JILL DOESN'T COUNT

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22512, 1 September 1936, Page 19

JILL DOESN'T COUNT

CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued) Viva was an actress; who was he to grudge her to the world? He saw the picture through twice. It was still quite light, liowevetf, when he stepped into the High Stret of Charnford. Suddenly he hated it. It represented for him the land of sober fact as against the land of make-believe lie had left behind him. An ache for Viva filled him, that was part of the ache of this perfect June evening. A star hung against an opalescent sky. The moon was no more than a pale shadow of u crescent. Her time would not come for another two hours, when the last orange ribbons of the sunset had faded into a starlit darkness. Suddenly Oliver knew that he had got to see Viva again in person, to speak to her, to hold, at any rate, her little hands. Hs went back to the house, learnt from Jill, who was still in the dispensary that there were no messages for him. Then he took the car out of the garage. Jill saw him go, guessed his purpose. There was tho Viva look on his face that sho had learned to dread. He was going now to Viva. After all, she only lived a bare fifteen miles away. Jill continued to make stock mixtures mechanically. Through the gradually darkening world, Oliver's car went spinning. The sun had just set, when he reached Viva's cottage. The lilac which gave it its name was in full bloom. He could smell tho other lovely things which he could not put a name to. Already a light shone from the lounge, making a pattern on the tiled space outside it. Oliver stepped over the grass, reached tho open French window, stopped short. Ho saw a man, a short, stout, rather unpleasant looking man. His black, brilliantined head was down bent. A girl was in this man's arms, a clinging, willowy figure. Her back was turned to Oliver, but he could seo her fade in tho mirror opposite. It was Viva. Never quite, as long as he lived; was Oliver to forget that look on Viva's face. Her attitude was seductive, passionate. But her expression was quite different. It was one of cool, calculating triumph, It was the face of a woman, who by the power of. her own sex, has got exactly what sho has wanted. Then it changed. She had seen the newcomer standing there motionless in the shadows. She broke away. " Oliver," she gasped. The man broke away, too. He was looking angry. " I didn't know you were going to have visitors, my dear Viva," he said. Viva was recovering herself, flot too quickly, however. " This is an old friend of mine, Gerald. We used to know each other in nursery days. This is Dr. Oliver Vereker. Come in, Oliver, instead of standing out there in the darkness!" " I'm sorrv," said Oliver. " You shouldn't have left the window open, Viva. I'll go now." " Oh, why?" said Viva. She tried to laugh. " Since you have come—" But Oliver was already gone. They heard the gate clqse behind him, the sound of his car being driven away. Viva stood frowning. She was furious that this had happened. To have forgotten that open window. It had been a trick worthy of the tritest, stalest scenario. Gerald Greer, too, was annoyed, but since the other man had .gone,—-his armoyance faded... " I think it is time to draw the curtains, Viva," he said softly. Meanwhile, back, back toward Charnford, Oliver's car was flying- His thoughts were chaotic confusion. _ He had recognised the man without Viva's introduction; it was the same man whom she had been dancing with at the studio that night, the night when everything in the world had ended for him. Bad enough that she should be letting him kiss ,her like that, bad enough. But that wfisn't tho agonising thought that drummed now so ceaselessly at his brain. Only to-night in the Elite Cinema at Charnford he had loved the Viva whom he had thought he had known — that delicious, provocative girl, every smile a caress. To-night he had been enchanted with her, as he had always been enchanted with her. And then, less than an hour later, drudely, clearly in that betraying Florentine mirror of hers, he had seen tho real woman. He didn't try to put the memory of what he had seen out of his mind. Bitterly, as if he were biting on an aching tooth, he emphasised to himself every detail of her appearance. Calculating abandonment had been the keynote. This was the girl who had let him go to prison rather than tell the truth, this was the girl who, in spite of her wonderful letters to him, on the day of his release had been concerned with him less than with the curve of her evelashes. It was for this girl, this worthless girl, that he had suffered, for whom he was working now, in order to lay his medical practice, his only gift at her little feet. A necklace from the sixpenny stores would be more appropriate I

CHAPTER VIII. "YOU LOVE —ME?"

