The Primrose Bride (30 page)

CHAPTER
TEN

Andrew e
ntered the house at his usual stride, b
u
t he looked tired as he dropped an almost empty briefcase on to a chair and poured a drink. It had been a long, wearing afternoon, but he had had no option but to go through with it, disposing of as much of next week
’
s work as was practicable in advance. The two or three hours at the Residency had been more of a grind than he
’
d ever known before, but there again, it had been necessary if he was to be absolutely free for a while. And heaven knew a period of complete freedom from his job had become imperative.

That look in her face, the despair in her tones. Worse the hatred of his touch. If only she
’
d let herself see the sense of their getting away from Government Town; but she
’
d changed so much that nothing really got through to her. She just would not give in. And God, how he loathed those scenes, her pain and stubbornness.

He went to the table and lifted a cover, looked with distaste at the cold chicken and salad, and dropped the cover back into place. The servants were off, of course, but he wasn
’
t hungry. He
’
d take a shower, and maybe they
’
d have some coffee together. But for the love of Mike, no more vitriol. He
’
d had enough. Even a suffocating silence was more bearable.

He passed her door, saw the light under it and hesitated, as he had hesitated many times before. She must know he was in, and it wasn
’
t like her to shut herself away before bedtime. Still, that had been quite a spat this afternoon? she
’
d worked herself up for it and hadn
’
t looked too well afterwards. Molly Mears
’
note to him at the Residency had been reassuring, but it was possible Karen had put on
a determined show of normality for the doctor
’
s wife. She must feel as raw as he did.

He went back and tapped on the door.
“
Are you all right, Karen?
”

No reply; but she always said something, if it was only
“
Leave me alone
”
, he thought with weary cynicism. He opened the door, saw that the room was empty and at once looked into the bathroom and the kitchen.

“
Karen!
”
he called sharply along the corridor.

Even to the unfanciful Andrew the house seemed to give back a sinister echo. He went down into the garden and saw the small car was gone, felt a chill run along his spine but ignored it. He strode back to her room, flung open the wardrobe. Nothing missing, so far as he could tell; and then the chill moved and gripped his heart. He
’
d bought most of her clothes, so she wouldn
’
t take them, would she? Valiant, her head in the air, penniless
...
that was the way she
’
d plan to leave. But she
’
d have to use the car he
’
d supplied because she had no other
mean
of transport.

“
I
’
ll do something drastic ... I mean it, Andrew.
”

The color had gone from under his tan, leaving his face sallow, his eyes very dark. He got into the big car and set it moving, swung left and shot along the length of Government Road and over the hill towards the quay. He met the crowds and they parted for him; the Governor and Tuan Eliot could always be certain of a fairly quick passage through any throng. He stopped at the back of the quay, shouldered his way to the little brick office of the harbormaster. The place was locked, as he had expected, but the old Nemaka official was close by, looking slightly peculiar in festive gear—a bright sarong and a white headcloth.

“
Lim Nai!
”
he called abruptly.
“
At what time did the
Vesica
pull out?
”

“
On the tide tuan. It would be fifteen minutes past six.
”

“
Any trouble of any kind? Anything unusual?
”

“
I do not think so, tuan, but there were so many people here I cannot be sure. Nothing was reported.
”

“
Did they take passengers?
”

“
I do not know, tuan.
”

Andrew nodded and turned to go back. If he hadn
’
t been head and
s
houlders above the islanders he wouldn
’
t have seen the small car tucked away at the
corner
where the road met the waterfront, but he did see it, and within seconds he had clea
r
ed a way for himself and was looking into the empty interior of the car. That emptiness was so shockingly final that for a moment he couldn
’
t move. Only for a moment, though.

He got back to his own car, slid behind the wheel and started the engine. He arrowed his way through the crowd and up on to the road, driving automatically while his brain worked out what he must do. The government
launch
was fast, but the guard would not release it without an official permit. And the permit would have to be on government paper. The thing was easy enough—his own signature would suffice—but the offices were closed and getting hold of keys would take time. Far better to go home and write out something; there
’
d be a sheet of official paper in his desk, or something that might do instead. As soon as the launch was moving they could contact the
Vesica
by radio; it could be stopped anywhere in these waters by government order.

He trod hard on the accelerator, and for the first time in his years of colonial service he damned the red tape that demanded a permit for one to follow one
’
s wife and bring her back.

He braked precipitately on his own drive and ran into the house. He was halfway through the living room before he saw the crumpled little handkerchief on the rug, the forlorn muddy tracks of small sandals across the polished floor. He stopped suddenly, felt a sick relief that made him press a hand to his eyes for a minute. Then he went on, through the passage. Her room door was wide open, the room empty, but on the floor lay a dress which looked as if it had been dragged through a swamp. And from the bat
hroom
came the searing murmur of muted weeping. The sound was unbearable, and he took a grip on himself before pushing the door wide open.

She sat on a stool, drying feet from which she had washed the mud, and she wept as a quiet little girl might, helplessly but without using a handkerchief. She was pale, and the tears ran off the tip of her nose as she b
ent
.

She became aware of him and her movements ceased for an instant. Then she drew the housecoat closer about her, turned her head from him and hastily flicked a finger across her eyes. The gesture was youthful and infinitely touching.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
she managed, with admirable coolness though her voice was throaty.
“
I was just getting ready for bed. I
’
ll clear away the wet towels and bring fresh ones.
”

He didn
’
t lift her to her feet, but waited till she stood up. Then he put
the
handkerchief from his top pocket into her hand, and very gently he held her stiffening shoulders and looked down at her.

