The Whispering Grove Read online

  But the sheer brilliance of Durban temporarily banished the anguished uncertainty from Toni’s thoughts. It was her first experience of a major, sub-tropical city, and the profusion of colour and polymorphic movement in the wide bustling streets captured her fascinated gaze as Justin drove through the city in the car he had hired. Street after street of shops under gay awnings, departmental stores with windows enticingly displayed and only glimpsed in a tantalizing flash as she passed, the Zulu rickshaw boys striking a sudden exotic note as they sped their passengers amid the bustle of the traffic, and everywhere the flaring colours of flowering shrubs against the sparkling white buildings.

  ‘Civilization again,’ Justin smiled as he swung the car into the forecourt of a hotel. ‘Port is going to look a bit seedy after this.’

  With a minimum of fuss they were signed in and shown to the suite Justin had reserved. Toni gravitated automatically to the little balcony overlooking the gardens and an inviting swimming pool and gazed out over the miniature forest of bright sun umbrellas. There was a children’s corner and her gaze was caught by a sudden fierce dispute over possession of a large red rubber duck. She smiled, and Justin spoke behind her.

  ‘I’ve ordered some tea for you. I expect that’s what you want more than anything else at the moment. It should be here in a few minutes. I’ll be back very soon.’

  ‘You’re going out?’ she exclaimed. ‘Now?’

  ‘Only for about half an hour.’ He smiled. ‘Have your tea and settle in.’

  He had gone almost before she had time to comprehend that he was leaving her alone within moments of their arrival. The children forgotten, she wandered slowly through the suite, hardly noticing its de luxe fittings and the soft cream carpeting into which her feet sank at every step and which at any other time would probably have engendered an instinctive protest at what it must be costing.

  She laved her face and hands and was adding a touch of colour to her lips when the tea arrived.

  ‘Would you like it on the balcony, madam?’ asked the young maid, and Toni nodded absently. She thanked the girl and sank into one of the little cane chairs. Where on earth had Justin gone? Surely he hadn’t any business appointments, and he had not mentioned having friends in Durban whom he might be meeting. She sighed and sipped her tea, ignoring the dainty sandwiches and tiny almond biscuits on the tray. It wasn’t for her to question where he went or what he did. This isn’t a proper honeymoon, she reminded herself, it’s merely part of the ritual, to make the outward picture people expected, particularly the wagging tongues of Port. Justin had kept his part of the bargain, generously; she must play hers without demand, unselfishly.

  The half hour passed and stretched to three-quarters, and at last she eyed her white luxan case, deciding she might as well begin unpacking.

  The three dresses she had brought looked lost in the big fitted wardrobe, as lonely as the small oval face that stared back at her from the mirror inside the door. She turned back to the case and reflected aloud: ‘At least I seem to have escaped being stuffed with confetti.’

  ‘I took precautions against that,’ said Justin’s voice from the doorway. ‘That’s why I put Tom on guard over the luggage. All the same,’ he added ruefully, ‘I have a suspicion that Juliet sabotaged mine.’

  He slung his jacket over a chair and ran a hand over his hair. ‘I’ve been through all this before - the old shoes and the paper-chase of confetti blazing the trail for hours afterwards. Any tea left?’

  ‘It’ll be cold by now, I expect.’ Nevertheless, she went to see, wondering how she could have forgotten that Justin had indeed ‘been through all this before’. He had never mentioned Juliet’s mother, and suddenly she knew an intense curiosity about the woman who had been his wife. What had she been like? Dark, fair, shy, gay . ? There were no photographs at Villa Mimosa, nothing to give any forceful impression of the feminine personality which must once have helped form its atmosphere. There was only the imprint of Justin himself, and the sense of smooth efficiency only well trained servants could impart,

  Something he had once said returned to her memory: ‘Marriage played no part in my plans for the future .’ Had he loved so perfectly, and in return been loved so perfectly that nothing could ever replace that love?

