Too Young to Marry Read online

  TOO YOUNG TO MARRY

  Rosalind Brett

  Lorna was too young to marry, Paul Westbrook thought; yet she was all alone in the strange world of the South Sea Islands, and how was she to be looked after, if not by a husband? So he married her, meaning to maintain a distant relationship until she was more mature ... and found that events and emotions were not so easy to foresee and control as he had supposed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THEY had crossed the coastline of Panai and were losing height when the air hostess slipped down into the vacant seat beside Lorna. She sat sideways and nodded towards the window and the wispy clouds beyond it.

  “We’ll land in about ten minutes. I’ve been thinking about you down there in Panai Town—it’s not a place for white women, really, and you’re awfully young.” Lorna smiled faintly. “I shall be all right. It’s only for one night, and then I’ll have Mr. Westbrook to depend on. I did stay at the hotel when I first came out, you know. They’ll remember me.”

  “It’s different when you’re alone, though.” A pause. “We were all terribly sorry to hear about your father’s accident.”

  Lorna nodded and looked away. “Thank you. I expect you knew him very well on this airline.”

  “Oh, yes. He was always backwards and forwards on business. I didn’t think he’d ever retire, but when he realized he had a grown-up daughter he didn’t hesitate. It was a blessing that you had the few months together—something lovely to remember.” She moved awkwardly. “I just wanted you to know that we sympathize with you.”

  “You’re very kind.”

  Lorna felt the air hostess leave her, and she relaxed slightly so that the lost look in her small clear face was less apparent. She wished she knew what to say to people who were sympathetic, wished it were possible to tell them not to pity her. After all, she was eighteen and had travelled alone from England eight months ago. She wouldn’t mind accepting a little help, but she did not want pity.

  She reached up to the luggage rack for the white raffia handbag which held her papers and money, but instead of opening the bag, as she had intended, she sat clasping it on her lap, and looked down at the landscape. Miles of thick green coast, coconut palms which sprang up wherever there was no cultivation, low mountains covered with lush growth, and beyond the mountains the undulating greenness of rubber trees, hundreds of square miles of them.

  She had last had this view of the island four months ago, when she had left Panai with her father. She had spent several weeks here, while her father was handing over the agency to his successor, and on the whole they had been the happiest weeks of the time she had had in the South Seas.

  Looking back, this last year had held more pure enjoyment and excitement for Lorna than the whole of her life before it. True, she had had the adventure to look forward to, but in boarding school, among friends who considered her a little odd, because she had no relations or connections other than an oldish woman guardian, the prospect had never become real. It was only after she had parted from the girls with whom she had grown up and was counting the days to her departure that she had really come alive.

  Her childhood had not been unhappy, merely drab. Her mother had died when she was small, and the inevitable housekeeper had been engaged. Lorna couldn’t remember the circumstances of her father’s transfer from England to a roving business agency in the South Seas, but it had happened, and she had been left in the care of the admirable but unenterprising housekeeper, Miss Elder. The years had flown by. From day school to boarding school, and home for holidays which were grimly monotonous. Miss Elder grew frail, the house at Chester was closed and she went to live with a sister at Bournemouth. The final long vacation of her school life Lorna had had to spend at the rectory near the school, but though she had been much alone there had been that splendid feeling of finality, the knowledge that this time next year she would be thousands of miles away in the sunshine with her father. For Henry Dennis had promised her a year with him before she started training in social welfare.

  The meeting at Darwin had held surprises for both of them. Lorna was slim and pretty and neatly clothed but undoubtedly young; her youth and loneliness, now that she had no school to return to, were alarming to a parent who already blamed himself for her colorless childhood. And to Lorna, who had always imagined her father a rough trader, the Henry Dennis she had met was startling; slightly built, quiet and bookish—one of those men who do sometimes gravitate towards strange places and stick it out alone, for no apparent reason. Almost without discussion, it was accepted that their future would be shared. Henry Dennis decided to resign the agency, give his daughter her year of travel, and return with her to England.

  So she had stayed at the hotel in Panai, and when her father had to go away on business Paul Westbrook was near to act the big brother. She hadn’t much wanted to leave Panai, she remembered; they had been such idyllic weeks of bathing and riding and exploring. And when Paul had seen them on to the plane for the Solomon Islands both she and her father had promised to come back for a week or two before leaving for England. She hadn’t thought then that she might come back here alone and full of grief.

  “Fasten your belts, please!”

  Lorna did it automatically. She saw the familiar white building, the concrete runway, dark figures standing ready to push the steel stairway out to the plane. The wheels touched, the plane ran smoothly and turned, to halt about thirty yards from the building.

  Lorna extricated herself, gripped her handbag and nightcase. She came out into white sunshine and went down the steps. Few people about, thank goodness, but she kept her head down as she passed through the barrier. In the small hall she hesitated, a hot dryness in her throat. She could see that the news was ahead of her; the counter clerks whispered, a couple of business men who were waiting to board the plane raised their hats and smiled compassionately.

