Road to Paradise Island Page 14

  I can hear voices ... Something is going on down there.

  They are coming ...

  RAYMOND

  I lost count of time while I was reading Ann Alice's journal, and when I came to the end it was quite light for morning had come.

  I had been there with her. I felt I knew her and her lover, her stepmother and the sinister Desmond Featherstone. I was completely frustrated by the abrupt ending and was filled with an intense longing to know what had happened on that night which I knew was the night of her death because of the date on her tombstone.

  I could feel her fear... the steps on the stairs. I could see her hastily thrusting her journal into the drawer, not shutting it completely so that the telltale scarf was just visible.

  And what had happened? Was the prized key in the door, or had she forgotten to lock it? Oh no, she never would do that. She had been so insistent about that key. Yet after what she had heard she would be in a state of extreme terror.

  What had happened?

  And how strange it was that I should be the first to read those words which had been written nearly a hundred years ago. It was almost as though they had been written for me. I was the one who had uncovered her grave, who had been the first to step into her room and find the journal.

  I was impatient to tell my brother Philip what I had discovered. I even thought of going to wake him up, but I decided against that. I must be patient. He was an early riser and he would be at the breakfast table at half past seven.

  I was there before him.

  "Philip," I cried, "an extraordinary thing happened last night."

  Then I told him and he was as excited as I was. But what interested him particularly was the map.

  "Go and get it," he said. So I did.

  He studied it intently.

  "I know the area," he said. "These islands... well, we're aware of them ... but this Paradise Island ... It sounds rather fanciful."

  "Well, we have the Solomon Islands. Why not the Paradise Island?"

  'Til show it to Benjamin. He's bound to know something."

  Neither of us ate much. We were so excited. I suggested that we tell Granny M what I had found. She would be most put out if she were not informed.

  We went to her room where she was having her usual tea and toast with marmalade on the special tray she used for her breakfasts in bed... her one concession to her years.

  She listened intently and her first remark was a reproof for me.

  I had been told not to enter the room. It might have been dangerous.

  "I had an urge, Granny," I said. "It was irresistible."

  "In the middle of the night!" added Philip.

  "So I took the candle and went up."

  "Very brave in view of all the talk of spectres," said my brother. "What would you have done if you had met a headless corpse with clanging chains?"

  "When you have read the journal you will not talk so flippantly of the dead," I told him earnestly.

  I went up to my room and brought down the journal for them to see. They were astonished.

  "And you sat up all night reading that!" said Philip.

  "Well, wouldn't you? In any case, once I had started I couldn't stop."

  "I should have waited until morning."

  "What do you think of the map, Philip?" asked Granny M.

  "It's not done by an amateur. I know the area. That's clear enough. But I have never seen this Paradise Island before. I want Benjamin to have a look at it. We'll make some comparisons."

  "It will be interesting to hear what he has to say," said Granny M. "Leave the journal with me. I shall read it."

  It was a strange morning. I felt wide awake in spite of a night without sleep. I went up to the room again. It seemed different from last night. I suppose that was because the workmen were there. I could not settle to anything. I kept thinking of Ann Alice. It was almost as though I were living her life and expected to see the wicked Desmond Featherstone appear at any moment.

  Reading the journal had been a shattering experience for me.

  At luncheon Granny M could talk of nothing else but the journal. She had stayed in bed all morning reading it.

  "It's a terrible story," she said. "What do you think happened to that girl?"

  "Do you think they came up and murdered her?"

  "I think it very likely."

  "And then walled up the room?"

  "Why should they do that?"

  "I don't know. They buried her ... We know that. I was the one who found her grave."

  "It is a mystery that we cannot hope to solve. I wonder what that map will reveal. This island the young man talked about... where is it? Perhaps it never existed. We don't know much about the young man. The girl was so besottedly in love with him, doubtless she didn't see him clearly."

  "Oh, I am sure he loved her. He believed in that island. They were going to find it. I wonder what happened to him."

  "Yes, so do I. Perhaps he went to the island after the girl died."

  "Imagine his coming back and finding her dead!"

  "Well, it will be interesting to hear what Benjamin has to say about the map."

  I was so eager to know that I went over to the shop that afternoon. I found Philip and Benjamin surrounded by old maps.

  Philip shook his head at me.

  "There's no sign of it anywhere."

  "If it existed it would have been discovered by now," said Benjamin. "These seas have been charted."

  "It is possible, I suppose, that it could have been missed."

  Benjamin shrugged his shoulders. "Just possible, I suppose." He tapped the map. "This has been made by someone who knows what he is doing."

  "Yes. He was a professional."

  "Mr. Mallory was telling me about the discovery of the journal. In my opinion, this young man made a mistake about the locality."

  "But if it were somewhere in this area..."

  "It is hardly likely. It would have been discovered by now. You say this map was made nearly a hundred years ago. We've made long strides since then." He shook his head. "One never knows. It could be wrong, of course. I imagine he drew it from memory."

