HF - 05 - Sunset (31 page)

'You really are quite the most arrogant young woman in all Jamaica,' Walter Reynolds said mildly. 'In all the world, I suspect. What is so terribly urgent?'

'I have just left your son,' Meg said, placing her gloved hands on his desk and leaning forward. He started to gaze down the neck of her habit and recalled himself with a jerk.

'He is lying in a canefield with his pants off on top of an East Indian girl.'

'What?' Reynolds sat up straight. 'For heaven's sake, Margaret, you really cannot talk like that. Such language
...'

'That, in itself, would be immaterial to me,' Meg said. 'Providing he never brings his dirty body to my be
d again as long as I live. I am
just explaining why I have come to see you instead of him.'

'Now, Meg,' Reynolds said. 'Why don't you sit down and have a cup of tea. You must be exhausted. You look exhausted. I will have Dorian make us a nice cup of tea .
..'

Meg sat down. 'I have just learned about your plans to reduce the acreage under cane.'

'Plans? We have already reduced the acreage.'

'And the labour force.'

'Well, that was the object of the exercise. A nice cup of tea
...'

'Those people's families have belonged to Hilltop for a hundred years and more.'

'Oh, really, Margaret, black people
...'
'People, Walter. Hilltop people.'

'And do you suppose that if we stopped paying them they'd still work for you?'

'I have no idea,' she said. 'And neither do you, because you didn't give them the opportunity, did you? You just told them to leave.'

'Now, look here, Margaret. Your father in his wisdom made me executor of the estate, and entrusted me with the ultimate responsibility for the management of Hilltop. You, in your wisdom, elected to transfer that responsibility to Billy, who has, in
my
opinion, done a magnificent job.'

'Lowering the sugar production by twenty per cent,' she said. 'Oh, yes, an excellent job.'

'It was his first grinding. And frankly, I do not think he got all the co-operation he was entitled to expect, either from the overseers or from the labour force. The result of all the rumours about your peculiar honeymoon, I have no doubt at all. He will do much better this year.'

'With a reduced acreage?' she demanded.

'Well, it can't be helped. I am determined to make Hilltop a viable proposition. When you inherit properly, Margaret, you are going to inherit a successful, prosperous plantation, not a rundown financial ruin.'

'When Billy inherits, I think you meant.'

There is no need to be abusive. Billy is your husband
...'

'Was my husband,' she declared. 'As of now.'

'Your
...'
Walter Reynolds stood up. 'You, of all people, have no right to speak to me in such terms. You, who spent a night in the mountains with a bunch of niggers, who arrived back in Jamaica carrying someone else's child. I'm amazed Billy has had the self possession to put up with it.'

'What would you have him do, Walter? Divorce me for adultery? And lose Hilltop?'

'Why, you
...'

'So you had better be careful,' she said. 'Or I may choose to divorce him. I have grounds, now.'

Reynolds sat down again, leaned across the desk. 'You listen to me, young woman. You have no grounds at all. Women do not divorce their husbands for adultery. You'd not find a jury in the land, or any other land, to support such a plea. Supposing you could prove it. Why, you'd be laughed out of court. A plantation owner, taking a little bit on the side from one of the weeding gang ? It's the commonest practice in the world.'

She stared at him in impotent anger. But she knew he was right. Certainly in Jamaica. But probably in England as well. And losing her temper would accomplish nothing. There would be other ways to get rid of Billy, when she was ready. When she was twenty-one.

'I said, it doesn't matter that much to me,' she said, speaking in a controlled voice. 'What does matter to me is Hilltop. I think you are wrong. I know you are wrong.'

'And I know I am right. The price of sugar is low, and is falling every day. They keep talking about this conference, but there is no sign of them convening it. And incidentally, there have been no figure
s advanced to prove that even if
the beet producers cease to be bounty supported it will make any difference to the price of cane sugar. It is all pie in the sky. Only by the strictest economy are we going to pull through at all. Why, if it weren't for the banana crop, you would be damned near to bankruptcy.'

Meg leaned back in her chair. What had Oriole said, all those years ago? 'Well, then,' she said, 'why do we not abandon cane altogether, and plant nothing but bananas ?'

It was his turn to stare. 'Abandon cane?' he said. 'A Hilton, wishing to abandon cane?'

'Oh,
for God's sake,' she shouted, ‘W
hat is so magic about the word cane ? I seem to remember that when my family came to the West Indies they planted tobacco. They lived by tobacco. Where would we have been if, when cane was introduced, they had said, oh, no, we have always planted tobacco, we must keep on planting tobacco ?'

'Bananas,' Walter Reynolds repeated. 'Anyway, it's impossible.'

'Why is it impossible ? According to you, we have nothing to lose. We can be sure the bananas will sell. They are one of the few things in the world which happen to be in demand.'

'We have a great deal to lose, Margaret. In the first place, it would mean losing a year's crop during the changeover. In the second place, there would be the cost of converting the canefields, of replanting, of the plants themselves. Why, we'd need ten thousand pounds to see us through.'

'Is that all?'

'All?' he cried. 'Ten thousand pounds? Your profit margin is less than half that as it is, at this moment.' 'The bank
...'

'Hilltop is already mortgaged, young lady. Don't glare at me. It has been mortgaged for years. The only way you are going to find the money to plant bananas over all your acreage is to give some Yankee a lien. Do that and you'll be well on the way to losing Hilltop altogether. I refuse to countenance the idea.'

'My guardian,' she said bitterly, and got up. 'Your idea of progress is to sit on your ass and do nothing.'

'Foul language will accomplish nothing,' he said, going very red in the face. 'It is a disgusting habit, especially for a young lady, and one you would do well to overcome. My advice to you is to go home and make it up with your husband.'

