"WHERE THERE'S A WILL—"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21349, 25 November 1932, Page 19

"WHERE THERE'S A WILL—"

By DIANA MAYNARD

It had been a trying day for Joan. r J ho day before one's wedding usually is. Irorn early morning she had been rushing round at top speed attending to the hundred and one things which had to bo left until the last, and now she was tired, desperately tired, and she had to start packing. Of course, she should have done it oarlier. . . .she had fully intended to do so. . . .but. there had been so many other things to do. Anxiously she looked at the array of trousseau iinc-ry which littered her bedroom. Why luid she been so stupidly determined that no one should help her pack ? Of course, her reasons had been that she was not going to invito disaster from over-zealous confetti artists . . . .there would bo more than enough of that to-morrow. . . .but now, . . . how welcome their assistance would be!

" Get on with it, you idiot," she told herself sternly. " You thought it wonderful fun to lock your bedroom door against all comers this morning. Now. . . . the joke is on you!"

Dragging forth the miniature cabin trunk which Bill had decided was all that the luggage grid on his small car would hold, she set to work resolutely. Half an hour later, with flushed cheeks and stormy eyes, Joan regarded the result of her efforts. It was an ominous spectacle! " It's, all the fault of that silly little trunk," she said miserably. " My shoes alone, almost fill half of it! As it is, I'm leaving behind all sorts of things I'm dying to take."

Joan was very near to tears, although she would have argued the point hotly had any one been rash enough to suggest that she was. Also, she was fighting panic. Suppose Bill were not all she believed him to be! Marriage was such a gamble . . . But this was sheer funk! Of course Bill was all right. . . .

"Joan!" Bill's voice echoed plaintively as he mounted the staircase, and approached her bedroom door. " What are you doing, shut up here for so long ? I've been trying to get a word with you alone since early afternoon, but you've been rushing about like a speed 'plane, and I haven't been able to get hold of you anywhere. Why, what tho deuco is all this. . . . ?" Bill's eyes beheld tho hopeless muddle of clothes and the gaping trunk apprehensively. . . .

" You can see for yourself, can't you, why I'm shut up here for so long?" Joan's blue-grey eves were mutinous. " You tell me that I must only take that stupid small trunk, and you can see for yourself that it is impossible. If you weren't lacking in ordinary common-sense, you'd realise that." But Joan's broadside bounced off harmlessly. The sight of her tousled curls and flushed cheeks so suggested a little girl caught out that laughed uproariously. " Poor kiddie," he said, teasinglv, " who'd go honeymooning ?" But that laugh got Joan like a flick on a raw wound.

" D'you know, I think I hale you. Bill Garstairs." Joan's voice was ominous. " You come along here and laugh at me when you see me all upset, and it's all because I'm trying to do something you want. What is my life going to bo after we are married, if you can treat me like this now ? I thought you were different. I thought you would always be wonderfully kind and understanding, and you're not! You are just as ordinary as all the other men who have wanted to marry me, and since I've found it out in time, I'm not going on with it!"

"Joan! Don't be a little fool!" Bill's voice was edgy. " Do you realise what you are saying?"

" Yes, I do realise it, and I mean every word of it. I repeat, you aro not tho man I thought you wore, and I'm jolly glad I've found it out in time. There's your ring! Go downstairs and tell mum I'm through with everything!" Blank incredulity held Bill silent for a moment, then as the injustice of Joan's imputation struck him afresh, a quick wave of anger dominated him. " You can't do this thing, Joan," he broke out hotly. "It is ridiculous! You can't realise what you aro saying!" " f " Most certainly I do," she replied defiantly. Bill's show of temper was the final blow. " I think I am to be congratulated upon making a fortunate escape." Bill regarded her steadily while he probed her heart for the truth, but she returned his gaze unwaveringly. " All right then," ho replied. " I am not such a fool as to thrust myself upon you under the circumstances. Good-bye ! I hope you will have better luck in your next Venturis."

