Shooting Butterflies (15 page)

Lucretia had been with them now for two and a half years, and to Maggie, Tara and Dela, she was part of their family. Wherever they went, Lucretia went, except to their granny's house. They spared Lucretia the racist attitude of Maggie's mother. Although there had been a few sparks when she'd visited with them in Hluhluwe.

They turned right at the intersection and followed the coastal road which snaked its way along until they came to a ‘Welcome to Margate' sign covered in huge painted flowers declaring they were on the Hibiscus Coast. They turned again, and with Dela reading the map, they eventually drove into a tar driveway.

The beach cottage was built from bricks, and although it was serviceable and neat, it didn't have any of the luxuries one would expect at a beach house. There was no ocean view for starters.

It was across the road from the ocean-view homes, which dwarfed it and made it look like the poor relative. The garden was overrun with jungle vines and brown grass as high as Tara's hip.

‘The Biscoffs said it was a bit rundown, but I'm sure we can make it liveable,' Maggie said.

After depositing their cases inside, Tara rummaged for a pair of shorts and an older T-shirt. Finding them, she left her mess on the bed, and wandered into the garage, looking for a lawn mower. Finding an old hand push one, she checked it over to make sure it worked. Apart for an annoying squeak every now and again, the blades rotated just fine. She smiled to herself. There was a time she hadn't even known how to drive a broom, and now she could do household chores. Now she knew not only how to run a household, but how to be part of one too. Before she would have been waited on, and had everything done for her by the staff. Now she would go out and do what was necessary to make the family more comfortable. They were an unconventional family, but it worked for them.

Their small garden back in Hluhluwe was fragrant with bushes and shrubs, and sweet peas grew in the winter to blossom in spring. They had a veggie garden that had a few mielie plants and cabbages, gem squash and lettuces. The girls had learnt to look after the garden, and cut their own lawn, as Lucretia had told them that the Zulu men were lazy and not worth paying when they could do it themselves. The warthog, Frederica, wasn't the best lawnmower, leaving forage holes in the grass rather than clipped lawn. Lucretia had shown Tara how to push the lawnmower and how to make the grass look good.

After an hour, Tara hadn't made much progress on the front yard of the beach house. A small pile of grass lay flattened, but the yard was large and the going was tough. Blisters were already forming on her hands. She lifted the bottom of her T-shirt and wiped the sweat off her face.

‘Hey, Tara,' a deep voice said. ‘I knew it was you.'

Quickly she straightened her shirt. Dang … she should have known better than to lift her shirt and show her stomach to the world! She could feel the heat radiating up her chest and up her neck, knowing any second the blush would reach her face. She stared at the boy in defiance.

‘We have a petrol mower I know how to use if you want me to help you?'

‘Wayne Botha,' she said in greeting. Of all the boys in her class at school to see her with her top up, wiping her sweaty face, did it have to be Wayne?

‘Seriously, I know you're a great athlete and all that, but that garden needs a machine or you're going to spend the whole holiday attempting to get that grass under control. I don't know why the Biscoffs don't have a garden boy down here to look after their place. You renting it for the whole holidays?'

‘No, we're just house-sitting for a week.'

‘Well then, you definitely need our mower. Come, that's our cottage over there.' He pointed across the road. ‘We can grab the mower and the grass will be cut quick as.'

The house he pointed to was no cottage. A modern monstrosity that dominated the ground around, it towered three storeys high and was surrounded by a pristine white security wall six feet tall, topped with razor wire and a strand of electric fencing.

Wayne had been in her class since Standard 6. At first, he wasn't in her social circle, but recently she'd been playing squash with him, and it was debatable who was the higher ranked player, although his strength had got the better of her in their last match.

She'd had him as a science lab partner once or twice. He was quiet in school, always top of the class. He played every boys sport, just like she did the girls sports, and they were even in the shooting team together.

‘What are the odds?' Tara asked. ‘Your house is next to the one we get for a week's holiday at the beach. Weird as!'