  She went to the counter, showed her ticket and was told her luggage would be sent direct from the plane to the customs shed. Would Miss Dennis like to use the airways taxi? She said she would, and walked across to the big glass doors. A porter pulled one of them open for her and she went out, stood still suddenly, her heart beating high with gratitude.

  A car had braked precipitately, only ten feet away. A man got out of it; a tall man in a white shirt and khaki shorts, his hair copper-colored and crisp in the midday sunshine. He was slightly over thirty, brown as a coffee berry, blue-eyed and strong-featured, but his smile at Lorna was gentle, so was the arm he slipped round her shoulders.

  “Oh, Paul!” she whispered. “You don’t know how good this is.”

  “I’ve torn the road up to get here. Didn’t get your cable till ten o’clock. How are you?”

  “Not too bad. I said in the cable that I hoped to see you tomorrow.”

  “Well, I’m here today.” He opened the car door. “Sit in there. I’ll see about your luggage.”

  “You’ll need the receipt. Paul...”

  He patted her arm. “There’s plenty of time, honey. Just leave things to me and relax. You came to me because you knew I’d look after you. Right?”

  She nodded. “I have to decide what to do. You may be able to advise me.”

  “I’m sure of it,” he said. “Now just sit back and stop thinking. I shan’t be long.”

  Almost, Lorna obeyed him. She did sit back, and the few thoughts she had were coloured with relief. Paul was like a strong wall about her. He had known her father for years, had accepted Henry Dennis’ daughter as someone infinitely young who needed to learn several facts of life before she would be a woman. He had mocked at her, taught her a certain amount of pidgin Malay, bullied her when she made mistakes, and altogether treated her like the young sister he had never owned. It
was so good to be here with him, to know that his cool common sense would guide her. There was no one else, but she needed no one else. Paul was dependable, and he was old enough to see a good deal that passed her by. Yes, of one thing she was convinced: in coming to Paul Westbrook she had acted wisely.

  She saw him with a porter who carried her two cases, and turned to watch the bags being stowed away in the luggage-boot of the car. Paul came beside her and closed his door, pushed a key into the ignition but did not switch on.

  He said quietly, “You must have had the hell of a time during these last three weeks. Why didn’t you cable me before?”

  “I waited till I’d booked on the plane.”

  “But I’d have come to you—you know that.”

  “It wouldn’t have been fair to bring you all that way, when there was so little you could do. I had to wait at Boeleng till the formalities were over.”

  A brief silence. Then: “Better tell me how it happened; then we needn’t go into it again unless you want to.”

  She looked down at her hands, moistened dry lips. “It ... it was unbelievable. He went fishing after dark with some other men. There was a squall and the boat overturned. He and a Malay were ... lost.”

  After a moment Paul said, “That’s how things happen. You’d only found each other just recently, but you did have some good times together, didn’t you?”

  “Wonderful. He took me as far as Makassar and we were really on the way back when it happened. Travelling with him was great fun.”

  “He wouldn’t want you to grieve, but I know how you’re feeling. Your father was never really friendly with anyone here, but as soon as they know they’ll swamp you with pity. We’ll ward off all we can, but you’d better prepare for it.”

  “The airport people seem to know already. Paul, I’m so glad you came today, even though it was a frightful rush for you.”

  He started the car, said paternally, “Panai is no place for a lone white schoolgirl. How would you like to go back to the plantation with me?”

  “Could I—just for a few days?”

  “We’ll see. Right now, we’ll make for the hotel and get a wash and a meal. You look tired. Been sleeping badly?”

  “It was natural, wasn’t it? Paul, if you like, I’ll...”

  “Now stop it,” he said. “I’ll do your thinking for you. Look out of the window and tell me if Panai has changed since you were here last.”

  It hadn’t, of course. All that even happened in Panai was decay, and an occasional rebuilding in the old style. The town was typical of hundreds in the islands where the Pacific touches the China Sea, an agglomeration of stucco buildings and bazaar-fronted shops, of palm trees pushing right out of the cobbled roadways, of tin roofs and palm thatch, of white-domed temples and crowded market streets. Lorna knew those streets. She had even become friendly with many of the shopkeepers, and there was a tri-shaw boy who had regarded her as his especial customer; if she refused to ride in his conveyance he would appropriate her parcels and make off, and she would find him waiting for her when she returned to the hotel.

  They came now to the hotel, the only one on Panai Island. The peeling front was uninviting, but inside conditions were slightly better, though Lorna instantly recognized and was repelled by the hot, spicy aroma of the tiny foyer. No so long ago she had thought that smell romantic.

  Paul spoke to the man in a grubby white suit and red fez. The man bowed, showed brown teeth in a smile at Lorna, and apparently told Paul to do as he pleased.

  “You know this place,” Paul said to Lorna. “Go along and wash, and I’ll order a light lunch and some drinks. It’s early for lunch, but that’s all the better—the dining-room will be cool.”

