Seven for a Secret (40 page)

“Rather unexpected, I fear,” said Mrs. Fraser.

“I thought it easier to come than write. I’ve booked our passage on the Star of the Seas. She sails at the beginning of next month, so there’s not a lot of time to lose.”

1 was grateful for the presence of Sibyl Fraser. She was a light-hearted companion-the best I could have had at that time. She was, as she said, determined to look after me, because her dearest friend Ronald Hammond had asked her to.

“I would do anything for Ronnie,” she declared.

“Just anything. Not that this is an onerous task, dear. Far from it. I love to be with you, and it is nice to have an excuse for going to see my Bertie.”

I had learned her history in a very short time, for she talked continuously, mainly about herself, which suited my mood.

She had been a great success during her London season. Debutante of the Year, they had called her.

“Of course, dear, I was much, much younger then. They had expected me to marry a duke, an earl perhaps, a baronet at least. But it was my Bertram Fraser 1 fell in love with-a rough diamond, but a 24-carat one. My dear, he

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Niii ilHI was very rlc ‘“deed. It was due to gold-mining in Australia. He owned several mines and I was happy to go out there with him. A disappointment for them at home who had hoped for a coronet, but the money made up for a good deal.”

“It sounds very satisfactory,” I said.

“Oh my dear, it was. But then life’s what you make it, 1 always said. I had my Bertram and very soon young Bertie put in an appearance. What more could a woman ask for? It was wonderful for me after what I had had in the past. We were of a good family but it was always scrape, scrape, scrape to keep up appearances and then, there I was! I only had to want something and it was mine.”

“A great compensation for the loss of your coronet,” I said.

“Exactly! Particularly as one of them they had in mind for me was a disagreeable old man of fifty. We were happy, Bertram and I, and then he got himself killed. It was in one of his mines. He’d gone down to see something and the thing collapsed on him. He left his fortune to Bertie and me. I was heartbroken, but I wasn’t the sort to go about moping. I’d lost Bertram, but I’d got my little Bertie.”

“And your fortune,” I reminded her.

“That’s so, dear. We had lived in Melbourne to be near the mines, but we had a place in Sydney and I moved there. It suited me better. I travelled a bit. It was on a trip to Egypt when I met your father.

That was about six years after Bertram’s death. We became friends . very good friends, and we’ve kept it up ever since. It was always a pleasure when we met and we did meet through the years . here and there. A good friend is always a good friend. Then I got this letter.

I knew he’d gone blind and that Karia was looking after him. He’d met her in Egypt. She’s a good sort. Does everything for him, doesn’t she?

Even writes his letters for him. Well, he’ll always find someone who wants to look after him. I would have done it myself. “

“He is very fortunate to have such good friends.”

“He’s that sort. I knew he had a daughter. I used to talk to him about Bertie. Bertie went to school in England and made a lot of friends there, went round visiting, met his wife and stayed there. All very natural. He didn’t want to go in for gold-mining. And I didn’t want him to, after what happened to his father. So he’s settled there with his wife and family. Yes, I’m a grandmother, only don’t tell anybody, will you? I go and see them when I can. This is a good excuse. When I’ve taken you to your home I shall go and stay with Bertie and his family.”

“It’s very kind of you to do all this for my father.”

“I’d do a lot more for him. He’s one of the best. We all loved him, so he must be.”

“Yes, I think he must be.”

“And I’m doing this for myself too.”

It was an emotional farewell between my father and myself. We had stayed up late on the night before the ferry which was to take us to Cato Cato came in.

My father grew very sentimental. He told me how happy my visit had made him, how all through the years he had thought of me. Before he had left home, he had stood by my cot.

“You were a most beautiful child. I could scarcely bear to leave you. Sophie dear Sophie she kept in touch all those years. I was so pleased when you went to her.”

“I think you should have gone back to her,” I told him.

“She would have forgiven you for turning from her in the first place.”