‘I have no idea of the odds. If the gardenboy was working this holidays I would send him around to mow your lawn, but his mother died, so he isn't here. At least I can help you mow your grass and you can come enjoy the beach. Perhaps you can even come with me to the beach party tonight, instead of sleeping in exhaustion after you finish pushing that old thing around.'

‘You know, I won't say no to that mower. I'm not into self-destruction, seriously. If it will make my life easier, I'm all for it. It would be nice to spend the week at the beach and not trying to cut the grass.'

‘Great. We can grab my folks' mower and then hit the beach when it's done.'

‘I have to tell my mum where I'm going,' she said.

‘Sure, I'll be right here,' Wayne said and Tara rushed into the cottage.

Nothing had prepared Tara for the sight of Wayne with his shirt off, in his tiny rugby shorts, and his
takkies
with no socks, manoeuvring the mower around both the front and the back yards.

She could not stop staring.

He paused and powered down the mower when she brought him a cold drink. ‘Thanks. It's hot work,' Wayne said.

‘I can do it, if you just start it for me. I know how to cut the grass,' she said. Yet her eyes were not on the mower but mesmerised watching him drink. Watching the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed every drop, and turned the tumbler upside down as he threw his head far backwards. He looked forward again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed her the glass. His fingers brushed against hers.

‘I know, I've seen you cutting yours. But it'll go faster if I do it for you, then we can hit the beach together.'

‘With Dela, too. I can't leave her here with Maggie and Lucretia, she needs to get out as well.'

‘Of course with Dela too, I like your older sister.'

Tara remained silent.

Wayne smiled. ‘
Like
as in I'm happy for her to tag along with you and me, so I can show you the beach, and maybe get you to surf a bit with me. Spend time with you.'

Was Wayne flirting with her? Her heart skipped a beat. How did that happen? Uncertain what to say next, she pulled a face, then asked, ‘There is a you and me?'

‘Sure, I just cut your lawn, so you owe me. You can spend time with me as payment.'

Tara started realising that the flirting was crossing over into territory she knew nothing about. ‘Maybe that's not such a hot idea. Thank you for—'

He cut her off. Shaking his head.

‘Why do you always push every boy in the class away when they want to be anything more than friends? You have this barrier that you put out there, and I used to believe you didn't even know you put it there. Now you're doing it to me.' He smiled. ‘Come on, we're at the beach, almost four hundred kilometres from school. Besides, this has to be the first time I have ever been able to do anything for you. First time I have ever had your full attention since day one when you arrived in Standard 6.'

Tara stared at him. ‘You remember me from two and a half years ago?'

‘First day, you walked into Miss LeRoux's class room, your hair was in two high pigtails, and it bounced when you walked. I had never seen anyone's hair do that before.'

Tara stood still, not knowing what to say.

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and Tara found herself watching the movement of his chest as it lifted with the motion of his hand. She felt another blush start in her neck, and quickly turned away.

Tara glanced back at Wayne's face. She looked at his deep blue eyes and saw that he wasn't laughing. He chewed the inside of his lip, like he did when he was doing a hard maths sum. He was serious.

‘It—t—' she stumbled. How to put the emotions she felt into words? She wasn't good at that, and didn't know what to say, but she tried again. ‘It's not that I push anyone away on purpose. I've just never been interested in any of them, their antics and their silliness.'

‘What if I gave you more of a chance to get to know the real me … the one you play squash with, not the boy in the classroom?' he asked.

Tara swallowed hard, staring at the mower, uncertain what to say. This awareness of Wayne was very new. She'd been in on conversations at school with the other girls talking about the boys but had never experienced ever wanting to have someone else touch her, and be in her personal space, like the other girls did. She'd always chalked it up to just being different, and channelled her energy into her sports instead.

