The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (7 page)

Alex laughed, ‘I wasn't going to look over your shoulder.'

‘Uncle Ned wanted this to be a secret.'

Shaking
his head, Alex smiled. ‘You're wrong, as usual, little Jon. He said nothing about me. Only that your mother must not see it.'

‘All the same . . .' she said, hating him, for it was true. As usual he was right.

‘All right.' He laughed and swung round so that his back was turned to her.

She opened the letter and read it slowly. Then she read it again. And again.

‘My dear little Jon, I hope you will be as happy at Jabula as I have been. I know that your dream was to have mountains and water near you. This is the perfect life. Alex will help you run the farm if you find it too difficult at first. He is a good man, little Jon, and my best friend. You can trust him. Only one thing, please. Alex wants to buy the farm, but don't ever
sell
it to him.'

The word
sell
was heavily underlined. What did he mean? That she could sell the farm to anyone but Alex? It didn't make sense, for Uncle Ned also said Alex was to be trusted.

She tore the letter up into tiny pieces and threw them in the water, watching them float away. And why mustn't her mother see the letter?

‘Well?' said Alex, sounding amused as he saw the paper drifting away. ‘Was it so important?'

Jon looked at him thoughtfully. There must be a reason, though she could not see it. ‘Yes,'
she
said quietly. ‘Very important indeed.'

CHAPTER FOUR

As the days passed, Jon realized one thing— one simple but disagreeable fact that had to be accepted: that she could not manage the farm alone!

What upset her most was the thought that she was letting down her Uncle Ned. He had given her the farm, trusting her, believing in her, and although she was doing her best, she knew she could not cope alone. She was forever asking questions of the farmers she knew, borrowing books from Alex, disciplining herself to ignore his amused looks, so she had tried very hard, she tried to comfort herself one beautiful early morning as she took her daily walk with the dogs, amused by their excited leaps and explorations of the rows and rows of pineapple plants.

It was very hot even at this early hour and as she walked along the red earth, deeply indented by the wheel marks of the heavy tractors, she wished there had been trees planted occasionally to give some shade, but even so, she was so lost in admiration of the mountains that small irritations like the fruit flies, and the zooming whirl of mosquitoes who always sounded so triumphant, for she was
constantly
bitten, could not spoil her happiness. It was so wonderfully quiet that a serenity seemed to fill her. It was so quiet, she thought again, and suddenly the impatient chugging of a tractor destroyed the stillness and her happiness seemed to go.

Her dreaminess vanished and she became practical, looking back down the days that had become weeks, and none of them had been easy. On some of the days her mother was full of woe; complaining of the mosquitoes, the noisy chatter of the servants, the television she missed, the fact that she had nothing to do.

Jon had tried to tease her out of her despondency.

‘You always wanted to be a lady of leisure, Mum. Now you are one. You remember how you hated working at that hotel?'

But her mother didn't laugh. ‘At least there I met people.'

‘But you are here. You're learning to play bowls and bridge,' Jon would say.

And her mother would look at her. ‘It's not the same.' And Jon would go off for a walk with the dogs despite the heat as she tried not to be depressed. She loved Jabula so much. This was her home, but if her mother . . . ?

Then the next day everything would change. The phone would ring and her mother would answer and turn away, her face bright and eager. ‘Jon darling, Mrs Hamilton is fetching me after lunch to go to the W.I.'

‘I
could have driven you there,' Jon would say, and her mother would smile: ‘I prefer to go with someone, darling. You know how I hate walking in alone.'

Now, remembering all this as she walked through the pineapple lands, Jon sighed, picking up a piece of wood and flinging it ahead for the dogs to race after. In many ways, her mother was still her biggest problem, but so was Alex too.

Make no mistake, Jon told herself sternly, you have no right whatsoever to resent Alex, because you owe him so much.

And that, she knew very well, was the trouble. If only . . .

