No Other Haven by Kathryn Blair Read Free Book Online Page B

mentioned one or two bush natives who did the outside work.
    “Do the Hetheringtons still live on the Esplanade?” Stuart asked. “I seem to recall that they were considering a move to Durban.”
    “They left about four months ago: A man named Baumann lives in that house now, an odious creature who makes immense profits from tinned sausages. He holds midnight parties on the beach and his wife goes about all day in pyjamas.”
    “Pyjamas?” Stuart’s brows lifted. “Depends a lot on the woman. Do you miss the Hetheringtons?”
    “I did at first, but I’m not living alone at the moment. You remember the Cadells, of Kimberley?”
    “Didn’t they live about a mile from your old home? Are they down here?”
    “The mother died some years ago. Horace and his daughter came here—he was supposed to be retiring. Suddenly he married again—only a few weeks ago — hard faced minx who took him away to the South of France. Poor Adrienne was left high and dry, an intolerable situation for an unmarried girl of twenty-nine who’s been educated to believe herself comfortably provided for.”
    “Bounder,” Stuart commented. “As a girl, Adrienne had certain good looks.”
    “She still has them. I have her staying here for companionship. Candidly, I’m angling to get her married. She ’ s out at the Country Club tonight with her cousin, Tony Loraine, but you’ll be meeting her any day now.” Meticulously, she used finger bowl and napkin. “Shall we go into the drawing room, Lindsey?”
    Stuart said, “I’ll take a look at the dogs. Can you spare us one for a while?”
    “You may borrow Brutus. Either of the others would play you up. Stuart!” she called after him. “Please don’t bring those dogs into the house.” To Lindsey she added, “He fools with the great animals as though they were terriers. I can’t bear to see the thing s on their hind legs snapping round his face.”
    Lindsey, of a younger generation and bound to him by any but maternal bonds, thought Stuart could quite well take care of himself. She was glad to have this interlude with his mother.
    “Smoke if you want to,” said Mrs. Conlowe, settling herself in a chair. “I used to have a cigarette myself till smoking made me short of breath. I have to watch my health a little.”
    “Stuart told me. But I understood that you keep well in Port Acland.”
    “I do, unless we get sultry heat. I’ve been here for twelve years. Before that we lived in London. Dear me, those London summers and the shivering winters. I used to wrap in furs and crouch over a fire and pine for Kimberley, where I was born . It was too much. When my husband died, I, too, had an illness. Stuart brought me here, but the Conlowe business called him back to England. He has visited me when he could—mostly short trips by air—but I always had a horrid feeling that I’d never see him married. That’s why you’ve made me so happy. My dear,” she smiled, “I never did hear how you and Stuart came together.”
    A slight chill feathered across Lindsey’s skin.
    “My twin brother was a junior officer in Stuart’s ship— t he one that sank. Stuart saved his life.”
    The smile had gone from the older woman’s face. “How like Stuart! Yes, he did tell me he knew your brother, but he never mentioned him when he was telling me about the ship going down. He was on his way back to the Far East then. He said nothing about saving anyone.”
    “He wouldn’t. My brother was lost at sea just over a year afterwards.”
    “Oh, Lindsey!” in pity and distress. “What a lot we have to make up to you.” She hesitated. “If you’ve known Stuart so long, why weren’t you two married earlier?”
    “But I haven’t known him long.” Had she replied too hastily? “At least, not ... so very. We met by accident and discovered the link afterwards.”
    Mrs. Conlowe’s features softened. “I wish you could realize just how I felt when I first knew about you. My husband’s brother,