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Authors: Kathryn Blair

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BOOK: The Primrose Bride
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Karen, young and hurt and horribly bewildered, wondered what she could possibly offer to the sophisticated Rita. She herself was so badly in need of safety and peace of heart.


She

s thirty,

she said.

She

s not likely to tell me her innermost feelings. Maybe it

s the move to Hong Kong that excites her.

Soon after that Mrs. Mears went home. Karen leafed lethargically through a couple of magazines, paused to be
thankful
that already her foot felt almost healthy, and walked slowly out into the breathless heat of the garden. It was strange how still it could be beside the sea. Today even the palms drooped their fronds dejectedly, and the sea merely whispered as it crept over the sand; the lagoon was like molten glass. A lizard darted across the path; a papaya fell with a heavy clunk into the thick growth under the trees. It was too hot to move, and with relief she reentered the house and sank into a chair.

And inevitably she thought of Andrew, who had the gaunt strength of an eagle, who was kind and mocking and, in spite of everything, very dear. He frightened her

she had to admit that—and he angered her as she had never been angered before. But last night in this room—that look in his face when she shrank ever so slightly from his touch; the harsh rasp of his breath, the tightness of his voice. Had there been a ... a sort of pleading in him? Andrew
...
pleading? It wasn

t possible. The grey eyes, in spite of the tautly smiling mouth, had glittered a warning.

From
where she sat she saw his books arranged on the shelves; technical stuff, best-selling biographies—no fiction, except the few novels he had bought for her in England. There was nothing in this house that would add to her knowledge of the man she had married.

Here in Nemaka, both of them had changed. Karen had withdrawn into herself and hardened. And Andrew
?
Wistfully she remembered how she had regarded him in England. A very masculine face, often amused in expression but unrevealing. His vitality had excited in her a sweet and innocent response, and the very thought of marriage had created in her a sort of delirium. And now all that was gone. She could contemplate the future only with dread.

She felt nervous tears in her throat and against her eyelids. How would this appalling muddle end? Would she ever be able to persuade herself to accept second-best? Karen thought not.

Anai had come to set the table for lunch when Tony Horwe
l
l appeared. He carried some papers, but apparently they were only a cover, for he put them on a chair as he greeted her. Karen sent the servant for ice and told Tony to help himself to a drink.


One for you, too?

he asked.


Just lime and soda with a cube of ice. Nice of you to call, Tony.


I knew Andrew was out. He smiled.

Sounds terrible, doesn

t it? But I

ve been hoping to see you alone. I did a bit of detective work on Camilla Marchant—and discovered nothing. She may have been unpleasant to you, but I wouldn

t say she

s dangerous. One false move and she could lose her father

s whole business. She wouldn

t do that.

Karen accepted this in silence. At last she asked, very quietly,

You think Andrew was really in love with her, don

t you?


Good heavens, no,

he said ho
tl
y. Then, meeting her dark, sceptical glance:

I had no definite reason for thinking it. They danced well together, looked good together and seemed to enjoy each other, but probably most of the feeling was on Camilla

s side. When Andrew helped them to avoid a court case she was naturally full of relief and gratitude, but I

m certain the fact that everyone up here dropped the Marchants made her furious. Then Andrew went on leave.


You think she didn

t know of the rumors about him

that he

d had instructions to marry?

she asked evenly.

Tony winced visibly.

Karen, don

t think of that. I

d do anything to atone for shooting off about it on the doctor

s veranda that first night.


It didn

t matter. I

ve heard it since, in different ways. Now that I

m used to it I ... I might have got over it if it hadn

t been for Camilla. Tony,

her voice caught but her tones were fairly steady,

there

s no one else at all that I can speak to about this. I ... I happen to know that Andrew is still in love with her.

He looked distressed but not shocked.

Don

t believe
Camilla. A
nd for pity

s sake don

t keep reminding yourself that Andrew

s career always comes first with him. I

ll guarantee that if he had to choose between you and promotion, his job wouldn

t get a look in.

It sounded a bit hollow, even with Tony

s sincerity behind it, but Karen left it there. She couldn

t tell him that she had seen Andrew unmasked and in pain, that close to
him Camilla’s
scarf had lain where he had dropped it, that the scarf had disappeared and she had forced herself to look for it in his bedroom. And that she had found it tacked into the top drawer of his dressing chest along with the photograph which had once stood on top. Her second examination of the figures in the photograph had shown her people she now knew; the Rawlings, Mr. Bingham and
Camilla
Marchant standing close to Andrew. Hating herself for snooping, hating Andrew for what he had done to her, she had carefully replaced things as she had found them and crept away.


