Sixty Days to Live (3 page)

‘Why, Lavina, of course.’

‘Oh—Lavina. I think she’s looking very well. Older, of course, and a little hard; but that is only on the surface. The girl has character, you know, Gervaise. Always had. And that’s doubtless stood her in good stead through any trouble. She laughs as easily as ever, which shows that she has come to no serious harm; but then, I never thought she would, and you may remember that I felt you were wrong when you so strongly opposed her going into the film business.’

Gervaise nodded. ‘Yes. I think I
was
wrong but, from all one
had heard, the film people seemed such a terribly mixed lot, and she was only twenty.’

At that moment Lavina came into the room again, looking very small and very young now that she had taken most of the make-up off her face and was wearing flat-heeled slippers and a dressing-gown.

She was an impulsive person, and feeling that she owed it to her father to have a heart-to-heart talk with him at the first opportunity, had decided not to delay it until the morning. The fact that her Uncle Oliver was there did not deter her, as the two brothers had no secrets from each other and, in any case, he had turned back to his calculations on her entry.

Going straight up to her father where he stood with his back to the smouldering wood fire on its great pile of accumulated winter ashes, she said softly: ‘Well, dearest, am I forgiven?’

He put both his hands on her shoulders and smiled down at her. ‘Of course you are, my princess. It is really I who should ask your forgiveness, for opposing you so bitterly three years ago that you ran away and cut yourself off from us.’

‘I ought to have been more patient, darling, and waited another year as you wanted me to, but I can understand now just what you felt. You must have thought that all sorts of terrible things would happen.’

He shook his head. ‘I should have known that with your personality you’d be all right, and I’ve blamed myself terribly since for not letting you go when you wanted to. Then you would at least have had our support in those early months when you must have needed it most.’

‘They weren’t so bad. Of course, there are bad hats in the film business just like any other; but I soon learnt how to deal with them when they became difficult, and most of the film people are wonderfully kindhearted. Many of them were absolutely marvellous to me.’

‘I wish I’d known that at the time, because I’m afraid I did them an injustice and it would have saved me many a night of sleepless worry about you.’

‘Poor darling! Never mind. It’s all over now and we’re together again.’

‘Yes. And you’ve come back triumphant, a famous film star.’

‘No, dearest, not really. I am a star by courtesy, but I’ve never
made a really big picture. The trouble is that I’m not really photogenic and every picture I play in means endless extra trouble for the director and cutters before they’re satisfied. What d’you think of Sam?’

Gervaise considered for a moment. ‘He seems a nice fellow. Is he the Sir Samuel Curry who gambles for such big sums at Deauville and Le Touquet? I seem to remember seeing his name in a paper somewhere in that connection.’

‘Yes. He’s immensely rich and the few thousands he makes or loses at the tables are only a bagatelle to him. He wants to marry me.’

‘So I supposed,’ Gervaise remarked dryly.

‘Why?’

‘What man could know you and not want to marry you?’

‘You always were a flatterer, darling; but what do you think about it, seriously?’

‘Does that matter? My little princess always did have her own way in everything, so it’s a bit late in the day for her to try to put her responsibilities on her old father now.’

‘But it
does
matter what you think, darling. Because, you see, for once in my life I can’t make up my mind. If I were convinced that I could become a really great star I’d stick to my career, but I’m afraid the odds are rather against it. Yet I like making pictures and all the friends that I’ve made are in the film world. Sam insists that, if I marry him, I must cut out the films entirely, but of course he can offer me everything that money can buy by way of exchange.’

‘Surely the crux of the matter is, are you really fond of him?’

‘Yes. I’m not passionately in love with him or anything of that sort, but I’m beginning to think that I never shall be with anyone, and Sam is the only man I’ve ever met who has all the qualities a woman could ask for in a husband. He’s kind, generous to a degree, definitely good-looking, and has that forceful personality which a real man should have.’

‘On the other hand, he is a bit old for you, isn’t he?’

Lavina nodded. ‘That’s just it. He’s forty-six and I’m only twenty-three. I suppose that doesn’t matter, really, if you’re fond of a person, but I’m just a tiny bit frightened that in a few years’ time I might fall for somebody younger and I’d hate to break up Sam’s life by running away.’

