The House of the Scissors (6 page)

Arab jumped. “Wh—what did you say?” she demanded hoarsely.

Lucien paid for their drinks, glancing at his wrist-watch. “I must be off, or Sandra will come gunning for me!”

“But, Lucien, what about the glass-bottomed boat?” Hilary pleaded with him.

Lucien stopped immediately, smiling down at his niece. “If Arab wants to take you, that’s all right with me! Perhaps Jill will go with you, to make sure you don’t drown each other?”

Jill cast him a flashing smile, such as she usually reserved for her much loved husband. “How kind of you to think of it, Mr. Manners,” she said. “I’d love to go with them!”

CHAPTER
FOUR

HILARY was delighted when Sammy Silk, Jill, and Arab all agreed to go home with her for lunch

“We’ll come back later and go out in the glass-bottomed boat, but I’m
hungry
now, aren’t you?” She looked round the assembled group. “It will be fun having you around all the time!”

Sammy Silk patted her shoulder with a pudgy hand. “We’re looking forward to it, sweetheart. We owe you a big debt for getting Arab out of trouble at Mambrui, you know that?”

Hilary preened herself. “You’ll
love
Lucien’s house!” she said.

Sammy did. Arab watched him uncertainly as he prowled round the ruined rooms at the back of the house. It was the first time she had seen them herself and she was quite overcome by the graceful arches, the flower-covered courtyards, and the crumbling pools where once the ladies of the household had bathed amongst the waterlilies.

“Is it what you wanted?” she asked Sammy.

“You ask me that? Have you no eyes in your head to see what we have here? This is going to be the best work I’ve ever done, and that’s saying something! Arab, duckie, you may not have it all, but you certainly have something! And it’s all laid on for us by the great Lucien Manners! You’ve never worked better, sweetie, believe me! Nice work!”

Arab felt slightly sick. “I didn’t do anything,” she muttered.

Sammy shrugged his plump shoulders. “Have it your own way! Have everything your own way! What a place! What good fortune!”

“But I didn’t!” Arab felt impelled to insist. “I wish you hadn’t asked him, Sammy.”

“Want to keep him all to yourself, eh? Don’t worry, we shan’t do anything to cramp your style!”

“I don’t even like him,” Arab said. “I’m only a friend of Hilary’s.”

Sammy laughed. His whole body heaved with the effort. Arab couldn’t recall that she had ever seen him laugh before, and she turned her eyes away from the spectacle, glad that he didn’t laugh more often.

“You’re a deep one!” he chided her.

“Don’t, Sammy!”

He stopped laughing and looked puzzled instead. “Okay, my sweet, I won’t. I’m grateful enough to you for making it possible for us to come here. This is some place!”

Arab was relieved to see him turning back into the morose, rather unhappy man that she thought she knew. He had always been kind to her and lie had never said anything out of the way in her presence, though she knew that his language was not always so moderate, and in a way she liked him. She liked him because he didn’t worry her, and she didn’t want things to change now for no better reason than that she had become friends with Lucien Manners’ niece.

“I can’t understand why he allowed it!” she exclaimed. “He can’t realise what it will be like, having all our gear all over his place for days on end!”

Sammy gave her an odd look. “Don’t you? Wake up, Arabella! Or perhaps someone ought to set about waking you up. I think I’d be doing this Lucien fellow a favour at that!”

“I don’t understand what you mean!”

Sammy heaved a sigh. “That’s what I mean! Don’t you know that you’re a charming—”

“Gamin
charm!” Arab interrupted him heavily.

Sammy surveyed her briefly. “I reckon that’s quite an apt description at that. Is that what he said to you?”

Arab nodded. “It isn’t a compliment.” she assured him. “I looked it up in the dictionary. It means a neglected boy—a street arab!”

“Perhaps that’s what he likes about you?”

Arab rejected the suggestion out of hand. “No, he likes his women soign
é
e and sophisticated, like Sandra Dark.”

“Did he also tell you that?” Sammy asked.

“He didn’t have to,” Arab replied. She hesitated, wondering how she had ever begun such a conversation—and with Sammy of all people!
“
I don’t like superior people!
I
don’t think he’s so marvellous!”

