Fire Mountain Page 4

  Polly was saying : 'All right, but you must have proper meals, Don. Promise me? Oh, how thoughtless of me, you're both dying for some coffee, I'm sure !'

  Amelia rose at once. 'May I help?'

  `Would you, dear?' Polly led the way, picking up Amelia's case and taking it to a small guest room along the hall from the sitting-room. It was simply furnished in blue and white, with checked folk-weave at the window and a flounce of blue candlewick on the bed. 'Like to freshen up? The bathroom's opposite.'

  `Mrs Austin, it's very kind of you

  `Nothing of the sort ! —and do please call me

  Polly, Amelia.' She patted Amelia's arm and whisked off to the kitchen at the end of the hall.

  When Amelia joined her in the kitchen there was a delicious aroma of coffee from a large, earthenware pot by the stove.

  `I love having people to stay,' Polly said, putting a tray on the kitchen table. 'I've been dying to meet you, Amelia, Don's been singing your praises for months. I was eaten up with curiosity, but we had strict orders to keep away from the cottage so that he could relax and get on with his work and not have to bother with entertaining. Cups in the cupboard over there, dear.' She put on a pan of milk to warm as Amelia opened the cupboard. 'How on earth do you manage Don? You'll have a job seeing he doesn't overdo things once he's back in town. Meetings, lectures, social engagements, and work, work, work. Marguerite and I could never get him to let up in the old days, and after five years he's become more autocratic and impossible than ever! But I expect you know how to go about it better than we ever could. I suppose you'll be going with him to look the flat over?'

  'No,' Amelia said quietly, keeping her eyes down as she set the cups.

  `No?' Polly tilted her grey head as though surprised. 'But I thought, from what Don said ' she broke off, flicked a shrewd glance at Amelia's calm, expressionless face and turned away to remove the milk from the stove. Her back was to Amelia as she stooped and brought out a large pottery crock of biscuits. Amelia longed to ask her what it was the pro-

  fessor had said, because her kindly, open manner was the sort that invited confidences, but an instinctive reserve held the words back.

  Polly took out a biscuit and munched it as she put the crock on the table. 'I shouldn't eat these because it results in this ! ' she announced cheerfully, indicating her ample hips. 'But I can't resist them. No will power, Bill says.' Then gently, on a serious note : `Aren't you coming up to London when he comes, Amelia?'

  `Yes, if I can find a suitable job.' Amelia poked her spectacles up the bridge of her nose in the tell-tale gesture the professor would have recognised, and explained, rather hesitantly, that she had been hoping there might be a possibility of her working with Polly's husband.

  `With Bill? Oh, Amelia, I'm so sorry! But I think —no, I'm sure, Bill has a girl starting on Monday, one of his old students.'

  `Has he? Well, never mind.' Amelia smiled at her rueful face, fighting down the desperate sense of disappointment that swept over her. 'Perhaps something else will turn up one of these days.'

  `Well, of course ! ' Polly rushed in reassuringly. 'Between them, Bill and Don know all the right people and they'll soon fix you up with something that suits you.' She still looked faintly puzzled, as if there were one or two pertinent questions she would have liked to ask, but all she said was : 'You must come and stay with us, for as long as you want, Amelia. We'd love to have you here. The room's just crying out to be used ! You take the biscuit crock while I bring the

  tray in. Lead the way and we'll tackle the two of them about it over coffee.'

  The men rose as they entered, Bill taking the tray from his wife and putting it on the table in front of her chair. She poured, and as Bill passed the cups and offered biscuits, she said thoughtfully : 'You look tired, Don. Are you rushing things to get back to London?'

  `Not really, but I have a fairly busy schedule lined up now.' He changed the subject by complimenting her on the coffee. 'Mrs Maggs could do with a few lessons from you about making it, Polly.'

  Polly exchanged a quick glance with her husband, which was not lost on Amelia, and plunged immediately into the subject of the possibilities of a job for Amelia in town, demanding that Bill support the invitation to her to make a home with them for as long as she wished. Bill Austin backed up the offer unreservedly. It was apparent that he and Donovan had been discussing the job prospects too.