“
I
’
ve been dreading and longing to hear you cry,
”
he said.
“
I used to listen at night, hoping to hear tears of defeat—
w
hat you would call defeat. If I
’
d heard
them
I
’
d have come to you, Karen; I
’
d have had to. No, don
’
t try to get away. We
’
re beyond that now. You
’
ve nothing to fear from me; you must know that.
”

“
I
...
I
’
m very tired.
”

“
I know you
’
re whacked, but that fighting mood you were in at lunch-time is no good to either of us. We
’
ve got to get things straight, and the way you are now is the best time to do it. It might help you a little to know that you
’
re not the only one who
’
s been through hell—only yours was a different kind from mine, and at no time did you have to face the peculiar and terrible fear that I might run out on you.
”

Very slightly, she raised her head.
“
I shan
’
t do anything like that. I wouldn
’
t, even if it were easy to get away. It wouldn
’
t be fair.
”

“
Thanks. That
’
s a very good reason.
”
He suppressed
th
e sardonic note in his voice, and said,
“
This isn
’
t the best place for a talk, is it? I don
’
t suppose you had any dinner?
”

“
I
’
m not a bit hungry. I did put out some supper for you, though, and the coffee is ready in the percolator. You only have to switch on.
”

“Let’s
both switch on, shall we? Karen!
”
as she tried to slip from his hold; to keep her there he had to tighten his fingers.
“
This had to come and you can
’
t evade it by locking yourself in your room. At the very least, I
’
ve a right to know what
’
s been happening this evening.
”

“
This evening?
”
she echoed, her head still bent. Then she must have realized that he had seen the ruined frock.
“
I
...
went for a walk.
”

“
I want it from the beginning. This isn
’
t my first time home, you know. I arrived half an hour ago.
”

A pause, while it penetrated.
“
I didn
’
t know that. I ... I suppose you saw the car was gone.
”

“
That you were gone too,
”
he said.
“
Where were you?
”

“I
went for a drive and was caught fast in the festival crowd. So I had to leave the car and walk back.
”

In spite of the iron control he was imposing on himself, Andrew
’
s voice sharpened. He dropped one hand and with the other grasped her elbow.
“
Come into the living room. We have to get this quite clear, and I can see that even your tears weren
’
t really the answer—for me, anyway.
”

She walked beside him on bare feet, a small figure in a thin blue housecoat. Her lashes were still wet, but the tear-stains were fading, leaving her pale and resigned-looking. But she wasn
’
t quite subdued enough to sink into the chair he placed for her. She stood beside the table, her hands clasping her arms within the loose sleeves, mandarin
-
fashion.

“
I don
’
t mind your knowing exactly what happened,
”
she said in a colorless voice.
“
I
’
m quite sure you won
’
t say anything to Clive Vaughan.
”

“
Vaughan! What, for the love of heaven, has he to do with us?
”

“
It was Rita. You see
...
”
Baldly, she told him all the facts she could remember, and finished,
“
Perhaps it was rather juvenile, but I always had the feeling that in
chasing
after that man Rita was trying to prove something
—
possibly to herself. When
...
when I saw her through the window a little-while ago, I was sure she
’
d succeeded.
”

His jaw was hard as he demanded,
“
What in the world made you feel you were responsible for Rita Vaughan?
She
’
s Clive
’
s headache, not yours. You should have told him what you suspected and let him go on from there.
You
,”
he reiterated,
“
a young, unsuspecting stranger, to be saddled with that sordid business. And to tramp all the way from the quay in the dark. I
’
ve never heard anything like it in my life!
”

“
You must say nothing to Clive,
”
she said, more quickly.
“
I took it on myself to go down there, and neither Clive nor Rita knows about it. I don
’
t want them ever to know.
”

“
A
n
d what about me? How do you suppose I felt when I got here and you
’
d gone heaven knew where? To me there was only one answer. If you remember, you threatened round lunch-time to do something drastic. I thought you
’
d heard the
Vesica
was leaving and managed to get them to give you a passage!
”

The blue-green eyes wide and shadowed, she stared at him.
“
But how could you think a thing like that of me? I was terribly sorry even when I put you in the position of having to ask Dr. Wilmot why I
’
d attended the hospital. Did you really think I
’
d just escape, without a word
?
”

“
My dear girl, the way we are I could think anything. I went straight down to the quay and found your car. The
Vesi
c
a
had gone, and so had you. I had every reason to think the worst. I came back here to write out a permit for the use of the government launch. I was co
ming
after you.
”
There was still a curb on his anger, but just faintly his teeth snapped.
‘
As it happens, it was lucky we
’
re sticklers for red tape where government property is concerned. Otherwise I
’
d have been out at sea by now!
”

“
You can
’
t really blame me for your own thoughts, can you?
”
she said with a dreary little shrug.
“
By something drastic I meant
...
perhaps I
’
d go to Lady Prichard and tell her you ... we
’
re not suited.
”

“
Oh, for Pete
’
s sake,
”
he clipped out, hollowly, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Quite a long moment passed before he spoke again.
“
I suppose back there in the bathroom you were weeping romantic tears for Rita Vaughan?
”

“
No,
”
huskily.
“
While I was cleaning the leaves from my legs I just began to cry.
”