Oliver had finished his calculation and was looking across at her. ‘I don’t think you need let that worry you,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to tell anybody, because it’s a highly dangerous secret; but I think it a pity, Lavina, that you should die without going through the experience of marriage.’

Gervaise and Lavina turned to stare at him and she exclaimed: ‘Oliver! What on earth d’you mean?’

He laid down a long Burma cheroot he was smoking on the edge of the ash-tray. ‘Just this, my dear. A comet, which is not yet visible to the human eye, is approaching us at enormous speed. If it is a solid body, as we have some reason to suppose, our earth will be shattered into fragments when it hits us. It is now April 25th; the comet is due to arrive on June 24th and, in my opinion, none of us has more than sixty days to live.’

In her three years as a film actress Lavina had ridden on outdoor locations when her work required it, but it was many months since she had mounted a horse solely for pleasure. In consequence, it was with a special thrill that she cantered beside Derek Burroughs over the meadows surrounding her home, on the morning after her return to it.

After her three years’ absence she was a very different Lavina from the girl of twenty who had run away to seek fame on the films, yet, to her, not a blade of grass seemed to have changed in the quiet Surrey landscape. The old Georgian mansion in which she had been born lay behind them down by the lake, with two-thirds of its windows dusty and shuttered; the green pastures curved away in front, broken by hedges, occasional coppices and the belt of woodland that bounded the estate, just as she had always known them.

On the crest of a hill she and Derek reined their horses in to a walk and he turned to smile at her.

‘I see you haven’t lost that splendid seat of yours.’

She laughed. ‘Riding’s like bicycling, isn’t it? Once learnt, never forgotten.
You
ought to know that, darling.’

The endearment slipped out. In the film world she was so used to calling everybody ‘darling’, but she regretted having used that term to Derek. Time was when she had often called him ‘darling’, but that was long ago; and she feared now that he might attach a meaning to the word which she had not intended.

Before he could reply, she hurried on: ‘Gervaise is looking well, isn’t he? But keeping up this place must be an awful strain on him. Are things just as bad as ever, Derek?’

He nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. He doesn’t tell me much. You know how proud he is. If only he’d sell the place he could have a comfortable flat in London or a small house somewhere in the
neighbourhood, but he’s absolutely determined to hang on here. His income is just enough to keep the house going without servants but we poor farmers have been pretty badly hit, and I don’t see much hope of permanent recovery.’

‘You seem to take it very philosophically yourself.’

‘Oh, I manage somehow. Selling a mare here and there and by sending all my stuff from the hothouses up to London. And I like the life; I wouldn’t change it to be cooped up in an office, even if I could make ten times the money.’

She glanced at him swiftly from beneath lowered lids. His clear-cut features and the wavy brown hair she had so often stroked were as attractive as ever. Even the sight of him was enough to call up for her the smell of tobacco and old tweeds that clung to him and had once meant more to her than the perfumes of all Arabia. Giving herself a little shake she said:

‘I think you’re right. I can’t see you mixed up in the turmoil of modern business. You’d hate it, Derek.’

‘I should have thought you would have hated it, too. I’ve never been able to visualise the Lavina I loved rubbing shoulders with all the queer birds you must have met by this time.’

‘Oh, I can look after myself. It’s always the woman who makes the running, you know. A girl gets what she asks for and, if she takes a firm line to start with, all but a few outsiders are perfectly prepared just to remain friendly and let her alone.’

‘You’re glad to be back, though.’

‘Terribly. It’s like escaping from an orchid house, or rather from the heat and din of a ship’s engine-room into the fresh sea air on deck.’

‘Does that mean—’ he hesitated, ‘that there’s a chance of your staying for some time?’

She shook her head. ‘I’d like to, for Gervaise’s sake. He’s so very glad to see me. But I’ve come to a turning-point in my life and, whichever way I decide, I’ll have arrangements to make which mean my going back to London tonight.’

‘D’you mean that they’ve offered you a Hollywood contract and that you may be going abroad?’

