Dark Moonless Night Page 7

  ‘Really?’ Caroline forced a smile, gathering together their breakfast dishes for Thomas. Elizabeth had not joined them this morning and as yet Caroline had not attempted to disturb her. Charles had left for the mine earlier, of course, but the children’s mother was obviously tired after their night out.

  When breakfast was cleared away, David and Miranda asked whether they might take a ball into the back garden. This was the stretch of scrub at the back of the bungalow and after consulting with Thomas, Caroline could see no reason why not. She herself had some washing to do, and Thomas agreed to heat some water for her.

  It wasn’t good working in the heat with a headache, and by the time her and the children’s underclothes had been washed and draped over an outside line to dry in the sun she was feeling quite sick. She was in the kitchen, breaking ice cubes out of the container for a cool drink, when a car pulled up outside. She wiped her hand and walked into the hall just as their visitor reached the mesh door and she saw to her astonishment that it was Gareth. When he saw her he opened the door and came striding down the hall towards her, while she backed into the kitchen, overwhelmingly conscious of her shabby jeans and navy cotton vest.

  ‘What in God’s name have you been doing?’ he demanded harshly, taking the glass from her and tackling the ice cubes himself. ‘Where’s Thomas?’

  Caroline shook her head, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘I’m not sure. Tidying up the living-room, probably.’

  Gareth regarded her hot face. ‘Where are the children?’

  ‘They’re playing outside. Look, let me do that.’

  Gareth shook his head impatiently and after a few moments handed her back the glass, liberally filled with ice cubes, ready for her to pour in some freshly squeezed lemon juice.

  ‘Will you have some?’ she offered, prepared to divide the cubes, but he shook his head. Then she added: ‘Elizabeth’s still in bed, I think. She—she was tired after last night. Do—do you want to see her?’ She couldn’t imagine that he might want to see her, not after last night, and in her confused state of the moment she hadn’t the strength to fence with him.

  ‘What are you to her?’ he bit out savagely, catching sight of the washing drying on the line. ‘What does she pay you to perform such menial tasks?’

  Caroline shook her head, trying not to look at him. His cream shirt was open at the throat exposing a brown column of hair-roughened skin, glinting with gold, while his beige trousers were cut narrowly over his thighs, exposing the muscles of his legs, hard and taut beneath the fine cloth. After last night she should have been hating him, she knew, but the nausea she had been feeling had weakened her resolve and she longed to be able to touch him, to get close to him, if not physically then at least mentally.

  At last she managed to say: ‘What has that got to do with you? Shall I tell Elizabeth you’re here?’

  Gareth raked a hand through his hair, his action dragging her eyes to his face, and for a long moment she met his exasperated stare. Then he smote the ball of his fist against his thigh and said: ‘If you like. I want her permission to take the children up to Nyshasa.’

  Caroline’s lips parted involuntarily. ‘To—to Nyshasa?’ she breathed. ‘But you live at Nyshasa.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Gareth nodded briefly, but Caroline’s heart was pounding thunderously.

  ‘Is—is that where you’re taking them?’ she asked faintly.

  Gareth’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s right. I thought they might like to paddle in the river.’

  Caroline pressed her palms together. ‘Oh, I’m sure they’d love it,’ she asserted, imagining the delight of submerging her overheated body in the cool waters of the falls. ‘Will you give us a few minutes to get ready? Elizabeth won’t object, I’m certain.’

  Gareth’s expression hardened. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and now his voice had perceptibly stiffened. ‘I thought I made the invitation clear. It’s for the children only.’

  Caroline could feel the blood draining out of her cheeks, and she sought the edge of the refrigerator for support. Staring at him as if she couldn’t believe her ears, she murmured: ‘What?’

  ‘You can have the day off,’ remarked Gareth shortly. ‘Sandra’s waiting in the car. She can handle the children. She phoned me this morning and suggested the outing.’

  He could not have dashed her hopes more brutally, and Caroline felt sick with reaction. He must have known that she would expect the invitation to include her and it had been just another exhibition of the ways he could hurt her.

  She forced herself to move away from the refrigerator and said: ‘I see. Well, just a minute and I’ll speak to Elizabeth.’