  The thought would not be banished as she completed unpacking and fell in with Justin’s suggestion of a swim before they changed for dinner. But if Justin noticed her preoccupation he gave no sign. Subtly but firmly that evening he set the pattern and the mood; that of a friendliness mingled with an air of indulgence and protectiveness which with every passing moment only served to heighten the impotent, bitter-sweet longing for the smallest sign of his awareness of her as a woman. Coldness, harshness, even indifference might have been preferable, she thought wildly, perhaps invoking the protective barrier of defence mechanism, but he was being kind, gentle, demolishing the defence she sought helplessly to build against him and her own treacherous weakness. She didn’t want him to be kind, gentle; she wanted his love ...

  Desperately she fought emotion and with trembling hands unwrapped the necklace Juliet had given her as a wedding gift. It was native work, blue and pink and topaz beads on fine twisted copper wire, and there was a copper bangle to go with it. For a moment her anguish stilled as she thought of the little girl pondering over the bewildering choice in the bazaar at Port and finally making her selection with care and love.

  The clasp was awkward and she was struggling with it when Justin came from the adjoining room. He stopped and looked at her through the mirror. ‘You’re not wearing that tonight?’

  ‘Of course.’ The clasp clicked into place at last and she adjusted the beads and slid the bangle over her wrist. ‘Juliet gave them to me.’

  ‘I know. Unfortunately she insisted on choosing them herself.’ He smiled wryly. ‘It doesn’t exactly go with your dress.’

  ‘Do you object?’ She managed to keep her voice light.

  ‘No, but .’

  It was not like Justin to leave words hanging in the air, and she turned to face him. ‘I promised Juliet I would wear them today,’ she said steadily, ‘and nothing would make me break that promise.’ ‘I see.’ His mouth curved a little at the corners before he turned away. ‘Juliet’s very lucky,’ he added dryly before he opened the door and escorted her down to the restaurant.

  Afterwards Justin suggested a drive along the sea front. The lights of Durban sparkled in the warm dusky night over South Africa’s favourite playground. Mile after mile of golden beach, landscaped gardens, gaiety and music, something for every mood. The soft breeze played on Toni’s face in the open car, and the sights and sounds combined with Justin’s nearness to induce a headiness that was part elation, part sorrow. For the moment she was content to let the tide of fate carry her unresisting wherever it chose; for the moment this must suffice ...

  ‘How do you want to spend these four days, anyway?’ Justin asked as he eased the car into the hotel car-park and offered her a steadying hand. ‘Do you want to pack as much sightseeing into them as possible, or would you prefer to laze around and shop?’

  ‘I would like to explore the shops,’ she said slowly, repressing the instinct to confess she didn’t care where she went as long as he was there, and added, ‘Wherever you want to go - I’m a stranger here.’

  ‘So am I — except for a couple of weeks I once spent on a plantation up the coast.’

  He lapsed into silence as the lift bore them up to their suite. In the tiny hallway he paused, and for the first time she sensed restraint - or was it awkwardness? — in his manner. He said slowly: ‘Before I say good night I’ve a token for you. I intended to give it to you earlier.’

  He disappeared into the smaller bedroom, and after a moment’s hesitation she moved into her room and dropped her handbag and gloves on the bed. She was putting her white silk jacket on a hanger when the tap came on the open door. In an expressionless voice she called, ‘Come in,’ and reached into the recesses of the wardrob
e.

  When she turned he was placing a small box wrapped in blue and silver paper on the dressing table. ‘And I hope you’ll wear this tomorrow,’ he said with a wry smile.

  For a moment she stared at him across the expanse of cream carpet, then suddenly she knew that the small box was the reason for his unexplained absence immediately after their arrival. Wonderingly she went slowly forward and picked up the box, turning it in her hands and knowing it was jewellery before impatience overcame her and she tore at the wrappings.