  What a nice couple these Austins were! thought Amelia, studiously avoiding the professor's eye as the two men bandied names and likely openings among the various educational projects financed by the Fenn Foundation. She could understand that Donovan might feel some sense of obligation to help her, but Bill Austin also seemed genuinely concerned, like an old friend. She sat quietly, listening and answering a few questions. All the while she was realising how much she had missed in the last few years in not having the kind of personal friends to help and advise her in the direction of her own talents and interests.

  Some while later Donovan flicked back his cuff to look at his watch and rose with a visible effort quite unlike his usual nervy strength.

  Polly protested : 'Won't you at least stay for lunch, Don?'

  `No can do, Polly, but thanks. I have to be at a meeting of the Fenn Council at two-thirty. Will you all have dinner with me tonight? I thought the Chancery Hotel—it's quiet and civilised, and the food is excellent.'

  `Sorry, old man, but Polly and I have a dinner date with the Andersons, fixed up last week,' replied Bill. `You two go out and enjoy the bright lights.'

  `Amelia?' said the professor. Will you join me?'

  `Thank you, I'd like that,' she accepted rather shyly, concealing her eagerness for another precious hour or two in his company as some consolation for her bitter disappointment about the job.

  `I'll call back for you here, say at about seven?'

  Amelia made a tentative offer to meet him in town, but he wouldn't hear of it. His eyes rested on her for a long moment as he shrugged into his coat, then he kissed Polly, shook hands with Bill, said, 'I'll see you later, Amelia,' and was gone.

  As she heard the car pulling away from the kerb, Amelia was conscious of a terrible void. After a year of working so closely with him, knowing he would be in the little cottage on the far side of the Manor House estate as a reassuring certainty whenever things became difficult with Emma and Edward, it came home to her for the first time, with stunning force, just how bleak her future was going to be. How was she going

  to face up to the reality of severing the close tie of day-to-day contact? She would have to learn to live with this parting permanently, until time had mercifully filled it with other interests and healed it. Even if she had agreed to marry him she would have had to steel herself to the inevitable—that he would return to Sarava.

  She told herself it would not have worked out anyway. She had realised that this morning. Nevertheless the thought that she had refused to share the two years he had offered her, two whole years together, swept over her in a dark tide of remorse.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  POLLY Austin exchanged another of those wordless signals of understanding with her husband, who promptly retired to work in his study as she led Amelia back into the sitting room.

  `Sure you wouldn't like another cup of coffee?' As Amelia shook her head, murmuring thanks, Polly picked up a bundle of multi-coloured knitting. With her head bent over the busy click of needles she asked : 'Amelia, why don't you—stay on with Don?'

  `The book's virtually finished, and his department can provide all the assistance he needs once he's back there,' returned Amelia.

  `Ah ! ' Polly stopped for a second, ostensibly counting stitches. 'I hope he's going to settle down now. He's always been so restless, living on a tightrope of nervous energy, yet so self-sufficient one can't get near enough to really help him. Did you know he's been offered the top post as Director of the Fenn Institute of Anthropology? Oh, dear, I shouldn't have mentioned that ! It isn't official yet. But we
're all anxious to know if he'll accept. We think he should, not only for his own sake, the Institute needs someone dynamic to take over. Bill and I began to think that you might be the one to influence him to stay.'

  `Me?' Amelia smoothed her skirt over her knees, and managed to continue in a commendably steady

  voice. 'No, Polly, he hasn't even spoken about the Directorship to me. As far as I know he's planning to go back to Sarava in a couple of years.'

  `What? Oh no ! ' Polly exploded in exasperation. `He's obsessed with that disease-infested place, killing himself over those wretched bloodthirsty tribes ! It's lunacy to waste a brilliant mind like his shut away on a volcanic island with nothing but jungle and heat for the rest of his life. He must have studied every single trivial detail about them while he was there. How much more does he need? You've worked on his book, so you know.' She cast her knitting aside in disgust. 'Oh, Amelia!'

