The Road to Paradise Island Read online

had to let it go. I felt I had upset her enough without demanding that she give you up."

  "You're happy, Father?"

  "As near as one can be. I missed you and Philip... and now there is this trouble about him. Why did he have to go off to these far-off places? They are full of danger."

  "He had to go. The urge was so strong. He couldn't resist it. He wasn't like you, Father. He loved the business of map making. It was romantic and exciting to him. I am a little like that, too."

  "It's in the blood, I think. It passes over some of us. I never had it, but would you believe it, Jan has. He is always talking about maps and plying me with questions."

  My heart began to beat fast. Jan interested. This seemed too good to be true.

  "I like Jan very much, Father."

  "Yes, I can see there is something special between you two. I'm glad. That pleases me a great deal."

  "Father, would you like me to stay the whole month here with you and the family?"

  "My dear Annalice, nothing would please me more. But would that not be a sacrifice for you? I gathered there was so much you were looking forward to seeing."

  "It's true. But how could anything compare with discovering one's own family?"

  "You are welcome, my dear. We should love to have you."

  "I feel I want to get to know Jan... absolutely. I am sure Granny would love him. And he is so interested in maps you tell me. Are you going to let him take it up as a profession?"

  "If he persists in his enthusiasm, of course."

  "You still have Charles to follow you in the export business."

  "I never believe in forcing people. It is their own choice. That is something your grandmother and I did not agree about."

  "I know. She mourns Philip terribly."

  "But there is hope ..."

  "It seems to grow less as time passes. I was wondering... would you allow Jan to come and visit us?"

  "Do you think your grandmother would want that? She was very much against the marriage."

  "I know she wants it very much indeed. It might be difficult to get her to say so, but I am sure she does. / want it very much."

  "Well, we could ask Jan."

  "So I have your permission to do so?"

  "Shouldn't you ask your grandmother first?"

  I shook my head. "I know her well. If I returned home with Jan she would be delighted. She would love him on the spot. He is so like Philip ... his enthusiasms ... his ardour about map making. It would help her so much. It would help us both so much. Jan too ... Perhaps he could stay with us for a while and go to the shop and meet old Benjamin Darkin. Philip was constantly at the shop, so was I. It seems that Jan is one of us."

  "Sound him out... gradually. Make sure it is what he really wants."

  I did not think there was any doubt that Jan would seize the opportunity with alacrity, but I would, as my father said, approach it gradually.

  When I told Raymond he was delighted.

  "Fate is on our side," he said. "I have another idea. Why don't we ask Jan to be a member of our party. I am sure he would like to see something of the world. Then ... we should not have to lose your company."

  "Raymond," I cried, "you have the most wonderful ideas!"

  Raymond smiled modestly. "Am I moving too fast?"

  "Certainly not. It is always an advantage to move fast."

  "Almost always perhaps," he said with a smile.

  When I asked my father about Jan's joining us, he was hesitant. He said he would talk to Margareta.

  I wondered whether she would want to let her son go because I was sure she was wise enough to see the way events were moving. I suppose she knew that Jan would want to come to England. I was a little unsure of Margareta. My father I understood. He was a man devoted to his children but his greater affection was for his wife. That was how he had been with my mother and was the reason why he was able to leave his children with our grandmother. Although he loved his children and wanted the best for them, it was Margareta who had his great love. Much would depend on her.

  Margareta was a home-builder, I could see that and whether she would allow her eldest son to leave home, even for a short time, was doubtful.

  I believe she grappled with herself and came to the conclusion that as Jan was so set on a career with maps it was better for him to go into the family business if that were possible. And she must have decided that it would be excellent experience for him to travel a little. Permission was given and when I suggested that he should come with us on the trip his excitement was intense.

  He had been sad because he had thought I was going away soon and was wondering when he would see me again—which was immensely

  gratifying. But to hear he was coming with us, to see the forests of Germany, the castles of the Rhine, the lakes of Switzerland and the big cities of other countries dazzled him.

  He left with us. We were seen off by the whole family. "See you soon," they cried, for it was arranged that on our return journey I should spend another three days with them before leaving for England.

  It was wonderful to watch Jan's excitement, to have long talks with him, to drift across lakes, to climb grassy slopes round the chalet in the Black Forest where we spent two nights.

  Sitting on the hillside in the mountains, listening to the occasional tinkle of a cowbell, deeply aware of the resinous smell of the pines, I felt almost content. If only it were Philip beside me. I pulled myself up sharply and I said suddenly: "Jan, how would you like to come to England?"

  "To England? Do you mean that, Annalice?"

  "Yes, I do. You could come back with us. You could stay awhile and see if you liked it. I could show you the shop, as we call it. It is quite fascinating with all the maps and the printing presses. We have a wonderful man in charge called Benjamin Darkin. He is reckoned to be one of the finest cartographers in England. He would show you how maps are made. It really is fascinating."

  Jan was silent. I held my breath watching him.

  Then he turned to me and his eyes were blazing with excitement.

  "My parents would not let me go," he said.

  "I think they would."

  "My father might."

