The Reluctant Guest (4 page)

She got into pyjamas, stood in the centre of the room and silently but sternly rebuked herself. She was disappointed because Theo was absent; so what? He’d be here in a day or two, cheerful and earless
—
the best of companions. As for the big dark Peterson man
...

But before she could decide how he might be obliterated from her consciousness, Ann was thinking of the way he had looked at Elva when he had first seen her this evening. Comprehensively? Appreciatively? Ann wasn’t sure. She only knew that if Storr Peterson was considering the girl as a possible mate, she wouldn’t be in Elva Borland’s shoes.

So he had decided to be the one who was loved.
Cold-bloodedly
and with superlative self-assurance, he would choose someone who’d make a good mistress of Groenkop and dole out just as much of the “messy business” of love as he happened to need. Lord, how she would like to see the man slip up!

With unaccustomed force, Ann punched the pillow into shape and flung herself down on the bed. After which she smiled determinedly at the ceiling and thought about Theo.

CHAPTER
TWO

IT was eleven miles into the town of Belati West, and on a horse it took exactly three minutes to lope through the main street and find oneself on the road out to the north. Which proves that Belati was dorp-size and unexciting. However, the tiny town was a farming centre as well as the shopping district for a wide area, and the hotel was mildly prosperous, the stores full of goods, if uncompetitive. Any morning you could see Africans dawdling into the shops and out again, but it was generally at the weekends that the farmers’ wives, in their dusty, modern cars, left lists here and there, visited the bank, took morning tea at the hotel and collected the ordered goods in time to return to the farm before lunch.

Elva Borland, however, was no farmer’s wife, or sister. She and Theo were smallholders, and because neither had assumed responsibility for the ordering, either was apt to amble into town at any time to collect a bag of seed or a box of groceries. Normally, of course, they used their own old ranch wagon, but on the morning following Ann’s arrival there was no wagon to use; so the two women trotted down into town on the horses, caused a faint stir among the men who were already congregating in the hotel veranda, and tied up outside the dim little store opposite.

Elva waved carelessly across at acquaintances, said to
Ann,
“Some of these sheep-farmers don’t work at all themselves. Can’t blame them, I suppose, but monied folk do make one a little sick.”

“They don’t affect me that way,” Ann answered. “If I were a man I’d be happier working than talking shop
...
or sheep, all the time with other men who had nothing to do.”

“That’s crazy. They talk shop because they like it. I’d take easy money if I could get it. Plenty of cash is the answer to everything.”

“Not quite, but we won’t argue. Do we go in here?” The shop smelled of paraffin and oranges and rotting grapes. A buxom woman in a green overall took Elva’s order, handed over a bag of flour and a few packages and said she would send up the bag of meal. The two girls came out into the sunshine, and found a man of about thirty taking an interest in the horses. He was thickshouldered and only slightly above average height, his hair was dark red, his face a little lined and leathery but ruggedly attractive; his smile, Ann decided, was the most obviously genuine she had seen for a long time.

“Morning, Piet,” Elva said, in her usual abrupt fashion. “Ann, this is Piet Mulder
—
his parents are Hollanders.
He farms the other side of Belati.” Then to the man: “Ann Calvert is Theo’s
fiancée
.”

Ann
had no time to refuse this before the man half bowed, very politely, and greeted her in tones which were guttural, but pleasantly so. “It is good to know you, Miss Calvert. It is good for Theo that you are here.”

“In fact it is good,” said Elva. “Theo’s away in the wagon, so we’re riding.”

“You’re too independent to ask a favor of me. I would have brought your provisions, Elva.”

“You’re so far away. Why are you in town this morning?”

“A boy was sick. I’ve left him with the doctor.”

“You could have sent your mother with him.”

“The Ouma herself is not too well. It was not convenient for me.” He paused. “Will you and Miss Calvert come over to the hotel and have tea or a drink with me?”

“I don’t
think
so. With Theo away we’re rather busy.”

“Perhaps I could help?”

Elva shrugged, turned towards the grey horse. “We’re not overburdened. Don’t bother.”

Ann heard herself saying swiftly, “But you do need a man to look at that gate, Elva. Perhaps if Mr. Mulder isn’t too busy this afternoon
...
”

The young man said eagerly, “Of course! I’ll come at about three.”