  "I should love to find that island," said Philip.

  "If it exists," added Benjamin.

  "It exists," retorted Philip. "I feel it in my bones."

  We sat talking. To me it was like taking a journey through the

  ocean. I listened to them. I caught Philip's eagerness. I loved him dearly. He had such wonderful vitality and when he took an interest in something it was never half-hearted.

  He was obsessed about that island as I was about Ann Alice. Our curiosity differed slightly. I yearned to know what had happened on that night. Philip's thoughts were all for the island.

  Often later I thought back to that afternoon in the shop and many times I wished I had never found that map.

  Philip could talk of nothing else. I would often find him with old maps stretched out before him.

  "It could have been in an entirely different part of the world," he said.

  "Listen ," I replied. "He was a map maker. He would no more mistake the locality than you would."

  "Everyone can make mistakes."

  His intensely blue eyes looked into space. "Annalice," he said, "I want to find that island."

  He wouldn't leave it alone. It was an obsession. Granny M noticed it and was disturbed.

  Gow and his men had finished the roof and were working on the room. All the soft furnishings had been destroyed. They were in tatters. But some of the furniture was quite good and would be restored.

  I went through her clothes. I wanted to do that myself. The gloves, the scarves, the hats and gowns ... all her personal belongings. I instructed the servants to wash some of the dresses. Many of them were perished but those which were not I put into a trunk in the attic with her hats and shoes.

  I treated them reverently. I felt very close to her and sometimes I had the extraordinary notion that she was watching
me and thanking me.

  I went up to the room before they started to mend the woodwork and paint the walls. Gow was there. I asked him about the stains on the walls.

  He said it was hard to tell what had caused them after so long. It might have been damp ... discolouration.

  "It seems to be splashed," I pointed out. "Could it be ... blood?"

  "Blood, Miss Annalice? Well, it could be, I suppose ... By the look of it... yes it could be. I wouldn't have thought of that though. Damp and time do odd things to buildings. Why should you think it was blood, Miss Annalice?"

  "I just wondered."

  "Well, whatever it was we'll soon have these walls looking like new. It'll be a nice room when we've seen to the window."

  "And the window will be exactly where it was before?"

  "Have to be. That was where it was walled in like. You'll be able to see it from outside now the creeper's cut away. I reckon that's why they let the creeper grow there. There's a difference in the bricks, you see. Oh, this will be a nice room when we've done with it."

  Now they have done it. The restored furniture is there. The bed, the chest of drawers, the chairs. This is how it must have looked when Ann Alice sat in it and wrote her journal.

  The servants still will not go there after dark. They say it is creepy.

  But I often go and sit there in the early evening. Sometimes I speak to her. "Ann Alice," I say, "I wish you would come back and tell me."

  Sometimes there seems to be a presence there. But maybe that is only my fancy.

  The house and everything seem different since the revelations which came on that night of the storm. She comes into my mind so often and at odd moments I could almost feel that she is beside me. There is some special bond between us. We are of the same blood; we have almost the same name; we have lived in the same house. It is only time that separates us. I often think: What is time? Is it possible to bridge the gulf?

  I never say such things. Granny M and Philip are far too practical. They would laugh at my fancies. But Philip has his fancies too.

  Constantly he talked of that island. I can see plans forming in his mind. So can Granny M. And she is very uneasy.

  One day at dinner Philip said: "I have always wanted to explore new areas, to chart right on the scene. I've always been intrigued by the practical side of the business."

  I knew him so well that I was not surprised when he went on to explain that David Gutheridge, a botanist—this was a friend of his with whom he had been at school and who came of a seafaring family—was planning to go on an expedition to the South Seas. Philip went on: "He has suggested I go with him."

  Granny M was silent but she expressed no surprise.

  "It has always been what I wanted to do," said Philip. "There are some very sophisticated instruments in use now... some of which were never dreamed of a hundred years ago. I would like to check up on some of our charts. I think ... and Benjamin agrees with me... that they might be a little in error here and there in these waters."

  Granny M came to my room that night.

  "He's determined to go," she said.

  She looked rather pathetic suddenly—something I had thought she never could.

  "I knew it had to come," she said. "It's natural"

  "You wont try to stop him?" -

  She shook her head. "No. It wouldn't be right. It's his life ... his profession. He's right in a way. We cannot stand still in one place. He should go out into the world. Benjamin should have done. If he had he would be right at the top now. Philip must go. I have always known it."

  "We shall miss him ... terribly."

  "It will only be for a year or so. But he'll come back ... enriched, fulfilled. Yes, I shall miss him. But I have you, my dear. I can't tell you what a comfort you two children have been to me."

  I felt limp, frustrated. How / should love to go with Philip!

  If I could have made plans with him, I should have been so happy, so excited.

  I had been on the point of suggesting it to Philip. I had wondered what his reaction would be. But I could see now that I should have to stay with Granny M.

  One day perhaps I would go out there to those secret waters. I longed to discover Magnus's Paradise Island.