It was nearly midnight when he once more reached 'Charnford. It was a respectable early go-to-bed little place. Most of the lights in the house were out, only an odd policeman or two inspected shop doors with his lantern. It annoyed Oliver to see from the illumination in his own house that Jill was still working. How she worked, maid, housekeeper, dispenser in one! It was good of her, but it wasn't worth it, it sitnply wasn't worth it. She probably knew what Viva was like better than he did. He'd send her off to her rooms ouickly, he thought. He wanted to hn alone. Jill heard the sound of his latchkey, and came out of the kitchen. Actually while she had been waiting for Oliver to return and to relieve her of the task of answering the surgery bell, she had been bottling gooseberries. The garden was over-run with them. She had an economical soul. Oliver was so poor that she didn't want him to waste a thing that he or uld get for nothing. " Hullo," she said. " Had a nice time?" Then she saw his face. The words diet! on her lips. " No," said Oliver roughly. " Bettor go home to bed, Jill! It's late.'' " Yes, I'm just going." The jars of gooseberries stood on the kitchen table ready for the covers to be affixed the following day. Jill took her coat from the book in the ball. She had guessed aright in thinking that Oliver had goi?b to see Viva. Something frightful had obviously happened. He looked as he had looko.d. the day in court, when he had been sentenced. Worse, perhaps. Then he had been numb, stunned. Now every nerve in him seemed alive. Jill moved slowly toward the door. She felt Oliver watching her from the staircase. She knew that he was waiting impatiently for her to go. Whatever his thoughts were, he wanted to have them to himself. Her own instinct was to obey him. Then, quite unexpectedly, she changed her mind. The thoughts that Oliver had were dangerous thoughts for a man to be left alone with. She turned back again. " Oliver, something dreadful has hapnened. I tfan see it. Won't you tell me?" * " It's all right," he answpred. " No, it isn't," said Jill. "la it something to do with Viva?"

By PHYLLIS HAMBLEDON Author of "Youth Takes the rieim, etc.

A ROMANTIC STORY OF RIVAL SISTERS

(COPYRIGHT)

