Dark Moonless Night

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_ae0bcfea-1ec9-5835-8f03-d7d040238687)

THE heat in the station wagon was intense, but to wind down the windows was to invite clouds of choking dust into the car, and therefore the heat was the lesser of the two evils. All the same, Caroline felt as though every inch of her body was soaked with sweat, and she wished David would stop bouncing about from side to side in his determination not to miss anything. Even Elizabeth, more comfortably ensconced in the front of the vehicle beside Gareth, fanned herself constantly with her handkerchief, and could no longer keep up the inconsequent chatter she had bubbled with when first they started off. Elizabeth was invariably at her best when in the company of an attractive man, and the fact that Gareth made only monosyllabic replies to her inane questions seemed to bother her not at all.

But the afternoon was wearing into early evening now, and the shadows were lengthening beside the mud-baked track. There was a dank smell of rotting vegetation from the jungle-like mass that encroached on the narrow road, and from time to time the shrill cry of some wild animal rent the dying afternoon air. Miranda had long since passed the excitable stage and now curled into her corner, persistently sucking her thumb in spite of Caroline’s reprovals and David’s jeering.

Caroline herself felt that her awareness of everything around her had been sharpened by the tension between herself and Gareth. Not that anyone else appeared to be aware of it. On the contrary, from the moment Elizabeth was introduced her only interest had been to draw his attention to herself.

Gareth had accompanied Caroline and the children up in the lift to Elizabeth’s suite. After making his shattering statement in the hall of the hotel, he had diverted his attention to David and Miranda, and while Caroline had burned with resentment and a painful kind of humiliation, he had talked casually to the children about safaris he had made into nearby Tanzania, and the dramatic nature reserve of the Ngorongoro Crater. By the time they reached the suite David was completely won over, and Caroline did not have to introduce her employer to the tall, lean stranger: David did it for her.

Elizabeth’s headache seemed to miraculously disappear. She immediately left her bed to seek the bathroom and when she emerged at last she had looked cool and feminine in a pale pink dress that clung to her shapely figure.

Caroline had spent the time that Elizabeth had taken to get ready standing nervously by the window, staring down desperately on to the yard below, willing the whole scene that had just taken place to have been some awful nightmare. But of course it was not. Gareth was there in the room with her, apparently indifferent to her presence, showing a boyish interest in the toys that both David and Miranda had produced for his inspection.

When Elizabeth finally had joined them, it had been worse. Caroline had had to listen to the other woman laughing about the fact that only that morning she and Caroline had been talking about him, and what a lovely surprise it was to find he was working in Tsaba now.

Gareth had responded courteously enough, but Caroline had sensed his desire to get away. He had advised them to have an early lunch, then rest on their beds, and he would come back for them at about four o’clock when the heat was beginning to wane. He cleverly evaded Elizabeth’s suggestion that he should have lunch with them, saying that he had business to attend to in Ashenghi, and then he left them with a polite smile, and a casual salute that was meant for David.

After he had gone, Caroline had had to face Elizabeth’s questions. Had she known he was working in Tsaba? How had he reacted when he had found her in charge of the children? And what exactly did he do?

Caroline had parried them as best she could. Fortunately for her David was not paying a great deal of attention to their conversation. It was boring stuff after what Mr. Morgan had just been telling him, and so Caroline did not have to suffer his recollections of her confrontation with Gareth. Instead, she had allowed Elizabeth to assume that it had been as much a surprise to her as to anyone else meeting him like that, and therefore she was no wiser as to his present activities than she had been before. It had been a cowardly little subterfuge, she thought now, disgusted at her own duplicity, but the last thing she wanted was to give Elizabeth any reason to suspect that she had come here for any other reason than to help out a friend in need. What small portion of pride that was left to her must remain intact or she might be tempted to funk the whole thing and take the next flight back to England.

It was dark by the time they reached La Vache and thousands of insects were visible in the headlights’ glare, dying in their hundreds against the windscreen. An enormous moth hit the car with a sickening thud, leaving a trail of fluid to run unheeded down the glass, and Caroline felt slightly nauseated. Last night, driving to the hotel, she had been tired but excited, eager to experience the thinly-veneered primitiveness that was Africa. But tonight she felt bruised and uncertain, more convinced as every moment passed that she was going to regret coming here.

La Vache was a collection of houses, built for the white population, and adjoining a sort of village compound. In the half light thrown from lighted windows, Caroline glimpsed an open fire and a collection of curious black faces turned in their direction before Gareth swung between some trees and brought the station wagon to a halt before a corrugated-roofed bungalow. Almost before the vehicle’s engine ground to a halt a door was thrown open and a man dressed in white shirt and shorts came hurrying down the shallow steps towards them. Gareth had got out of the car before the other man reached them, but it was obvious that the newcomer had eyes for no one but Elizabeth.