  She obeyed him unquestioningly; she hadn’t yet shed the habit of obedience learned at school. In the rest-room she took off the little navy straw hat and washed. She tidied the light brown hair which grew about her head in short waves and then brushed the navy linen frock. It was a plain frock with a round neck and cap sleeves, its only embellishment an embroidered top pocket; it made her look pale and thin, but not quite so young as she felt. She picked up her hat and bag and went along to the dining-room.

  Paul was waiting near the door. He smiled at her easily, led her to a table which looked rather cleaner than the rest. In Panai, where there was no competition, the hotel could please itself how often the table-cloths were changed. At any rate, there was plenty of ice for the drinks, and the cold meat and sweet com had undoubtedly come from hygienically sealed tins.

  “I meant to book a room for tonight,” Lorna said, “but if you think I could go back with you to the plantation, that won’t be necessary.”

  Paul helped her to sweet com. “I’ve booked a room here for you,” he said, “and taken one for myself, as well.”

  “Oh.” She used a fork but found the food difficult to swallow. “You don’t think my going to the plantation was such a good idea, after all?”

  He lifted his shoulders, smiled teasingly. “You’re eighteen, and even if I were old enough to be your father—which I’m not—I couldn’t have you there alone. I’ve got neighbours, the nearest is two miles away, but they’re there. I manage the plantations, so I can’t set that sort of example.”

  She looked at him with clear hazel eyes, and nodded. “I didn’t think of it that way, but I do see how it is. I only wanted a breathing-space, really, but once I’ve decided what to do there’ll be no need for me to stay here. I had rather a blow about my father’s financial position. It seems he was only insured for a small pension. I believe he did take out a policy to cover my training, but I can’t trace anything. You knew him, Paul. Did he ever tell you anything ... about me?”

  “Not much, but after you got here he did say that social welfare sounded a bit humdrum for a pretty girl. I can make enquiries about the insurance, but at the moment it isn’t very important. Like some coffee?”

  “Please. Nothing else.”

  He pushed aside his plate and leant both hands on the table as he bent towards her. “You’ve never been adrift before, have you, Lorna? I know you’ve been alone, but you’ve never been without an anchor. In England there was the school and the old tabby who brought you up, and out here you went all grand and got yourself a father...”

  “A very fine father,” she said quickly.

  “One of the best, even if he was difficult to know. What I’m getting at is this. From now on you’ve nothing—no one in England and no father in the South Seas. Even if you had ample cash that would be a sticky position for a girl of your age. Now, I’m going to ask you something. Could you settle on Panai Island?”

  “Settle?” she echoed. “Do you mean get a job here? No one employs white women.”

  “I mean settle,” he said patiently. “Just live here and be happy. It’s very hot sometimes, we get floods of rain in the season, there are few white women and most of them are jaded. Could you stand the boredom and the heat, say for a couple of years or more, or even indefinitely?”

  “Of course, if I had to! I used to hope my father would want me to live here with him.”

  “In which case you wouldn’t have gone back to train for a career in England?”

  “I suppose not. Paul, what are you getting at?”

  He poured the coffee, gave his attention to the task as he said, “I can’t let you go chasing off alone, yet I can’t look after you unless I marry you. But you’re too young for marriage, so what do we do?”

  She have him a pale smile. “Don’t joke about it. I’ve already decided that one of these days I’m going to marry a man who’s just like you.”

  The coffee-pot met the table with a slight thud. Paul Westbrook looked at her briefly, took out a packet of cigarettes. “I’m not joking,” he said with studious calmness. “I’ve known you for some time and I’m fond of you. I like your spirit and your good nature, and I know we’d get along together. I’ve a big house that gets a little lonely sometimes, and it’s too silly to think of
you pegging away all alone in England when there’s a place here for you, and neither of us need be lonely.”

  “Oh, but Paul...” she began.

  “Just think about it,” he broke in. “You like me, don’t you?”

  “Better than anyone I’ve ever known! You’ve been so good to me, and good for me. I’ve never had a brother or even a man cousin, but you’re far nicer than either could have been. Now I’m letting myself think about it, I’ll admit that I’d hate to leave you, but ... marriage is so binding. And we’re not in love, are we?” she ended in a rush, her cheeks pink.

  “We will be,” he said evenly. “I’d say it’s very easy to fall in love with someone who lives with you and makes you happy.”

  She nodded, but looked down at the table as she asked, “When did you get this idea—just today?”

  “There was no need to consider the matter till your cable arrived. I don’t have to be reminded that you’re not yet old enough for marriage, but it so happens that this is the time when you need me. Believe it or not—I need you, too. I need your freshness and laughter—you’ll soon laugh again, Lorna—and it will do me all the good in the world to forget I’m a selfish bachelor. The more I think about my house with a pretty girl about the rooms, the more I’m determined not to go back without you.”

  She was frightened, but not unhappy. In low tones she said, “Paul ... I’ve had no experience. I ... I couldn’t possibly give you all you’d expect from marriage. I’d try, but I just don’t know enough about it.”