Authors: Rosalind Brett
The wedding hour was noon and guests had been invited for eleven-thirty. Terry, already wearing her own frock and helping Annette into hers, heard the people arriving, and Mr. Winchester
’
s
suave
welcoming voice. You could tell, by the softening of his tones, when he greeted a Malay. Annette, appraising herself in the long mirror, had become almost annoyingly calm. The gown was simple and rich,
a
beautiful fit, the headdress sat like a small coronet upon her gleaming red-gold hair, and the veil hung like starched gossamer. She had only to smile to look radiant, and when Mr. Winchester knocked and asked if she was ready for him, the smile appeared. Annette was putting on a great show, only this time it wasn
’
t so much for the audience as for Vic Hilton.
Terry
’
s throat was full as she slipped out of the room and into the lounge. Before taking her place she saw the minister against a bank of flowers, two seas of brown and white faces with an aisle dividing them. She looked across at Vic and saw that he smiled, though his jaw was tense. Roger, a nonchalant best man, half
close
d an eye at her and looked solemn. In silence, the room full of people waited three minutes. And then came the bride.
You have to experience the wedding service in a tropical house to get that odd sensation which is a blend of fact and unreality. The words were old and beautiful, the minister was dignified and benign, but exotic scents pervaded the room—perfume of the flowers in the bowls and from the sweet jasmine which the Malay women wore in their hair—and the eyes was continually caught by the lizards which darted after insects on the walls. Gusts of hot air came through the square, and though the day was brilliant, the warning drums of thunder reverb
e
rated through the palms.
The service was over, there were kisses and good wishes, the signing and witnessing and more good wishes. No one, watching Annette as she stood beside Vic and received congratulations from brown people in lovely sarongs and white people in conventional dress, would have guessed that she had not eaten for three days and only last night had looked like death. Her light blue eyes were clear and sparkling, her fingers twined with Vic
’
s and she wore the gown more proudly than she had ever worn anything in her life. Terry was both choked and enchanted. She closed her eyes to capture the moment for re-telling to Elizabeth and Father in her letter, and then she opened them and looked straight at Pete Sternham.
His mouth was sardonic.
“
Yes, I
’
m here again,
”
he said,
“
and once more by invitation. Your sister herself asked me, when she came to my house. Remember that day? Something rather more important cropped up for you, I believe.
”
She swallowed, said politely,
“
Hallo. It was a lovely service, wasn
’
t it?
”
“
I thought so.
”
He paused, and she wondered, drowningly if he was recalling that other sketchy ceremony in the jungle village. Apparently he wasn
’
t.
“
You look very cool, and remote as a fairy. And a bit tired, if I may say so. Been having late nights?
”
“
Not particularly.
”
A sort of panic seemed to clutch at the base of her throat.
“
Have you spoken to my sister and Vic?
”
“
Not yet—I was out on the veranda, a late arrival
.
They
’
re surrounded at the moment.
”
“
I
’
ll get you a drink,
”
she said.
“
Don
’
t bother. I
’
m not more thirsty than the other guests.
”
He sounded cold and impersonal.
“
Seeing that you find me upsetting, I
’
ll congratulate the happy couple and get going. I wouldn
’
t want to spoil your sister
’
s wedding day for you.
”
“
You
’
re not spoiling anything,
”
she said unhappily.
“
I just didn
’
t expect you.
”
“
No? Your sister would hardly have invited me without telling you.
”
“
She ... she hasn
’
t been well.
”
His voice took an edge.
“
What
’
s the matter with you? Today you
’
re getting just what you came for, aren
’
t you?
”
“
I
’
m afraid it
’
s been a little hectic. Things will settle down after Annette has gone away.
”
“
I understand she wants you to be here when she gets back. It
’
ll be nice for you—living in the same house with pretty-boy Roger. In about a month you should have a good idea of whether you
’
ll be able to stick him for the rest of your life.
”
In low tones, she said,
“
You seem to disapprove of everything connected with me. It
’
s not really your business, you know.
”
“
You
’
re right. Why should I get angry with a girl who ignores my invitation? Maybe I was disappointed in you.
”
“
If so, it
’
s not the first time. You
...
you said you wouldn
’
t come here again.
”
“
This time I had to or send you a note and get some sort of reply,
”
he said with a shrug.
“
Old Bretherton, the solicitor, has been away for a few days. He got back
last night and sent me a message. He
’
s coming to my house for dinner tonight, and suggested that you be there. The old chap has no idea how the world outside this country has changed, and he still goes in for ritual. I suppose he can see himself burning that damned certificate in front of us and drinking champagne to celebrate it.
”
She looked down at the posy of camellias she still held.
“
I
’
d rather not come, if you don
’
t mind.
”
“
What if I do mind?
”
Her eyelids flickered, but she did not lift her head.
“
You
’
ve been kind to me, so I
’
d have to come, I suppose.
”
“
Thanks for nothing at all,
”
he said brusquely.
“
I
’
ll call for you at seven-thirty. Tell your sister I came, will you? I
’
ll wish her well some other time.
