Storms Over Africa (46 page)

‘Lounge,' Richard spat out. ‘Now.'

On the way through to the lounge he tried to put his arm around Steve's shoulder but she pulled away.

They sat in four chairs, facing each other. ‘You first,' Richard barked, pointing to Penny.

Penny looked angrily at him. ‘When I'm ready. He can go first.' She pointed to David.

David stood up. ‘This is the wrong time. I'll talk to you later.' He went to leave.

‘Sit down,' Richard roared.

David sat.

Richard stood.

Then he saw Steve's face. She was looking at him in disbelief. ‘What? What have I done now?' he asked.

Steve treated them all to a long, cool stare. ‘I don't believe you people. Penny has been through hell and you dismiss her. David has been through hell and you snap at him. You've been through God knows what and your children pull and tear at you as though they're the only ones who matter. And the only way you all try to resolve things is to get angry with each other.' She ran her hand through her hair, dislodging the knot. Richard opened his mouth and she silenced him with a
glare. ‘Don't trot out the old “This is Africa, baby”. I swear, you people use that expression to try and excuse everything from the war to the weather.'

She was well and truly angry now. ‘How about a little give and take? Or would that hurt the wild African image? How about some consideration for each other?' She stood up. ‘It only takes a little practice.'

Penny was crying. ‘Shut up. What do you know? We've always been like this, that's the way we are. What makes you think you can come in here and tell us how to behave?'

‘Belt up, sis, Steve's right.' David stood again. ‘I repeat what I said, this is not the time to talk. Good night.' He stalked out, leaving Richard gaping after him.

‘Good night.' Steve left them as well, banging the door to her bedroom hard.

‘Please, Daddy, I really need to talk to you.' Penny was sobbing.

Richard had a snarled reply ready. He was exhausted. He still had to tell Poppie that her husband was dead. Steve seemed to hate him, and all his selfish daughter wanted to do was talk about her own problems. Then he remembered what her problems were and he was instantly ashamed. He remembered his thoughts when he believed he would be shot, the honesty and understanding which had visited him in his tent. He crossed to Penny,
lifted her by the elbows and guided her to the settee where he pulled her down and held her close. ‘I apologise, Penny-farthing. I'm nothing but a selfish bastard. I'm very, very sorry.'

Penny sobbed into his shoulder.

‘I've been a shit of a father, I know.'

She cried harder.

‘Selfish. Impatient. Intolerant. Nothing but a shit.'

She cried even harder.

‘You deserve better.'

Penny was beside herself.

‘Oh, for Christ's sake, stop blubbering and tell me what's wrong.'

Silence.

‘Pen?'

She giggled.

‘Pen?'

One last sobbing breath then she threw her arms around him. ‘I couldn't stand it if you reformed. I love you just the way you are. Please don't change.'

He kissed the top of her head. ‘At this stage of my life I'm fucked if I can see how I can.'

‘Daddy!'

‘What?'

‘You said fuck.'

‘Don't swear. No I didn't.'

‘You did, you did, I heard you.'

‘I did not. I said fucked. And don't swear.'

They were laughing. They were loving each
other. It had always been like this between them. ‘Do you think Steve's right?'

‘Yes I do. We are a very badly behaved family. If your mother . . .'

‘I know,' Penny said sadly, ‘she would have kept us on track.'

He leaned back, his arm thrown around her shoulders. ‘Okay, Penny-farthing, talk to me.'

‘You're tired aren't you, Daddy?'

‘The teeniest bit.'

‘Did you catch him?'

‘The army did. He's no longer an item. By the time he gets out he'll have forgotten his own name, let alone his plans for this country.'

‘And the others?'

‘All caught.'

‘No wonder you're tired. A man your age . . .' She yelped when he tickled her.

‘Speak to me.'

‘Okay, Daddy.' She told him about the miscarriage.

Richard listened to his hurt little girl. Where before he had heard defiance and stubbornness, now he heard confusion and insecurity and he knew, in a blinding realisation, it had always been there. He was vastly relieved about the miscarriage but, in his new-found wisdom, understood her reaction to it. She would, he knew, bounce back. But right now she did not know that herself. Right now she was hurting and scared and trying to hide it.