“Don’t you, Arab?” Sammy sounded amused, and Arab was afraid that he might laugh again and she looked away hastily in case he did. “I think, maybe, you have some growing up to do.”

“I am grown up!” Arab declared.

“Let’s see how much.” Sammy put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her towards him. Arab winced away from him in a fury, but it was to no avail. He was stronger than she was and he had had the advantage of surprising her. He did not kiss her, though, as she expected. He merely hugged her and let her go. “I’d say you still have some growing to do,” he said.

Arab turned on her heel and hurried back into the inhabited part of the house, feeling as though the bottom of her world had dropped out. What was the matter with everyone?
It was all Lucien Manners’ fault
! He had begun it all by making her self-conscious, which she had never been in her life before. And he had finished it off by agreeing to the unit using his house, making it necessary for her to see more of him than she would do otherwise.
And
, what was worse, he would probably come along, as if by right, and watch her work, with that contemptuous look in his eyes that made her feel smaller than the smallest insect, and a repulsive insect at that! No wonder he squashed her whenever he opened his mouth!

Jill was lounging in one of the leather chairs in the sitting room, her mouth slightly open as she studied the carved ceiling.

“You have to admit that the man suits his background!” she said, without bothering to look at Arab. ‘‘I’m
flat
with admiration for both of them! I can’t wait to tell my better half all about it!”

“Sammy seems pleased,” Arab said.

“
Pleased
! Darling, he’s ecstatic!” She sat up straight, eyeing Arab’s face curiously. “What’s the matter, hon?” she asked. “Afraid we’ll tread on your toes?”

Arab shook her head. “Of course not! I’m tired of telling everyone that there’s nothing to tread on anyway! I just don’t like him. Isn’t that enough?”

“C
o
uld be. I’d say only you and he know that.”

“You’re as bad as Sammy!” Arab accused her.

“Well, dear, what can you expect? He may treat you like a child—okay, I’ll admit that he does treat you like a child. But he seems to be going all out to protect you at the same time.” She laughed, pulling down the
corner
s of her mouth in mock envy. “No more grey dresses for you, love!” she teased.

Arab’s hands fell to her sides in a dejected gesture. “I can’t understand it!” she said. Her eye kindled as she thought about the absent Lucien Manners. “But I’ll get to the bottom of it, if it’s the last thing I do!”

Jill looked concerned, but then she smiled. “You do that, love! It should make for a really interesting conversation!”

It was difficult for Arab to keep her anger at the boil, though, throughout that afternoon. She had seldom enjoyed herself more. The meal was perfect, with Hilary sitting in her uncle’s beautifully-polished carver at the head of the table, playing the part of hostess to perfection. The servants played up to her too, enjoying her small triumph as much as the child did. Even Sammy, who was more at home in an English pub with a half of bitter in one hand, made gallant noises about the food and drink and told Hilary that she had the same poise and charm as her uncle.

Hilary was highly flattered. “Lucien says I’m very like my mother,” she told him politely. “He says—” Arab caught her eye and the child choked with laughter. “But he did! He says my mother will approve of Arab—”

“I don’t believe you!” Arab said, opening her eyes very wide.

“He did! He did! And I think so too!”

Jill laughed and then she stopped. “Do you tell your uncle what Arab says too?” she asked Hilary.

The child shook her head, looking wary. “No,” she said.

Arab grinned at her. “I can breathe again!”

“Why not?” asked Jill.

Hilary took a deep breath, eyeing Arab uneasily. “Because he told me Arab wouldn’t like it!” she said with a rush. “But he doesn’t mind because he’s used to being quoted and he thinks twice before he says anything.”

“Does he indeed?” Arab said indignantly. “It’s just the sort of conceited thing he would say!”

Hilary, equally enraged, stared at her, two large tears forming in her eyes. “He isn’t conceited! He’s famous!” Arab stared back, breathing as hard as if she had been running, but slowly she forced herself to relax. “I know he is, poppet,” she conceded. “Jill has seen him on television.”

“Have you?” Hilary asked Jill, somewhat mollified.

“Once or twice,” Jill agreed.

“There!” said Hilary. “I told you he was famous!”

