Serial Story: No More Good Byes

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 66, Issue 169, 1 May 1946, Page 6

Serial Story: No More Good Byes

J (Copyright).

BY MARGARET MAIR

CHAPTER XXII. GIBRALTAR “Yes, but it’s so difficult. When he's such miles away. We can’t discuss things. He’s not,” she hesitated, “he’s not a very good correspondent. I’m not sure that he realises yet about Baby. You know she’s so delicate, so small, she nearly died. She’s better now; picking up well, the doctor says. I hate leaving her, but there it is. What else can I do? It’s been weeks, as it is. Oh, Terence, why, why is life so full of problems?”

He put his pipe away. “It is, isn’t it?” His hands were dug into the pockets of his old tweed jacket. She could feel his sympathy which was inarticulate, but somehow, tangible. Her brain swam suddenly. Supposing that I told him everything, told him that I was frightened, frightened that my marriage seemed to be going on the rocks even before Martin went away; that I am hurrying out to Gibralter now to try and save what’s left of it; that the uncertainty and suspense are, unbearable, getting me down, changing my whole character. He glanced at her, half questioning, but she stared straight ahead of her, refusing to meet his eyes. After a little while he spoke. “What’s the matter, Susan? You haven’t told me everything.” “Nothing’s the matter. Nothing that I can put into words.” He took her fingers in his. His touch was firm and sensitive. “You know how I feel about you, Susan,” he said. “If it’s ever, any help to you to remember.”

Her eyes shone suddenly but still she could not look at him. As usual in their relationship there was a lot to say which would never be said. “This time next week,” she thought, “where shall I be? Somewhere on the sea, in the Bay of Biscay perhaps, meeting strange people, going out to a strange life.” ... As well to start forgetting Broadhurst now. Terence and Forest Farm and Eleanor and her father and the forest itself. Why did it feel as though something was bleeding inside her? It must be the unforeseen absurd effect of havirfg a baby, undermining your armour, making you foolish and emotional and over susceptible, so that partings loomed over you like a nightmare, and an unknown future held no promise of security. She and Terence separated at the corner of the road which led to her father’s house. She was purposely flippant in her farewells, feeling it somehow unbearable that he should guess all that she was feeling. His eyes, though, told her that he was not so blind as she had perhaps expected him to be.

“I suppose this time it’s ‘good-bye’ for years?”

“Well, I don’t know.” She smiled. “It’s difficult to make any plans. No use looking ahead.” “Good-bye, Susan.” ! ‘Good-bye, Terence.” She went slowly up the road away from him. All that their relationship had ever consisted of, she thought, was the word “good : bye.” Travelling on board ship, and a trooper at that, was certainly a new experience. The partings definitely over, Susan had felt her spirits rising. True, there had been one dreadful moment when, with the ship sliding away from the dock and her father’s pathetic waving figure relentlessly receding into the haze of distance, Susan’s eyes had misted and she had felt the world disintegrating around her. But this, mercifully, wasi a mood that had passed. Now she felt thankfully, some of her old zest for romance and adventure was returning to her. So much was happening, it was stupid to blind your eyes to its excitement and novelty. The voyage now was nearly at an end. Susan felt excitement throbbing in her veins at the thought of her. first glimpse of' Gibraltar,. The sea narrowed between Africa and the coast of Spain. Everywhere blue lines of mountains blotted out the horizon. Suddenly the great Rock of Gibraltar appeared, towering over the Spanish hills, grey and steep and formidable, jutting in a gigantic ridge against the sky. The ship passed slowly between the two moles and made her way towards the quay. Susan stood very still, on the deck staring, absorbed, towards the black mass of people who had assembled to meet them. As they drew nearer the great Rock towered even higher, blotting out the sky. But Susan had no eyes now for anything but the little crowd on the quay. She wondered at what moment she would first catch sight of Martin, his tall military figure, handsome well-remembei-ed face. Almost immediately she saw him. He was standing a littlp apart from the rest of the people on the quay. It was a little shock to her to see him, so unfamiliar, in khaki. She leaned over the rail excitedly and waved to him and he saw her at once and waved back. . It seemed centuries before the ship was safely tied up, the gangway in place, and she was able to make her way on to the quay to join him. He put his arm round her and they embraced a little awkwardly in full view of all the other people on the quay. ~ ' “Ive got the car here,” Martin said.

“Your car?” “Yes. An old Austin. I bought it second-hand from a chap who was going home.” He climbed into the driving-seat and Susan settled herself beside him. “Well,” said Martin, “how are you?” He glanced at Susan critically for a moment, put his hand out and gave her fingers a slight squeeze, before fumbling in his pocket for a cigarettecase. “Have a cigarette?” “No, thanks. Not now.” “Feeling all right again?” “Oh, yes, Martin, not too bad on the whole. But I couldn’t come out before. I was sorry about it.” ‘How’s the baby?” “Getting on better now. But she was very small and delicate. I think she nearly died. I was very worried.” “You must have been.” Martin leaned back in his seat. He began pointing out to her various buildings in the district; the hotel and the hospital and the barracks. There were pine trees along the road and everywhere the dark fleshy leaves of the cactus. It all felt to Susan very strange. Martin seemed strange too. After

these months! of separation and now meeting again in these new surroundings, she was conscious of a constraint between them which made their relationship seem, strained and unatural. Soon, probably, it would wear off. (To he -continued.) The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.