The Blue Mountains of Kabuta Read online

  The Blue Mountains of Kabuta by Hilary Wilde

  "Not that you could ever get involved with Alex," Jon's mother told her frankly about their neighbour in the shadows of the Mountains of Kabuta. "You're far too naive and young. He needs a more sophisticated woman." Madeleine perhaps? Jon could not care less, she told herself, about the know-all Alex's emotions.

  PRINTED IN CANADA

  First published in 1970 by Mills & Boon Limited, 17 - 19 Foley Street, London, England

  ISBN 373-01496-!

  © Hilary Wilde 1970

  Harlequin Canadian edition published May, 1971

  Harlequin U.S. edition published August, 1971

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or

  unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  The Harlequin trade mark, consisting of the word HARLEQUIN and the portrayal of a Harlequin, is registered in the United States Patent Office and in the Canada Trade Marks Office.

  CHAPTER I

  Jon Hampton stood on the verandah, staring silently at the view before her. She still could not believe that it was true—this wide beautiful lawn, the trees with their crimson flowers and the purple climbers; there was even a bush covered with gardenias, their sweet fragrance drifting on the hot air while, straight ahead of her, were the mountains. Never in her life had she seen so much beauty.

  Well,' a deep voice interrupted her thoughts, what do you think of your inheritance ? '

  Jon sighed. ' I can't believe it. That anything so lovely could be mine.'

  The tall man by her side chuckled. Don't get ideas in your head. Those mountains aren't yours.'

  Jon felt her cheeks burning. Of course they're not, I know that, but the view is mine.' She turned to look at him, annoyed by his amused smile.

  At that moment, her mother joined them, her voice tired and a little irritable. Not that she could help it, poor darling, Jon was thinking, for her mother hadn't been at all well on the plane.

  It's not too bad, Jon, but it's so terribly isolated.'

  Do sit down, Mrs Hampton,' the man, Alex Roe, said. I've told Dorcas to bring us out some cold drinks, or would you prefer coffee? '

  Ursula Hampton smiled. How thoughtful of you ! A cold drink, please. It was very good of you, Mr Roe, to meet us at the, airport and be so helpful. I honestly don't know what we would have done without you. Don't you agree, Jon? '

  Mrs Hampton glanced at her daughter, but Jon had turned and was staring again, as if hypnotised, at the scene before her.

  `My pleasure,' Alex said with a smile. After all, Ned was my best friend.'

  ` But old enough to be your father.'

  Yes. Actually he was the father I needed when I took over the farm. My parents had run it and when they died and I knew nothing, Ned taught me everything about farming.'

  Jon turned. She was tall, slim, with short dark curly hair clinging tightly to her head. She was not pretty and yet her face always attracted attention, perhaps because it was so contradictory. Her deep-set, dark, dreamy eyes were so unlike her small square chin. Her mouth was firm, and this, when she was thoughtful, made her look older and more mature, but for most of the time she looked about seventeen, although she was twenty-three.

  She said nothing, for she felt dazed, almost as if she had been hit by a hammer and was slowly regaining consciousness. She had felt like this ever since the news came that Uncle Ned had left her his farm in Africa, plus sufficient money to run it without financial difficulty. She could not believe it. Even today, standing here and knowing it must be true, it still seemed like a dream.

  Dear Uncle Ned, whom she had known for so short a time. Uncle Ned, who had comforted her so when her grandfather had died. Uncle Ned who had written to her and whose letters she had so rarely answered. Not because she didn't want to but .. .

  ' Jon . .

  Her mother's voice finally pierced Jon's faraway thoughts and she turned round quickly.

  Jon, I'm just going to have a wash. Do come out of your dreams and talk to Mr Roe. You're not being very polite, dear.'

  Jon smiled, Sorry, Mum.'

  She looked up at the big man who was standing now as her mother rose and hurried inside, not—as Jon well knew—to ' wash ' but to hurriedly clean her face and put on fresh make-up, for the long flight out from England must have left her feeling like a wreck. Poor

  Mum, Jon thought with a tenderness she would never lose, it meant so much to her to look nice.