  That was what Ann Alice had wanted to do. And so did I.

  I felt melancholy.

  Life seemed frustrating.

  On a bright day, at the beginning of October, Granny M and I travelled down to Southampton to wave our goodbyes.

  Philip had gone on ahead with all his gear; he was to sleep on the ship for a night or two before it set out to carry him across the seas.

  I felt very sad, and so did Granny M. But she was convinced that it was the right way to act and I suppose I agreed with her. It was the first time Philip had gone away—apart from school, of course. I remembered how desolate I used to be on those occasions. But how much worse was this!

  I had helped him with his preparations and if anything we had been closer during the last weeks than ever before.

  "I wish you were coming." he said. "What fun that would be!"

  "Oh. how I wish it! It's going to be devastatingly dull without you."

  Philip said: "Many times I've been about to say you should come. But we couldn't both leave the old lady, could we?"

  "No, of course not."

  "Never mind. When I've found the island we'll all go out and visit it. I'll bet Granny M would be game."

  "Come back soon," I said.

  i

  He had suggested that I make a copy of the map. "So that you have one," he said. "In any case, it is better for there to be two."

  "I think I could do it almost from memory."

  "I want it to be exact."

  "All right."

  I made the map. I was rather proud of it.

  I showed it to Philip who said: "Perfect. Exact in every detail. Put it in a safe place."

  I said almost without thinking: "I'll put it at the back of one of my drawers." Then I had a strange feeling that that was what Ann Alice must have said—or thought—when the map had been given to her.

  And now he was going.

  Granny M looked pale and sad, as we stood there on the dock watching the ship glide out of the harbour while Philip stayed on deck waving to us.

  We remained there until we could see him no more.

  Life had become monotonous. The days seemed long and now that they were drawing in, rather depressing. When I was in the garden I often looked up at the new window which had been put in and sometimes I fancied I saw a face there. One gets fanciful on dark afternoons in a big house which has become full of shadows.

  Christmas came. I was longing for it to be over. It wasn't the same without Philip and at such times it was brought home more vividly how we missed him.

  We tried to be enthusiastic. We discussed presents and such things. The only Christmas present I wanted was to see Philip walk in.

  The Fentons came to us and we visited the Gal tons; we dined with the vicar and his ineffectual wife. We had the village children's Christmas party the day after Boxing Day in the Manor, all just as we always had had. We tried to make it a normal Christmas.

  "Time is passing," said Granny M. "He'll be home soon. He just wants to look at the place ... and satisfy himself that it is there ... then he'll come home."

  I wasn't sure. He had always wanted to go to sea. He would become fascinated sailing the ocean, hoping that he was going to make discoveries... just as I should if I had been with him.

  In February we had a letter from him. What excitement that was! I read it. Granny M read it: I read it aloud to her and she read it aloud to me, for reading it was like having Philip with us.

  "Dear Granny and Annalice, Sydney

  "Here I am! I can't believe I have really arrived and that you two are on the other side of the world.

  "We had a fairly smooth journey—at least I was told it was smooth. It was hardly how I should have described it. There are some amusin
g fellows in the botanical party. They are here in Sydney at the moment and they are leaving tomorrow. I shall be on my own then.

  "I am planning to explore the islands some hundreds of miles off the coast here. There is a ship that goes every Wednesday. That is the day after tomorrow ... so I shall get this off to you before I leave.

  "I hope it reaches you. It has a long way to go, but they assure me that letters do get safely home and four hundred mail bags leave Australia for England every week.

  "I wish you were here. Then everything would be fine. I've seen several people in Sydney but none of them so far has given me any information about Paradise Island. I studied several maps but it is not marked on any of them. It really is rather mysterious.

  "As soon as there are any developments, I'll write again.

  "I am fit and well. Never felt better and am raring to go.

  "Perhaps you will be seeing me soon.

  "Your devoted grandson and brother,

  "Philip."

  "He seems as though he is finding the life amusing and interesting," said Granny M.

  "Philip usually finds life amusing and interesting."

  "He always had the urge to wander. Perhaps having had a taste of it he'll long for the comforts of home."

  I wondered.

  One day merged into another. Each day I watched for a letter from Philip.

  "Of course mail coming from such a long way would be uncertain " said Granny M. "I daresay a number of letters get lost."

  I agreed with her: but how I longed for news!

  The shop had lost its charm for me. Every time I went in I thought of Philip. When I looked at the maps with those far-off seas, I would think of the terrible things that could happen on them. I remembered the account of storms in Ann Alice's journal. Where was Philip? and how would he be faring on those treacherous seas? He had talked of taking a boat to the islands. Was he still there?

  Talking to Benjamin brought little comfort. He made a great effort to be cheerful and optimistic, but he was merely depressing.

  Granny M was anxious to lift us out of our melancholy and with characteristic good sense made up her mind that we must stop torturing ourselves with possibilities. It would be wonderful to hear from Philip but if we did not, we must consider the difficulties of communi-