The Road to Paradise Island Read online

  "I take it Miss Cartwright approves of the match."

  "William Granville is a very forceful man. He's not so young. I should think he is a good fifteen years older than Felicity. He swept her off her feet, though. And I suppose it seemed very romantic. I hope

  she will like it out there ... I can see that Jan is doing a good job with your grandmother."

  "She is very proud of him. Benjamin is full of praise for him and you can guess how that delights her. I heard her talking about 4 my grandson' to someone the other day, and you should have heard the pride in her voice. It was a wonderful idea to bring him over."

  "When you leave home she would have been so lonely. When are you going to, Annalice? My people are waiting to know. They think it is inevitable and they can't understand why we delay."

  "Do they know... about Philip?"

  "Of course."

  "And they don't understand?"

  He shook his head. "They think that I should be with you to comfort you if..."

  "You say if. It seems like a certainty now. Where is he? Why do we hear nothing?"

  "I don't know."

  "It torments me."

  "Marry me ... and I'll take you out there. I'll give up everything and we'll go together."

  For a moment I was tempted. It was what I wanted. The idea of going there, to the place where Philip had gone, dazzled me.

  I don't know why I hesitated. It was almost as though I could hear Ann Alice's voice saying: No. It is not the way. When the time comes for you to marry Raymond, you will know.

  "Why not, Annalice?" He put his arms round me and held me close to him. It was so comforting to be held thus. I turned my face and buried it in his coat.

  "We'll tell them tonight," he said.

  I withdrew myself. "No, Raymond. I don't think it is the way. You can't leave your business ... just like that. I might have to stay there a long time. Think of the journey out ..."

  "It could be a honeymoon."

  "A honeymoon which could perhaps reveal a tragedy. I just know it is not the way."

  "Think about it."

  "Yes," I said. "I will think."

  I don't know where I got the notion that Felicity was in love with Raymond. Was it the manner in which she looked at him? The way her voice changed when she spoke to him?

  Raymond was of course a very distinguished man. Anyone would be proud of him. I realized what a fool I was to hesitate about

  marrying him. I did not always know why I did. It was something to do with the journal. I still kept it in a drawer at the back of my gloves and scarves, following in her footsteps. It was some impulse, some instinct, almost as though she were guiding me.

  And now that same instinct would not let me say Yes to Raymond.

  I thought a great deal about Felicity. I sought her company. She was not easy to talk to. She seemed to have firmly closed herself in, which could indicate that she had something she wished to hide.

  I learned that her family had been friends of the Billingtons for years. Felicity's mother had died of a fever when Felicity was three years old, and Miss Cartwright, her mother's sister, had come to keep house for them. She had the care of Felicity from an early age and when her father had died had taken over completely.

  Felicity, I began to believe, was rather frightened by the prospect of going overseas. She confessed to this.

  "But it is so exciting," I said. "It is so romantic. A whirlwind courtship ... engagement and then going out to join your husband."

  "He's not my husband yet," said Felicity, and the tone of her voice gave me a clue to her feelings.

  I asked how long she had known Mr. Granville and she said only a month before they were engaged.

  "Not very long," I commented.

  "It all happened so quickly and it seemed right at the time."

  "I think it will be most exciting."

  "I'm not sure it will."

  "But you'll have Miss Cartwright with you. So you'll have someone from home."

  She nodded. "And you ..." she said. "I suppose you will marry Raymond."

  "Oh, nothing has been settled yet."

  "But he wants to and surely you ..."

  "I do not think one should rush into these things."

  She flushed a little and I realized the tactlessness of my remark. "... unless," I added, "one is very sure."

  "Oh yes," she agreed, "unless one is sure."

  There was a good deal I should like to have asked about Miss Felicity Derring, but her feelings were tightly shut away and she kept a firm hold on them, as though she were afraid for them to be known.

  Raymond said to me: "I have an idea. Why should you not go out with Felicity and Miss Cartwright?" "What?" I cried.

  "It's a way. They'll never agree to your going alone. You could get out to Australia. You might find out something there. Miss Cartwright will be in charge. She will stay for a while and then you and she can come back together."

  "Oh Raymond," I said, "you do get the most wonderful ideas!"

  "I know you will never settle until you know what happened to your brother. It is possible that you can find out something on the spot. He went to Australia. I daresay someone might have heard something of him in Sydney. You could try to contact that young man he went out with. David Gutheridge, wasn't it? He might still be around if he went on an expedition in that country. You'd be on the spot. You'd be company for Felicity too. I think she is getting a little uneasy and it would be good for her to have a friend with her. She wouldn't feel quite so lost in a new land."

  "It is an amazing idea. I wonder what Felicity would say to it. She hardly knows me."

  "She would love to have a friend with her. So would Miss Cartwright. She would enjoy having someone to come home with."

  "As I said before, you are devious, Raymond."

  "I might get out there for a spell and give you a hand with the sleuthing."

  "Would you?"

  "The only way we could go out together is if you married me. We could not defy the conventions all that much by going out without being married."

