The Man at Mulera (8 page)

CHAPTER THREE

F
or
some minutes nothing at all was said between them. Keith was rolling on his seat and making small sounds which showed he was completely oblivious of everything but the sleepy game he was playing. A moth battered on the windscreen and fell, and something zoomed in one window and out of the other. Ross was driving fairly fast, but presently he slowed a little.

“
Did you have fun picking fruit with the D.C.?
”
he asked mockingly.

“
Of course,
”
she returned.
“
You saw it yourself.
”

He nodded.
“
For a while you lopped about ten years off Martin. Never occurred to me the D.C. might be vulnerable.
”

“
He
’
s not. He
’
s simply nice all through.
”

“
Bless you,
”
he said with sarcasm.
“
Are you really innocent or is there a scheme budding in that flower-like head of yours? You wouldn
’
t be wondering whether Martin Craddock might have a good father for Keith, would you?
”

“
I haven
’
t got round to it yet,
”
she replied,
“
but it
’
s a thought.
”

“
He
’
s nearly twice your age and rather set in his ways. Of course, you
’
d feel
safe
with old Martin. Not much adventure but not much risk, either. He
’
d cherish you both
...”

“
Oh, stop it! It
’
s beastly to amuse yourself at Martin Craddock
’
s expense.
”

Just slightly, his tone sharpened.
“
I
’
m with Martin, not against him. While we were having tea you looked a little desperate once or twice, and desperation in young people often results in recklessness. Also, I didn
’
t much care for the fact that you
’
d kept quiet about his invitation for this afternoon. If Paula hadn
’
t mentioned it at lunch I wouldn
’
t have known.
”

“
Do you have to be told everything I do?
”

“
You know what I
’
m getting at,
”
he said blun
tl
y.

“
I don
’
t, and I don
’
t care, either. You have no authority where I
’
m concerned, none at all.
”

“
Granted, but it would have been natural for you to have told me this morning that you and Keith were having tea
with the D.C.; to most people it
’
s quite an event You can
’
t blame me if I put my own construction on your silence.
”

“
Being the man you are you
’
re bound to measure everything to your own satisfaction. I like Mr. Craddock
.”

“
You
’
ve said that before.
”

“...
but I certainly don
’
t aspire to marrying a District Commissioner,
”
she went on as if he hadn
’
t cut in.
“
If I ever ask Martin for help it will be as a friend or in his official capacity.
”

“
Good. You
’
d better stick to that.
”

Infuriated, she turned her head quickly and looked out at the black shapes of the Mulera coffee trees. She would never be able to agree with Ross on any point that mattered—never! As if it would ever have occurred to her that Martin Craddock could deliver her from the co-
g
uardianship by marrying her
!

Lou was too angry to
think
about it very clearly. She kept her head averted and did not even look at Ross when the car stopped at the bungalow and he helped them out
.
But Lou wasn
’
t permitted to follow Keith into the living-room; a lean brown hand detained her.

Ross said softly, but forcibly,
“
Nothing in the way of human relationships is impossible in these places, Louise. On the other hand, both friendships and marriages have to have a strong foundation or they
’
re likely to crack wide open. Let me make a point; yesterday, the D.C. had decided to foster a friendship between you and young Peter Whyte. Today, I notice, Peter wasn
’
t even asked to tea.
”

“
He was busy, and besides, we
’
d have been an odd number.
”

“
You wouldn
’
t
.
I took Paula home and stayed for tea. I hadn
’
t been invited.
”

“
Well, there must have been an official reason. Let
’
s forget it—please!
”

He looked at her with the characteristic smile.
“
Superficially women are quite different from each other, aren
’
t they? It
’
s in the fundamentals that they
’
re alike. They all want security—either moral or financial or both—and a touch of romance if they can get it
.
At the moment your need for security is rather stronger than the desire for kisses.
”

“
How did you reach that conclusion?
”
she demanded tartly.

“
It was easy. You want Keith all to yourself and you think the only way to get him is by marrying someone who understands your situation and whom I can
’
t possibly disapprove of.
”
His tone became tantalizing.
“
But it cuts both ways, and in this marriage business I have the advantage because you can
’
t marry till you
’
re asked, but I can propose to someone tonight, if I want to.
”

Lou heard herself saying, a little huskily,
“
Well, why don
’
t you? I
’
m sure Miss Craddock would accept.
”

His smile glittered in the darkness of the porch, his voice held the familiar touch of gentle malice.
“
Paula and I do suit each other, don
’
t we? But neither of us is in a hurry, and there
’
s a good deal to be said for delicious uncertainty. I
’
m sure you agree.
”

She made to pass him and he pushed the door open. Without looking back she said,
“
I
’
m quite accustomed to locking up now. There
’
s really no need for you to come down and try the doors every night
.
”

“
Think of it,
”
he said coolly.
“
That
’
s the sort of chap I am. Goodnight.
”

For the rest of that evening Lou felt ragged. Indeed, several days passed before she slipped back into her usual cheerful mood, and even then her
op
timism
was far more cautious than it had ever been before.

