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Authors: Rosalind Brett

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BOOK: Dangerous Waters
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Of course you have, but you

ll admit you

re going a strange way about it. You

ve now been engaged to Vic for ten months, and during the whole of that time he would have married you any day you chose. Surely you don

t think you can stay out here, postponing the day once a week!

Annette smiled wearily.

No one here knows that anything is wrong between Vic and me—you must remember that. I only postponed the wedding because I was anxious about you. I

ll give you my word here and now that if I don

t marry Vic tomorrow week it will be because I

ll already have left for England.


Annette!


It

s all very well for you to look horrified. You don

t know how it feels to have to give in all the time and be offered life in a steamy little jungle town for three years as a reward. I

m beginning to think that Vic and I are so terribly unsuited that it would be best for us to part at once.

Terry wished she could find no sympathy at all with this attitude of Annette

s, but since her arrival the whole affair had looked much more puzzling than she had anticipated. She had received no communication at all from her sister since the letter written just after Annette

s arrival in Penghu, several weeks ago; during that time, it seemed, the uncertainty which had shadowed Annette

s final weeks in England had deepened. Yet Vic, bless his stolid heart, hadn

t changed at all.

What was it their stepmother had said, just before Annette

s departure?

Annette is two people, and Penghu will reveal which is the stronger. Either she

s definitely the career type and should marry a man of the same outlook here in England, or at heart she

s a little woman who

s romantically in love. She

s shown such tenacity in clinging to Vic that I wouldn

t like to prophesy one way or the other.

Terry wished there were someone outside the family whom she could consult. No one here in Penghu imagined there was any doubtful element in Vic

s engagement to Annette Fremont ... no one but Pete Sternham. He

d possibly gathered that there was more in her own determination to get to Penghu than mere anxiety to be present at a sister

s wedding. He had hinted as much, once or twice. But she couldn

t consult Pete; didn

t want to think about him if she could help it.

There was not much joy, late that afternoon, in walking through the workshop of the carpenter who had been commissioned to make the company furniture. The tables and chairs were plain and square, the twin beds uninspiring and the grass mats no different from those which hung in dozens outside the stores. Anyway, why should the company provide more than the basic necessities? It was up to the bachelor or the married couple to embellish and give charm to their home.

The bolts of material which almost every shop displayed were gay and appealing. With a foundation of honey-hued wood, bright cushions and curtains could turn the flat into a home which might delight even Annette.

They were passing a little leathery man with a sparse white beard who was seated in a doorway doing leather-work, when Annette said,

You know, I don

t seem to get really near to Vic any more. We seemed to be closer in our correspondence than we are now.


It might be natural. You can often write things that you might feel are too silly for speech, and yet those very things make for intimacy. When you

re a long distance apart you

re scared of putting into writing anything that might make the other unhappy for weeks—till your next letter. If you

d let yourself, though, you could have been near Vic from the moment you arrived. He wanted it very badly.


Well, I don

t know
...”

Annette let the words tail off. She seemed to have built
a
sort of wall round her mind, to guard against being softened up in this way. And yet she
c
ould still look suddenly glad to see Vic. Terry wondered.

A sudden rain-storm sent them into an open-fronted shop which reeked of spices and was crammed with thin brown people in sarongs and shorts. Half-smiling with the pure pleasure of being thrust among others in the same predicament, Terry saw, in the dimness, their light-colored clothing, white teeth and the whites of their eyes. Their faces merged with the background, and so did their chatter. She listened to the soft speech, saw the smooth brown features of a girl who was nearer than the others, and thought how very beautiful the girls were, with their lustrous hair and pool-deep eyes.

The rain stopped, and the people left cover. It was dark now, the sky overcast as though it would not be long before it rained again. The trishaws, those bicycle-carriages which one could sometimes hire in the main street, had disappeared. As the two girls came to the end of the covered walk in front of the shops, Terry waved a hand at the quagmire ahead.


I

m not going to ruin my sandals,

she said.

I

m going to paddle home.


In this mud!

exclaimed Annette.