  "I don't know what I should do without you, Raymond. When I think how everything has changed since you appeared in the conference hall, I just marvel."

  "It was fate," he said, and lightly kissed my forehead.

  "And what of Granny, what is she going to say to this suggestion?"

  "It might not be easy to persuade her."

  I laughed. "We can be sure of that."

  "You must work gently towards it. She knows you well and she loves you dearly. She wants to see you happy and she knows how your brother's disappearance weighs heavily upon you. She does give you credit for being able to take care of yourself. A few hints here and there ... get her used to the idea . .. Make it seem quite natural that you should go out to Australia with Felicity. And when Miss Cartwright has seen her niece settled, you come back together. It seems perfectly plausible to me."

  "It is becoming more and more reasonable," I said. "I thought it quite outrageous when you first suggested it."

  "We'll work gradually towards it."

  "Oh, Raymond, I do love you." "Let's change the plans then. We'll go together." I shook my head.

  "When I have found the answer to Philip's disappearance I'll come back and marry you." "That's a promise," he said.

  ON THE HIGH SEAS

  On a bright September day in the company of Felicity Derring and Miss Cartwright I boarded the Southern Cross. The weeks had been so busy that I had hardly had time to think of all that was happening. It seemed incredible when I looked back—the coming of Jan and now my departure. A year ago I would not have believed this could possibly have happened.

  My emotions were mixed. I was doing what I wanted to do, what I had to do if I was ever going to know peace of mind; on the other hand I was setting out on what might well be a disappointing enterprise.

  Granny M had been hard to convince.

  "A wild-goose chase," she called it. "What are
you going to do when you get there?"

  I replied: "I shall have to wait and see what I find. But I feel in my heart that I am going to find the truth."

  "I'm surprised at Raymond. He's encouraged you in this. I should have thought he would have done all he could to keep you here."

  "Raymond understands me. He knows I can't be happy until I know. Philip is part of me. You must understand that, Granny. We were always together. I can't just let him go out of my life and not know why and where he is."

  "Don't you think I feel the same? Are you the only one with any feelings?"

  "I know, Granny," I said. "But I'll find out and I'll come back and when I do, I'll marry Raymond. He understands. That is why he is helping me to go."

  "I don't want to lose both of you, you know."

  "You won't, Granny. I'll come back. Perhaps I'll bring Philip with me."

  "Where do you think he is then? Hiding away from us?"

  "I don't know, Granny. But I am going to find out. Try to understand. You have Jan with you now..."

  "H'm. I expect he'll be wanting to go off to Australia next. How shall I know what's happening to you?"

  "Granny, it is only a trip. Lots of people take them. I shall be with Felicity and Miss Cartwright, and I shall have to come back when she does."

  I cannot say that she was agreeable to the project but she was resigned.

  I had seen a little more of Felicity and Miss Cartwright since I first met them, and I felt I knew Miss Cartwright well. She was one of those forthright, self-righteous women—of whom there are so many about that they have become stock characters. I even used to guess what she was going to say before she said it.

  It was different with Felicity. On the surface she seemed meek, rather insipid. But I was not sure that this was truly so. I felt she was hiding secrets. I wondered what.

  I thought of what I should do when I reached Sydney. I supposed I should have to accompany them out to this place which they referred to as "a property" and which I learned was in New South Wales, some miles out of Sydney. Then I supposed I should be expected to stay there for a while until Miss Cartwright was ready to return. But what should I find out there? It was hardly likely that Felicity's prospective bridegroom would have known Philip. That would be asking too much of coincidence.

  Still, I was on my way, and I had an unshakable belief that something would come to guide me. I was still thinking of Ann Alice and I had the strange feeling that she was watching, helping me along the way she wanted me to go.

  Granny came to Tilbury to see us off, in the company of Raymond and Jan. It was gratifying to see the way in which Jan put his arm round Granny as though to comfort her. Her mouth was tight with disapproval and suppressed emotion. But in my heart I knew she understood and that had she been my age and the opportunity had arisen, she would have acted just as I was doing.

  I don't think for a moment she believed I was going to solve the mystery, but she did realize that I had to do something. I could not remain inactive. I had to try and if I failed I would come back and if I could not exactly put it all out of my mind I could at least convince myself that I could do no more and must accept what was.

  I was rather glad when the last farewells had been said. Such moments are always rather agonizing. One is aware of the emotional atmosphere all around one—parents, sons, daughters, lovers... parting. One senses the apprehension of those who were leaving home to go into the unknown—even though they had chosen to do so.

  Raymond held my hands tightly and said: "When you come back..."

  "Yes," I repeated, "when I come back."

  "It won't be long."

  "Perhaps not."

  "I shall be here to meet you."

  "Yes... please do. And thank you, Raymond. Thank you for all you have done for me."

  I clung to him for a moment. Then I kissed Granny and Jan once more and without turning back went on board.

  What a noise! What a bustle everywhere! People seemed to be running about in confusion. Orders were shouted; sirens blew.