She turned suddenly, giving the distant hazy blue mountains a last loving look, and slowly retraced her steps, as it must be nearly breakfast time. Her thoughts were still in the past as she remembered the first Monday morning they had been there. After a long day at the club, she had slept heavily. Alex's voice had awakened her. Drowsily she had glanced at her small alarm clock. It was only half past four! What on earth was he doing here at that time? she had wondered as she tumbled out of bed, pulled on her thin green dressing-gown and gone to the window, pulling back the curtain so that she could see. It was light, the sky a strange mixture of colours, and Alex was there, on a black horse, as he talked to her
induna
, obviously giving him his orders for the
day.
And then Alex had turned and ridden away and she had gone back to bed, not to sleep but lie awake thinking of him and how sarcastic he could be, and yet at other times so sympathetic. Did every farmer's day start at four-thirty? she wondered. Would she have to learn to get up at that hour? What sort of orders would she give? Could she ever learn the local language?

That first Monday was one she would never forget, for later that morning she had gone outside with the dogs and found Leonard cleaning a car.

She stared at it and then felt annoyed with herself. She should have known that Uncle Ned had got a car. After all, you could not live here without one, as well as the two trucks and various tractors and other vehicles. Alex had waved a hand vaguely at where they were parked under a tin roof.

The car was dark grey and had long graceful lines. She walked round it, running her hand over the polished surface almost tenderly, for it was Uncle Ned's. She would take good care of it, she promised silently.

Then Alex's voice had come. ‘Never seen a car before?'

Startled, she swung round, almost falling over, having to grab at the car to save herself. How had Alex got there? She had heard no car, no horse, not even his footsteps. How long had he been watching her? she wondered.

‘I
had my own car in England,' she said stiffly.

‘You did?' His amused, almost sceptical voice reminded her of Madeleine's reaction at that first dinner party. Why must they both always treat her as a child? Jon had thought angrily.

‘Drive me round for a while,' Alex said that first Monday morning, opening the car door, telling Leonard to finish cleaning the car later. ‘Driving out here is different from driving in England.'

‘I'm sure it's quite unnecessary to give you a demonstration,' Jon had begun stiffly, but of course, and as usual, Alex won and she had driven him.

Walking towards the house as she remembered that morning, she smiled ruefully remembering the miserable hour she had spent driving Alex. A strange car, different gears, a more powerful car than she had been used to, learning to drive over the corrugations in the roads, crawling carefully to start with because she was concerned about the car, and then scolded by Alex and told the only way was to drive over the corrugations fast! She could do nothing right, of course. He had asked her about the road signs; many of them were different from those at home. He lectured her on driving on muddy roads, explaining about skids, warning her that, in no circumstances, must she give anyone she didn't know a lift.
Then,
when they returned, he had smiled at her.

‘Not bad at all,' he had said in that hateful patronizing voice. ‘Why were you scared stiff? Am I such an ogre?'

She had managed to laugh but avoided looking at him in case he had recognized the truth, for in a sense, he was an ogre! He gave her an inferiority complex one moment, the next he infuriated her. It had been an ordeal, for driving a car with a critic by your side is rather like typing with someone watching you. No matter how good you are, then you're bound to make stupid mistakes.

But that morning before she had had time to answer him, Madeleine had come round the corner.

‘I wondered where you were, Alex,' she had greeted him, totally ignoring Jon. Madeleine was wearing cream shorts and thin blue blouse, her hair hanging down her back. ‘I thought I could help Jon as regards shopping and coping with the staff as she isn't used to servants.'

Alex had given her a strange smile, Jon remembered, and she still could not understand it. ‘How very thoughtful of you. Goodbye, Jon,' was all he said and then he had left them.

That had been the first of Madeleine's daily visits. Walking along the red earth track, the dogs racing eagerly ahead, Jon looked back on those visits. Maybe Madeleine had meant it
kindly
and, to be honest, she had been a great help, driving Jon to the local dorp, introducing her to the young couple who ran the store so efficiently, introducing Jon to local people so that Jon's daily visit to the store was something her mother, who always went with her, looked forward to. This was something her mother needed, Jon realized, she needed people to talk to! Jon didn't.