  With a mounting sense of dismay, Amelia wavered. `It's ... it's his decision.' If he had been offered such an important post at the Institute, why was he determined to go back to Sarava? she wondered miserably.

  Polly apologised ruefully. 'I'm sorry for that silly outburst, but I'm as fond of him as if he were my own brother. When he was a youngster we were neighbours and he practically lived in our home. Bill was a close friend too—that's how I met my husband. Bill and I have been so happy, we've been longing to see Don married to a woman who would give him the same happiness and the incentive to stay put.'

  Amelia leaned her head back against the chair, her face turned away from the window light to shield her expression. She was pale and silent.

  `Years ago,' sighed Polly, 'we thought he might marry Marguerite, Bill's youngest sister. They were inseparable and he seemed crazy about her. But it must have been one of those passing phases because

  as soon as he was offered the chance of taking over the Saravan expedition he jumped at it. Poor Marguerite! She's rather delicate, and loves her creature comforts. If she'd been stronger and really loved him she'd have tied him down then, or gone with him. I think it was just an immature infatuation. About a year later she married Tom Anderson, and as for Don—well, he's changed a lot since he returned from the East Indies.'

  She paused, taking surreptitious peeps at Amelia to see if her colour was improving, and then went on talking in a casually reflective tone.

  `He was so ill out there—that may account for some of it, I suppose, but he doesn't discuss things or confide in us as he used to. The few times he's come to London, or we've talked on the phone, he's always spoken of you, Amelia. How thoughtful and practical you are, how lucky he was to find you in Whimpleford, how marvellously you two get on together. Bill and I were beginning to hope that you ... that you and Don ...' her voice dropped lamely.

  She seemed to be waiting and Amelia said, 'It wouldn't work out, Polly.'

  `Wouldn't it?' Polly gave up the pretence of knitting, looked at Amelia's clenched hands and up to meet her eyes. Amelia looked away.

  Polly bundled her knitting up and pushed it into a bag. 'Forgive me, dear, don't be upset. I didn't mean to pry in a gossipy way. Bill says I'm a romantic old busybody, but I want my friends to be happy, that's all I care about.' She sighed again, shaking her head, and began collecting the cups on to the tray. Amelia

  got up to help, aching to unburden herself of the whole story but still too withdrawn and cautious.

  In the kitchen as Polly rinsed and she dried, Polly said : 'You will come and stay with us, Amelia? Do say yes.'

  `I'd like to very much, but don't you think it would be more sensible to wait until I have one or two jobs in view before I move to town?'

  `Far better if you're here on the spot. Once you've cleared things up for Don in Whimpleford you'll be free, won't you? Nothing to hold you there? Well then ! ' With blithe, almost childlike transparency she went on, 'The present Director of the Institute won't be retiring until the end of the year, so there'll be plenty of time to bring Don to his senses—in more ways than one ! He's sure to visit us quite a bit, you know.'

  It was clear she had guessed Amelia's feeling for Donovan and was determined to take a hand. Amelia, heartsore and despondent a few minutes before, began to laugh helplessly. Polly eyed her in surprise, then started laughing too.

  `I am a busybody ! ' she conceded, relishing it with a twinkle. 'So be warned, Amelia! I'll nag you all day today and tomorrow until you agree to come to us.'

  Amelia suddenly felt as if she had known Polly Austin for years, and far from resenting. this intrusion into her private life was warmed and cheered by it. She also had a wonderful evening to look forward to.

  After a light lunch of a delicious cheese soufflé and fresh fruit, the two of them went to Richmond in

  Polly's scarlet Mini and did the household shopping. Then they went to the top of the hill to look down on the winding curve of the Thames in the little valley, and took a slow drive through Richmond Park before returning home.

  Bill had joined them in the sitting room for tea when the phone rang, and he answered it in his study. They heard the distant murmur of his voice, and Polly said, 'Wonder who that could be?'

  Bill came to the door. 'Amelia? Don would like a word with you.'