Will you stay and have lunch with me?

sh
e asked.


I hadn

t better,

he said regretfully, standing up.

I

d like to invite you out fishing this afternoon for a breath of air, but I hadn

t better
do that,
either.

He picked up his papers, tapped them.

My alibi for calling while Andrew

s away; they
can
easily wait till Monday morning at the office. I may see
you
this evening—there

s a general invitation
to
the McLennans.

She nodded.

Goodbye, Tony. Thanks for coming.

Presently she had a salad and some fruit, and after it she rested in the oppressive heat of the veranda. Insects droned monotonously, the sinister whispering still came
from the waves and an oc
c
asional parakeet squawked among the trees, but otherwise the whole island seemed comatose. There was not even a lazy laugh from the servants in the vicinity.

Then, soon after three, people began drifting past the house towards the beach. Karen sat up and was hailed.


Come on down,

Mrs. Coppard called.

We

re bathing!

Karen waved that she would follow, but she decided she hadn

t better wet the foot today. She got into a lime-colored sun frock, found her dark glasses and strolled out with scarcely a limp to join a couple who were also on their way to the sea. Rita and Clive Vaughan were close behind, and Karen found herself speculating upon their marriage; but it was too hot to draw conclusions.

She lay on sand under a tree, and when others tried to persuade her to bathe she said she might go down later; she felt too slack at the moment. Some took a dip, others lounged and talked desultorily, and by four o

clock they were pouring tea and eating a variety of little cakes culled from various homes.

Rita, as usual, ate nothing. She sat next to Karen, smoking and looking enigmatic as she talked in low tones.

The theme of her monologue was:

Do I get tired of traipsing down here eve
r
y weekend with this bunch! Clive laps it up, and I feel as if one day I

ll do something shocking, just to shake him. Maybe I

ll do more than shake
him
up.

She asked,

Why don

t we go for another trip on Monday, Karen? When there are two of you, you can

t do anything. Alone, one has to be so careful.


I

ll let you know. Why don

t you find a hobby, or something?


I

ve got one, honey.

She winked.

You

d be surprised.


Not telling anyone?


Who would I tel
l
—the husband
?
Clive thinks I should take an interest in his trees or do embroidery.

She laughed.

What do you think of this play suit?

The shorts were cream, the top was striped green and cream and red.

Nifty,

Karen commented.

They don

t sell them here. Did you make it
?


No.

But Rita liked mysteries, even unimportant ones, and she said no more about the gay suit.

What about sloping off with me now? Anything is better than sitting with this deadly crew.

Then she looked up the beach.

No dice. Here comes your spouse.

He came at a long leisurely stride through the sand. He wore trunks and a tropical shirt, looked bronzed and smiling as he approached.


Run and greet him, Karen,

teased Mrs. Coppard.

He

s been away all day. We shan

t mind.

Karen shook her head and smiled, conscious that they would place their own construction on the sudden color in her face. Andrew dropped down at her side; calmly, still smiling, he lightly kissed her temple.


Sorry I couldn

t get back earlier,

he said.

The Old Man gave up his siesta to talk taxes, so I hadn

t much option but to stay. Had a bathe yet?


No. You go ahead.


I

m in no hurry. I

ll wait for you.


Some tea, Andrew?

asked Mrs. Coppard.

The cake tin is just there, to your right.


Thanks.

He took the cup, turned to Clive Vaughan.

The Governor says the district officer on Malu is anxious to get a new acreage under forestry. They

ve cleared and are afraid of the jungle creeping up if it isn

t planted soon. I think Sir Wallace will ask you to go over there for three months.


How charming,

said Rita sweetly.

Three white men and one white woman. You

ll like that, Clive. What is she like—the wife of the district officer?

It was Andrew who answered, pleasantly but with a little iron in his tones.

She

s motherly—not your type, Rita. There

s a very good visitors

house—I

ve stayed in it myself—and Malu is well known as a rest center for various groups of islands in the South Seas. The white population is small, but it changes constantly. You might find it interesting.


I doubt it,

said Rita.

I shan

t put it to the test.

BOOK: The Primrose Bride
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