"AFRICA FLIGHT"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 15 January 1940, Page 10

"AFRICA FLIGHT"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

VAL GEILGUD.

(Author of “Announcer’s Holiday,” “Beyond Dover,” Etc.

CHAPTER IV. Continued. Carol grinned mischievously. “You wouldn’t have liked me to ring up Mr Larrimore without an introduction surely, Daddy?” “What on earth are you talking about?” “If I must put it into words of one syllable, Daddy dear, I wanted to meet Mr Larrimore.”

Hubert Manson enquired why in his gentle weary voice. “The man’s something of a celebrity, my dear Hubert,” said Sir George irritably. "Don’t you ever read the newspapers?” "Oh I see,” murmured the Professor. “For a moment I thought you meant that he’d done something really worth doing.” Carol fired up. “I think the first solo flight across the South Pacific was extremely worth dong,” she said indignantly. “Worth doing,” snapped Sir George. “I don’t know what you two are talking about. It gives his name value from the point of view of Associated Airways. That’s important. It’s also a fact that if he could get across from Valparaiso to Sydney, he’s likely to be able to ge from Timbuctoo to Tokyo."

It was clear that Sir George meant to closure the discussion summarily, but the Professor had his own share ol his family’s stubborriess.

“George, tell me,” he said, “Is this expedition just one of your stunts, or are you genuinely keen to do science —and me—a good turn?”

Sir George’s thick neck flushed. Carol answered for him:

“If you really want to know, uncle, it’s a little bit of both.” “In that case,’ began Hubert, “I’m not at all sure ”

Of what was to be left to the imagination, for the Professor’s wife chose that moment to leave a discussion she had been having with Cynthia Wright aneht Women in Politics, and enter the office. Janet Manson at forty-seven preserved the relics of extremely good looks, though her clothes were drab and her complexion as nature had left it. She'stood in the doorway, looking at the little group by the desk with a shrewd comprehensive gaze, embracing Hubert affectionately, her niece suspiciously, and Sir George with a mixture of admiration and contempt. “Are you discussing the flight?” she asked. “You should have waited for me. You knew I was coming. How are you, Carol? I haven’t seen you for some time.

Sir George explained, with a certain ponderous sarcasm, that Hubert seemed to be objecting to the stunt aspect of the scheme.

‘Rubbish!" said Janet Manson decisively. “Why not combine his business with your pleasure?” “Hear, hear!” from Carol.

“Thank you, Carol. Don’t you think I’ve done rather a lot for my age, Aunt Janet.”

“Oh, do you? Because you’ve ‘been everywhere, met everybody’ and done a couple of London seasons? But I forgot—you have done one other thing. I see that the ‘Mercury’ has given you a front page half-column this morning.” And she laid a folded newspaper on her brother-in-law’s desk.

Carol wriggled with exasperation, but said nothing.

Sir George banged his fist down on the paper. “I’ve told you before, Carol, that I will not have you mixed up in vulgar affairs of this kind!” he said angrily.

“Oh don’t be silly, Daddy,” retorted the girl. “It was a perfectly harmless sort of party. Jerry and his crowd couldn’t do anything wrong if they tried. They haven’t the brains or the nerve! I’m sorry about the headline, but it doesn’t really do me any harm you know.” Sir George had unfolded the paper and spread it out on his desk. As he read the half-column through, the corners of his heavy mouth twitched ominously. “I’m not saying that it does you any harm,” he muttered. Carol was on to the opportunity for counter-attack like a hawk.

“I see,” she said unkindly, “you like to keep the headlines for yourself and the noble pioneering schemes of Associated Airways. It’s your reputation I’m ruining—not my own!” But Sir George Manson, fond though he was of his only child, was too good a business man to be deflected from a principal point at issue by a palpable red herring. "Your aunt’s quite right, Carol,” he said. "You want some occupation to keep you out of mischief.' The girl shrugged angrily and moved across to the window. "If you talk like that, I shall get married,” she threw back over her shoulder. "I could quite easily you know. She looked out at the seagulls wheeling easily above the river, at the Air Force Memorial rising over the plane trees. She thought again of Rupert Larrimore, of the success of her scheme for meeting him personally. How unimportant seemed her father publicity mania, and her aunt’s Victorian fussiness! She had almost recovered her temper, when a remark of Janet Manson’s, little more than half heard, wiped the dawning smile from her lips. “I agree, Carol," her aunt was saying, "you would have no difficulty in getting married, considering what young men nowadays are like, and how much money your mother left you—even if you were much plainer than you are.” Carol turned round. "I wonder why your generation has only to mention the word ‘marriage’ to become irnrned-

iately and positively disgusting?” “Don’t speak to your auni like that!" snapped Sir George. ‘l’m sorry, daddy. But all this is absolutely ridicilous. Do you really want me to deprive some harmless typist or mannequin of her job, to be sure that I clock in every day at nine in the morning?” “I don't mean anything of the kind,” her father interrupted. “Very well then. You didn’t bring me up as a wage-earner. It wasn’t necessary.”