‘No. I may be giving up the films altogether. That’s what I’ve got to decide.’

‘By Jove! If you do chuck the films, once you’ve fixed things up we may be seeing lots more of you.’

‘Yes. I shall never stay away so long again.’

‘You might even come back to live here?’

‘No, Derek, no.’ She quickly quelled the hope that was so clear in his eager voice. ‘If I decide to give up my career, it will be to marry.’

‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘So at last you’ve found a chap on whom you’re really keen?’

‘Sam Curry wants to marry me.’

‘Curry?’

‘Yes. Didn’t you realise?’

‘But, hang it all, he’s old enough to be your father.’

‘What has that to do with it?’ Lavina looked away angrily. ‘He has one of the best brains in England and he’s incredibly nice.’

‘Perhaps. But, if it comes to brains, I daresay Einstein has a better. I should have thought brains were one of the least important things when it came to a question of marriage.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly. I never said I was marrying him for his brains alone.’

‘For what, then? His money?’

‘Don’t you think that you’re exceeding the privileges of even a very old friend?’ Lavina said, with dangerous quietness.

‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘Let’s canter.’

An hour later, when they got back to the house and Derek had handed the horses over to the groom he had brought with him, they found Gervaise Stapleton, his brother Oliver, and Sir Samuel Curry congregated in the library.

‘One can’t ignore Oliver’s statement,’ Gervaise was saying. ‘After all, he’s an astronomer, and if he says this comet is coming nearer to the earth than it ever has before, we must accept that as a fact.’

The three men turned as Lavina and Derek came into the room. ‘Hullo,’ she cried, ‘we’ve had such a glorious ride that I’d almost forgotten about the comet. I see Sam’s having it out with you.’

‘I was just saying,’ smiled Sam, ‘that, although your uncle is no doubt right about this comet approaching, the universe being so vast, it doesn’t follow that the thing will get drawn into our orbit and smash us up.’

‘What
is
all this?’ inquired Derek amiably.

‘You’d better ask Uncle Oliver,’ Lavina replied. ‘He scared me into fits last night by saying that he didn’t think any of us had more than sixty days to live.’

Oliver shook his dome-like, sparsely covered head, from the back and sides of which wisps of fine brown hair stood out untidily. ‘You’re a very naughty girl, Lavina. I told you this was a most dangerous secret and must go no further, yet the first thing you do is to tell Sir Samuel here, and then Derek.’

She blew him a playful kiss. ‘Nonsense, darling. Sam’s as deep as a well and Derek is almost one of the family. Besides, you as good as confessed, before I went up to bed, that you were joking. I only mentioned it to Sam after breakfast this morning because I thought it would be fun to see you pull his leg about it.’

‘I’m afraid Oliver wasn’t joking, dearest.’ Gervaise spoke with quiet firmness. ‘He only allowed you to assume that he was, so that you could sleep on it and this appalling thing shouldn’t come as too great a shock to you.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You mean—you really mean …?’

‘I mean that Oliver seems to be convinced that a comet is going to smash our world to fragments on June 24th.’

‘But—what do
you
think?’

Gervaise smiled a little grimly. ‘My dear, what can any of us think, or do, except accept the opinion of an expert and make up our minds to face whatever is to come with what fortitude we may.’

Derek flung his riding crop on a chair and sat down. ‘Surely, Oliver, you can’t be serious? The idea that the world will come to an end in eight weeks’ time is really a bit too much to swallow.’

‘Naturally, it is rather an alarming thought at first,’ Oliver replied mildly. ‘But worlds do come to an end, you know, and there’s no reason to suppose that ours should be specially immune from such a catastrophe. If you had witnessed some of the mighty flare-ups which have occurred in the heavens during the many years I have spent in Greenwich Observatory you would, I think, be more ready to accept my statement as a real probability.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of challenging your authority on such a subject, sir,’ Sam Curry said politely, ‘and you must correct me
if I’m wrong, but I’ve always understood comets were mainly composed of gases. Even if one hit our earth, it would probably only destroy a portion of the population. In any case, there would be no cataclysmic collision such as one might expect in the case of two great heavenly bodies rushing together.’