Joan's stormy eyes watched him go, then sho shut and locked her door. The tears which had threatened for so long slowly trickled down her cheeks. Had she been justified in doing this thing ? The question kept nagging. But no—what sho must remember was that Bill had proved himself lacking in tho very qualities she needed most—sympathy and understanding. Without these, their life together would be one long misery.

" But you love him," tho voico of truth gibed.

" Yes," she admitted, " but I'd rather die than let him know it!"

" Where is your understanding," persisted the voice. " Are you so selfish that tho giving must be all his?" "Oh, hang!" blustered Joan. "I've taken my stand, and nothing wilPmove mo from it!'

And nothing did, then. All her parents' pleadings and remonstrances—the shame and unhappiness she was bringing upon them all—no argument could bend that determined young will. But none knew better than Joan, herself that she was hurting herself most. That " cussed " streak in most of us I How much it has to answer for, when given its head!

Joan's wedding day was one of brilliant sunshine. With heavy heart but head held high, she joined tho family at breakfast. It was a nightmare metl. Her mother excused herself early, and retired upstairs, but Joan, true to her fighting spirit, went through with tho ordeal. As they finishing, the telephone bell shrilled peremptorily, and Mr. Harcourt rose hurriedly to answer it.

"What's that?" she heard him say. " Speak up, will you!" Joan smiled involuntarily. Dad was showing signs of strain himself. His voice was so curt as to be almost unrecognisable.

"An accident! Whore? Is he badly hurt?" The little smile froza on Joan's lips. Some instinct warned her what must follow, as she sat horror-stricken, waiting her father's return. The dumb agony in her eyes asked the question her lips could not frame.

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" Yes, it's Bill," Air. Harcourt said, uncertain how to continue.

"Is lie—dead 1" The question came fearfully. "Oh, daddy, tell inc! I can't—" her voice quivered—. " No, darling, lie's still alive, but he needs you badly— Tic is asking for you— It is urgent, I'm afraid—" Mr. Harcourt mined away fumbling with his handkerchief. " Oh, I'll go at once! Tell me, where is ho? How soon can 1 get there?'' "I'm afraid (lie car cannot get' you there quick enough." Mr. Harcourt looked at her sadly. " Bill must have travelled furiously last night after—after—" Oil, don't say it, Daddy! Tell me, what I can do ?" Feverishly she caught hold of him. " Is lie badly hurt?" Yes, dear .They think he must have been speeding and in the dark he missed the road—"

Tears streamed down Joan's cheeks unchecked. " But, daddy I mustn't fail him now. There must be some way—Oh, can't you help me? I can't think—" " There's only one way— He is at Wairoa, and as you know a car cannot reach there under two hours. But a plane could —lf you will go upstairs and get ready, I'll ring the aerodrome and see what they can do about it. " Now, cheer up, little girl ! While there's life," you know— Joan rushed upstairs, flinging herself headlong into her mother's arms. " Mummy, Bill's been badly hurt and I'm going to him. Daddy is fixing something up about a 'plane to take ine to him quickly. " Oil, mummy, isn't it terrible? And this is my wedding day!" The horror of it struck her afresh as the piles of dainty clothes greeted her as she entered her own room.

" Yes, darling," Mrs. Harcourt said gently, " and had you been a wiser daughter this need never have happened. But it's too late now for such regrets."

" Ready, Joan ?" came her father's voice a few minutes later. " I've got the car at the door and I've had the luck to secure tho services of an excellent pilot. He's waiting for you now. I said we'd be at the 'drome within ten minuted."

That run Joan never forgot. Her father was not often guilty of speeding, but he certainly broke his own record that day. The pilot was as good as his word and the 'plane was awaiting their arrival. Here is a coat and helmet for you Miss Harcourt," he said as they arrived alongside—he himself was already hel-inct-cd and goggled—" it will be a bit chilly aloft to-day; you will need them."

" Thank you very much." She took them idly, her thoughts full of her tragedy.