I

d rather spoil all the sandals I have than go barefoot.


That

s because you

re sophisticated, darling,

said Terry cheerfully, as she drew off the high-heeled sandals.

The mud feels delicious. You should try it.


Not I. You look an engaging urchin—with that windblown haircut, and all—but I

d look plain sloppy. A case of types again.


A model can be anything!


In a studio, yes. Remember that glamorous beach outfit the Bondress people gave me before I left England I haven

t worn it once.


Of course not. It

s definitely honeym
o
on wear. Are there beaches where you

re going?


White sand and palms, I believe. Somehow I feel as if I shall never see them.


Rot. You

ll have a heavenly time there with Vic. Tomorrow we

ll talk about wedding details, and give up wondering whether it

s going to happen. And we

ll go ahead with the flat furnishing. By the way, when does the mail go out?


Tuesdays and Fridays, by helicopter. I

ve posted only three letters since I

ve been here—two to the parents and one to you. Are you writing to Elizabeth?


Of course. Oh, look—naked children!


Their parents probably sent them out to take a shower. Some of them even stand in a downpour soaping themselves. What a place!

Terry laughed. Her feet, sloshing through mud and puddles, felt beautifully cool, and she had a sensation she hadn

t known for a long time—of youth and ease and nonchalance. There were small lights in the Malay houses, larger ones in the dwellings that surrounded the square. The roots of the palm thickets stood in lakes, and pools had formed near the steps of the houses.


Everything for convenience,

Terry remarked.

I can wash off the mud before I go up into the veranda.

Annette moved slowly up the steps. Terry swirled one foot and drew it back, let the other one down into the pool. She swirled again, and idly looked upwards into the veranda.

Her movements stilled, the smile froze on her lips and her tongue stole out to moisten them. She bent her head and again moved the foot in the pool before walking up the steps.


Good evening, Teresa,

said Pete, in the rare drawl that she remembered.

Having fun?

Her throat hot and dry, she said stiffly,

Annette, this is Mr. Sternham
...
my sister.

Annette was gazing at him in frank astonishment, and perhaps with something else in her expression.

Well, hallo,

she said, in her most cultivated voice.

I thought you

d look like a bulldog.


Really?

To Terry he sounded too charming.

Perhaps that was how your sister saw me. How are you, Teresa?


Fine, thank you.

In one long glance she took in his dark, sleekly-brushed hair, the immaculate tropical suit, the rich brown tie and white shirt; well dressed and
suave
, but he was still Pete.

She looked a question and he said, kindly but with a touch of the well-remembered sarcasm,

Your sister

s
fiancé
got in touch with me. He thanked me for bringing you here and Mr. Winchester invited me over for a drink. I thought it very decent of them.


I

m sure you did,

she heard herself saying. Then, catching Annette

s startled glance, she added hurriedly,

I

m not being rude. I feel at a disadvantage. Do you mind if I take time off to put on my shoes?


Not at all. Sit right here.

She sank into a chair and heard Annette query, interestedly,

Why do you call my sister Teresa?

While gazing at the red-gold hair, he appeared to give the question his full consideration.

I don

t really know—perhaps because Terry sounds a trifle adolescent.

He paused.

May I say that you

re every bit as beautiful as she said you were?

Annette was smiling more happily than at any
time
during the past couple of days.

You may. And now I

d like to add my thanks to Vic

s. It was extremely good of you to bring Terry from Vinan and take care of her. If we

d known she was in such good hands we wouldn

t have worried nearly so much.

His left eyebrow rose.

But you
would
have worried, just
a
little?

Annette laughed.

Only a very little. A child like Terry would be perfectly safe with you. I

d say you like them a bit more worldly.

It was Terry

s turn to lift a startled glance. Pete was lounging against the post at the head of the steps and Annette was leaning back on the table in one of her poses—the one that showed off the season

s offering of casual wear. For a moment they looked as though they were absorbed in each other.

Then Pete looked down at Terry.

Can

t you fasten that strap? Like me to do it?

BOOK: Dangerous Waters
9.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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