  She followed him to the book-lined room and picked up the receiver.

  `Amelia?'

  `Yes, Professor.' She answered tonelessly; somehow she knew what was coming and shrank back from it, leaning heavily against Bill's desk.

  `We've just taken a break from the meeting. It looks like going on quite late ...' there was silence for a moment.

  `Professor?' she faltered.

  `Yes, I'm still here. I'm afraid it's off tonight, Amelia. There isn't much I can do about it.'

  Through the constriction in her throat she said, `That's all right. I understand.'

  `I hope it won't spoil your evening entirely. There'll be other times—give me a rain check?'

  `Of course. Please don't worry about me.'

  `Bill's coming up to town tomorrow afternoon,' he told her. 'Bring your case with you. He'll drop you off at the Institute. Ask for me at the commissionaire's desk,' the abrupt, detached phrases beat against her

  ear. 'I'll show you round and introduce you to a few people. Then we can have something to eat and drive straight down to Whimpleford. Suit you?'

  `Fine, if you're sure I won't be a nuisance.'

  `You're never that. Entrance hall tomorrow then, three o'clock.'

  There was something odd in his tone and she said quickly, 'I won't keep you now, Professor, you must be busy. I'll be there at three.'

  `Busy ... yes ... sorry about this evening. See you tomorrow, Amelia. Till then ' the line clicked, cutting off his blurred voice.

  Slowly she replaced the receiver. She shouldn't have come on this visit; she had known it since morning, felt in her bones that there was something amiss with him right from the start. She took off her spectacles and brushed her hand over her eyes. Replacing the thick frames carefully, she composed her face and returned to the other room.

  Bill had evidently already told Polly what the call was about, for her plump cheeks were pink with vexation. 'What did I tell you, Amelia? Don and his work !'

  `Amelia can come with us,' Bill insisted cordially. `My sister Marguerite and her husband Tom Anderson,' he smiled at Amelia. 'It'll be an informal party, with a bit of bridge afterwards. You're more than welcome.'

  To be confronted with Donovan's first love—perhaps his only love? She refused lightly and tactfully, making the excuse that she would like to go up to town anyway; she hadn't been to the West End for

  years and would love to see a show or a film. She was so animated and enthusiastic about it that they seemed convinced, and the rest of the time was spent in discussing possible shows, and what buses and trains she would take.

  Amelia was used to solitude and did not mind getting away from the Austins on her own. Strolling down Regent Street, window-gazing in the soft early twilight,
she made her way across Piccadilly Circus and went into a cinema in the Haymarket, but the film bored her. She left early and found a little coffee-bar where she had a snack and sat watching the London crowds through the plate glass window until she judged that Bill and Polly must have left home for their dinner date. Then she travelled back by train and bus and let herself quietly into the silent house with the latch-key they had given her.

  She had a bath and retired to bed, but not to sleep. Her mind was on Donovan Lyne, as it had been all evening. Where had he been while she was wandering aimlessly around, killing time? Right there in the heart of town working ... or spending the evening with someone else? There were plenty of women, even if Marguerite was no longer available. A host of wounding conjectures crowded in on her in the small, dark, unfamiliar room, and it was not until after she heard the Austins come in that she eventually fell asleep.

  Bill drove her to the Institute after lunch the next day, turning into a quiet square off Holborn and pulling up in front of an imposing grey stone building with a columned portico. He carried her case into

  the entrance hall, crushed her hand in a tight grip as he repeated the invitation to come and stay with them, and apologising for his haste, hurried off to keep his own appointment.

  Amelia's footsteps echoed through the large hall as she crossed the parquet flooring to the inquiries counter. It was just on three o'clock.

  `Can I help you, madam?'

  `I'm Miss Leigh, Professor Lyne's assistant from Whimpleford. Would you please let him know I've arrived?'

  The uniformed commissionaire looked taken aback : 'He hasn't been in today, not so far as I know.'

  `Well,' she glanced diffidently down at her case, 'I have instructions to meet him here. May I wait? I expect he'll be here shortly.'