" That's not your business," said Oliver roughly. " Isn't it? She's my sister, and at present, whatever is your business, is my business, too." "Will you go home?" said Oliver. It's after midnight. What would the good folk of Cliaruford say if they knew that you were here now?" "1 don't care very ifiueh," said Jill "Well 1 do," said Oliver. "Goodnight,'; Ho walked into the sitting room. He was about to shut the door upon her, but Jill was too quick for him. She ran after him. "Oliver, is it anything to do with Gerald Greer?" sho asked. "So you knew, too," said Oliver. "Only what Malcolm Trant told me," said Jill. "Greer is Viva's new producer, you know. He can't bo any more than that to her, Oliver. Why she couldn't love him. He's old —and horrid." "Would that matter to Viva if he were useful?" said Oliver. Bis self-control had slipped; his eyes were blazing. "i agree, he is old and horrid," ht said. "Perhaps, come to that, Viva couldn't love anybody. But if so, why is she pretending that she does ? Kissing him as she kissed me—letting him kiss her, as I kissed her 1 Held in his arms! Oh, I've had to watch it on the screen often enough, but to-night it was life —real life 1 And her face! Mirrors are funny things; they betray you! Hers betrayed her, all right. What's a kiss worth? her face said. What's a kiss worth? Estimating kisses at the value of pounds, shillings and pence 1" "Oliver, what are you talking about?" cried Jill aghast. "About your sister —about Viva Ferrand —about the rising young film actress," said Oliver. "About the girl 1 loved. Oh, 1 don't love her now. 1 hate her. Funny, isn't it, what a mirror will do? Yes, it opened my eyes all right for me! That's the girl I thought the perfect woman. How does it go?— 'ln her hour of ease, uncertain, coy, hard to please.' But in time of trouble, a ministering angel. Ministering angel, my eye! A lot of ministering angel stuif about our Viva! I went to prison, Jill, to return for that!" He sat down at the table and buried his face in his hands. The first passion of his agony was spent. Then he raised his face again. "But you knew, too," he said accusingly. "You knew, too! You are all as bad as each other. Stay on here, build up the practice—for the sake of Viva! Yes, that's amusing! 1 knew that to-night, seeing her with that fellow! What would sho want with an ordinary doctor! Spe'll fly higher, won't she? Film stars marry dukes, but only if the dukes have money enough!" "You are talking about my sister," said Jill, whitely. , "Oh, I don't expect she's any worse than the rest of you," % said Oliver, shrugging his shoulders. ' "Though, 1 suppose, it's only since the war, that gold-digging lias become exclusively a woman's profession." "That's unfair!" said Jill. "But it's true," said Oliver. "Why even you, didn't you say, you grabbed this job because the dispensing business was overcrowded, and you wanted to be certain of getting work?" Jill stared at him. She was literally bereft of breath. Dispensing? What had made her think of dispensing? Only because it was the one profession she could help Oliver by taking up. Why was she here at all instead of on the films? For him. Was that what anybody called gold-digging? Did one scrub and clean up dust and cook, and call 'ft gald-diggingP* Did on'e'lcfiftve one's home, come to a place like Charnford, put on a white overall, for the sake of what you were going to get out of it? Anyway, where was the gold? She could ask him these questions. She could tell him of the offer Malcolm Trant had made to'tfer. She didn't. He had really believed, her, had he, when she had said she had taken this job, because she 'had been afraid of being out of work P "Good-night," sho said quietly. She was going now. She could not help him any further. She knew dimly that she no longer need be frightened of his safety. She had been a sort of safety valve, and he had worked off most of his emotion on her. She could leave now, she could go home to bed, and try to forget what he had said to her. Sho reached the front, door, turned the handle. "Jill, Jill!" Oliver was behind her. He had grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. She saw his face above hers, queer and distorted. . "Jill, how could I ■ say things like that to you, how could I? I was hurt. I tried to hurt again. Jill, forgive me! I'm a beast. I'm worse than Viva! I hurt deliberately, intentionally! Jill, I didn't mean a single word of those things .[ said! There must be good people, good women, still in the world, if you're there. Why, Jill, you're crying! Did you mind as much as that?" Ho pulled her back into the sitting room, pushed her down on to the sofa, sat down beside her, put his arm about her. "Jill, darling, don't cry, that's a good girl. Don't cry, Jill. Of course you didn't come here just for a job! Nobody could pay back the kindness you've given me. Oh, why did I say it? Why did I have to hurt you? Jill, stop crying, please, piyaae! I can't bear any more, 1 tell you!" "Do you think I can either?" said Jill. She was overtired and distraught. For weeks she had overworked and undereaten. And she was not yet nineteen. Her words came tumbling over each other, "I can't bear any more either! Do you think I didn't know what you're feeling? Do you think I don't know what love means? Oh, why were we made like this, to be hurt like this? Of course, Viva isn't worth loving. She never was. Viva doesn't'want love, she wants what she can get from letting people love her! Oh, yes, it's my sister I'm talking about! How can I, howcan I? You mustn't listen to what I say, either, Oliver! But I love you, 1 love you so!" "You love —me? Jill, is that what you said. You —love me?" Oliver had dropped her hands. Ho was staring at her. "1 never said it." cried Jill in a panic. "I never said it!" "But you did, quite clearly. Is it true, Jill? Is it true?" "Of course it isn't." said Jill. "Why should it be? I'm going now. We've both made fools enough of ourselves for one night." She tried to rise, but lie put his hands on her knees and forced her back again. "Why of course you love me," he said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "I ought to have recognised the symptons, shouldn't I? Doing everything for somebody, not asking for return. Suffering everything, enduring everything. That's the Bible isn't it? If' I'd offered you three hundred a year, you wouldn't have scrubbed and cooked and worked for me. But 1 wasn't giving you anything and did it. Yes, that's love, all right. Why do you love me, dear?" "Oh, let me go," said Jill. "Let me go "That's not likely, is it," said Oliver "There aren't many people who love me like that. Would you like to marrv me. Jill?" "Of course not!" said Jill violently "I'm not so sure." said Oliver. Ho raised her chin with his hand and forced her to look at him. "Let's get married, Jill," he said. (To be contiuued daily)