Hubert Manson observed gently that there were other types of work. But Carol was not to be checked.

“I havent got the urge of the scientist, or the inspiration of the artist!” she went on a little' breathlessly. “I’m a perfectly ordinary young woman with the luck to have an independent income. I want to enjoy myself while I’m young, and when I meet the right man I want to marry him.” Sir George felt that the situation was getting out of hand. What had been intended for a mild occasion for disapproval showed signs of developing into a first-class domestic crisis. He began to look about him for a line of retreat.

“It’s only that I'm anxious on your account,” he said. “You seem so—restless. You need a change. Why don't you go abroad for a little?"

“Deauville? Antibes? The Italian Lakes?”

“Rubbish!” interrupted her aunt. “Deauville, indeed! What you want, my dear, is a little experience against a background where neither - your Paris frocks nor your cheque-book could help you.”

There was a little silence, and then, much to the astonishment of her elders, Carol Manson smiled, looking as always when she smiled —enchantingly pretty. She had had the most delirious idea—if only she could pull it off —if only the dear old things didn’t see just where their interfering and sermons had led to, in the way of giving her an opportunity—- “ Well,” she said defiantly, “Just what do you suggest that I do? Climb Everest with the next expedition, or fly across Africa with Uncle Hubert? I suppose that either way breeches would be the only wear, and that one might as well leave one’s cheque-book at home!” “Oh don’t talk nonsense, Carol!” said Sir George. “Get along home for goodness sake. I’ve some work to do.”

But Carol had not thrown her bait in vain. Uncle Hubert had never in all her life let her down. And this time, too Uncle Hubert, albeit quite ignorantly, did just what she had hoped he would do, He looked hard at his wife, received an almost imperceptible nod, and took Carol’s chin, tilting it up in his beautiful thin fingers so that she had to look straight into his eyes. “Will you come with us, Carol?” he asked quietly. An attempt by Sir George to begin an explosive protest was firmly suppressed by his sister-in-law. So long as there's plenty of room in the plane, I think it an excellent idea,” she said firmly. “I’d quite like to have another woman to keep me company. And Carol will have so much fun chaperoning me.” “The Star of the East,” said Sir George, not without a certain pomposity, “is built to carry eighteen. That has nothing to do with it ” “You wouldn't by any chance be thinking of any possible risk?” pursued Janet Manson maliciously. “You’re trusting Hubert and me to the tender mercies of your company’s pet machine—or had you forgotten that?” Sir George pulled himself together. Looked at in cold blood there seemed really a good deal io be said for the notion . . . Carol safely away from all the vulgar activities of the Season. . . . A really remarkable human interest angle to get the flight publicity

Larrimore and Carol and “The Star of the East . . .tins was too good to lose.

“If you’re really keen on the idea, Carol,” he said slowly, “I’ll think seriously about it. It might be managed.” ’ I’fi’l'/ “Will you come. Carol?” repeated her Uncle. “I’d like to have you with us." Carol smiled at him affectionately. “Just wail a minute,’ she said. “I’m not going to be rushed off my feet like this—and into mid-air into the bargain. I must think one or two things over ”

The telephone buzzer beside Sir George’s desk snarled angrily. “I thought I told you, Cynthia, that I didn’t want anyone —Oh. Larrimore! Yes —of course, put him on! What are you thinking about?” In the adjoining" room Cynthia Wright gave away her essential humanity by making a face. She would have liked to have sworn. But swearing had come in for her sex since her time. She switched the telephone through.

Carol stood, with a smile on her lips, while her father obviously got the worse of an argument over the line. She seemed to'be seeing the airman’s face at the other end of the telephone: its lean, bony strength, its sardonically twisted unhappiness. How long, she was asking herself, would it take her to smooth away that tortured, baffled look? .What a stroke of luck that the chance to go on the flight had cropped up like that! She had simply not dared to ask her father straight out if she could go. He would have been bound to have smelled a rat . . . Sir George put back the receiver, and sat down. (To be Continued.)