“No. I wasn’t good enough for Sophie. It was better as it was.”

“Perhaps I shall come out and see you some time.”

“With your husband. I should so enjoy that. It is my dearest wish now.”

When the ferry carried us away, he stood on the shore. I knew that in his mind’s eye he would have a picture of

32. the scene. He would visualize my standing there, sad to leave him, yet eager to be going to my lover.

Karia was there beside him. I saw her hand on his, a gesture which told me she would take care of him as long as he needed her. She it was who had written those letters to Sophie since he had been unable to, copying his hand writing because she would understand that he did not want Sophie to know of his infirmity. She had taken care of him in every possible way and she would go on doing so.

Tamarisk was there. She was a little reproachful. She had not wanted me to go.

“Wait a while,” she had said.

“We have not been here so very long.”

I pointed out that we had been away from home for a very long time.

“I can’t go yet, Fred,” she said.

“You understand that.”

“I understand you and you must understand why I have to go.”

She pouted in the old familiar way and I did wonder then how long the island would continue to be of interest to her.

There were others on the shore; the Havers were there with Luke and the boy Jaco. Indeed, most of the children on the island were there.

Of course, they came to see the departure of the ferry boat, but I think the crowds were even more than usual on that day.

A sadness crept over me when the island was no longer visible. I felt that a little part of my life had gone for ever, and when I looked back on that strange interlude it seemed like a dream.

The next day we were at Cato Cato where we spent two nights in the hotel in which I had stayed before.

Sibyl Fraser was a knowledgeable traveller and when we arrived in Sydney she had arranged for us to stay there for a day or so while we awaited the arrival of the Star of the Seas.

Homecoming

The novelty of the voyage out had been a great adventure to Tamarisk and me and therefore a source of interest;

now I had seen it all before. Sibyl was a seasoned traveller, well acquainted with shipboard life which, there was no doubt, she enjoyed.

She had travelled with the captain before and knew several of the officers. As she remarked to me, she knew her way around and that was always a help.

We had separate cabins, side by side.

“Starboard side,” Sibyl explained to me.

“Port out, starboard home. Otherwise the heat in the tropics is unbearable.”

She was the best possible companion for me. She would not allow me to brood. She wanted to engage in all the shipboard activities. She played deck games, whist and danced in the evenings; she would take me off on excursions when we were in port and make sure we had attractive male escorts. She was deservedly popular, carried on a few light-hearted flirtations, chattered continuously and was always good-humoured.

When the weather was rough she kept to her cabin and so did I. I would lie on my bed and think about arriving home. I wondered what had happened during my absence. Had anything come to light? There must have been a great deal of speculation when I left Harper’s Green so suddenly after my engagement had been announced.

1 would lie listening to the buffeting of the waves and the protesting creaking of the ship, as though she were

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moaning in agonized protest at what the sea was doing to her.

Then we would pass through the storm to calmer waters.

And so the days went by.

We sailed out of Lisbon our last port of call. I had been out with Sibyl and some friends. We had explored the city, visited the Jeronimos Monastery and the Carmo Church, inspected the Tower of Belem, taken coffee and watched the people passing by, returned to the ship and stood on deck while she sailed out of the bay. Mar de Palha, as we looked back on the hills on either side of the Tagus.

Home was not far away.

The next days sped by. We packed. We were in readiness. The last night had come. Tomorrow in the early hours of the morning we should sail in to Southampton.

There was, as always, a little delay before we were allowed to disembark and the frustrating minutes seemed like hours.

Sibyl had said that we would take the boat train to London and would then go to Harper’s Green. She herself would be staying in London and I told her there would be no need for her to accompany me; but she was insistent. She had told Ronnie that she would take me to my aunt, and that was exactly what she would do.

There was no need for this, as waiting on the dock were Crispin and Aunt Sophie.