There were slight changes in the routine. Previously, Ross had looked in alone at odd times of the day, but now he was invariably accompanied by Paula Craddock—whether by accident or design Lou could not tell. Certainly Paula talked as if it were natural that she and Ross should often be together, but Lou could not reconcile the fact with what she knew of him. Ross liked to concentrate during working hours, and while he was his own manager he had plenty to do. Yet it did seem that he wanted Paula to be present when he saw Keith; one day he even carried the child away for a drive with the two of them. Lou had a rather tense time of it while they were gone, but Keith returned breezily to the haven, and nothing was changed.

Lou heard details of the party to be held at Ross Gilmore
’
s house. It was to be a lavish affair in garden and living-room, with Paula as hostess. As Ross had negligently mentioned, it would be a good opportunity for Lou to meet everyone. Lou felt, sinkingly, that she would rather stay unknown.

Then suddenly, on the day before the party, there was rain—torrents of it. And the day became memorable to Lou for two reasons.

The first concerned Keith. Rain kept
him
indoors and from sheer boredom he pencilled a dozen shaky lines on the wal
l.
Lou made him help her to erase them and then gave him a sheet of her own notepaper. He scrawled indecipherably till, with studied carelessness, she showed
him
how she taught children to form the alphabet. Before he knew it, Keith was laboriously making letters in an exercise book, and after lunch he copied a ship from one of his old picture books. And to complete the capitulation he allowed Lou to read to
him
in bed from one of his own selections of fairy tales!

Lou was so thankful that after she had left
him
she stared out into the sodden darkness with
s
hining
eyes. Her own idea had worked. Occasionally during the past few days she had told him about the children she taught and encouraged him to laugh at their exploits. There had been the
“
little boy who looks very like you, Keith,
”
and twin girls who invariably brought date sandwiches for lunch. Keith had been faintly roused, and Lou had calculated that at this rate it would take at least three weeks to get
him
interested in lessons. But the rain—one of those unexpected days of storm that happened in Nyasaland dry season— had swe
p
t away the whole softening-up process. When the sun shone Keith might not be so keen to learn, but the first step had been accomplished. Lou felt that from now on she could be firmer with
him.

It was still teeming with rain when she had supper, and because it was so much cooler she went to bed and lay there reading with the rain-laden air sweeping between the curtains into the room. She heard a car swish round the drive, and the usual sounds of door handles being tried. For a moment, she rather longed to open one of the doors and invite him in for a drink; but it passed, the car waded away again and there was nothing but the rain pelting on leaves and gurgling from the overflow pipe of one of the tanks. Ross must have seen her light but he hadn
’
t even bothered to call goodnight

After that, reading was difficult. Lou got up and made some coffee, carried it into the living-room and filled a cup. She was sipping and staring rather disconsolately at nothing when a rapping sound drew her to the door.

A visitor—in such weather? Or perhaps an African with a message. But a message from whom? The sound came again, more sharply, and rather breathlessly she switched on the outside light, slid the bolt and turned the key. She opened the door and gazed blankly at the man who stood there in the porch, covered by the thatch from the
rain
but dripping from every point of his person.

He was tallish and slimly built, and wore an old trench coat that was black with rain. His looks, Lou felt, were unimportant on such a night.

He gave her a weary smile.
“
I
’
m human—just about
.
The name is Greg Allwyn. May I come in?
”

She stood aside, clutching her dressing-gown tightly below her throat.
“
I think you
’
d better. Take off your coat and leave it just inside the door. Would you like some coffee?
”

He looked at her, gave a tired laugh.
“
You sound like England. May I have a spot of whisky in it?
”

“
I think there
’
s a little.
”
Lou poured, watching him.
“
Have you been ill?
”

“
Not desperately—just a bit seedy.
”

“
Should you be out on a night like this?
”

Again, in spite of himself, he grinned.
“
You
’
re a real breath of home, and unusual with it I turn up in the middle of nowhere and you treat it as if I
’
ve taken shelter on my way up the street
.
This is quite near the Mulera plantation, isn
’
t it?
”