He apparently knew better than to offer Elva a hand up into the saddle. He stood back as they mounted, smiled his slow smile and called, ‘Tot siens! I’ll see you at three.”

For some reason, Elva kept ahead on the way back to Groenkop, but at the sagging gate Ann came level, and there was no question of riding fast along the potholed lane. But
Ann
did not speak till they had dismounted at the back of the house, and were carrying the provisions into the kitchen.

Then she asked, “What on earth made you tell that man I’m engaged to Theo? It isn’t true at all.”

Elva shrugged. “It never matters what you tell Piet. He doesn’t talk about our business.” She paused, while shoving a packet of bacon into the fridge, then said, “You shouldn’t have mentioned the gate. I don’t want him here.”

“He seems awfully nice and anxious to please.”

“What of it?”
—
in blunt tones. “I just don’t want him here now that Storr’s back.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know there were angles to it.”

“There’s only one angle. Piet Mulder and I have been friends for a long time and he’s occasionally helped here. He’s good and kind, and I’ve been glad of him, but he isn’t anyone
—
not even a small-time sheep farmer. He has a little general farm
—
it’s a model of its kind, but I detest the place. I also detest his mother
...
and when Piet’s servile I detest him, too.”

“It seems rather a lot of hate to fling around.”

“When you’ve had my sort of life,” said Elva, “you know exactly what you’d go for, if you could. Don’t think I’ve been hard up for a man. I haven’t.”

Ann
said mildly, “I certainly wouldn’t have mentioned the gate if I’d thought Mr. Mulder did this to you.”

“He does nothing to me.” Elva slammed the fridge door, and swung round. Her blue eyes had gone hard and opaque-looking. “Let’s be frank with each other. There are only two things on my mind
—
just two
—
and you know what they are. You want Theo, or you wouldn’t have come here
...
”

“That isn’t true! I like him, but I didn’t come here to try and get my claws into him.”

“No, I honestly don’t think you did. But you were attracted, just as he was.” A pause. “The second thing is my own concern, but I don’t mind admitting that I’d like some assistance. Storr Peterson is all set to stay here a week or two, but he could easily be called away. While he’s here, I want to make the best going I possibly can. If you’ll help me, I’ll help you.”

Ann unwrapped a couple of avocado pears. “I don’t need that kind of help, but I’ll do all I can for
you.”

“You promise?”

Ann hesitated. “Yes, but what would you ask of me?”

Elva shrugged, said bluntly. “The dinner went down well last night
—
flowers and whatnot. Storr complimented me later on, and
...
well, I let him think the candles
and flowers were my idea. It was perhaps a bit rash, but I said I was aiming to improve the whole place a little.” She took an egg from the basket on the kitchen dresser, made a complication of holding it to the light for examination. “You’ve said several times that you’re willing to do anything in the house and garden. Will you take it on?”

“You mean
...
clean up and eliminate the clutter?”

“And do some redecorating and prettifying. I don’t mind Storr knowing that you’re doing your stint, but I want him to think I’m doing the planning, and the lion’s share.”

Unaccountably, Ann felt a little fed up. “How would that help you with him?” she asked.

“You don’t know Storr, or you wouldn’t ask that. He’s proud of that house of his, sets rather a high value on the Dutch and English antiques. I want him to see that I’m capable of making a charming home, even in a small house like this.”

“But why haven’t you done it before?”

“I hadn’t the incentive
—
he was often here one day and gone the next for perhaps a month, and it was seldom that he came in. And then, somehow, the house hadn’t quite got into this state. I’ve been meaning to have a go at it for a long time, but I suppose I was waiting to hear he was back in South Africa.” She smiled grimly. “He turned up out of the blue and caught us looking squalid
and I hated it.”

Ann
said wholeheartedly. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Of course I’ll work on it with you.”

“You may have to do most of it. I didn’t grow up in a pretty cottage with a drawing room; if I were given an empty house I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to set about filling it.”

“Who furnished this one?”

“Theo, mostly. He bought up a sale room one day, and we just spread the stuff about.” She ended, with reserve, “You can have an absolutely free hand in the living room, so long as improvements don’t cost more than a few pounds.”