Caroline levered herself stiffly out of the back of the station wagon, trying to avoid watching the languid way Elizabeth responded to Charles’s enthusiastic welcome, and was glad when the children scrambled out and broke it up, shouting: ‘Daddy! Daddy! We’re here!’

Ignoring the hand that Gareth had offered to help her out of the vehicle, Caroline stood on the hard track, flexing her aching muscles, and looking about her with reluctant interest. Her first impressions were of the closeness of the community, and a certain sense of claustrophobic unease at the encroaching forest. Was this her jungle clearing? Was this to be the romantic communion with nature which had sounded so delightful when viewed from a distance? It all seemed so different, so primitive and yet perversely prosaic somehow. And that smell of rotting vegetation—one didn’t learn about things like that from books.

Gareth was unloading their suitcases from the back of the station wagon. Caroline supposed she should be helping him. After all, that was why she was here, wasn’t it? To help! But right now, she felt as though she was the one who needed to be helped, and there was no one to do it. For the first time since leaving England she thought rather nostalgically about the comfortable relationship she had shared with Jeremy Brent, and wondered whether he would accept the severance of their engagement as she had insisted he should.

Then Charles turned from his family and gave her a warm, comforting smile. ‘Good to see you again, Caroline,’ he said. ‘Glad you made it.’ Then he turned to Gareth: ‘I’m in your debt, Morgan. Come along inside and we’ll all have a drink to celebrate.’

Gareth made a deprecating gesture. ‘Thanks, but I can’t stop,’ he demurred. ‘I’ve got to get back to Nyshasa.’

‘Oh, must you?’ That was Elizabeth, and even the children echoed her disappointment. Only Caroline said nothing, made no effort to detain him.

Gareth shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. But I have been away since early this morning. Some other time, perhaps.’

‘Oh, yes, you must come and have dinner with us one evening while we’re here, mustn’t he, Charles?’ exclaimed Elizabeth.

‘Of course, of course,’ Charles smiled. ‘I’ll be in touch, Morgan.’

‘You do that.’

Gareth nodded pleasantly and walked round the station wagon to get into the driving seat again. He had to pass Caroline to do so and for a brief moment hard blue eyes bored into hers. Deliberately she assumed a defiant stance, returning his gaze challengingly, refusing to let him see that he could in any way disconcert her, and then he was past and climbing into the vehicle, raising his hand in farewell to the others. The engine fired, he let in his clutch, put the car into gear and it moved smoothly away. Only then did Caroline realise that she had been holding her breath for fully one minute.

‘Come along, Caroline.’ Charles ushered his family across the stretch of dried grass that formed a sort of garden at the front of the bungalow. ‘Thomas has a meal all ready for you.’

Thomas turned out to be Charles’s houseboy. He had a permanently smiling face, and the children took to him at once. Also, Charles explained, it made it very difficult for one to chastise him. It was impossible to remain angry for long with someone who looked so cheerfully innocent.

Before sitting down to their meal, Charles suggested that they might like to familiarise themselves with the layout of the bungalow, and as the children were keen, Elizabeth agreed. The building was divided into two halves by a long, narrow hall that ran from front to back. On one side was the large lounge-cum-dining area, with a small bedroom at the back where Caroline was to sleep; and on the other were the two larger bedrooms where Charles and Elizabeth, and the children were to sleep. The bathroom, like the kitchen, was annexed to the back of the bungalow, and comprised of a chipped wash basin and rather primitive toilet, with a shower that could only be used if an overhead tank had first been manually filled.

The children found this tour of inspection fascinating, and Miranda had cast away the slightly dejected air she had worn during the latter stages of their journey. The sight of the mosquito nets draped above their beds made the prospect of sleeping so much more exciting, and David asserted that he was going to take a shower the very next day.

But Caroline could see Elizabeth’s face changing as she began to appreciate the lack of facilities. The bungalow bore no resemblance to the comfort of the hotel in Ashenghi, and perhaps it was a pity that they had had to spend a night there. The contrast would not have been so much in evidence if they had driven on to La Vache last night. The furniture, for instance, was starkly practical, and because there had been no feminine hand in the design there was not even a brightly patterned cushion to add colour to the dull browns and beiges that made up most of the curtains and upholstery.

However, the meal that Thomas had prepared was waiting for them and it fortunately precluded any immediate discussion of their surroundings. Introducing a new topic to divert Elizabeth’s attention, Caroline asked what education was provided for the African children.