" That's all right! Just get 'cm on and hop aboard, then we can get going immediately. I understand you don't want to lose any time ?" ' Oh! no! You see my fiance has been badly hurt!"— Joan choked over the word

A moment later they were off, and Joan set her mind on trying to rally her courage to meet tho ordeal ahead. It had been such a shock, she simply couldn't think before. What a brick dad had been about it all! There had never been a suggestion from him that she had brought all this upon them by her own folly, and, when she came to think about it she hadn't even thanked him for all he'd done to get her away to Bill.-If only she knew how badly Bill was hurt! The suspense was like a knife in her heart—

Was tho drone of the engine beginning to make her light-headed ? She sat up and tried to get a better grip of herself. " This won't do," she told herself fiercely. You've got to pull yourself together or you'll never get through with what is ahead. "Joan!" This time she heard it distinctly. Someone had called her. She shivered suddenly. It was uncanny—unless She had heard weird tales about poople about to die getting into communication with those they loved who could not be with them. . . .

"Bill darling, you've got to live! I'm coming very soon, and I love you so!" Tho pitiful words tumbled out unconsciously. An urgent need for action overwhelmed her. Grasping the speaking lube she. hailed the pilot. ' How much longer before we can reach Wairoa ? I must get there quickly. He needs me. . . ?" "Ho docs!" The reply came back like a revolver shot. " What's more, he needs you so badly that he' is not taking tho risk of you failing him a second time." " I don't understand." Joan's voice was cool and distant. Had the man gone mad ? "You soon will!" Tho reply was cryptic as before.

" Then you know what happened last night?" Sho asked tho question as though she were trying to grope for realities. "I do! And hero and now Joan Harcourt, von will answer mo this question. Are you still determined not to marry Bill Garstairs?"

His tone stung Joan into action. " Who arc you, and what right have you to speak to mo as you aro doing ? It i's no business of yours whether I mean to marry Bill Carstairs or not." " Oh yes it is!" Tho voico came back confidently as before. " You are at my mercy now. Answer at once! I give you fivo seconds."

There was no reply from Joan. "All right, then, take this!" Turning the machine into a thing of fury, ho nose-dived, looped, and rolled, then nosedived again until at last Joan's courage cracked under tho strain.

" Oh, stop!" sho called., " Stop! Slop! Are you a fiend that you are behaving like this?"

" No. I'm not a fiend," he replied, " but I intend to havo that answer," and ho started to climb again. " This is your last chance. If you don't, speak this time, I shall crash you in earnest, and then it will be too late for Bill." " You lovo him, don't you?" " Yes." Tho word was whispered but ho caught it.. " And you heartily regret what you did last night, and promise to marry him ?" " I don't concede that you havo the slightest right to ask me these questions, but since you are determined to know, I do mean to marry Bill just as soon as he is well enough—that is if —" Her voice faltered.

" Bravo, sweetheaiis. Spoken like a Briton! And since it is still our wedding day, we'll make for homo without losing another moment, 1 told mum and dad not to cancel tho arrangements.

" Bill!" sho gasped, in stupefied amazement. . . . Then you're not hurt?" " Only my feelings, darling, but what you havo just told rnc has mended them already." " oil, Bill, I'm 60 happy and relieved and . . . " Well?" ho cut in. . . .

" I'm just ever so sorry about last night. ... I nearly broke my heart when I realised what life was going to bo without you. . . ."

" It's risky to turn a pilot's bead when he is at the controls, Kiddie, but it's been worth everything to hear you say that. There's a mighty lot in tho old saying, that you've got to lose a thing to value it properly, and we'vo both had our lesson." " Bill," a small voico spoke a moment later, " I really think I might be able to leave behind somo pretties, and then that trunk would surely shut?" " No need for that, darling! Mum has betm packing it for you while we've been aloft!"

"Wretches! You've all been in league against me. But at any rate you have proved that you really are kind and sympathetic and helpful, by getting ine out of this mess in time for our wedding to take place when we had planned. I haven't even the packing to Worry about now, or in the future! And as they alighted from tho 'plane, her dazzling smile gave Bill eloquent reassurance of her trust and deep content.