She had fallen silent. ‘You're a dope.'

A slight smile. ‘You got that right.' Defiant, tough, and so very vulnerable.

‘You'll have more, don't worry about that.'

He had hit it right on the button. Tears slid down her face.

‘You're not crying again?'

She nodded.

‘Bloody hell!'

She put her hand in his and her head on his shoulder.

Richard felt like crying himself.

‘Daddy?'

‘What?' Gruff, full of hatred, full of love.

‘I love you.'

‘I love you too, idiot features.'

‘Thanks, Daddy.'

‘My pleasure.'

She sighed. It had a contented sound. Then she told him about the clinic in South Africa and how she wanted to go there.

‘And Joseph?' he asked, when she had finished.

She looked serious. Then she grinned. ‘Um . . . I'm going to try, really try, not to be so provocative.'

‘That'd be nice,' he said dryly.

‘I won't make any promises.'

‘God no! Don't do anything like that.'

‘But I will try.'

He kissed her head and stood up. ‘Is that it?
Are we finished? Can I go back to being nasty again.'

She giggled up at him. ‘You can try,' she grinned, ‘but you don't fool me.' Then she put her hand up into his. ‘You didn't fool Mummy either, did you?'

He looked down at her. He loved her so much. ‘No,' he said wryly. ‘But I've sure got David and Steve flummoxed.'

He poured himself a scotch, raising an eyebrow at Penny, and was relieved when she shook her head. ‘I'm going to bed. Good night, Daddy.' She kissed his cheek and went past him.

Richard sank into a chair, sipping his drink. He could not remember feeling so tired, so tense or so alone. Poppie? David? Steve? Who should he go to first? Poppie would be asleep but he could not put off telling her about Samson until morning. She had to be told tonight. He desperately wanted to put things right with Steve. But in the end, he went to his son.

‘Didn't wake you, did I?' David opened the door, blinking in the light from the hall.

‘No. I was just lying in bed thinking.'

‘May I come in?'

‘Sure.' He swung the door wider and stepped back. ‘What's with the decanter?'

Richard was holding the whisky decanter and two glasses. ‘Thought we might talk.'

David's bedroom, like all the upstairs
rooms, opened onto a balcony. His doors were open and a cool breeze moved his curtains. ‘Bit chilly in here.' Richard sat on David's bed.

‘I like it. I can't sleep without fresh air.' David chose a chair near the door so Richard got off the bed and went to the other chair.

‘Remind you of Scotland does it?'

‘I guess.'

‘Want a scotch, son?'

‘I've just cleaned my teeth.'

‘Okay.'

David grinned. ‘But I'll have one anyway.'

Richard poured him a small drink.

‘Dad!'

‘Oh okay.' He poured a bit more and handed it to David. ‘Don't make a habit of it, son.' He watched as David sipped his scotch, pulling a face as the taste mixed with toothpaste. ‘What's on your mind?'

‘Are you sure you want to talk tonight?'

He saw David's eyes. The boy had lost his resentful look. ‘Steve was right about us. We're a very rude family.'

David said nothing.

‘My fault I suppose.'

Silence.

‘You're not rude, just Penny and me.'

‘I've been pretty rude lately, Dad.'

‘You've been bloody awful.' David opened his mouth but Richard got in first. ‘If you say “Sorry, Dad” I'll bloody kick your arse.'

David snapped his mouth shut. Then he grinned. ‘Okay, Dad. Bugger you. You asked for it.'

Richard laughed softly. ‘Guess that's fair enough, son.'

‘I wanted to talk to you about it.'

‘I guessed as much.'

‘I thought I loved her.'

‘I know.'

‘But I don't.'

‘How do you feel about her?'

David put his glass down. ‘I really, really like her,' he said seriously. ‘I wish . . .'

‘We all wish that,' Richard said hastily.

‘Is there any way . . . I mean, can we get around it?'