“That’s fine. We can probably change it within a week.”

“And the garden?” Elva suggested tentatively.

“I’ll use Aaron. He can do the hard work outside while I do some of his jobs indoors.”

“You won’t say anything to anyone about it
—
not even to Theo?”

“Of course not. I can get the more noticeable things done while you’re both out running the place. It’s going to be fun!”

Elva looked at her, said drily, “You really mean that, don’t you? I’ve never met anyone like you before, and when I saw you down at the halt, looking so spruce and clean, although you’d just got off a train, I was inclined to resent you. But maybe you were right; we’re not so different
—
we were just brought up differently.”

Ann smiled. “Wait till you see me spring-cleaning. I’m an appalling sight.”

Elva found a couple of egg boxes and filled them, a dozen eggs in each. She went to the door and called the boy. “Aaron, take those up to the big master’s house, and tell the houseboy we have butter to spare if he needs it.” When the boy had departed she moved across the kitchen “There’s another detail,” she said with studied casualness. “I didn’t thank you for letting me go off alone with Storr last night, but I was grateful. You might keep it up.”

Ann wondered why her own voice quivered when she said, “All right, I will.”

“You may even think up some improvements to the situation that I haven’t considered.”

“If I do, I’ll get to work on them.”

“Good. And about that gate. I’ll meet Piet Mulder at the end of the lane and let him mend it; then he can take me down into the town for a cup of tea. I don’t want him in the house.”

“You’re rather hard on the man.”

“If you’ve nothing to give, it’s the best way to be.
I’ll
have to get out now and see the land-boy; he’s probably smoking under a hedge.” And she went through the corridor to pick up a cigarette and light it, before wandering out of the front door and whistling up the grey.

Ann remained in the kitchen, cleaning up the grocery wrappings. Then she looked out some rags
—
Elva never bought dusters
—
and carried them into the living room. She was sure that nothing above eye level would bear inspection.

The room was actually rather daunting. There were the dining-table, almost bare of varnish and badly scored about the legs, the four square-backed chairs with worn rexine covering a flock filling, two ancient armchairs whose tapestry was in fair condition but colorless, chintz cushions, a low table and book case in yellowed white enamel, a few cheap ornaments, a drab rug and several heaps of periodicals and oddments, as well as a mound of mending on still another old table in the
corner
. On the walls hung a fading photograph of Mrs. Borland, two fly-spotted hunting prints which might have been good if the light had been right, and a square, metal-framed mirror.

Where to begin was a problem. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to think it out while she eliminated the first eyesore
—
the heap of shirts and socks that needed repair. By the way some of the buttons were cobbled into position, it looked as if Theo usually tackled the task himself. It was too bad of Elva. Maybe it was true that she had grown up outdoors with few of the usual graces, but no woman reaches the age of twenty-five without acquiring a feminine knack or two, and some sort of conscience where dependent men are concerned. After all, there were only the two of them, and Aaron ran the house. Elva was too keen on careering off on a horse and pitying her own lack of money
.
But was it fair to judge her? Something had eaten into Elva and embittered her; or perhaps the feeling she had for Storr Peterson had made her res
tl
ess and intolerant; the man had been away for eight months and presumably he hadn’t written very often, or he would have let the Borlands know he was coming. Ah well, Ann reminded herself, she was only a visitor here. If she could help, she would, but it wouldn’t be wise to become too tangled up with Elva’s problems.

By lunch time, the mending was finished, the socks put away in the old chest of drawers in Theo’s room and the shirts transferred to the kitchen for ironing. Elva came in and ate her usual large meal, drank brandy with her coffee and remarked, vaguely, that she had work to do down at the fowl-runs.

Ann said, “I’m going to start away on the room this afternoon. Do you want to keep all these magazines?”

“I’ve been meaning to go through them, but maybe even the articles I was interested in are out of date now. Some of them are
T
heo’s.”

“I’ll put them in the shed, then. Can you afford emulsion paint for the walls?”

“What else will you have to buy?”

“Some ordinary pain
t
and varnish stain
—
not a great deal. And I was hoping you’d run to new curtains and enough material to cover the easies.”