she had caught prowling before. She had had a feeling, then, that his presence boded no good for ‘Laguna.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ALIX woke next morning with the feeling that she had a whole lot of thinking to do, and would like to spend the day alone.

She and Lady Merrick were invited to a Sunday morning after-church party at the Leighs’, but she hoped her aunt would excuse her. She didn’t care for drink parties, and there would be nobody of her own age to talk to. Besides, she was afraid that somebody might have been listening in to the scene in the garden last night, and might have spread the story round. She didn’t feel brave or composed enough yet to bear intrigued looks, and whispered comments, and speculations about what or who next.

She went out into the garden and sniffed the air. It was going to be a perfect day. The wind was moderate, from the south-west. That meant that if she took the sailing boat she could sail on a reach—with modifications according to the way the channels wound—both up and down lagoon. She could go right up the river and get away from the fishing dinghies, and the odd speedboat and yacht, and have a swim, and a picnic on her own—and think things out. Her recent mistakes; the future
...
she needed to get her
min
d
really clear about that.

Aunt Drusilla was understanding. She said, “Of course go off for the day, dear. You’d really rather go alone? Then tell Christina to put up lunch and flasks and whatever you fancy. And have a lovely
think
.”

“Thank you. I need to.”

While the cook jointed a spring chicken and made a salad and french dressing in a bottle, and buttered rolls and hard-boiled some eggs, and brewed coffee and packed fruit, Alix got into her swimsuit, collected her towel and a shirt and slacks to change into, and when all was ready waded out to her mooring, carrying the picnic basket and her clothes and the red sails, and started to rig the boat.

Nelson wanted to come too—she didn’t know how he would behave in a small boat, so had to take him back and tie him up, with instructions to Effelina to let him loose when she was safely away. He whined sadly and gave her reproachful looks. She said, “I’ll have to teach you to be a boat dog, Nelson,” but he wasn’t appea
sed. He wanted to be a boat dog
...

The tide was coming in, but slowly. She had to wait a little before she was afloat. Then she let go her mooring and sailed over to deeper water, and went spinning off up-lagoon on a “soldier’s wind.”

It was a little stronger than any she had ventured out in up to now. She wondered if she ought to have taken a reef, but soon she saw that she had nothing to fear. The sturdy clinker-built boat heeled over, but not too sharply; by letting out her sail a little she could hold it without difficulty. It was glorious. She didn’t attempt to think, yet, of anything but sailing the boat. Plenty of time for serious thought later, when she was anchored in quiet water up-river.

She passed a number of fishing boats, each with their one or two anglers patiently watching their lines. The water was popply and the boats bobbed gaily on the small sparkling waves. The foothills and mountain slopes were richly green, the sky a clean, clear blue, with a few clouds whose dark shadows chased over the
earth below. You couldn’t have imagined a more enchanting scene, a lovelier day.

She had tried to take note of the leading marks during that first trip up-lagoon in Eric Gore’s launch. Now she had to pick them up and follow them. If she ran aground it didn’t matter much. She would pull up her centre-board, jump into the water and push the boat clear. Or pole it with an oar. Or something. Not to worry, she thought.

Somebody hailed her from a small motor launch.

“Oi, Alix, want a tow?”

It was Valerie, with a young man, tall and
flaxen haired
and attractive, with whom Alix had seen her dancing a good deal last night at the Ball.

She waved, laughing and shaking her head. The launch was going across her course—perhaps to one of the beaches on the other side of the lagoon. Valerie looked gay and pretty, her hair bound in a cherry-red scarf. She had a lovely tan; so had her swain.

Now the lagoon was narrowing; she was nearing the river proper. The hills were closing in a little; now and then a small squall blackened the face of the water as it rushed down a gully, and the little yacht heeled sharply, then righted itself as the squall passed. Alix enjoyed that; it was a lovely feeling, using the wind, seeing the bow toss off its white moustache of water, hearing the chuckling noise of it, so much more satisfactory than the noise of any motor could be.

She sailed quite a way up-river. There was an old bridge further up, beyond which she couldn’t go without taking down her mast. She meant to anchor below the bridge. She wouldn’t land—not on Eric Gore’s property. She would swim from her boat and have her lunch on board.

She could see, away up on its eminence, Eric Gore’s stone house. She grinned to herself, ironically, thinking how little she cared if he should be looking through his telescope and should see her boat. She wasn’t trespassing, as long as she stayed afloat. There was nothing he could do.

She began thinking about him, then decided that there was no need; he was unlikely to trouble her again.

There was one little matter she would have to clear up. The piece of land she had been going to rent for her plant nurseries was on his property. She hadn’t cared for the idea when it was mooted, but land was difficult to find and she had been jockeyed into accepting. He had wanted to let her have it rent-free, but she had insisted on a properly business-like arrangement, and he had given in, though with rather a bad grace. He rather liked himself, she thought now sardonically, in his role of King Cophetua to the beggar-maid.

She would have to see that the arrangement, which luckily had not yet been finalised in writing, was cancelled.

That would mean looking round again. She wondered now if she was being wise—if this district was big enough, thickly populated enough, to give her red scope. She thought rather regretfully of Salisbury, then put it out of her
min
d.

She thought of Richard—how odd it had been, last night, that he hadn’t tried to introduce a personal note. Owing to the rather romantic nature of the circumstances—his rescue of her, a maiden in distress as it were—she had half expected—half hoped? No, of course not—that he would tell her again how much he loved her.