  Elizabeth was only half awake and perfectly willing to delegate her responsibilities to someone else. Fortunately, she was drowsy enough not to notice Caroline’s strained manner, and after gaining her permission the younger girl quickly left the room.

  All the same, it took every scrap of will power to force herself to re-enter the kitchen, but Gareth was not there. He was outside talking to the children, and when they glimpsed Caroline by the door, they came bounding across to her yelling: ‘Can we go; can we, Caroline?’

  Caroline nodded. ‘Your mother has no objections.’ She compelled herself to glance in Gareth’s direction. ‘When will you bring them back?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly.’ Gareth thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. ‘Some time after five, I should imagine. Will that do?’

  ‘Perfectly.’ Caroline turned aside and they followed her into the house. Fortunately the children had not been outside long enough to get dirty and the only instructions she had to issue were for them to go to their room and get their swimsuits out of the chest. While they were gone she shook out a couple of towels for them and Gareth walked lazily through to the lounge. She heard him speaking to Thomas and then he returned to stand silent and unapproachable by the door. Not that she wanted to approach him, she told herself fiercely. All the same, the pain he had inflicted would not be denied, and she wished they would hurry up and leave so that she could release the tight band of tension that bound her.

  At last the children returned, and Gareth urged them towards the door. ‘G’bye, Caroline!’ they chorused, and Caroline endeavoured to smile and wave them off. But although she waved at Sandra Macdonald, she could not force herself to go out to the station wagon and speak to her casually, as if nothing was wrong. On the contrary, she felt she could have scratched the other girl’s eyes out, so envious did she feel, and she went back into the bungalow as they drove away, slamming the door childishly behind her.

  Of course, she didn’t need a crystal ball to know what was the matter with her. She was jealous, agonisingly jealous, and as she stared at her reflection in the pitted mirror above the wash-stand in her bedroom, she felt a surge of self-contempt. She must pull herself together. She wasn’t naturally a vindictive girl, and she was allowing her feelings for Gareth to get out of all proportion. In the years of his marriage, she had had to accept the situation, so why not now?

  The answer to that was that in those days Gareth had been thousands of miles away, out of reach and out of touch, his marriage an unreal and impersonal relationship. But now that she was here, now that she had seen him again and experienced that awful, wanton longing for him sweeping over her, everything had become sharp and acute. And to imagine him attracted to Sandra Macdonald, to think of him touching her—possibly even making love to her, drove all sane and sensible reasoning out of her mind…

  * * *

  The following morning, Nicolas Freeleng appeared just as they were finishing breakfast. He breezed into the living-room cheerfully, bringing a definite lift to Caroline’s spirits.

  ‘Good morning, Caroline,’ he greeted her. ‘Good morning, kiddies! Where’s your dear mama this morning?’

  ‘Mummy doesn’t usually get up for breakfast,’ volunteered David at once. ‘What’s that under your arm?’

  He pointed t
o a gun hanging loosely from Nicolas’s shoulder, and Nicolas grinned: ‘This, my young friend, is a rifle. Haven’t you ever seen a rifle before?’

  David was impressed, but Miranda shuddered, and said: ‘Why have you brought it in here?’

  ‘One doesn’t leave guns lying about unattended in cars,’ replied Nicolas amiably, then turned his attention to Caroline. ‘You’re looking rather depressed, pussycat. What’s wrong? Had you begun to think I’d forgotten all about you?’ he chuckled.

  Caroline lifted the lid of the coffee pot. ‘I hadn’t given the matter a lot of thought,’ she replied honestly. ‘Would you like some coffee? There’s plenty left.’

  ‘I’d love some coffee,’ accepted Nicolas, subsiding into the chair across the table from her, and draping his gun carefully over its back. ‘Thomas! Another cup!’

  The houseboy came in grinning amiably. ‘‘Mornin’, Massa Freeleng,’ he greeted. ‘You wantin’ something to eat?’

  ‘No, thank you, Thomas.’ Nicolas shook his head. ‘This will do fine.’ After the houseboy had gone, he poured himself some coffee and then went on: ‘I thought you all might like to come out with me today.’

