Victoria Holt - Road to Paradise Island

Later, I thought. First David Gutheridge.

I found the Botanical Association with the utmost ease. There was a brass plate on the door. I went in. A man at a desk looked at me brightly.

"Good morning," I said. "I wonder if you could help me. I want to get into touch with Mr. David Gutheridge."

He looked puzzled. "1 don't think we have anyone here of that name."

"No, you wouldn't have. He came out from England almost two years ago. He is a botanist and I think he must have been in touch with this office at some time. 1 wonder if you could give me an idea of where 1 might find him."

"In connection with an expedition which came out from England some two years ago, you say. If you wait a moment, I will see if there is anyone who can help you. Do sit down."

I sat down and waited, feeling rather sick with excitement, wondering if I were on the verge of discovery.

After a while the young man came back.

"Will you come this way?"

I rose and followed him. He paused before a glass door, opened it and stood aside for me to enter.

A man rose from a desk.

"Good morning."

We shook hands.

"I understand you are enquiring about Mr. David Gutheridge."

"Yes. 1 know that he came out here on an expedition some time ago."

"It is about two years."

"Yes, that's so. I thought this might be his headquarters and I was wondering if you could give me his address."

"He does have his mail sent here, but at the moment he is not in Sydney."

"You know where he is?" I asked excitedly.

"We never know where people are when they are on these expeditions. They plan to go to some place and get side-tracked and decide to go off in another direction. I know that he was going to Queensland at one time and from there to the Barrier Reef. Some of those islands have flora that you find nowhere else."

"Oh." I was disappointed.

"He has been gone some six months," he said. "We did hear recently that he was on the mainland ... so it may well be that he will be here before long."

"What do you mean by before long? A week... two weeks... ?"

"Oh I should hardly think so. I imagine a month at the earliest."

"A month!" I felt deflated. But at least they knew him. It was a little step forward.

"When he does come will you tell him that I called. And will you ask him to get into touch with me. I may be at this property ... If not I will give you a change of address. The property is some miles out of Sydney and I shall be staying there with friends."

"Certainly I will."

"My name is Miss Mallory."

"Oh... any relation to the map people?"

"It is my family."

"We had a Mallory out here from England... Yes ... he came, of course, with David Gutheridge."

"That was my brother. It is he with whom I am trying to get into touch. Do you know whether he stayed in Sydney or when he left?"

"I'm afraid I don't. He did come in here once or twice with Mr. Gutheridge. And then we didn't see him any more."

"Thank you," I said. "You have been very kind."

"I'll make sure Mr. Gutheridge knows you called... just as soon as he gets back. And that's the address. Goodo. I'll make a note of it. Don't worry. As soon as he comes in he'll get the message."

I came out into the sunshine.

A start. Not a very propitious one. But a start.

When I returned to the hotel the first person I met was Milton Harrington.

"You've been out," he cried. "You've stolen a march on us."

"It is pleasant in the early morning. It will be hot later."

He looked at me intently. "You've got something on your mind," he said.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Tell me. Perhaps I can help."

I shook my head. "It's nothing. Where are the others?"

"The bridegroom, I imagine, is sleeping a little late. The bride-to-be likewise. That leaves us free. I suggest a little ride round the city. I'm rather proud of it. It's come a long way since the first fleet came out here, I can tell you. Come on. We'll take a buggy."

I allowed myself to be hustled into one. I was still thinking of David Gutheridge who might provide the key to the mystery.

It was a happy morning. Milton showed me the harbour as we drove in and out of the coves; he took me through narrow winding streets which had once been tracks, and he told me something of the city's history, and I was wondering how those people who had arrived here with the first fleet had felt when they stepped ashore on the land which was to be their home for the rest of their lives.

I forgot my disappointment at not finding David Gutheridge. He would return and perhaps have something to tell me. I realized that when I was in the company of Milton Harrington I became an optimist. I caught his belief that everything was possible; something of his ebullient nature was passed on to me.

We stopped at a store and bought a sun hat for me, and I chose one for Felicity in a shade of pale lavender which I thought would suit her.

"Now," said Milton, "I can quieten my fears. The beautiful complexion is safe from the enemy."

"It seems an odd way of describing the sun—the life-giver to us all on this planet."

"Ah. A good friend but a bad enemy. That is the nature of life. The sea. Fire. Great friends and at times implacable enemies."

"It doesn't say much for friendship if it can turn like that."

"Why is it, Miss Annalice Mallory, that whenever I am with you you turn the lightest discourse into a psychological discussion?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I suppose I can be rather pedantic."

"You can never be anything but fascinating. How soon shall I see you in Cariba?"

"I don't know. I shall not stay long on this Granville property."

"No. I am sure you will not want to do that."

"I am a little uneasy about Felicity. If you know anything against this man I think she ought to know."

He was silent for a moment as though grappling with himself, which was unusual for him. He was usually so sure.

"She sees him for herself," he said at length.