She was near the house when she heard her mother's voice and then Alex's. Half hidden by a huge Pride of India bush, Jon paused, aware that she must look hot and sticky, and not feeling inclined to see Alex.

Her mother's voice came, clear and musical.

‘Please be patient, Alex. It may take time, but she'll change her mind. I know Jon so well.'

Jon caught her breath. She despised people who eavesdropped, but she had done it unintentionally. If she walked round the bush, they would see her and know she had heard! Alex might even accuse her of snooping! Her mother would be horribly embarrassed. There was only one solution, so Jon turned quickly, walking towards the back door and going into the house through the kitchen, then quietly into the bathroom for a shower. Perhaps when she came out, Alex would have gone.

In any case, why had he come? And what had her mother meant? Jon asked herself as the tepid water bounced off her hot sticky skin.

‘Please
be patient, Alex. It may take time, but she'll change her mind. I know Jon so well.'

They could only have been discussing her, Jon decided. And why had her mother said ‘she'll change her mind'?

A sickening fear seized Jon. It could only mean one thing: that Alex and her mother wanted the farm sold—and that her mother was on Alex's side. Tears were very near as she went over the words again and again. How could her mother do this when she knew how much Jabula meant to her daughter.

Turning on the cold tap, Jon shivered as the cold water hit her skin, but she let it pour over her body, trying to fight her dismay, gradually persuading herself that she was quite wrong and that her mother only wanted to help her. Maybe her mother realized—as Jon now had—that she could not cope with the farm herself. Maybe it was Alex who had persuaded her mother that this would be for Jon's good?

Jon turned off the water and rubbed herself dry. As she dressed quickly, she felt a new strength filling her. She must find a way to prove that she
could
run the farm without Alex's aid.

Suddenly she knew the answer. Why hadn't she realized it before? It was a simple but perfect answer to her problem.

Many of the farms around them had similar problems. Owners who lived far away and
could
not be on the spot to cope—they found a solution. The solution she could have.

Jon knew what she would do. That morning when she took her mother in to Qwaleni to buy some thinner dresses, she would slip away and put an advertisement in the local newspaper.

The answer to her problems? A good manager.

That was all she needed, and he would free her from this awful dependence on Alex!

*          *          *

When Jon joined her mother on the stoep, she saw with relief that Alex had gone. Her mother looked up from the magazine she was reading.

‘You're late. I'm longing for my breakfast.'

Jon sat down. ‘Sorry. I must have walked farther than I meant to and I was so hot I had to shower. You shouldn't have waited for me.'

‘Of course I had to. You know how I hate eating alone.'

There was an awkward silence. Jon wondered why her mother had not mentioned Alex's visit. Then the little bell from the dining room tinkled and they went in to eat. But there were moments of awkward silence during the meal and Jon hated it, for she loathed this sort of secrecy.

‘By the way, Jon,' her mother said after one long silence, ‘I'll be out all day. Mrs Swayne is
coming
to fetch me this morning and I'm having lunch with her and then playing bowls. This evening she's taking me to dinner with the Cartwrights and we're going to play bridge.'

Jon tried to hide her dismay. ‘I thought you wanted me to take you to Qwaleni?'

‘We can go another day. There's no hurry to get those dresses. I thought you'd be glad, because I know how you hate that drive.'

That was true, she did, Jon thought as she took a second piece of toast, but at the same time, now that she had decided to advertise for a farm manager, she didn't want to waste any time. That day would be the last for getting the advertisement into this week's paper.

‘All the same, I think I'll go in,' she said casually.

‘But why, Jon? You can go in with me another day. Or have you a specific reason for going in?' There was a new, almost accusing note in her mother's voice.

‘No. I just feel like going in today,' Jon said, hoping her mother wouldn't notice her tell-tale blush.