Richard tossed off his drink. ‘God I hope so. I hope like hell we can. But I just don't see how.'

‘I really screwed up, didn't I, Dad?'

‘You?' Richard was surprised.

‘Yes, me.'

Richard stood and went outside to the balcony. David joined him. They leaned against the railing. Richard said, ‘Son, you've never screwed up in your life. You've been the perfect son in every respect. I'm the one who's screwed up. I'm the one who tried to make you more like me.' He turned and stared into the night. ‘What an arrogant bastard I've been,' he said softly.

‘Dad?'

‘Mmmmmm.'

‘You know the night Mum died? You asked me to tell you what we'd talked about and I wouldn't?'

‘I remember.'

‘She told me that I would have to make allowances for you because you would never make them for me. She said you were a good and loving man who found it impossible to show your feelings. She told me about Grandmother never showing you affection. She said you loved me very much but hell would freeze over before you'd admit it.'

‘Your mother said that?'

‘She was very weak by then but she smiled when she said it.'

‘Your mother knew me very well.'

‘She said that too. And she warned me that it would be up to me to keep our relationship going. She said you were a stubborn fool.'

Richard laughed. ‘She was right about that.'

‘She loved you very much, Dad.'

Richard turned and placed his hands on David's shoulders. ‘I know you don't think so, son, but I loved her very much too.'

David looked at his father. ‘You never showed it.'

‘I did. But you children were never around to see.'

‘Why, Dad?'

Yes, why, Dunn?

He spoke slowly, feeling his way. He was in very new territory. ‘I was scared to. To me, it was a sign of weakness. I had to be the strong one and I got it all mixed up with action and not showing affection or pride. I got so good at hiding my feelings that it became second nature.' He smiled at David. ‘Do you know something, son? The day you took your first steps I went down and told Samson. I boasted about it to Samson. I felt so proud of you.' He gave a derisive laugh. ‘But I never picked you up and showed you how proud I felt. It simply never occurred to me. Your mother did all of that.'

David was silent.

Richard's new-found honesty bit him where it hurt. ‘If I had my way, you'd have turned out just like me. Hard, yes. Competent, yes. But without a shred of obvious caring or sensitivity. Thank God that didn't happen.'

David was crying.

Richard pulled him close and held him. ‘I love you, son,' he said huskily.

They stood together for a long time. It was David who pulled away. ‘Don't get bloody soft on me, Dad, I couldn't stand the shock.'

Richard gave a loud bark of laughter. ‘Okay, you little shit. For that, you'll have another scotch.'

‘I hate the stuff.'

‘Hard luck.'

‘That's my dad.' They went inside and David shut the doors to the balcony.

‘Thought you liked the cold.'

‘I do. But if hell is going to freeze over I think I'll give it a miss.'

Richard cuffed his son.

David cuffed him back.

Richard had never felt so good about David and, judging by the light in his son's eyes, David was feeling the same way. Then he remembered Poppie. ‘I have to go down to the village.'

‘Now? It's nearly midnight.'

‘Samson's dead.'

‘Christ! Christ, Dad. No wonder you snapped earlier. What happened?'

He told David all that had happened from the time he left camp until he returned to it.

David's face was ashen. Samson had been there all his life. He had taught him Shona. He had shown him the inside of an African's heart. He loved Samson as he loved his own family. ‘I'll come with you.'

Richard went to say no. This was a tough job. Man's work. Hard and competent stuff. But he found the thought comforting. So, with the word ‘no' already forming, he said, ‘I'd appreciate that. Thank you.'

On the way to the village Richard told David where Samson was buried. ‘It's probably illegal but to hell with that. Samson would have approved.'

‘He loved the hills here. Are the Matopos anything like here?'

‘Wilder. Very African.'

‘What happened to Samson, Dad?'

Having already outlined the details, he now told David exactly how it was. ‘I tried to think of something else, tried not to watch, but in the end I figured I owed it to Samson. He was so brave. God, it was hard. I loved that old man.'

David listened in silence. At one stage he squeezed his father's arm sympathetically. ‘Thanks for telling me, Dad.'