  Caroline looked at him in surprise, but David forestalled any comment she was about to make by boasting: ‘We went out yesterday. To Nyshasa!’

  Nicolas cast a look in his direction which would have quelled a less confident mortal completely. ‘I do know that. But Caroline didn’t go with you, did she?’

  ‘She wasn’t asked.’ David shrugged a little defensively. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘No one’s suggesting it was,’ exclaimed Caroline impatiently. Then to Nicolas: ‘But how did you know?’

  ‘I called on Gareth for a drink yesterday evening and he told me.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Caroline cupped her cheeks in her palms to hide their sudden flaming. She had thought Gareth had spent the evening at the Macdonalds’. Sandra had brought the children back herself at about six o’clock, but she had implied that Gareth was still at her house. Or had she? Caroline couldn’t remember. Maybe it was simply a case of her believing what she thought to be the truth.

  ‘So.’ Nicolas finished his coffee and drew out his cigarettes. ‘What about it? Or does the prospect of another swim in the river not appeal to you kids?’

  Miranda’s eyes sparkled. ‘I want to come,’ she cried. ‘I wished Caroline had come with us yesterday.’

  Caroline gave Nicolas a wry look, and his eyes twinkled. ‘Well?’ he urged. ‘What about you?’

  Caroline made a helpless gesture. ‘I’d love to come, and perhaps Elizabeth would like to come, too.’

  ‘Ah, well, I don’t think so,’ remarked Nicolas slowly. ‘You see, I’ve taken the precaution of giving Charles the rest of the day off, and he’ll be home soon to look after Elizabeth’s welfare. He was quite agreeable to you and the children coming out with me.’

  Caroline stared at him, unable to suppress a gasp of reluctant admiration for his impudence. ‘You never expected us to refuse, did you?’

  ‘Let’s put it this way,’ said Nicolas persuasively. ‘I thought you wouldn’t refuse to keep a lonely guy company, not when you know how much he enjoys yours.’

  Caroline shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Well, I do. Go get your swimsuits and meet me at the car.’

  ‘I’ll have to tell Elizabeth.’

  ‘Very well. But be quick about it.’

  Elizabeth blinked uncomprehendingly when Caroline explained that Charles had been given the rest of the day off. But she didn’t look particularly pleased at the news that Caroline and the children were going out for the day with Nicolas Freeleng.

  ‘But what do you know about him?’ she protested, levering herself up on one elbow.

  Caroline sighed. ‘He’s Charles’s boss, and he’s hardly likely to be planning an abduction scene with the children along, is he?’

  Elizabeth had to concede that this was so, and as there were few further objections she could voice she had to let her go. Caroline sped to her room, stripped off her few garments and quickly donned a diminutive white bikini. Then she pulled on her jeans and vest again and snatched up a towel and her sunglasses. The prospect of the unexpected outing had banished her depression, and she refused to admit that part of her excitement stemmed from the knowledge that at Nyshasa there was always the possibility that she might see Gareth.

  The perpendicular heights of the narrow bridge that spanned the River Kinzori at Nyshasa were spectacular in daylight. Below the somewhat swaying structure a tremendous volume of white-spumed water plunged down a rock cascade to be sucked greedily into a whirlpool at its base. Moss-covered rocks and huge feathery ferns fringed the falls, a continuance of the thickly matted undergrowth which grew with luxuriance down the sides of the ravine. There was a dampness in the air, and the hysterical squawking of a flock of vividly coloured parakeets, disturbed by a marauding monkey, preceded their graceful flight into the air. Here the denseness, the intrusion of the jungle into any attempt at civilisation was evident, and anyone venturing far from the track would soon find themselves in difficulties.

  They spent the morning some distance down-river from the falls and Caroline told herself she was glad. But Nicolas had explained that the construction of the Mburi dam, which Gareth was working on, was some distance upstream at the point where the Kinzori forked and consequently reduced its velocity. The dam was being built to harness all the waters of the Kinzori into generative power and eventually a hydro-electric plant was to be built near the falls.

