Dark Moonless Night. Anne Mather
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were no pavements to speak of, just mud-baked paths at the side along which moved a steady stream of women and children. The women carried baskets of clothes or produce on their heads, and Caroline could only assume they were going to the market. This unsophisticated view of humanity went oddly with the skyscraper blocks of hotels and offices and other commercial buildings which formed the nucleus of this apparently thriving African capital.
Turning back into her bedroom, Caroline tried to dispel a sense of disappointment. After all, she had chosen to come to Tsaba, no one had forced her to do it, and just because it was far removed from the picturesque jungle clearing of her imagination it did not mean that she regretted coming. On the contrary, her surroundings were immaterial. She was here to do a job of work, and if by chance she should get to meet Gareth, well …
There was only one bathroom to serve the whole suite, so as everyone else seemed to be sleeping on Caroline made the most of it. She took a shower, smoothed a perfumed anti-sunburn cream into her arms and legs, and brushed her hair until it shone. Her hair was her best feature, she thought. Thick and lustrous, it swung in a dark chestnut curtain to her shoulders where it tilted under, curving confidingly under her chin in front. She was not unaware that amber eyes edged by long thick lashes and a wide, attractive mouth gave one a distinctly appealing appearance, but she had never considered herself beautiful. She was too tall, she thought. Girls who were five feet seven inches in their stockinged feet could never appear weak and clinging, and while she could get away with strongly coloured dramatic clothes, the envy of some of her friends, frilly, feminine garments did not suit her.
After her shower, she dressed in slim-fitting cotton pants in a rather unusual shade of lilac, and a sleeveless yellow tank top. By the time she returned to her room she could hear David and Miranda arguing and when she reached the door of their room Miranda burst into tears. As soon as she saw Caroline, she rushed across to her, wrapping her arms around Caroline’s thighs and clinging to her.
Caroline released the little girl’s arms and went down on her haunches beside her. ‘Now what’s going on?’ she asked gently.
‘She’s just a baby,’ remarked David, with all the disgust of a seven-year-old describing a five-year-old. ‘I only said there’d be spiders at La Vache!’
‘Oh, David!’ Caroline gave him an impatient look.
‘He—he didn’t just s-say that!’ stammered Miranda, drawing back to look with tear-wet eyes into Caroline’s face. ‘He—he said they’d—they’d be ‘normous ones and they’d—they’d come into my bed at night!’
Caroline rose to her feet and faced her eldest charge. ‘Oh, he did, did he? Well, that was clever of you, wasn’t it, David? Frightening a little girl. And not just any little girl. Your sister!’
David had the grace to look a little shamefaced. ‘It was only a joke,’ he muttered into the neck of his pyjamas.
‘And I suppose it was a joke last night when you woke up, terrified and shouting for Mummy?’
David hunched his shoulders. ‘That was different,’ he exclaimed, colouring, as Miranda’s eyes turned in his direction. ‘I—I had a nightmare.’
‘And don’t you think what you’ve been telling Miranda is enough to give her nightmares?’
‘I s’pose so.’
‘Right. Then let’s have no more of it.’ Caroline looked back down at Miranda. ‘All right now?’
Miranda shook her head. ‘But are there spiders at La Vache?’ she persisted.
Caroline sighed. ‘Miranda, there are spiders everywhere. There needs to be. They’re very useful creatures.’
‘How? How are they useful?’ David scrambled off his bed to come across and join them.
Caroline seated herself patiently on Miranda’s bed and was explaining the role of the spider to her intrigued listeners when a slim, negligée-clad figure drifted through the open doorway.
Elizabeth Lacey, Caroline’s employer, was almost thirty but looked younger. Small and vulnerable in appearance, she belonged to that breed of women who seem incapable of managing even the most uncomplicated of tasks, and Elizabeth traded on it. Caroline, who had known Elizabeth for several years before becoming her employee, knew perfectly well that should it suit her, Elizabeth could tackle anything; but as she had a husband who was susceptible to reproachful looks from wide blue eyes and who continually felt guilty that his work should constantly take him away from his family, she managed to avoid anything closely approaching exerting herself. In England, her mother was her standby, or unpaid housekeeper, thought Caroline with reluctant candour, but when it had come to leaving England, to spending several weeks in Africa, even her mother had drawn the line.
And that was where Caroline had come in. The spring term was at an end, she could afford to take a decrease in salary, it suited her to be out of touch for a while, and besides, Elizabeth’s husband worked in Tsaba.
Now Elizabeth flexed her neck muscles tiredly, and said: ‘What time is it? My watch hasn’t been adjusted yet.’
Caroline glanced at the broad masculine watch on her wrist.
‘A little after nine,’ she replied. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Hungry?’ exclaimed Elizabeth, aghast. ‘No——’
‘I am!’
‘I am!’
Two eager voices drowned what their mother had been about to say, and Elizabeth looked at them reprovingly.
‘Do you mind?’ she said, putting a languid hand to her head. ‘I have a headache. Do try and behave like polite children and not hooligans!’
Any two children less like hooligans Caroline could not have imagined, but she put Miranda firmly off her knee and rose to her feet. ‘Aren’t you feeling any better, Elizabeth?’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘It’s so hot, isn’t it?’ Then she seemed to gather herself. ‘Has Charles called yet?’
Caroline shook her head. ‘I expect he’s giving you time to rest before disturbing you,’ she comforted.
Elizabeth’s blue eyes hardened. ‘I should have thought he could have made the effort to be at the airport last night instead of leaving us in the hands of—of—foreigners!’
Caroline glanced at the children, realising they were listening to every word of this exchange. ‘You know perfectly well that it was impossible for him to leave La Vache yesterday, Elizabeth,’ she said, guiding the other woman out of the children’s bedroom. ‘Go get washed, you two,’ she added over her shoulder. ‘Then we’ll have something to eat.’
In her own bedroom, Elizabeth was quite happy to be helped back into bed. ‘You’re so capable, Caroline,’ she sighed, resting back against her pillows. ‘I’m so glad you agreed to come with us. I don’t know how I should have managed in this dreadful place without someone to help with the children.’
‘You relax,’ advised Caroline, straightening the bedclothes. ‘The children and I will go down to the restaurant for breakfast. Shall I have you something sent up?’
Elizabeth blinked. ‘Well—perhaps some coffee,’ she conceded. ‘And do you suppose one can get toast here?’
‘I’ll see.’ Caroline’s lips twitched. ‘You just rest and leave everything to me.’
‘But what about Charles? Do you think perhaps you should telephone him——’
‘Charles will get in touch with you when he’s able,’ replied Caroline firmly. She walked towards the door. ‘You’ll be all right?’
Elizabeth plucked at the sheet. ‘I suppose so. Caroline, you do think I was right to come out here, don’t you? I mean—well, what do you think La Vache will be like?’
Caroline hesitated. ‘Your place