Free The House of Seven Fountains by Anne Weale Page B

see you. Can I give you a lift home?” He got out of the car and came toward them. “What have you been doing? Buying up the town?”
    “Almost, but I think we’ve been extravagant enough for one day. A lift would be most welcome. These pavements are like hot coals and my feet are beginning to sizzle.”
    “Right. In you go. I’ll put your loot in the back with Ah Kim,” he said cheerfully. “ What about your own car? Is Chen waiting for you somewhere?”
    “No, I sent him home. We were going back by trisha if you hadn’t come along.”
    “Good lord, you can’t use those filthy things,” Julian said in such a shocked tone that Vivien decided not to tell him that they had ridden a short distance in one during the afternoon.
    As they were driving past the fish market she caught sight of a tall figure standing at the curbside. It was Dr. Stransom. As they passed him she smiled and waved, but he could not have seen her, for he made no response. Or was it possible that he had deliberately ignored her, she wondered uneasily.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    By t he end of her first week at the House of Seven Fountains, Vivien was completely at home. For the first time in her adult life she felt a growing sense of security. Oddly, the knowledge that her sojourn in Malaya was not likely to last more than six or seven weeks at the most did not disturb her. Life in England and the prospect of returning there seemed infinitely remote. Absorbed in the present, she did not concern herself with the future.
    Each day offered new interests. Escorted by Chen, she visited the village of small holdings that Julian had told her about. Chen confirmed that all the tenants were either former occupants, of the town jail or cripples who had been obliged to beg on the streets for a living.
    Her visit to the little settlement caused a considerable stir among the inhabitants, who crowded out of their attap houses to see her, at first silent and watchful and then murmuring excitedly to each other.
    “What will happen to them when the estate is sold?” she asked Chen. So far she took it for granted that she would have to sell the estate unless Mr. Adams had any alternative suggestions.
    Chen shrugged. “One cannot say. If the new tuan is a hard man they will go back to the town, some to steal, some to beg. ”
    “But couldn’t they stay here? They are in no one’s way.”
    “All men are not as Tuan Cunningham. The land is rich. It could be planted with crops that would bring money,” he said succinctly.
    That evening she sat on the veranda and thought about the village and what might become of it under new ownership. Perhaps the sale could be made on condition that the villagers were allowed to keep their plots. Although Mr. Adams had made it clear why her godfather had made her his heiress, she was still confused about how she could best fulfil her new responsibility.
    Mr. Adams had told her that he was empowered to pay the household bills until the future of the property was settled. But what happens after that, she wondered anxiously. The income from her godfather’s legacy will never cover all the expenses of a house like this, and I haven’t any way of earning more. As far as I can see, I have no choice but to sell the house. There’s still something oddly mysterious about the whole affair.
    She was gazing thoughtfully at the distant hills when she noticed a dark blur in the sky. It was moving steadily in the direction of the house, and as she watched, the amorphous cloud gradually resolved itself into a series of wavering, threadlike formations. At the same time the strange green twilight bathed the landscape, warning of approaching nightfall.
    “The flying foxes come,” Chen said suddenly from behind her.
    Vivien jumped. Chen always wore rubber-soled shoes and moved so noiselessly that he often startled her.
    “Flying foxes?” she asked curiously.
    “ They have the wings of a great bat and the head of a fox. The season has begun and