  Now, her mother gone, Jon found herself alone with this man to whom they owed so much and on whom they were dependent, not financially but for advice.

  She stared at him, seeing him, perhaps, properly for the first time. A tall ugly man who yet managed to be good-looking. A square face, deeply tanned by the sun, his eyes were half-closed as he stared at her thoughtfully.

  ' Well? ' he said. D'you think we might sit down and relax? '

  Again her cheeks burned. Of course.' Hastily she sat down, tugging at her skirts. How awkward they could be, she thought irritably, still uncomfortably conscious of his amused, almost assessing look. ' Did you —did you really think I was going to be a boy? ' she asked abruptly.

  He smiled, and it startled her, for she saw his eyes were green. He was the first man she had ever known with green eyes. But his hair wasn't red. It was blond, almost bleached white by the sun.

  She could not forget the moment when their plane landed with a slight bump and her mother, unused to flying, had grabbed her hand tightly, her lovely face frightened. They had gone down the steps and this big man had come up to greet them. It was a small airport and there was no need to produce passports and visas as they had had to do at an earlier landing.

  Mrs Hampton,' the man had said, smiling but totally ignoring Jon. Welcome.' Then he had looked round. But where is your son ? '

  My son? Jon's mother, still a little unsteady on her feet, had looked dazed. I haven't got a son. This is my daughter, Jon.'

  And then Alex Roe had stared at her, his eyes half-closed, his mouth obviously trying not to break into a smile as he apologized.

  I am sorry. I thought Jon was a masculine name.'

  Jon had blushed, thinking of how many times she had been teased about her name. Her mother had merely laughed and the matter was forgotten, but not by Jon.

  Now, sitting alone with Alex Roe, Jon leant forward. Surely Uncle Ned told you I was a girl ? '

  He always talked about his little Jon—or his heir. Never his heiress. He talked of you a lot. He loved you dearly, you know? '

  Jon's eyes stung and it took her a moment to answer. ' I loved him, too.'

  Her eyes grew dreamy as she kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her, clasping her hands. Her pale yellow frock was crumpled, the heat had caused her make-up to run, she knew her nose must be shining, her hair limp, but none of these things really worried Jon, and certainly not at a moment like this when she was looking back down the years. Nine whole years, in fact.

  You see . . . ' she said, thinking aloud, not noticing the way Alex was watching her intently, Dad died when I was five and we went to live with my grandparents. Mum was wonderful. She had married straight from school, but now she went out to work and Gran so-say looked after me, but it was really my grandfather who did. He was known as old John, and somehow, as I grew up I hated my real name.'

  What is your real name? '

  Joanne Undine Rebecca,' Jon said solemnly, and as he laughed, her face relaxed into laughter, too. Now you do see why I hated it? It was too ghastly for words.' />
  But why Jon and not Joanne? '

  Because everyone said I looked just like my grandfather. Same colour eyes and hair, same stubbornness.' She smiled suddenly. I know I am. I can be very difficult sometimes. So he was old Jon and I was young Jon...'

  She paused, no longer amused, for she saw he was still laughing, this time at her and not with her. Her cheeks

  hot, she looked at him.

  I don't see that it's so strange. After all, lots of girls today are called Jon. In any case, your name is a girl's. Alex is short for Alexandra.'

  He laughed outright. That was a good try, but not a success, my little Jon. Alex is short for Alexander. Remember your history ? Alexander the Great ? My mother had great ambitions for me. Anyhow, please go on. You lived with your grandparents and your mother went out to work. What did you do ? Learn shorthand and typing ? '

  She hated him for the patronage in his voice. ' I went to college and am a pharmacist,' she said proudly. She had worked hard, got a good job with a high salary, her own car with money enough for regular trips to the Continent.

  A pharmacist ? ' He sounded more surprised than impressed. Well, I never did ! I thought all pharmacists were men.'

