No Other Haven Read Online Free PDF

date palm spread huge branches of green spears that whispered in the ceaseless breeze. She swallowed the gin and peppermint Stuart ordered and lay down in the darkened room, while he went off to do the more urgent business alone.
    Soon she was feeling better and ashamed of herself. There was nothing to unpack for the trunks had not arrived, so she drifted between the window and the bed, and wandered into the pale green bathroom, which connected the bedrooms.
    This was no way to spend one’s first morning in a strange country. Speculatively, she regarded the telephone but decided against using it. Much though she needed a cup of coffee, she could not contemplate explaining her requirement to the colored boy at the desk, nor receiving it from one of the white clad, husky Xhosas who padded the corridors.
    She washed and beautified, drank tepid water from the bathroom tap, and moved a chair near to the window, so that she might watch the desultory comings and goings of colored servants and white residents.
    Just after one Stuart returned.
    “Not queasy?” he enquired. “Are you hungry?”
    “A bit. You were gone a long time.”
    “There was a lot to do.”
    “Did you send a telegram to Port Acland?”
    “To my mother? Yes, I did.” He was loosening his tie. “Has the baggage come?”
    “Not yet. Stuart.. .”
    “Dash it. I need a clean collar after chasing about town.” He was going towards the bathroom.
    “Stuart,” she repeated. He half turned back. “Why didn’t you telephone Port Acland?”
    He shrugged. “It isn’t necessary. I’ve told her that I’ll ring through next Friday, before we leave Cape Town.”
    Lindsey was left wondering. She recalled signs of relief in him when she could not accompany him this morning and now he was offhand, almost curt. How was she going to bear the pain of loving him, unrequited, if he lost his companionableness and charm? They were all she had.
    That afternoon, Stuart bought a car. Just like that. They walked into a showroom, he fancied a certain black one with a long hood and a convertible top, told Lindsey to test the comfort of the seat, and wrote a cheque. Apparently, there was no objection to his driving it away at once.
    “You can use it while you’re waiting for the licence,” he was told airily. “There’ll be no trouble, as you hold an English one.”
    The week passed swiftly, and Lindsey’s earlier fears were allayed. Stuart was as charming and considerate as ever and used his authority just enough to make her wish for more. Table Mountain, ba thing beaches, Groote Schuur, the Rhodes Memorial passed like lovely dreams. Once they sat in the Botanical Gardens and the squirrels darted up on to the seat and nipped peanuts from their fingers. And after that Stuart drove her down town to Aunt Kitty’s salon, which was now a beauty shop run by the friend who had cabled Lindsey on board. She went in and made herself acquainted with the agreeable enamelled woman who had shared the flat upstairs with Aunt Kitty. Customers were waiting, and Lindsey knew she was in the way. She came out into the sun again bewildered and rather sad. Poor Aunt Kitty had been so swiftly obliterated.
    On Thursday evening they dined at the MacLellans’ Dutch-gabled house among the English oaks at Newlands. Proudly, Mrs. MacLellan displayed her shelves of preserved peaches, plums, apricots, pears and quinces, prepared nine months ago against her return in the African spring.
    “They’ll carry me through till the new season’s fruit, and then I shall be busy again. This year I’ m going to dry some apricots and try some experiments with loquats. Our trees are simply burdened about Christmas time, and it does seem a pity that half of it should fall and rot.”
    Lindsey liked the spaciousness of the South African home, the cool, lofty rooms and polished floors, the wide furnished stoeps which were casually utilized at all hours of the day and often slept in at night.
    “We have our