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.
Turning out the lights, she eventually went to her own cubbyhole of a room. Thomas had left her suitcase standing at the foot of the bed, and she lifted it on to a plain stinkwood chest that would apparently have to serve as a storage container for her underwear. The only other furniture in the room, apart from the iron-framed bed, was a tall hanging-closet, which, when she opened the door, smelt so strongly of disinfectant that she was deterred from hanging anything inside; and a kind of marble-topped wash-stand, on which stood a basin and a jug of rather brackenish-coloured water in which floated a motley assortment of flying insects. The floor was covered by a kind of cheap linoleum, and there was a rag rug beside the bed. All in all, it was not a very inspiring apartment, but at least the bed felt comfortable when she bounced on it.
Scooping away most of the insects, she managed to rinse her face and hands before taking off her clothes and putting on her nightdress. Quite honestly, she wished she had brought some pyjamas with her. There was something rather vulnerable about a nightdress when one couldn’t be sure that one’s bed might not be invaded by ants in the night.
Thrusting such disquieting thoughts aside, she turned out the light and climbed into bed. She supposed Elizabeth ought to be grateful that there was electric light here, run from a community generator. They could quite easily have found themselves with only oil lighting and no kind of refrigeration for food.
Lying there in the darkness, Caroline found her thoughts turning back to her meeting with Gareth Morgan. She had known this would happen, and that was why she had been loath to go to bed, but sooner or later she had to face the fact that whatever he had once felt for her, now he despised her and any crazy ideas she had had about effecting a reconciliation should be forgotten.
All the same, her reasons for coming here had not changed. The pity of it was that she had been unable to come any sooner. Anything she said