  Conscious of him watching from the doorway, she raised the lid bearing the name of one of Durban’s famous jewellers and gave an involuntary gasp. Was this really for her? This exquisite gold filigree pendant finely set with garnets and pearls and the dainty matching eardrops that nestled beside it on the white velvet. She touched it with reverent fingers and raised wondering eyes to Justin.

  ‘For me?’ she said stupidly.

  ‘Who else?’ he said with a trace of sardonic amusement. ‘It’s the custom for husbands to give wives a wedding gift of jewellery.’

  ‘Yes, but ...’ A little of the joyous surprise faded from her eyes and she looked at him anxiously. ‘I didn’t expect—’

  ‘You didn’t expect a token of regard from me?’

  ‘N-no. That is ...’ She bit her lip, suddenly realizing how appallingly ungrateful she must be appearing. She took the pendant carefully out of its box and went towards him. ‘Thank you

  — it’s the most beautiful piece of jewellery I’ve ever owned. I — I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Then don’t say anything,’ he said lightly.

  ‘Yes, but .’ Still she stood uncertainly before him, and smiling a little he took the pendant from her hand. With deliberate, unhurried movements he removed the colourful beads and slipped the fine gold chain about her throat. His cool touch left her skin and he said gravely:

  ‘You surely didn’t imagine that I intended to keep our

  — our marriage utterly without warmth or sentiment?

  ‘No. I—’ She faltered into silence under his gaze and looked down at the pendant gleaming softly over the valley of her breasts. What meaning did he intend her to read in his words?

  The small silence now seemed fraught with significance and her heartbeat quickened. Then out of the silence an echo from the distant grove whispered into her consciousness: ‘I don’t expect love from you. Understand?’ Had she understood? Had he meant love in the sense of caring? But marriage conferred the right to that other love ...

  She searched his face with dark perplexed eyes and fought the chill ache of comprehension as she said steadily:

  ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps I did.’ Slowly she raised one hand to his shoulder and bowed her head against him with a gesture of surrender. ‘But I should have realized,’ she whispered.

  A sigh escaped her as she waited the response of the hands that moved to hold her, then she felt him tense and his grasp tighten.

  ‘Toni ...’ He was gently putting her from him. ‘Just what have you realized? That because I mentioned warmth and sentiment I intend to demand the completeness of marriage from you? That for my gift you must offer payment?’

  His voice quickened and there was a tension about the corners of his mouth. ‘I realize that you’re very youthful and that youth prides itself on its modernity in facing life these days, but I thought you understood.’

  He paused and stared worriedly at her averted face.

  ‘Remembering the manner of my proposal I should feel as though I’d married you under false pretences. Whichever way you look at it, my code would not allow me to use the arrangement we made as an excuse for a purely physical affair.’

  The words came like fierce stabs of physical pain and Toni felt every particle of colour ebb from her face. She twisted free of him and went blindly to the dressing table pressing her hands against the cool glass top. Her reflection and that of the room behind her blurred and dissolved, and there was only the misted ruby gleam of the pendant swaying in tiny shining arcs in the glass. She blinked to clear her vision and saw the white of his jacket reflected at her shoulder.

  He said slowly, ‘Believe me, had I desired to do so I would have gone about it in an entirely different way. Unless ...’ He checked, and suddenly his features swam into brilliant focus as something in his tone compelled her to meet the shadowed eyes in the mirror. ‘Unless you should ever wish it that way.’

  And now there could be no possible doubt to cloud the interpretation of his meaning. For long moments the conflicting emotions struggled for supremacy while she sought the answer to his quietly spoken words; until pride rose to subdue the disillusion and the wild longing to turn into his arms and seek balm in physical assuagement. In a low voice she asked: ‘Have I ever given any indication of wanting a purely physical affair?’

  ‘No.’ His own voice was toneless.