'My husband,' she sneered. 'I'd hate to disturb him, Walter. I have better things to do.'

She picked up her hat and stalked out of the office, down the stairs, into the afternoon cool. Candy looked at her inquiringly, no doubt wondering if she was going to be required to gallop all the way back to Hilltop.

But Meg didn't want to go back to Hilltop at this moment. She wasn't sure what she would say, or do. She had never been quite so f
rustratingly angry in her life.

She turned away from the mare, down the street towards the harbour. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Oh, yes, she was sure. Perhaps the
Wanderer
was in port. She felt that to find Alan, to see Alan again, to hold Alan in her arms, would be to cancel everything, to restore her shaking sanity, make her a woman again.

Make her a Hilton again.

She stood on the dock, gazed at the schooners, the steamer, apparently recently arrived, the barquentine anchored farther out. But it was not the
Wanderer.
She sighed, and wondered if it would be best to stay in town for the night. It would certainly be dark before she could get home. But there was Richard, waiting to be fed. Well, Prudence could look after him for tonight. Prudence certainly would.

But she should get back. She turned, and stopped.

'Meg Hilton, by all that's wonderful.'

Her mouth dropped open in sheer surprise at the sight of the Honourable Tommy Claymond striding down the street towards her, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and an open-necked shirt, his sleeves rolled to the elbow.

'Tommy? It can't be.'

'Arrived last week, don't you know. I've been trying to pluck up courage to come out to Hilltop to see you. Just a call, what?'

'But
...
I don't understand.'

He linked his arm through hers, guided her back up the street. 'Well, the pater died, don't you know. I'm Lord Claymond now. Not even the mater can tell me what to do any more.'

'And the first thing you decided to do was come out here ?'

'Of course. Well, you made it sound so lovely, so exciting. But I wanted to see you as well, what? I say Meg, you are the most beautiful girl, you know. I have been dreaming of you every night. But you're married, they tell me. To some scoundrel of a lawyer.'

'We don't want to talk about him,' Meg said, squeezing that muscular arm. Suddenly she was seething with excitement, and with decision, too. After all, the Reynolds were forcing her to act on her own, if she was going to accomplish anything. Well, then, she would act on her own. 'Tommy. Will you lend me ten thousand pounds ?'

CHAPTER TEN

THE COURTESAN

TOMMY CLAYMOND stared at her for a moment with his mouth open, then gave a nervous laugh. 'I say, Meg, you haven't changed. You are a sport. Dinner? It's not much of a hotel, but they do feed you.'

She linked her arm through his. 'I should love to dine with you, Tommy. But I was perfectly serious.'

'Ten thousand pounds? There is an enormous sum of money, Meg. Whatever can you want it for?'

'I wish to replant, change the plantation from cane to bananas.'

'Bananas ? Oh, I say, what a topping idea.' He glanced at her, frowning. 'Is it?'

'We can sell all the bananas we can grow, and sell them well, to the States.'

'Why can't you sell your sugar to the States?'

They grow their own. Louisiana alone probably produces more sugar than all the West Indies' put together. Why should they buy ours?'

‘I
say, you know, you do know a lot about it, what? This is the place.'

'My horse is tethered outside Reynolds,' Meg told the major-domo. 'Will you have her stabled and watered, please. And some oats.'

Because she had already decided not to go home? Then what of Richard? But Prudence would see to Richard, for one night. This game was being played for the future of Hilltop. Which was Richard's future as well. She might never have another opportunity.

'It's early, yet,' Tommy said, 'We shall have to sit on the verandah, what? We could try one of these rum punches.'

'I should love a rum punch,' she agreed. 'Good evening, Charles.'

'Oh, good evening, Mrs Hilton,' said the manager, bowing over her hand. 'Lord Claymond.'

'I have decided to stay the night in town, Charles,' Meg said. 'Will you let me have a room?'

'Of course, Mrs Hilton.'

'I'm afraid I haven't got any luggage with me, and I would like a bath. Perhaps you could arrange it.'

'Of course, Mrs Hilton. Would you
...
ah
...
shall I send the housekeeper up to arrange some sleeping things ?'

Meg gave him her best smile. 'I don't think that will be necessary, Charles. After all, the nights are warm enough.'

She felt Tommy positively quiver at her elbow. 'Oh, Meg,' he whispered, as he found himself escorting her towards the stairs. 'You are a sport, really you are.'

She smiled at him in turn. 'Why don't you order us our rum punches, and then join me in my room?'

'Your room? Oh, I say, what?'

'I'm sure it has a verandah. All the rooms here have verandahs.' She followed the maid up the stairs, was shown into a room on the first floor, facing the gardens at the back of the hotel where she would be spared at once the noise and the dust from the street. 'Thank you. I'm afraid I don't have any money with me. Next time I'm in town, perhaps.'

'That is all right, mistress,' the coloured girl smiled, and withdrew.

Meg remained standing at the window, gazing down at the palm trees and the flowering poinciana which made the garden a blaze of colour. To match the pounding of her heart? What was she become? Why Meg Hilton, to be sure. Hiltons decided what was wanted, what was necessary, and went about securing it. Kit Hilton had never hesitated, and neither had Marguerite hi
s wife. Their weapons had neces
sarily to be different, but the end results had been comparably successful.

She listened to the knock, took off her hat. 'Come in, Tommy.'

He hesitated in the doorway, and she realized that she must be silhouetted
in
the window, with the light penetrating her gown. 'Oh, please shut the door, Tommy. Do I embarrass you ?'

The door closed, 'Oh, Good Lord, no. I mean to say, what
...'