room.’
‘I’m sure Erica doesn’t want to be involved with your worries, Josie,’ came in Gavin at once, ‘since she has worries’ ... he looked enquiringly at Erica and Erica amended ‘concerns’ in place of ‘worries’ ... ‘of her own. Now I suggest instead that she comes back to town and that I book her into a hotel, then you can contact us when to come out.’ Us, noted Jo.
Erica seemed pleased about that, so it was arranged that when Abel Passant turned up again at Tender Winds Jo should let Erica or Gavin know.
‘I shall enjoy looking around your town,’ Erica said prettily to Gavin. ‘I must confess that although, like Abel, I’m “country”, I’m still at heart city-slanted. I mean’—another smile at Gavin—‘the country is in you, or not, and I’m afraid in my case it’s not.’
‘I understand perfectly,’ Gavin hastened to assure her. ‘I feel exactly the same myself. I quite dislike the general disorder of the hinterland and beyond. Leaves, logs, mud.’ He gave a shrug of distaste. ‘Now Josie is a different type altogether. She has eaten of the apple of ruralism.’
‘Of the banana ,’ broke in Jo with a laugh.
‘And likes to feel herself committed.’
‘I am committed,’ Jo said. She looked out on her steep little mountains in their shining green except where the plastic covered the great hands of bananas. The big blue blobs looked like giant cornflowers.
‘It’s very lovely,’ Erica admitted, ‘but—’
‘But you prefer pavements, lights, shops?’ Gavin smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Then what’s stopping us?’ Gavin said it quite skittishly for Gavin, and putting down their teacups they bade Jo goodbye, Gavin with an affectionate kiss, then, Gavin bravely first in his car, Erica suitably behind in hers, they went down the track that wound out to the coastal town.
Abel Passant pulled up minutes afterwards, and he was not in a good mood.
‘I had to shove off the road into the bush’—the track was a strictly one-car track—‘to let two cars pass. Two, mark you. What is this? Broadway? The first looked like your Gavin.’
‘And the second,’ broke in Jo, ‘was your Erica.’
‘What?’ He looked at Jo in disbelief.
‘Erica Trent. Yes, that’s true. She came to see you. Even went up the flying fox after you.’
‘Oh, lor’!’
‘You say that about a girl as pretty as she is?’
‘Yes, Erica’s pretty enough, but—’
Before he could follow that up, Jo said: ‘I’m to ring her in town when you’re here. I asked her to stop at Tender Winds, but she’s not country-slanted.’
‘No,’ Abel said grimly, ‘only Passant-slanted.’
‘What?’ Now it was Jo letting out that disbelieving sound. ‘Why don’t you want her? A beautiful girl like that? I mean,’ she amended hastily, ‘I don’t want to be told, of course.’
‘You’d better be, though.’ He drew a breath. ‘Erica Trent has come after me. Doesn’t that suggest anything?’
‘Should it?’
‘What would you expect to be suggested if you followed a man from the middle of the west to the coast?’
‘A preference for the sea,’ said Jo promptly, ‘even’ she added frivolously, ‘ a liking for bananas.’
‘Don’t try to be smart,’ he advised. ‘Wouldn’t it also suggest an eye for me?’
‘Why should she have an eye, as you put it, for you?’
All at once, and quite unexpected, the new banana boss stepped forward towards Jo. He stepped so close to her that for the first time Jo noticed the intensity of his blue eyes. ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he asked.
There was a pause. With an effort... why should it be an effort? ... Jo broke the silence.
‘Erica Trent said—’ she began, and then found she could not think of anything else to say.
For the blue eyes were still near her, unwaveringly near her, looking down into her own eyes, asking as well as his question another—breathless—question.
Jo turned sharply away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Whether you want
‘I’m sure Erica doesn’t want to be involved with your worries, Josie,’ came in Gavin at once, ‘since she has worries’ ... he looked enquiringly at Erica and Erica amended ‘concerns’ in place of ‘worries’ ... ‘of her own. Now I suggest instead that she comes back to town and that I book her into a hotel, then you can contact us when to come out.’ Us, noted Jo.
Erica seemed pleased about that, so it was arranged that when Abel Passant turned up again at Tender Winds Jo should let Erica or Gavin know.
‘I shall enjoy looking around your town,’ Erica said prettily to Gavin. ‘I must confess that although, like Abel, I’m “country”, I’m still at heart city-slanted. I mean’—another smile at Gavin—‘the country is in you, or not, and I’m afraid in my case it’s not.’
‘I understand perfectly,’ Gavin hastened to assure her. ‘I feel exactly the same myself. I quite dislike the general disorder of the hinterland and beyond. Leaves, logs, mud.’ He gave a shrug of distaste. ‘Now Josie is a different type altogether. She has eaten of the apple of ruralism.’
‘Of the banana ,’ broke in Jo with a laugh.
‘And likes to feel herself committed.’
‘I am committed,’ Jo said. She looked out on her steep little mountains in their shining green except where the plastic covered the great hands of bananas. The big blue blobs looked like giant cornflowers.
‘It’s very lovely,’ Erica admitted, ‘but—’
‘But you prefer pavements, lights, shops?’ Gavin smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Then what’s stopping us?’ Gavin said it quite skittishly for Gavin, and putting down their teacups they bade Jo goodbye, Gavin with an affectionate kiss, then, Gavin bravely first in his car, Erica suitably behind in hers, they went down the track that wound out to the coastal town.
Abel Passant pulled up minutes afterwards, and he was not in a good mood.
‘I had to shove off the road into the bush’—the track was a strictly one-car track—‘to let two cars pass. Two, mark you. What is this? Broadway? The first looked like your Gavin.’
‘And the second,’ broke in Jo, ‘was your Erica.’
‘What?’ He looked at Jo in disbelief.
‘Erica Trent. Yes, that’s true. She came to see you. Even went up the flying fox after you.’
‘Oh, lor’!’
‘You say that about a girl as pretty as she is?’
‘Yes, Erica’s pretty enough, but—’
Before he could follow that up, Jo said: ‘I’m to ring her in town when you’re here. I asked her to stop at Tender Winds, but she’s not country-slanted.’
‘No,’ Abel said grimly, ‘only Passant-slanted.’
‘What?’ Now it was Jo letting out that disbelieving sound. ‘Why don’t you want her? A beautiful girl like that? I mean,’ she amended hastily, ‘I don’t want to be told, of course.’
‘You’d better be, though.’ He drew a breath. ‘Erica Trent has come after me. Doesn’t that suggest anything?’
‘Should it?’
‘What would you expect to be suggested if you followed a man from the middle of the west to the coast?’
‘A preference for the sea,’ said Jo promptly, ‘even’ she added frivolously, ‘ a liking for bananas.’
‘Don’t try to be smart,’ he advised. ‘Wouldn’t it also suggest an eye for me?’
‘Why should she have an eye, as you put it, for you?’
All at once, and quite unexpected, the new banana boss stepped forward towards Jo. He stepped so close to her that for the first time Jo noticed the intensity of his blue eyes. ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he asked.
There was a pause. With an effort... why should it be an effort? ... Jo broke the silence.
‘Erica Trent said—’ she began, and then found she could not think of anything else to say.
For the blue eyes were still near her, unwaveringly near her, looking down into her own eyes, asking as well as his question another—breathless—question.
Jo turned sharply away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Whether you want
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