Sammy refused to go back with them to the National Sea Park. He had other things to do with his time, he told them, rather than look at a whole lot of fish! Hilary immediately began to tell him all about the various corals he would be missing, but Sammy refused abruptly to make any change in his plans.

“If we spent our time sight-seeing, we’d never get through the collection at all!” he grunted. “Someone has to do some work!”

Recognising the signs that Sammy preferred to be left alone, Arab and Jill neatly sidetracked Hilary into deciding which vehicle she wanted to go in, laughing at her when she decided that she wanted Arab to drive the Mini-Moke because it made more wind.

The glass-bottomed boat was a decided success with them all. A whole new world opened up before them, a world of parrot fishes, dressed in a myriad colours; striped zebra fish; pipe fish with their incredibly long snouts; and the ridiculous puffer fish who blow themselves up like a balloon at the first hint of intruders. They spent a long time watching the parrot fish nibbling at the coral, which was almost as fascinating as the fish themselves. Hilary, who had been taken out goggling in the Park by Lucien, was able to point out the various kinds of coral, the stag’s head, the brain, and the potato types, the last one growing in great mounds, amongst which the fish hid and disported themselves.

“Isn’t it terrific?” Hilary said, her face shining with excitement.

Arab nodded. “I didn’t know there were places in the world like this,” she confided. “I can’t bear the thought of going home in a couple of weeks!”

Hilary nodded her head wisely. “You’ve fallen in love with Africa. Lucien said you would.
He
did, when he first came here, and that’s why he lives here now. Mummy came first, when she married Daddy. I was born here, so naturally I prefer it.”

“Naturally,” Jill drawled. “I can see mine is a minority opinion, but personally I can’t wait to get back to England!”

Arab chuckled. “That’s because you want to get back to your husband!” she accused her.

“Could be,” Jill admitted. “But I think I really mean it. I like those changeable days and the bustle of the streets of London—”

“But you haven’t got anything like this!” Hilary claimed, horrified.

Jill smiled lazily. “This is holiday stuff!”

Hilary frowned. “But the ruined cities aren’t, and Lucien says they’re work. They’re his work, at least. He writes about them.”

“What ruined cities?” Jill murmured.

“Old Mombasa, bits of Malindi, Lamu, Pate, Siyu, Oja, or Kipini it’s called now, and even Kilifi. Lucien writes about them all.”

“What about Gedi?” Arab asked.

Hilary tried to look mysterious. “Nobody knows about Gedi,” she said. “It’s very romantic. You’d better get Lucien to tell you all about it, though, because I don’t know very much. Didn’t he say he’d take you to see it?”

Arab nodded. “I expect he’s forgotten, though,” she told herself more than the child.

“He
never
forgets!” Hilary assured her. “And if he has, I’ll remind him,” she offered handsomely. “He always goes peculiar when Aunt Sandra is around. I don’t like her.”

Arab felt she ought to protest at this simple statement, but the words died on her lips. She didn’t like Sandra Dark either.

“Come on, poppet,” she said instead. “We’ll take you home.”

“There’s no we about it!” Jill exclaimed. “You can take me back to the hotel first, thank you very much. I’ve had enough sea and sun for one day. Besides, I want to write home!”

Arab and Hilary chuckled. “I think you must be in love,” Hilary said flatly. “People always want to be on their own when they’re in love.”

“And how would you know that, honey?” Jill asked her.

Hilary wrinkled her nose in acute distaste. “Aunt Sandra is always telling me to go away and she says
she’s
in love. Not that you’re as bad as she is!” she added hastily. “She doesn’t write letters. She always wants to have Lucien to herself, though, and I like to be with him too.”

Jill and Arab exchanged glances. “What about Lucien?” Jill asked, with a mischievous look at Arab. “Does he want to be alone with Sandra?”

“Sometimes,” Hilary admitted reluctantly. “But mostly he says she interferes with his work. He doesn’t allow
anyone
to do that, because it’s very important.”

“I see,” said Jill.

The glass-bottomed boat landed them back on the beach and they thanked the man who ran it, Arab pushing a large tip into his vast black hand. He saluted them with a beaming smile, helping each one of them tenderly ashore.