Aunt Sophie called my name with glee and Crispin’s face lit up with an indescribable joy. I rushed to them and Crispin reached me first. He lifted me up in his arms. I had never seen him look so happy before.

And there was Aunt Sophie smiling at us.

“You’re home, you’re home, my love!” She was talking incoherently and the tears were on her cheeks; they were tears of joy.

I was aware of Sibyl standing there, beaming and delighted.

This is Mrs. Fraser,” I said.

“She has brought me home. My father asked her to.”

“We know,” said Aunt Sophie.

“We’ve just had a letter from him. We’ve been arranging to kill the fatted calf ever since we knew you were coming. Letters come a little quicker than people, it seems. Oh, it is wonderful to see you!”

Crispin was grasping my arm, pressing it against him. Aunt Sophie had the other.

“I am so glad,” said Sibyl.

“I hope I get a welcome like this from my family.”

Crispin and Aunt Sophie seemed to drag themselves away from their contemplation of me and turned their attention to Sibyl.

I said: “Sibyl has been wonderful. She is such an experienced traveller. She has made everything so easy. She is coming to England to visit her son, you see.”

They thanked her with sincerity and asked what she wished to do. She explained that she wanted to get to London and from there she would go direct to her son.

It was not until we were seated in a tea-room on the station that I heard the great news.

At Paddington we had to wait an hour for the train which would fake us to Wiltshire. Sibyl had been put in a cab and had said her farewells, promising to visit us some time, and while we were waiting for our train we sat down to talk.

1 could never be on a railway station after that without recalling that day.

Crispin sat close to me. Occasionally he would stretch out a hand and touch mine, as though to reassure himself 1 was really there.

As soon as we sat down and had ordered tea. Aunt

Sophie said: “Isn’t it wonderful! Who would have thought it would have worked out like this? All the time …”

I said: “What is it? I know something has happened. 1 can see that by the way you look and … everything. But what? Tell me!”

“I wrote,” said Crispin, ‘as soon as I knew. It was the first thing I did. “

“You wrote? But when did you write?”

“As soon as I heard.”

“You don’t say,” said Aunt Sophie, ‘that you haven’t had the letter?

”

“Which letter? They take a long time, you know.”

“The one telling you. Crispin wrote and I wrote. And when we heard you were coming home … we thought that was why. Come to think of it, there wasn’t all that time. Our letters must have crossed in the post.”

“But we thought you were coming because-‘ began Crispin.

“Because what?” I cried in exasperation.

“It is like this,” said Crispin.

“I got one of those detective agencies working on it. Kate had said she was going to Australia, but I did not believe that. I had to be rid of her once and for all. I think I knew her plan was to go on making me pay.”

“Of course,” I said.

“She would not stop the first time.”

“There is no need to worry about anything any more. I was never married to her. She was already married, and had been for three years before I met her. She only went through a form of the ceremony with me.”

“Is this really true?”

“Proved without a shadow of a doubt,” said Aunt Sophie triumphantly.

“Crispin has proof, haven’t you, Crispin? There are such things as records, you know.”

“We have indeed the indisputable proof,” said Crispin.

“There is no impediment,” went on Aunt Sophie triumphantly.

“I am so happy. I felt so guilty about seeing her and telling you. I asked myself why I had opened my mouth.”

“It’s over,” said Crispin, taking my hand.

“My dearest, it is all over. There is nothing to stop us now.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

“It’s too … neat.”

“Life isn’t always untidy,” said Aunt Sophie.

“What I don’t understand,” said Crispin, ‘is why you came home now?

”

I looked at him steadily.

“I came home because I could not stay away any longer.”

“In spite of…”

“In spite of everything. I could not stay away from you. My father knew it, too. He said I should never be happy away from you. So I came back.”

Crispin was gripping my hand tightly.

“I shall never forget that,” he said.

“You came back to me before you knew.”

Aunt Sophie sat there smiling at us benignly, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was living through one of the happiest moments of my life.