‘It’s quite good, actually,’ replied Charles, obviously enjoying the somewhat stringy beef that Thomas had served together with beans and sweet potatoes. ‘There’s a mission only a mile away at Katwe Fork, and the padre’s wife, Helen, teaches the younger children. The padre teaches the older children himself, and if by the time they reach eleven or twelve they show potential, he arranges for them to be transferred to the school at Luanga.’

Miranda choked then, and had to be thumped vigorously on the back by her brother before she could dislodge the piece of meat from her throat. Her eyes were streaming with tears by the time she coughed it up, as much with the hardness of David’s pounding as with the shock of choking. But before Caroline could say anything to comfort her, Elizabeth turned on her husband:

‘My God, Charles,’ she exclaimed tremulously, ‘I hope you’re satisfied! Bringing us out to this dreadful place and expecting us to stay for weeks! Why, the food’s not even edible, and you don’t care that we might all die of dysentery or worse in these appalling conditions!’ She flung her napkin down on the table and rose to her feet, ignoring Miranda’s wail of: ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ and marched to the door. ‘I’m going to bed, and don’t you dare to try and stop me!’

Apart from Miranda snuffling unhappily into her napkin there was complete silence for several minutes after Elizabeth had left the room. Charles looked absolutely staggered, and Caroline felt terribly sorry for him. Obviously, in the excitement of their arrival he had not noticed Elizabeth’s lack of enthusiasm, and her outburst had been completely unexpected so far as he was concerned.

At last it was David who broke the silence by saying: ‘What’s the matter with Mummy? What was she talking about? We’re not going to die, are we, Daddy?’

Charles’s mouth worked nervously. ‘No—no, of course you’re not going to die, son!’ He put a slightly unsteady hand on David’s head. ‘I—er—I expect it’s all the travelling. Mummy’s tired, that’s all, like she said. She’ll feel better in the morning. Won’t she, Caroline?’

As he looked across the table at her, Caroline realised that he was looking for reassurance, too, just as David had been. Poor Charles, he hadn’t the faintest idea of how to deal with someone like Elizabeth. The trouble was he had always been too soft with her, too gentle and considerate. Living apart for most of the year as they did he was inclined to indulge her in everything when he came home, and Elizabeth had never known what it was to be thwarted. What she needed was a firmer hand, a less understanding nature; someone who would mete out to her the kind of treatment she usually allotted to other people. But whether Charles had it in him to adopt that kind of attitude towards his wife, Caroline had her doubts.

Now she said: ‘I think we’re all tired, Charles. And I shouldn’t let what Elizabeth says bother you. It’s all so different, you see. It takes time to get used to.’

Charles pushed his plate aside, his appetite obviously deserting him. ‘I haven’t noticed you making too much fuss,’ he remarked, swallowing a mouthful of the lager which Thomas had provided to have with their meal.

Caroline smiled wryly. ‘I don’t have anyone to fuss at,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘Now, David, Miranda—who’s going to try this blancmange that Thomas has made for us?’

Charles fidgeted his way through the sweet course which even Caroline had to admit was not very palatable. Made with dried milk, the blancmange was still powdery, and both David and Miranda refused to finish theirs. But when Thomas brought in the coffee, Charles rose to his feet.

‘Look here, Caroline,’ he exclaimed awkwardly, ‘will you excuse me? I mean—well, I really think I ought to go and see if Elizabeth’s all right …’

Caroline nodded. ‘That’s all right, Charles. You go ahead. The children and I can manage perfectly well.’

Charles breathed a sigh of relief, bestowed a warm smile on his two youngsters, and then made a hasty exit.

‘Why can’t we go with Daddy?’ asked Miranda, still rather tearful.

David nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Don’t be stupid, baby! They don’t want us. They want to kiss and cuddle and that sort of thing, don’t they, Caroline?’

Caroline hid a smile. ‘If you say so, David,’ she answered mildly, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

Later, Caroline got the children ready for bed while Thomas was clearing the table, and then, with his assistance, settled them beneath their mosquito nets. Fortunately Thomas spoke very good English although his manner of phrasing things wasn’t always right, and she was glad of his help. She dreaded to think what would happen if either of the children wanted to go to the bathroom during the night. However would they manage to get back beneath their mosquito nets? She shook her head. Oh, well! That was a problem they would have to face if and when the occasion occurred.

Neither Charles nor Elizabeth had reappeared, and Caroline hoped that this was a good sign. At any rate, Elizabeth hadn’t made another scene and turned him out of the bedroom.

After that, the bungalow was very quiet. Thomas had wished her goodnight and left for some private destination of his own, and Caroline sat in the lounge for a while wondering what one did in the evenings here. It was scarcely nine o’clock and yet bed seemed the only sensible conclusion.