  Slowly she turned to face him and stared at the soft weave of the white silk polo shirt level with her eyes. She said flatly: ‘It’s different for a man, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The ensuing stillness seemed only to underline a truth she had not wanted to recognize. There seemed little else to say and she moved uneasily, forcing her limbs to break free of the impasse in which they were bound. Then he checked her abruptly, tilting up her chin with a firm forefinger and forcing her to meet his steady gaze. He said gently:

  ‘Wouldn’t it be simpler just to wear the pendant and forget about my possible needs and all these obligations you’ve suddenly remembered? No heights — but no valleys?’ He smiled and cupped the pendant in his hand. ‘It rather attractive — on you. Good night, my dear.’

  A fleeting kiss winged her brow and before she could collect whirling senses he had gone. The stillness settled about her and there was only the echo of a closing door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Those four days in Durban were later to fuse into a strangely timeless sequence from which Toni could recapture in memory only the departure and arrival, and the way in which Justin seemed to obliterate the tense little incident on their wedding night as though it had never happened. As the four days passed she almost began to wonder if she had imagined it all, except in the moments when her fingers strayed to the pendant at her throat and she remembered.

  True to his promise, Justin insisted that she choose a ring, and when she demurred brushed aside her protests with a light: ‘Nonsense, you can’t leave your first visit to the land of diamonds without one of them, and if it’s the thought of an engagement ring that worries you why not think of it just as a dress ring?’

  His generosity made her despair and increased the longing to be able to give in return. But Justin’s life appeared already complete without her; he seemed calm, happy, self-possessed. Only obliquely, through a child, could she give to the man she had married.

  After the final shopping excursion on their last morning in Durban he asked: ‘Are you sure we’ve remembered everything? It’ll be some time before we have another opportunity of big-city shopping.’

  When she nodded assurance he raised humorous brows. ‘You’ll remember as soon as we’re on the plane.’ He surveyed the parcels spread around the hotel room and observed in the same bantering tone: ‘Talk about excess baggage - we should have chartered a Boeing, I think. What’s this?’

  ‘This’ was the corner of a large book protruding from a paper bag. She watched him investigate, looking curiously at the jacket then sitting on the edge of the bed to thumb through the photogravure studies of famous dancers. He glanced up. ‘Will we find you in these pages?’

  She shook her head. ‘They’re mostly of the great; the Bolshoi and the Royal.’

  ‘What made you buy this? Nostalgia?’

  ‘In a way. I spotted it while you were stocking up your supply of detective stories. I thought Juliet would like it. She’s crazy over ballet.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ He closed the book and re-wrapped it. ‘You realize that it’s a subject you w
on’t be able to escape now?’

  ‘Yes.’ She reached for the ball of string and began to tie together the parcels of curtain and dressmaking materials she had bought. ‘I know now that I was mistaken in thinking I could cut it out of my life and forget it. I can’t. It was the most wonderful part of my life. Somehow it’s more painful to try to forget it.’

  ‘Better not to. Believe me, time does make acceptance easier.’ He came towards her and all the bantering light had died from his face. He touched her shoulder. ‘Some day I’m going to take you back, to watch a performance of Swan Lake in a great theatre. When you can face that the last milestone will have passed and you’ll realize that what I’ve told you is true. You’ll be free then, not of the memories but of the regrets for what might have been. Living is now, Toni. Not tomorrow, or yesterday.’

  ‘You’re very patient with me,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Am I?’ He smiled faintly, then glanced rather abruptly at his watch. ‘Heavens! We’ve less than an hour. Come on, Toni.’

  In the rush to the airport she had little chance to reflect on Justin’s sudden homily, but once settled on the plane she took the book from its wrapping and made herself scan through it objectively. To her surprise the reaction she secretly feared did not occur. True, some of the photographs depicted dancers and scenes she had known and evoked a natural nostalgia, but the impulse to close the book and thrust it far from sight did not come, and she found she was able to study the technicalities of the poses with a little of the dispassionate and critical detachment she would have had in the old days, before ... She sighed and continued to turn the pages steadily. Perhaps Justin was right after all. Some day it would not hurt so much ...