LADY FOR SHANGHAI

Wairarapa Times-Age, 10 August 1939, Page 12

LADY FOR SHANGHAI

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

KAYE FOX

CHAPTER IX. (Continued). •We'll forget it, and still be friends. Arthur,” she said, and added, in a slightly louder tone: ‘■l'm. not sure that I have any white darning silk. Grant, but perhaps 1 can get some at the barber's shop. Is your passenger in a hurry?” “Not specially—he wants these socks to wear when he goes ashore in Penang,” Arthur said, taking her warning. She had heard the soft shuffle of Miss Crane’s slippers in the alley-way —Miss Crane always wore bedroom slippers when she went down to the pantry in the early morning. Of course the other stewardesses had noticed that Arthur came up the companion just behind Christine, and Miss Crane had come quickly back to the cabin in the hope of catching them together. ■ Good morning, Miss Crane,” Arthur Grant said serenely, as he handed the socks to Christine, picked up his tray of fruit and went off. Miss Crane looked after him suspiciously, but she certainly had no grounds for making a report to Perrin. It was quite usual for the bedroom stewards to bring small jobs of mending to the stewardesses, since there was no one else on board to do them, and they brought in a few extra shillings in the way of tips. “I should have thought you had enough to do, without darning stocks,” Miss Crane-said to Christine. “I can do them while I am sitting with Dion Farrant in the hospital.” Christine said.

She was too fagged out that morning to resent Miss Crane’s spying, or to be angry with Arthur Grant for the harm which he had unwittingly done her. He had come up to the hospital on impulse, she knew that, and he had not the slightest idea, even now, that it was a staggering blow to Christine to lose John Stanhope’s friendship and respect. For Arthur, the ship's doctor was simply one of the officers, on more intimate terms with the staff than the other officers, since he had more to do with them, but most certainly not one of themselves. So great was the gulf fixed between John Stanhope and Christine, in the eyes of the staff, that even Perrin and his spies did not trouble to watch them, though, they were so often alone together. John Stanhope was in the hospital when she went up after inspection that morning, helping Dion with a jigsaw puzzle. He looked up as she came in, and she saw that there were dark shadows under his blue eyes, as if his night had been as sleepless as her own. “You look dead tired, Miss Jordan,” he said, and his voice was kindly but quite impersonal, as if hr? spoke to a stranger. “Shall I stay here a little longer, so that yon can have somirest?”

“I’m all right, thank you. Doctor

she said. "It was such a hot night.” "Hot even up hero, but cooler than your cabin, I expect. You're sure that you're all right? I was really waiting for you to come before going down to the after deck—one of the Chinese laundrymen is ill.’ He went at once, and because, on other mornings, he had always stayed to talk for a few minutes, she felt desolate. He might, when he thought things over, have come to believe Arthur's protest that he had never before even tried to kiss her.

During the days that followed, it seemed to Christine that she had become an automaton, wound up to carry out her day’s duties as efficiently as ever, but with no power of feeling anything. The long hours of work in that intense heat acted like a merciful drug, numbing the pain in her heart, and at night she slept dreamlessly. The days slipped past, starting at dawn in the dim pantry, ending at midnight, when she left the hospital, too tired even to see the glory of the star-deck-ed tropic sky above her or to look towards the horizon for the lights of other ships, comrades in the darkness. Dion left the hospital on the day before the ship called at Penang. He was less dependent on Christine now. for he had made many friends among the passengers, who had got into the way of drifting into the hospital, two or throe al a time, as soon as he was well enough to be amused by their visits. Though no one had taken much notice of him before his accident made him a centre of interest, he was by way of being the ship’s pet now, and though he still loved Christine best of all, he was no longer lonely. She was glad when Dion left the hospital. It had been a haven of peace to her when she and John Stanhope were friendly, but to sec him every clay, and know that he was avoiding being alone with tier—that would have been bitter torment if she had not been drugged by overwork and the tropic heat. “I'm sick of the sight of all my passengers," Arthur Grant told her. meeting her in the alley-way a few minutes before the gangway was lowered at Penang. “They're all peevish at being cooped up for so long—l hope they'll go ashore and stretch their legs, and come back in better tempers." "How long do we stay?" “We're sailing again tonight. The time isn't posted up yet. It. all depends on how long they take to unload the cargo —it'll be somewhere about midnight. 1 expect. There’s no hope of any stewards getting shore leave." “I've never been ashore in Penang," Christine said, "not even when we were were stuck here for three days because it was the rainy season and they couldn't get cargo loaded—or unloaded, I forget which. I'm going to set foot on dry land today if I can, 1 want to buy some lavender water. I'm tired of the- smell of toilet vinegar m our cabin.“

They went out on the dock together, for they had finished their morning work, and no urgent job was waiting for either of them .Edwards and Cator were already there, leaning on the rail, but the passengers wore all on the decl: below, waiting for the gangway to be lowered, or dressing in their own rooms.

