tough and seeking, and he had found what he wanted and become immersed in it before he was sure that his wife could never join him. He must have had some hard times, reconciling the man he was with the man he would like to have been.
He was what he was, and Peg loved him that way. Even if all the planters sold to the company, Jim would hold out ... and he wouldn’t be alone. Peg would be there, helping him wherever she could.
With the sudden exhilaration of the young, Peg felt she was already tensed for battle with that attractive egotist, Steve Cortland.
It was Steve who drove them out to the airport next morning. The plane hadn’t arrived, and because the tiny public lounge was crammed with Zanzibaris the three of them walked up and down outside, in the narrow shadow of the building.
Steve was normal with Jim, cool with Peg. She got the impression that he regarded her as just an impulsive kid who’d have to give in and might as well do it gracefully.
“So you’ve another two m onths’ holiday,” Jim said. “That’s one of the things I admire about you, Steve - the way you take your three months’ leave regularly every other year and still have a bigger crop per acre than anyone else. You’re one of the young, organised types. Me, I’m just an old copra grubber, but I wouldn’t be anything else.”
Steve said distinctly, “You may change your ways now that your daughter’s joining you. You might even go in for a social life. Look in on young Foster for me, once in a while.”
“I’ll do that. No need to tell you to enjoy yourself.”
The plane touched down, and people wearing fezes and turbans and saris descended from it, followed by three Europeans, two of whom were women, both well-dressed though the younger was the more spectacular. She wore white, a simple sleeveless dress and a tiny round hat upon abundant dark hair, and she carried a white leather cosmetic case. Something made Peg look at Steve. She saw a startled smile on his lips, his hand lifted to wave to the vivacious, gesticulating creature as she disappeared into the door of the customs end of the building. Peg wished she had been close enough to see the woman’s features.
Jim caught his daughter’s glance and gave her a wink which said, “There’s the woman he’s been waiting for!”
There were fifteen minutes of waiting, while the luggage of the new arrivals was wheeled into the customs department and that of those about to depart was loaded into the plane. Then came the summons for those leaving to take their seats. When Steve said goodbye to them he was already glancing often towards the door through which the new arrivals were gradually appearing, followed by their luggage.
“Have a good trip,” he said. “See you in Motu.”
Peg had gone about a dozen paces across the grass when she looked back. She saw Steve greeting the young woman in white, holding both her hands while he looked at her. Then the girl flung her arms about his neck and kissed him; Peg could see him laughing at her enthusiasm and taking her elbow to lead her out to his car. The two of them were all set for great times together in Zanzibar.
Peg felt chilly and lost. A knife-like draught seemed to be blowing about her golden plans for a few months with her father followed by marriage with Paul Lexfield, and somehow it was caused by Steve. She was glad to be getting away from him for a while.
She sat beside her father in the small plane, smelled the spicy sweetmeats that other passengers were chewing and watched the take-off. Zanzibar became a fuzzy green coast patched with white and then it disappeared from her window.
Five days later Peg and Jim Maldon arrived on Motu Island, in the South Seas.
CHAPTER TWO
From J im’s description of it, Peg knew the house intimately before she saw it. He’d built it himself, with island labour, in the style that stood up best to the climate; plain and square, with a palm-thatch roof extending right over the