White Heat by Pamela Kent Read Free Book Online Page B

culmination of the sunset had used up powers that could wither and destroy. In Capetown the white-hot sunlight had seemed to smite the pavements like an angry sword, and after exposure to it for a short time inexperienced travellers like herself felt limp and exhausted. Even now, after a bath, a rest, and an excellent dinner, she felt glad of the support of the rail, as if some vital quality deep within herself had been partially used up.
    But the evening calm was like a benediction. The sky was still streaked with rose where the sun had disappeared, but it was no longer a lurid rose. There was a gentleness about it, as if it was overlaid by gauze. Immediately overhead spread a sea of palpitating blue with a strange luminosity about it, and as Karin put back her head to gaze up at it she felt as if it was an actual sea that could engulf her, and on which it would be a joy to float as the first stars floated.
    She concentrated on one of the stars, and decided that the atmosphere was still too hot to allow it to be brilliant. One moment it was there, and the next it appeared to fade. But later it would shine forth triumphantly like a diamond on a bed of violet velvet.
    Below her the water slapped softly against the sides of the ship. She looked down. The Ariadne was proceeding on her voyage once more, and the decks were vibrating again as the engines turned. To Karin the stillness when the engines stopped had seemed extraordinary, and having only just grown accustomed to it she found it difficult to adjust herself to the uncanny silence.
    But now the life-blood of the ship was pulsing again, and they were making good headway in the evening calm. They were leaving other ships behind ... the lights that streamed from port-hole windows, the riding-lights of smaller craft. She could even make out car lights far away on distant roads inland.
    Footsteps came along the deck behind, and they were moving so purposefully she had no doubt at all that it was Tom who had probably skipped coffee and raced up to join her. Without turning, and with a light breeze lifting the ends of her hair on her forehead, she spoke as if she was under a kind of spell.
    ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘All the ugliness blotted out by the majesty of night!’
    ‘I didn’t realize Capetown struck you as ugly,’ a mildly amused voice answered ... and it was certainly not the voice of Tom Paget. ‘When I came upon you this afternoon you appeared to me to be transfixed by the scenery.’
    She wheeled round swiftly, and confronted him. ‘You!’ she said. ‘I thought it was Tom.’
    ‘I know. I told him I saw you disappearing in the direction of your cabin. Mind?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘No. Why should I?’
    He regarded her with a faintly quizzical gleam in his eyes. The night was deepening rapidly, as it always does in those latitudes, and already it seemed as if they were wrapped about with swathes of shadowy chiffon. Above them, in that marvellous sky, the stars were gathering brilliance.
    ‘I don’t think I can answer that one,’ he replied. He leaned on the rail and produced his cigarette-case. ‘It all depends on how well you’ve got to know one another in the past few days.’
    ‘It’s more than that,’ she returned, as if it was important. ‘It’s more than a week.’
    ‘Well, it all depends on how well you’ve got to know one another in more than a week.’
    ‘We’re good friends,’ she replied, instantly feeling on the defensive.
    ‘Splendid.’ His tone was soft, drawling.
    ‘We’re not lovers, if that’s what you’re implying,’ in a sharp voice.
    ‘Splendid,’ he said again, and this time she had the feeling that he meant it. ‘Look!’ He indicated the distant lights. ‘You won’t see South Africa again until you return to England. By the way, what did you mean just now when you spoke about the majesty of the night hiding all the ugliness? Were you referring to the social set-up, or didn’t you