  At lunch time they went back to Nicolas’s house where his houseboys had prepared a delicious meal of iced melon and chicken salad, followed by fresh fruit and coffee. David and Miranda were obviously tired after their energetic morning and were not at all averse to being led upstairs and left to sleep for a while in an attractive twin-bedded room under the eaves.

  Downstairs, after ascertaining that Caroline wasn’t at all sleepy, Nicolas put some records on the player and came to sit beside her on a comfortably cushioned lounger on the verandah. The view from this vantage point was, as Caroline had expected, quite magnificent, a sweeping greensward precipitating towards the turbulent waters of the Kinzori. There was no visible sign of any other habitation, although Nicolas told her that there was an African village set further downstream within sight of his house, but the somnolent buzz of the insects and the unhurried cry of the animals created the certain impression that one was alone in this green, isolated place.

  A houseboy had placed a trolley containing bottles and glasses and a bucket of ice within his master’s reach, and Nicolas poured Martinis and handed her one. Caroline took it reluctantly, determining not to overdo it this time, and tried not to feel too obviously embarrassed when he put his arm along the back of her seat.

  ‘Tell me about yourself, Caroline,’ he murmured, lightly stroking her hair with a lazy hand. ‘Why haven’t you been snapped up by some love-hungry male? I’m sure the men in England find you just as delectable as I do.’

  Caroline smiled her acceptance of this pretty comment, but made no reply to it. Instead she traced the rim of her glass with her forefinger before asking: ‘Where does Gareth Morgan live?’

  Nicolas was taken aback by her question. He frowned, his eyes seeking answers in eyes now averted. ‘Why do you ask? Do you intend to pay him a visit?’ he queried.

  Caroline shrugged. ‘I was curious, that’s all.’

  ‘I see.’ Nicolas raised his glass to his lips and took a mouthful of its contents. ‘He lives at the site, of course. Where else would the resident civil engineer live?’

  Caroline glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. ‘Of course. I wasn’t thinking.’

  Nicolas flicked a fly from the immaculate crease in his trousers. ‘I’ve no doubt that a visit to the site could be arranged if you’re interested. It’s quite a construction they’re building.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Caroline accepted hi
s invitation half reluctantly. Her feelings about seeking Gareth out were divided. Although she didn’t relish the prospect of further humiliation, nor could she contemplate the possibility of not seeing him again.

  ‘I’ll arrange it,’ commented Nicolas dryly, and then returned to his intent scrutiny of her slightly pink cheeks. ‘Do you mean to tell me there’s no man back in England waiting impatiently for your return?’

  Caroline sighed. ‘Maybe there is,’ she replied evasively. ‘How long have you been in Tsaba, Mr. Freeleng?’

  ‘Nicolas!’ he insisted. Then: ‘I suppose I’ve been here almost ten years. First in Ashenghi, and then at the mine.’

  ‘But your real home isn’t here, is it?’

  ‘No. My family live in Johannesburg,’ he agreed impatiently. ‘Look, I don’t want to talk about me. I’m very dull meat. I want to talk about you. Tell me all about yourself—where you live, your hobbies, your family.’

  ‘I don’t have any family,’ said Caroline quietly.

  ‘All right, then, tell me where you live. Gareth told me you trained to be a teacher.’

  ‘Yes.’ Caroline bent to place her glass on a glass-topped table beside her. She had not touched her drink and Nicolas gave her a wry look.

  ‘What’s wrong? Isn’t it to your taste?’

  ‘It’s very nice, thank you. I—well, I’m just not used to drinking during the day.’

  ‘One Martini isn’t drinking,’ Nicolas protested, and she had to smile. He sounded so put out at her refusal to accept his hospitality.

  ‘This is a marvellous place!’ she enthused, but Nicolas bent his head and touched his mouth to the warm skin of her upper arm.

  ‘You’re a temptress, do you know that?’ he exclaimed, his arm about her closing on her shoulder. ‘You’re deliberately teasing me.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not—really,’ she gasped in alarm, suddenly aware of their extreme isolation here. She struggled to move out of his grasp. ‘Isn’t this a record of the Carpenters that’s playing now? I adore their music, don’t you—’