  Felicity and Miss Cartwright shared a cabin. Mine was next to theirs and I shared with a young Australian girl who was travelling with her parents.

  I looked round the small space which was to be my home for the next weeks and wondered how I should manage. There were two bunks, a dressing table with a few drawers and a cupboard. I had not been there long when my travelling companion arrived.

  She was a big girl of about my age—sun-tanned with thick wiry fair hair and a breezy manner.

  She said: "Hello. So we're stable mates, are we? Bit of a tight squeeze, but we'll have to make the best of it, won't we? Would you mind if I have the top bunk? I don't like the idea of people climbing over me."

  I said I did not mind in the least.

  "I hope you haven't much gear," she said. "Space a bit limited, isn't it? My name is Maisie Winchell. Pa and Ma are a few cabins along. We're in wool. What are you going out for? Let me guess. Going out to get married, are you? Some Aussie came over looking for a wife and found you."

  "Quite wrong," I told her. "Though I am travelling with a friend who is going out for that purpose, and my name is Annalice Mallory."

  "Oh, I say! I like that. Annalice, eh? Call me Maisie. Everyone does. And you'll have to learn to be free and easy out there."

  "I am ready to be, Maisie," I said.

  She nodded with approval and we divided up the cupboard and the drawer space.

  After that I went to the cabin next door to see how Felicity and Miss Cartwright were faring.

  Miss Cartwright was complaining about the lack of space and Felicity said it was a good thing that her trunks, full of the things she was taking with her, were in the hold.

  We went into the dining room together.

  There were few people there. The Captain was not present, naturally, for I supposed he was on the bridge taking the ship out of the harbour. We were too excited to eat though the soup was good and appetizing.

  I noticed a man seated close to us who appeared to be watching us intently. He was very striking-looking because of his height. He must have been well over six feet tall and correspondingly broad. There was a boldness about him which I rather resented because he did seem to be particularly interested in our party. He was very fair and his hair had a bleached look as though he spent a great deal of time in the open air. He had deep blue eyes which looked startling in his sun-tanned face. When I caught his eyes—which I could not help doing because every time I looked up he appeared to be staring at me—he smiled.

  I lowered my gaze and looked away.

  Miss Cartwright said the soup was not hot enough and she hoped the food was going to be edible. She had heard that shipboard fare was very poor.

  Felicity said little. She looked pale. No doubt her preparations had been particularly strenuous and she was taking a big step in leaving her home for a man whom she had only known a month before she decided to marry him.

  When we left the dining room the big man was still sitting there. We had to pass close to him.

  He said: "Good evening."

  There was nothing to do but respond so I said: "Good evening."

  "I think we are in for a rough night," he added.

  I nodded and went on quickly.

  Miss Cartwright said: "What impertinence! To speak to us like that! And to say it was going to be a rough night! He seemed quite pleased about it."

  "Perhaps he was just trying to be friendly," I said.

  "I daresay we shall be introduced by the Captain or officers to those people we ought to know."

  "I doubt it will be as formal as that," I replied. "We shall have to wait and see."

  I bade good night to them, saying I would go to my cabin and unpack.

  This I did. Maisie came in while I was thus engaged.

  She confirmed the stranger's view that the sea was going to be rough. "Wait till we get in the Bay." She grinned.

  "You're a seasoned traveller, I imagine.
"

  "Pa comes over every two years or so. We're in wool, as I said. Property north of Melbourne. Ma comes with him and I don't let them leave me behind. I like to have a squint at the Old Country."

  "Do you enjoy that?"

  "Oh yes. Nice to get back home though ... to feel free and easy."

  "You find us rather formal?"

  She just looked at me and laughed. "Well, what do you think?" Then she started to tell me about the property near Melbourne.

  I said: "I must introduce you to Miss Derring. I am travelling with her and her aunt and she is going out to marry a man who has one of these properties not far from Sydney."

  "Oh, New South Wales. We're Victoria, you know."

  I laughed with her. "Quite clearly," I said, "there is no place like home."

  I thought I should get on with her very well.

  They were right about the rough night. I awoke to find myself almost pitched out of my bunk.

  "It's nothing yet," said Maisie from above, almost gleefully. "It's a pity it couldn't have waited awhile. Just to let first-timers get their sea legs."

  "Oh, they come in time, do they ... sea legs?"

  "To some they do. To others never. You're either a good sailor or you're not. I hope you are going to be a good one. Try to forget about it. That's the secret. Fresh air too... that's a help. I'm tired. Good night. We won't need rocking tonight."

  I lay awake for a little while listening to the creaking of the wood and the whistling of the wind as the waves pounded against the sides of the ship. Maisie was right. Finally the rocking sent me to sleep.

  The next morning, when I awoke, it was to find that the wind had not abated. It was difficult to stand up in the cabin but I managed to stagger along to the bathroom and dress. I felt quite well but these operations took some time because of the movement of the ship.

  Maisie said from the top bunk: "I'll get up when you've gone. We'll make that arrangement. There's not room for two to dress at the same time. Do you feel like breakfast?"