Edwards ga,ve Christine an almost friendly nod, and even Cator was less surly than usual, for everyone was a little excited at the sight of land, after the long days at sea. Not that the dusty wharf, backed by corrugated iron sheds, was a very interesting prospect, but it was at least different from the monotonous beauly of the neverchanging ocean.

“There’s your scent merchant, Miss Jordan.” Grant said, pointing to the white-clad native who stood behind a small table loaded with bottles of perfume. "I'll slip down the gangway and get you a bottle, if you don't want to trample about in all that dust.”

“And there’s the fellow who comes on board selling sapphires.” Cator said, “waiting to rush up the gangway as soon as it's lowered. He’s a pest, that one. If he got half a chance he’d be rummaging through, the rooms —so make sure you lock up everywhere, Grant."

"There goes the gangway,” Edwards exclaimed, as the pulley ropes began to creak.

They all leant over the rail to watch the passengers going ashore, mobbed as soon as they reached the wharf by natives in brightly striped sarongs, who wanted to sell them something or take them somewhere.

“How many of them will go for a drive through the jungle, and come back swearing they’ve seen a tiger?” Arthur Grant said with a grin. “How many of them will nearly miss the ship?” Edwards said. Perrin,' a burly figure in his white uniform, was standing at the head of the gangway, and they heard one group of passengers after another call out some query to him about sailing time.

“Nobody knows yet —but it’ll be posted up in all the principal hotels, and at the agents’ offices,” he answered. “Probably about ten o’clock tonight—the notices will be up before six, in any case.”

"Hope we do get away by ten,” Cator muttered. “It’s a nuisance when they’re ashore half the night, and can’t get up next morning.” But Christine was not listening to him, for she was watching the group which was just going down the gangway—Martin Roydc and Fay, and Doria Smythe close behind them. She had not seen Fay for days, and when Fay looked up at Royde, laughing at some joke, which he had made, Chrislone's heart ached because Fay was so lovely and so blind. Between those two, the middle-aged man with the cynical eyes, and the woman who knew too much of life. Pay looked like a child, beautiful and innocent. Her hair was in soft curls under the wide brim of her hat, and her cheeks had the faint flush of apple blossom —she was springtime itself, “Why bother to take Mrs Smythe with them?” Arthur Grant said. “Perhaps Miss Lind has insisted on having a chaperone,’ Cator sniggered. "She's got them all puzzled, that kid. and Royde himself more than any of them. Just at first, she'd got the name of being a regular on-corning little baggage, but she's changed round completely.”

“Clever enough to guess that Royde will be all the keener if she holds nim off a bit?’’ Edwards suggested. “Yes—but isn’t she overdoing it? After all, she's not got a long time left before the end of the voyage.” "She’s got three ports left.” Arthur said lightly, "and Royde's a mighty quick spender when ho gets going, fie ought to be good for a jade necklace m Hong Kong, as well as a few trifles here and in Singapore,” Christine moved away from them. She was used enough to the frankly cynical way in which the stewards discussed the passengers, but she couldn't boar to hear Fay spoken of like that --even Arthur was taking for granted that Fay's only reason for holding Royde off must be that she hoped to get more out of him in the long run. The worst of it was that Arthur was right, in a way, in summing Fay up as a little gold-digger. Christine had to admit that. Fay was crazily in love with Royde. but Christine knew that his wealth was part of his attention, in Fay's eyes—she would not have fallen crazily in love with a poor man. "I’ll gel. you that scent at once, Miss Jordan, if you like." Arthur called after tier. She wont to fetch him the money, for she guessed that he wanted Edwards and Cator to see that she really did pay for the scent, ami that lie was not making her a present. He even took Edwards down to the wharf with him. and the two of them spent half-an-hour in bargaining for one of the big bottles of amazingly cheap laverder water, which was hardly a luxury in the tropics. They were all in an idle frame of mind that day, for with all the passengers ashore there was practically nothing to do, for once. Christine had charge of the baby from number four during the afternoon, but the baby slept serenely in its perambulator on the verandah outside the smoke room, and Christine, curled up in a deep chair beside it. dozed oil too. She was so short of sleep that now that she could be idle she felt that she could sleep for days on end. Iler eyes were still heavy with sleep when Iris Collins sent for her, just before dinner, to ask her to fasten an elaborate evening gown. Most of the passengers were still ashore, but a few. of an economical turn of mind, had come on board for dinner. Chrklme

was sli'tiggling drowsily with dozens of hooks and eyes, which seemed to have no connection witn one another, when Doria Smythe strolled into the room. “Why, Doria, 1 thought you were ashore with Martin and the Lind girl." Iris Collins exclaimed. “You don’t mean to say that lie’s brought you back before dinner." "I’ve brought myself back,” Doria said, with a malicious little laugh. “I’ve got a headache, my deal'—by arrangement. Martin doesn’t want to be | stranded in Penang with two women.” CTo be conT.inuect.)