  You seem to have a complex about women,' Jon said sharply. Do you think we're all dumb blondes ? '

  You're hardly a blonde, unless you've dyed your hair,' he said, laughing, and although it was against her will, she found herself laughing as well.

  Let's return to your Uncle Ned. I gather he was the black sheep of the family ?

  Yes, but that wasn't fair. Granddad always said so. You see my grandfather had a family business. They were all architects and Ned, as the eldest son, was expected to carry on the family tradition. But he broke away and went to an agricultural college. His father understood, but his mother never forgave him Gran was hard, at times. Nor did my mother because, you see, my father took Uncle Ned's place and . . . well, he actually died when doing a job which Uncle Ned should have been doing, surveying some land which gave way and he was . . . well . .

  Jon paused, looking anxiously at the door that led to the house, for it was a subject her mother refused to

  discuss.

  Anyhow, Uncle Ned had left years before and they heard little about him, but the family solicitor had his address and when my grandparents died, Gran first and Granddad only three months later, Mr Williams, our solicitor, must have cabled Uncle Ned, because he flew back at once and took over. I don't know how we'd have managed without him.'

  And your mother ? She forgave him ? '

  Jon sighed. I'm afraid she couldn't. She loved Dad so much, you see. She married him when she was seventeen and I was born when she was only eighteen, then she lost Dad when she was twenty-three, and I guess it was pretty tough.'

  But how could it have been your uncle's fault ? Maybe if he'd been doing the surveying he'd have recognized the crack in the ground. Surely your mother could see that ? '

  Jon stiffened. ' It's easy to talk, but unless you've lost someone who means everything to you, you can't understand,' she began indignantly, but he ignored her words and went on :

  So your uncle flew over and took charge of everything. Was there much to do ? '

  Sighing, Jon ran her hand through her damp hair. Gosh, was it hot, she thought as she found herself longing for a nice long cool bath and a drink full of ice.

  I honestly don't know. I was only fourteen, but Mr Williams had warned us that by the time the death duties were paid, there wouldn't be much money. However, fortunately he was wrong, because in the end, we had quite a nice income.'

  Alex Roe smiled, took out a silver cigarette case and offered her a cigarette. When she shook her head, he nodded.

  ' Wise girl ! Awful waste of money,' he said, lighting one for himself, then he looked at her and said casually, ' Your uncle gave you that income.'

  ' Uncle Ned ? ' Jon leant forward. ' Uncle Ned

  . . . ? ' She caught her breath. All those years and they had not known. ' I must tell Mum.'

  Alex shook his head. He didn't want her to know. He loved you very much.'

  Jon's eyes were bright. I loved him, too. He was so kind, so understanding, and we both had loved Granddad so much. Mum got on well with Gran, but Granddad had meant everything to me. It was terrible to lose him and somehow Uncle Ned helped me get over it.'

  When he came back, you wrote ? '

  Her cheeks burned uncomfortably. ' I did, but Mum . .

  Didn't approve ? '

  ' No. I . . . well, I even gave Uncle Ned the address of one of my friends, but she brought a letter round one day when Mum was there and . . . well . . .' Jon hesitated. She didn't want to tell Alex Roe, but she could vividly remember the emotional scene, her mother's tears, bitter words, accusation of disloyalty, the repetition of the old words : If Ned had done his duty, Dad would be alive today, because he never wanted to be an architect. It was all your uncle's fault.' Even as it hurt Jon, she had understood, for in her mother's world there was only right or wrong, nothing in between. It seemed odd that anyone so lovely as her mother could be so narrow-minded, so full of bitterness, even of hatred, yet Jon always thought it might be due to her mother's strict upbringing by aged parents, for there had to be a reason or a cause.

  I'm beginning to understand a lot of things,' Alex said slowly. 'I only wonder your mother hasn't married again, because she's most attractive.'

  Grateful for the chance to change the conversation, Jon unwound her legs, letting them swing down as she leaned forward. I know. That's how I feel. I want her to marry again. She's so young.'

  How old are you ? '

  Twenty-three.'