"He drank quite a lot last night, but he was sober."

"He is accustomed to it and he can, as they say, take his drink. What effect it has, I don't know. I doubt that he stopped drinking when we left him. He would continue in the privacy of his own bedroom, I imagine."

"Don't you think Felicity should be told?"

"It is always difficult in such circumstances to know whether one should tell or not. I think Felicity is able to see for herself. It may be that she is in love with the fellow. Love is blind. We all have to work out our own lives, you know."

"When they are married it will be too late. I can't help feeling she is making a mess of her life."

"My dear Annalice, that is for her to decide."

"You don't think ..."

"I think you should stop worrying. Let her make her own decisions. Everyone has a right to do that. Go with her and see her settled in. Think a little more about yourself... about us. And as soon as possible come to Cariba. Every Wednesday the boat sails. I shall be watching ... and waiting ..."

I laughed at him. But oddly enough those words gave me comfort.

We were on our way to the Granville property. Events had moved quickly, and now I sat in one of the much publicized coaches of Cobb and Company which was carrying me away from the city and into what I learned was the "outback."

Felicity was now Mrs. Granville; she seemed to have shut herself away since her marriage, which was only of a few days' duration. It was hard to understand what she was feeling. Moreover Milton Harrington had gone back to his sugar island and had left an emptiness behind. While he had been around my uneasiness had abated a little. It came back in full force after the Wednesday boat had sailed.

The wedding had been quiet and brief. There were many such weddings in Sydney; brides coming out to join husbands, and the object was to get the ceremony over as quickly as possible.

There was an absence of family for one thing; and usually only a few friends attended. The sort of wedding with white dresses, orange blossom and bouquets would have been out of place here.

So now here I was, jolting along in the coach with Mr. Granville and his new bride and six other passengers, for the coach carried nine. Our driver was a cheery little man.

We had left the city and the magnificent harbour behind and were now in the open country. The roads were rough and I was struck by the tall eucalyptus trees with which I was now becoming familiar, and I wondered how long they had stood there. Perhaps even before the coming of Captain Cook. The coach rocked dangerously, but the other passengers, with the exception of Felicity, seemed to take that for granted.

Felicity wore an expression of resignation, as though she could no longer be surprised by anything. I pondered what that meant. I rather wished she would talk to me as she had before her marriage because that would be good for her.

The Granville property was a day's coach ride from Sydney and

it was still light when we arrived at Lalong Creek. They called it a township. It was a road with an earth pavement, an inn, a few shops and a scattering of houses. The coach pulled up at the inn where the horses were to be changed—and here was our journey's end.

My heart sank. This was our nearest town, and I could not imagine that we should want to come here frequently.

As the coach approached the inn, a man in a straw hat and corduroy trousers and a brown shirt rose lazily from the bench outside the inn and spat out a quid of tobacco.

I glanced at Felicity. She looked impassive with that air of resignation which implied that she must accept everything, however unpalatable.

"Oh, there is Slim," said William Granville. "Got the buggy there, Slim?"

"Yes, Master. Been waiting here the last hour."

"Good. We'll get away at once."

We dismounted, rather stiff from our long ride.

Slim had left us and when he came back he was driving one of those conveyances they called buggies—a light, four-wheeled vehicle, drawn by a grey horse.

"We shall not be long now," said William Granville. "We have about five miles to go."

He helped us into the buggy and stowed in the hand luggage we had brought with us. He seated himself on one side of the buggy, beside Felicity. I sat opposite. I found it embarrassing because every time I looked up his eyes were on me. I noticed a certain sardonic expression in them. I expected I had conveyed my disapproval of him.

Then we left the township for the drive to the Granville property.

The country seemed stark and so alien from home. In comparison our trees and meadows looked as though they had been tended by gardeners; this was wild country. Some of the tall trees had grey barks which gave them a ghostly look.

"They look like ghosts," I said, feeling some comment was needed.

"We call them ghost gums," William Granville told me. "The abos won't go past them after dark. They think they are the ghosts of men who have died violently and can't rest. You're thinking how different it is from home, eh?" He put his arm round Felicity and pressed her to him. I was not sure whether she winced or not.

"You girls are good horsewomen, I hope," he said.

"I enjoy riding," I said. "I believe Felicity does too."

Felicity nodded.

"You'll find horses to ride in the stables. You'll have to take care not to get lost. You get out there and you can go round and round in circles. One of the easiest things you can do here is get lost."

He subsided into silence. I looked at the scenery, at the clumps of bushes; here and there feathery wattle bloomed; I could smell its fragrance. We called it mimosa at home and ever after when I smelt that unusual haunting perfume I was reminded of that drive.

"Better speed up a bit, Slim," said William Granville. "Want to get there before nightfall."

"Yes, Master," replied Slim, and put the horse into a gallop.

I was thrown forward and William Granville put out his arms to catch me. For a few seconds he held me so that my face was close to his. I could smell the whisky and found the contact most repulsive.