  "Your mother would too."

  "You don't know her, Annalice."

  "Yes, I do. As a matter of fact I have spoken to them. I thought I should before I spoke to you. They are agreeable. So it is up to you."

  He remained silent. But I realized that the wonder of my suggestion completely bewildered him.

  They were exciting days. I shall never forget the magnificence of the Swiss mountains and the beauty of the lakes, the excitement of sailing down the Rhine and looking up at the fairy-tale castles perched high above the river. We stayed in small towns in which one could expect the Pied Piper to appear at any moment; we passed through forests where characters from the stories of the Grimm brothers would have fitted so perfectly.

  The men had certain business to attend to and Grace, Jan and I would go out together. We explored cathedrals, markets, narrow cobbled streets and broad highways and as I watched Jan's enthusi-

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  asm for everything I could almost believe I was young again, and this was Philip who was with me.

  Once he said to me as we raced down a hill slope together and came level with each other: "The nicest thing that could ever happen to anyone is to find a grown-up sister."

  "No," I retorted. "The nicest thing is to find a brother."

  We laughed at each other but I was very much afraid that I would betray my emotion.

  He meant so much to me, because I suppose he had come into my life at a time when I was obsessed by Philip's disappearance. I needed help at this time—and it was help which he alone could give me.

  We returned to the house in Prinszen Gracht and there was great rejoicing.

  "Margareta has cooked the fatted calf," said my father; and we spent the evening talking of our adventures. We sat up late and I think Father and Margareta were a
little sad contemplating Jan's departure.

  I said: "It is so good of you to let him come. Remember the distance between us is not so very far. It is not as though we were on the other side of the world."

  Margareta said: "It is sad for us that he is going, but like little birds they must leave the nest and learn to fly on their own. And when they do it is natural that sometimes they fly far away."

  "He is quite passionate in his desire to become a cartographer," I said.

  My father agreed. "I recognize the passion," he said.

  "Granny will love him. Believe me, she needs him. I need him. And he needs to be where he can learn what he longs to."

  "You are right, of course," said my father. He looked at Margareta and she nodded, smiling rather sadly at him.

  "You are so fortunate," I told them. "Being here I have felt the harmony, the happiness, in this home. You have each other, Charles and Wilhelmina. And Jan is there too... just across a little stretch of water."

  "That is true," said my father. To tell the truth we have often wondered about Jan. I was going to see someone in this town about what he wants to do. He is fifteen so it is time to be thinking about that."

  "And when he has a desire which is undoubtedly born in him it cannot be ignored," added Margareta.

  "You want the best for him," I said.

  "Yes. We must put aside our selfish feelings," Margareta said. "I have wanted to keep the children round me ... "

  "Alas, time passes. Perhaps you will come and see us... all of

  you. Granny would be delighted. It is just a matter of breaking the ice, of forgetting these foolish differences."

  "Well, it seems you have done that, Annalice," said my father.

  "We must make sure that I have."

  "And you are leaving tomorrow," said Margareta. "Your friends are charming people."

  My father smiled and looked at her. I knew what they were thinking. They had already decided that I was going to marry Raymond.

  I said nothing. But seeing their joy in each other made me wonder if I was being very foolish indeed to hold back.

  I kept thinking of all Raymond had done for me. He had even brought this about. But for him I should now be at the Manor, watching for the news which never came.

  Everyone thought I was lucky to be loved by Raymond Billington. Surely everyone could not be wrong.

  The experiment was successful as I knew it would be. When I arrived home with my half brother, Granny was astounded and a little piqued I think because it had all been arranged without her knowledge; but her joy very soon overcame all other feelings.

  In a very short time Jan had won her heart. His likeness to Philip was both saddening and heart-warming. "He is a Mallory from head to toe," she told me. "There doesn't seem to be anything Dutch about him."

  I said: "You would like his mother, Granny. She is a sweet, homely and loving person."

  "I can see that you have been completely bewitched by them all."

  She was deeply moved and in spite of herself could not help showing it.

  "You're quite audacious, Annalice," she said almost angrily. "Slyly going over there and arranging all this. I think you had it in mind right from the first."

  "Well, Granny, it has always seemed a little silly to me. Family feuds always are. It is my family, don't forget ... as well as yours."

  "I can see I shall have to be watchful or you will be managing us all before long."

  But she was delighted; and I think she admired me for what I had done.

  I said: "Let us ask them all over for Christmas. Wouldn't that be fun?"

  "I'm not sure. We'll see how Jan feels about it here."

  "He loves it. Benjamin says he reminds him so much of—"

  "I know. I can tell. He's got it in him. Heaven knows what happened to his father."

  "Jan can't get to the shop quickly enough. He is into everything. Benjamin says it is What's this? What's that? all the time."

  "I know. And he is certainly fond of you. I don't think he exactly dislikes his old grandmother either."

  "He told me he had always wanted to come to England and that his father had talked about us and the Manor, and he thought about England as his home."

  "He is a sensible boy."

  He was good for us. We had to hide our grief from him and we did not talk of Philip in his presence.