She'd already become closer to Wayne than any other boy in her class. Thinking back, it was he who had challenged her to those squash matches, and not the teacher who had organised them. His father's sugarcane farm was further down the road from Tara's home, so Wayne would drive the farm
bakkie
along the back roads to her place, and they would walk the two and a half kilometres from her house to the courts, play their game, then walk all the way back. Talking. Laughing. Spending time together. He always had
an extra drink bottle for her for afterwards, something nice, not just water. Now that she thought about it.

She'd been blindsided.

She thought he was just being friendly, wanting to play squash with her. She took a deep breath in when she realised that he'd been courting her in his own gentle way. Then she began to breathe shallowly and her head became light. She grabbed for the mower to help her stand upright.

Wayne noticed her distress and quickly added, ‘Hey, it's okay. Don't freak out. I'm not rushing you or anything. I thought you knew that I was kind of into you already.' He reached out and ran his hand up her arm to her shoulder to help support her.

Such a small gesture of support and understanding, but now that he'd made her aware of the situation, it felt like his hand was made of molten lava and he'd burnt her arm the whole way up.

She looked at him then, and could feel the colour rush back into her face.

‘See, not so bad. Just think of me as big mouth Wayne, blurting it all out and hanging it all out to dry at once because I was so excited to see you here and know that we have a week at the beach together. Maybe we can just start as we always have been, just being better friends. How's that?'

Relief shuddered through her body. Friends she could do. Love and all that stuff she couldn't.

Except for Maggie and Dela, everyone and everything she'd ever loved had either died or been ripped away from her. Her mind flashed back to her father's and uncle's murders, to being taken away from her farm, and the horses, and leaving Gabe behind.

She liked Wayne. She didn't want to lose him too. He'd probably become her closest friend at school over the last term. She just hadn't noticed until today.

Panic gripped at her throat. If she crossed that line with him, history said she'd lose him, and right now she really liked having him in her life.

‘Okay,' she said and looked up at his chest. She didn't remember when Wayne had grown taller that she was, but at sixteen he was almost six foot two. She'd never noticed the hair on his chest, or the way it scattered across his pecs, then downwards over his muscular stomach and pointed further, drawing her gaze downwards.

She quickly looked up at his face.

‘Beach … fun … friends sounds good. Do you know if anyone else from school is here?'

‘Sure, Tracey and Michelle Sinclair, they're staying in the Colemans' place for the whole holidays. And Graham Davidson and his sister Rose are here in their house too. I don't know if you know Craig Streydom, he's in Standard 10. Him and his girlfriend Marci are here too, and Paul and Ben Timbal.'

‘Great, a whole gang.' She stepped back. Distancing herself a little. Hoping it would give her space to breathe, space to recover her composure which was still lacking.

‘Every holiday there are a heap of us here. It's always like that. Makes the beach fun!'

‘Well, I'm not going to let the crowd from school spoil my first ever holiday at a beach other than Durban.'

‘You go to Durban?'

‘Yeah, we stay at my gran's house when we have to. It's a horrible area and we hate it. Its only redeeming quality is that the beach there is nice. And the beach gets us out the house, so that's always great.'

‘Come on, let me finish here, you grab the rubbish bags that I've filled and haul them over to the curb.'

‘Sure,' she said, and turned away from him, but not before sneaking one last look at his stomach muscles and the way they rippled when he moved. She let out a small sigh.

The beach party was in full swing when Wayne led Tara and Dela onto the sand. There were teenagers everywhere and a few adults supervising things. Blue cooler boxes were dotted around the beach,
and towels lay discarded on the soft sand warming in the winter sun, or draped over coolers to dry.

‘Oh my,' Dela said. ‘Look at that.'

The sea was azure blue, with white waves lapping at the golden sand that heated the underside of her feet as Tara walked barefoot across to where the sand turned moist from the waves, and hard from the moisture held in it.

‘Last one in is a rotten egg!' Wayne called as he ran until he was about waist deep, then dived head first into the water. He disappeared for a few moments before reappearing beyond the white breakers, in the swirling blue. He tossed his hair to the side and smiled, gesturing for Tara to join him.