Then she remembered his ultimatum. He wouldn’t tell her again till she had sent the other fellow away
—
well, she had certainly done that—and begged him to take her with
him
when he went. Did he still mean to hold her to that? It looked as if he did.

She tried to sort out her feelings for him. She was
thinkin
g about that as she dropped her anchor, lowered her sails and stowed them, dived overboard into the deep still reach of the river below the bridge.

She thought, I’ve never liked any man more—so much. She thought that she liked his looks and his voice and his laugh, the things he said to her, the feeling of security he gave her, the way he cocked an eyebrow at her, the way he always seemed to manage to be there just when she needed him most.

Was that love?

She didn’t think so.

Love ought, surely, to be rapture and thrill and excitement and a leaping of the heart and a rushing of the blood in the veins.

She hadn’t felt that for Bernard—she realised now that she hadn’t, in fact, loved Bernard. Not really loved.

But she would
like
to love someone that way. It must be a grand and glorious thing to feel like that about another human being.

She decided she would wait until she did
...

The river water was colder than that of the lagoon. It was deep and very green, especially near the bank. She swam hard till she was tired, then pulled herself over the stern of her boat and sat on the thwart in the sunshine and breeze, towelling and drying her hair. She felt as if she had washed quite a lot of her troubles away, even though she didn’t seem, actually, to have settled her future very far ahead.

Exercise had made her hungry. She opened up the picnic basket, spread a cloth on the seat in the stem, set out the chicken, salad, eggs and rolls. She poured coffee from the flask, sweetened it, and began to eat and drink.

It was very quiet. A couple of kingfishers kept her company—the local brown and white variety, not so beautiful as the blue ones she had known at home. But there were other blue birds, and a scarlet-breasted honey-catcher; and once she saw a loerie, that rare and colourful bird, special to those parts.

On the banks, beyond the big patches of reed that fringed them except in a few places—the places where Eric Gore had put up his notices—the arum lilies clustered thickly, waxy white against the green. A
pale leaved
tree with fluffy yellow blossom drooped over the water. Higher up was a clump of enormous weeping willows. Coots swam and dived; herons and egrets appeared and went away again. Alix went on thinking, but soon she stopped; there were too many little things to watch and wonder at.

After a time she lay down in the bottom of the boat and snoozed. It had been a late night and she hadn’t, anyway, slept very much.

She woke some time later and looked at her wrist watch. She saw that soon the tide would be turning and would help her on her way back. She packed up the debris of her lunch, first finishing the coffee, then made sail. By the time she had got up her anchor and was ready to move she saw that the tide had turned. Leaves on the water which had been floating up-river were now floating down. It was time to be off.

It wasn’t till she reached open water that she realised that the wind had changed direction too. It was much more in the south now—no longer a soldier’s wind to take her on an easy reach home. She would have to beat. And it had strengthened, surely, quite a lot. Some sort of eddy, still on her beam, had helped her out of the river. She had lost that now, and began to feel the full force of quite a strong southerly blow. She looked a little anxiously ahead. The water looked dark and troubled. Small waves were breaking in white crests where wind met tide. She wished she had left earlier. She had a long way to go.

She started to make tacks, short or long according to the channel. Though the tide was with her, she didn’t make much headway. The lagoon was very wide here, very spread-out over the country. She wondered if she ought to try to run ashore, but there were too many reeds. Perhaps if it got worse she would do well to run into the reeds, down sail and wait. But for how long? It might blow all day, all night even.

She wondered if Eric Gore had seen her through his telescope, and was enjoying her predicament. There was no real danger, she told herself; she had a sturdy boat and good gear. But she felt very lonely; all the other small boats seemed to have gone, perhaps for shelter.

She seemed to have been tacking fruitlessly back and forth for a long time before she saw the small craft, powered by an outboard of no great strength, making towards her. Its pilot shouted, “Alix! You all right?” and her heart gave a great leap of relief.

She thought, I might have known. Richard. He saw my red sail. Or Valerie got home and told him. He came after me—he always does come and look after me. It’s all right. He’s here.

She took the rope he threw her, and he started to try and tow as soon as she had lowered and stowed her sails. But that his small two-and-a-half horse-power outboard was unable to manage, even with the help of the tide. The wind was hardening all the time—it howled up-laggon now. The day had darkened. The water was indigo-dark.

After a time Richard called, “’It’s no good, she won’t take it. I’m going to turn. We’ll run up the river into shelter, and wait for a bit. All right?”

“All right.”

It was easy now. Wind and tide were helping; wind was no longer the enemy.

“We’ll drop anchor here,” Richard called. They were out of the wind too now, though there was a rustling in the reeds and the trees.

Richard transferred himself into Alix’s boat and offered her a cigarette.

She said with a smile, “It’s like magic, the way you’re always there.”

He grinned.

“Like that chap—the genie, wasn’t it?—that used to pop up when Aladdin rubbed the lamp.
Actually, I
saw your red sails going up-lagoon, and when the wind piped up and I hadn’t seen them come down, guardian angel Richard thought he’d better come and see. D’you mind?”

“Mind?
If you knew what a flap I was in
..
!”

“Poor Alix. Having quite a weekend, aren’t you?”

She said yes, she was, and a little constraint fell between them. Alix didn’t quite know what to say to dispel it.

After a while Richard said, “Let’s start up the outboard and run down in the dinghy to see how it looks now. If it seems to be moderating, we’ll come back and pick up your boat and try again.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”