Elianne by Judy Nunn Page A

discovery ever since. The sooner the Englishman left Efate the better.
    As the Reverend Pidd read out the vows, Elianne couldn’t resist stealing an occasional glance at Pavi, who was standing to one side directly in her line of vision. He was with his father and mother and his little sister, twelve-year-old Simone. His fiancée, Mela, was beside him, and they had their arms about each other’s waists. When Elianne first glanced at him, Pavi did not catch her eye – he and Mela were too absorbed in each other. But from the looks the two exchanged it was plain that neither was inattentive to the ceremony. Every word of the vows held a special meaning for Pavi and Mela, who were to be married themselves in barely a fortnight.
    How in love they are, Elianne thought, how perfectly in love.
    Then, as she repeated her own vows, she looked up into the eyes of the man she was marrying. Soon I will have a love like Pavi and Mela’s, she thought. She was glad to be married to such a man as Jim Durham, regardless of the rumours that surrounded him, regardless even of the brutality she had witnessed. He excited her. She wanted to be his. And he loved her; she could feel it. Her glance darted once again to Pavi and this time their eyes met. He smiled and beside him, so did Mela. They were happy for her.
    The Reverend Pidd made the pronouncement, Elianne heard the words ‘man and wife’, and as the gathering applauded, James Durham kissed her.
    The reception was informal, guests milling about the garden and the front verandah where a lavish buffet was provided. James had spared no expense, importing the finest champagne and gourmet fare.
    It was now that the schism between black and white became truly evident. The house servants returned to their duty, serving drinks at the buffet table, clearing away plates and fetching fresh ones, while the expatriate and other islander guests kept very much to the company of their own kind. That is with the exception of Michel Salet and the Reverend Pidd, both of whom mingled freely, particularly the Reverend. He always delighted in socialising with converted islanders, whom he considered a part of the giant Christian family personally bound by God’s love.
    The one who mingled with the greatest of ease, however, was Elianne, who insisted upon serving her guests. Standing beside Mela at the drinks table, exquisite in her lace bridal gown, Elianne poured champagne for the expatriates and fruit juice for the islanders, none of whom drank alcohol. She chatted away in English and French and shared a joke in Pidgin with several of the islander children. People were drawn to her, comfortable in her presence, unaware that they were gradually mingling with those who belonged to a different social stratum altogether.
    James watched his new wife with pride. He was mesmerised, unable to drag his eyes from her. Beside him, someone was offering congratulations, but he paid them no heed and he or she drifted away. She is magnificent, he thought. She is magnificent and she is mine. Look how they love her, every single one of them. That is how they will love her at the plantation. I have found my perfect queen.
    Elianne felt his gaze and, turning to him, she saw clearly the naked pride and elation, which he made no attempt to disguise. Instead, he raised his glass in a tribute to her. The smile she returned him was radiant.
    The wedding festivities did not last into the night. With the need to travel either back to Port Vila or to their neighbouring properties some distance away, the expatriates were keen to leave while there was still daylight for at least part of their homewards journey, and those who lived on the plantation, aware of a sense of propriety, slowly drifted back to their cottages.
    It was approaching dusk as the last farewells were made by Michel Salet and his family. Michel shook James’s hand and embraced Elianne, wishing them both a long and happy life together. The couple were to be leaving