  It was the beginning of May when we visited the Billingtons again. Jan went with us. He had settled in amazingly well. It was true he spoke rather nostalgically now and then of his family but when I asked if he would like to go back, he was emphatic in his assurances that he wanted to stay.

  He spent most afternoons at the shop.

  Granny had been in correspondence with my father and they were writing regularly to each other now. He wanted to hear about Jan's progress, and she was happy to be on friendly terms again. Jan's education had given some anxiety but Granny had engaged the curate, who was a scholar and eager to earn a little extra money, to take Jan in the mornings until other arrangements could be made and we knew how long he was going to stay with us. Granny said that if he was going to make maps his career, he could not start too early and surely the ideal opportunity was in the family business.

  My father agreed with that but it was decided that, for the time being, Jan should study with the curate.

  "You see," said Granny to me, "when people make arrangements so hastily, they are inclined to forget the practical details."

  "Which," I reminded her, "can always be worked out later."

  She nodded, looking at me with that mingling of affection and grudging admiration.

  But she thought I was very foolish to continue to refuse Raymond Billington.

  I still went up to the room and would sit there thinking of Ann Alice. I was almost twenty now, and I still had the uncanny feeling that our lives were linked. I could not talk to anyone about it. Granny would have thought the notion quite ridiculous and would not have hesitated to say so. Raymond might too, but he would try to understand.

  It was a great pleasure to arrive at the station and be greeted by Raymond and Grace.

  "We have visitors," Raymond told us. "Old friends of the family. Miss Felicity Derring and her aunt, Miss Cartwright. You'll like them."

  He asked Jan how he was getting on and Jan enthusiastically told him.

  "Jan's days are full," I said. "Shop in the afternoon and Mr. Gleeson the curate in the mornings."

  Jan grimaced.

  "A necessary evil," I reminded him.

  "I'd like to be at the shop all day," he said.

  "There's enthusiasm for you," I commented.

  "So all goes well. I'm glad of that."

  When Raymond helped me down from the carriage which had brought us from the station, he whispered: "Our little plan worked."

  "You should have been a general."

  "Wars are more difficult to manage than family reconciliations."

  We went into the house to be greeted by the family and introduced to Miss Felicity Derring and her aunt.

  Felicity was pretty—about my age, I imagined. She had soft brown hair and big brown eyes. She was small-boned and not very tall, very dainty and completely feminine. I felt quite large and a little clumsy beside her. The aunt was small too, with a rather fussy manner.

  "Felicity and Miss Cartwright are very old friends of the family," said Mrs. Billington. "I've heard all about your adventures on the Continent. And this is Jan. Jan, it is good to meet you. I am so glad you came to visit us."

  It was the same warm atmosphere which always made me feel cosily content.

  But there was a difference this time because of the visitors, and I learned something about them at dinner.

  "Is there any news about your going out to join your fiance?" asked Mrs. Billington of Felicity.

  "Oh yes," replied Felicity. "I am planning to go in September. If I go early in the month I should escape the worst of the weather. It takes a long time to get the
re and it will be their summer by the time I do."

  "How thrilling," said Grace.

  "I'd love to go to Australia," added Basil. "You are lucky, Felicity."

  "Oh yes, I am," she agreed, casting her eyes down.

  Raymond said to me: "Felicity's fiance is in Australia and she is going out to join him."

  "How exciting!" I said.

  "I'm a little frightened" Felicity confessed. "The thought of all that sea which has to be crossed, and then going to a new country..."

  "I shall go with you, niece," said Miss Cartwright, as though her presence would be a guarantee that all would be well. She was that sort of woman.

  "One has to have a chaperone," said Grace. "Why can men go off on their own and not women?"

  "Well, my dear," replied her mother, "a man can protect himself better than a woman."

  "Some men are rather weak," commented Grace. "Some women are quite strong." She looked at Miss Cartwright and me.

  I said: "Women in our society are treated as of secondary importance."

  "Oh no," declared Raymond. "If we are oversolicitous that is because we prize you so much that we are determined that no ill shall befall you."

  "I still think we are denied opportunities."

  Everybody was getting interested and I could see this becoming a discussion on the rights of women in our modern society—and that was typical of dinner at the Billingtons.

  I was right. It did; and the talk became lively and controversial. Granny M joined in wholeheartedly and so did I. Felicity said little. I came to the conclusion that she was rather a timid little creature.

  Later I asked Raymond to tell me about her.

  "It was a whirlwind courtship," he said. "William Granville came over for a few months, looking for a wife I believe, and he found Felicity. She is hardly the type to go off to the outback. It would have been different if William had been in Sydney or Melbourne or one of the towns. But I don't believe he is. I can't imagine Felicity on some vast property coping with droughts and forest fires and all the disasters one hears about."

  "No. She hardly seems fitted for that. And she is going out in September?"

  "So she says. Miss Cartwright will go with her. Felicity is an orphan and has been with her aunt since she lost her father some years ago. Miss Cartwright is a bit of a dragon as you have no doubt seen. It is a good thing that Felicity has her to go out with."