”
He strode through the groups as if he hadn
’
t even seen them, disappeared down the veranda steps. Quivering a little, Terry turned to speak to an exquisitely dressed Malay woman who smiled gently over the rim of her coffee cup. Roger joined Terry, insisted on best man
’
s privilege and then helped to dispense drinks and savories. Muted music came from the gramophone in the
corner
, there was much polite talk and laughter, a cheer as Vic and Annette cut the iced cake which was sweetly decorated with tiny natural flowers. By two o
’
clock, more than half of the guests had gone. The rest stayed on, to watch the bride and groom
’
s departure.
As she changed from the white into a pale green linen suit, Annette talked cheerfully to Vida and Terry. Not once since awakening this morning had she mentioned her
“
indisposition
”
of the last three days; perhaps, in the excitement of this most important day of her life, she had really forgotten it. It was just as she was ready to leave the bedroom that she said to Terry,
“
I
’
m counting on finding you here when I get back, darling. Don
’
t forget that!
”
“
I
’
ll keep her here,
”
Vida promised.
“
We may even make a bridge player of her!
”
“
Yes, do.
”
Annette put an arm about Terry
’
s shoulder and hugged her.
“
I wish you
’
d marry Roger and stay here for good—or at least as long as I may have to stay myself. You
’
re so nice to have around.
”
If Annette had called her a comfort, Terry would have screamed. But she was able to laugh a little instead. Vida was at Annette
’
s other side as they entered the lounge.
Vic, looking more normal in a well pressed khaki drill suit, smiled his relief at Terry. Goodbyes and thanks were said, the two were showered with rice as they got into the car, and when it moved away an old shoe and an empty fruit can bounded in the dust. They were gone, the rest of the guests dispersed, and only the Winchesters, Roger and Terry were left amid the litter.
Vida looked about her with comical dismay.
“
I can
’
t face it,
”
she said.
“
I
’
m going to bed.
”
“
I
’
m going along to the office for an hour or two,
”
her husband said.
“
Care to drive me down, Roger?
”
Unwillingly, but with a smile, Roger obliged. Terry was left feeling forlorn and a little hopeless. She and one of the servants cleared the room and set everything back where it belonged. The borrowed goods were returned to their owners, the flowers, except Annette
’
s bouquet, were sent to other houses. T
h
e french doors were closed against heat and a gathering storm, the veranda, furniture pushed into a
corner
where it could not get wet
.
The house was back to normal, but minus Annette.
Terry had never felt so lonely as she did during the next few hours. The storm broke and swept over Penghu in a deluge. The rain ceased and left a sulphurous haze which merged with early darkness. The men came in and had drinks, Vida entered the room, but had lost her usual flair for conversation.
As she said herself,
“
I believe we
’
re all worn out. We
’
ll go to bed early tonight.
”
With an effort Terry said,
“
I may not be able to. Mr. Sternham has invited me out to his place for dinner.
”
“
Good heavens,
”
said Roger.
“
Why should he do that?
”
“
Why shouldn
’
t he?
”
remarked Vida equably.
“
I saw him talking to you, Terry. Perhaps he thought you might be feeling a little lost and in need of a change.
”
“
I
’
ll go with you,
”
stated Roger.
Again it was Vida who answered him.
“
You won
’
t if you
’
re not invited, my boy. It will do Terry good to get away from us for an evening.
”
“
From me?
”
demanded the young man, in astonishment.
“
Especially from you. Too much of one young man can be oppressive. Sorry, Roger, but it
’
s true. What time will Mr. Sternham be sending for you, Terry?
”
“
He said he
’
d be coming himself, at seven-thirty.
”
“
Then you
’
d better go and change. Take a drink with you. It
’
s rather cosy to sip something while you
’
re getting ready.
”
Vida, Terry was to discover, had a knack of friendliness which had not been
very
noticeable while Annette was in the house. Now Mrs. Winchester smilingly poured the iced gin and orange and put it into her hand.
Terry got into a pink flowery cotton which had straps over the shoulders and fitted snugly over her slender hips. She brushed her hair till it formed soft waves behind her ears, and made up carefully. If she could only acquire a serene air, a look of indolence and relaxation, it wouldn
’
t matter how taut she might be underneath. She had to go through with it anyway, so why not do it easily; tension only made one unsure of oneself.
By the time Pete showed up, looking surprisingly debonair in a light suit and with the rough dark hair coerced into sleekness, Terry was able to smile at him, and at the others as she said good night to them. She got into the car, and when it was moving looked up at the Winchesters
’
veranda, where Roger stood, sombrely gazing after them.
Pete had seen him too, for he said,
“
Glowers a bit, doesn
’
t he? A spoiled brat?
”
“
Slightly,
”
she heard herself answer, quite lightly,
“
but engaging for all that. Do we pick up Mr. Bretherton?
”
“
No, he prefers to drive out himself, in an elderly Morris. He believes
‘
in dinner at eight-thirty, and he
’
ll arrive promptly at eight-fifteen.
”
“
Are we to be the only guests?
”
“
Naturally. Our business is private—remember?
”
“
So it
’
s merely a
’
business appointment?
”
she said, surprised at the way her heart was easing in his presence.
“
That rather
...
clears the air, doesn
’
t it?
”
“
Oh, sure,
”
with irony.
“
When it
’
s purely business we know where we are. Are you feeling better?
”