  ' You look barely seventeen,' he teased.

  ` Is that a crime ? ' she asked coldly.

  Of course not.' He laughed again. 'That makes your mother only forty-one. I wonder why she never remarried. I'm sure she must have had plenty of chances.'

  Oh, she has. There was Bill in Bexhill where we lived. I liked him and I thought . . . but then we heard about this and Mum said I couldn't come out to cope with the farm alone, so she . . . she came out.' Suddenly worried by his silence, Jon looked at him. ' She's wonderful, you know. She's sacrificed a lot for me.'

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I can believe it,' he said, but something in his voice told her he didn't.

  Jon twisted her hands together, avoiding looking at him, for she was hoping he could not read the thoughts in her head. Her mother's sacrifices ', if they had been that, had been wasted. Jon had longed to work her way round the world, but how could she leave her mother who was so dependent on her ?

  ' Did you have a boy-friend you had to leave ? ' Alex sounded amused and to Jon's utter humiliation, she felt her cheeks burning again.

  ' Yes,' she began, about to tell him of shy Jimmy, a year younger than she was and who was a marvellous dancer but that was all.

  At that moment a plumpish African girl in a blue frock and crisp white apron came out on the stoep, carrying a large brass tray with glasses, bottles of orange and lemonade, and an ice bucket.

  Thanks, Violet,' Alex said, and Jon stared at the girl, who gave her a quick curious look back.

  Jon knew there were two maids. The other would be Dorcas, then. It seemed odd, Jon thought, to think of her new life with servants to do all the work, garden boys and a large number of farm workers. She remembered the small two-bedroomed flat on the Bexhill front with the floor polisher, vacuum cleaner and small but adequate washing machine and spin dryer. It

  would be odd to have no housework to do. She wondered if they did the cooking.

  Violet's the cook,' Alex said, almost as if he was able to read Jon's thoughts. He stood up, to pour out the drinks. A darned good one. Your Uncle Ned was fussy about his food.'

  At that moment, Jon's mother joined them. She looked cool and beautiful in a yellow kaftan with loose sleeves, her dark hair shining, her long dark lashes against her creamy skin adding to the beauty of her eyes.

&nb
sp; ' How lovely—a cold drink ! There's plenty of water, Jon, if you feel like a bath. Sorry I've been so long, but I suddenly felt so wet and sticky in this dreadful heat,' she said, and sat down with her usual gracefulness.

  Alex passed her glass to her. ' I've arranged a cold lunch for you about one o'clock. That'll give Jon time to have a bath. Then I suggest you both rest this afternoon and I'll be along later to show you round the place and I hope, if you're not too tired,' he smiled at Jon's mother, I would like you and your daughter to come to dinner tonight. First nights in strange houses are always dismal and there are a few people I'd like you to meet. That is, of course, if you're not too tired,' he repeated, looking anxiously at Jon's mother.

  Ursula Hampton's eyes shone. We'd love it, wouldn't we, Jon ? ' she said, and sounded so pleased that although Jon felt more like curling up in bed for the next twenty-four hours, she had to agree with a smile.

  They watched the car drive down the rutty earth track, over the cattle trap and then on to the wide earth road.

  Ursula Hampton turned to her daughter with a smile. ' Maybe life here won't be so bad after all, darling. He seems quite nice, doesn't he ? '

  Jon yawned. ' He's all right, I suppose. I must go and bath,' she said, and went inside.

  After Jon had had her bath, the lunch was served in

  a square shaped room where there was a fan bringing in the breeze. It was a pleasant but simple room with white walls and dark brown antique furniture. The table was circular, there was a Welsh dresser and a long sideboard. The curtains were yellow and there were yellow grass mats on the polished brown boards.

  Dorcas, a thin African girl in a yellow and white check overall with a white apron, waited on them. She moved lightly and silently, but smiled when they thanked her. It was a simple but delicious meal of cold ham and salad with sliced onions, tomatoes and lettuce. Afterwards they had ice cream.