The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (16 page)

‘Of course not, Tim,' said Jon, and introduced him. He sprawled in a chair.

‘I'm bushed, Jon darling,' he said casually. ‘Be an angel and get me a cold drink.'

‘Sure,' Jon said, knowing how hot it could be out on the lands. As she went off to the kitchen, she wondered why he had called her darling. He never had before, but then it was a word casually used by theatrical and what Alex might call ‘arty-crafty' people!

When
she joined them again, Madeleine and Tim were joking like old friends, but they welcomed her, including her in the conversation.

‘Now tell me, Tim,' said Madeleine, ‘about the Oswalds. Why aren't they accepted here? I mean, you hear the queerest kind of rumours, all about orgies and black magic and things like that.'

Tim laughed. ‘They lead busy lives and like to keep to themselves, so they make up half of the stories. You see, they're not athletic types, bored by cricket, hate sitting in a club drinking, so they don't want to mix. Although Mark is teaching, he is also working on his thesis—he's a great guy and will go a long way . . .'

‘So will you, Dean,' a cold angry voice interrupted.

Startled, they turned round as Alex came out from the house. His legs and body were covered with dust, his face brown and stickily dirty, his hair thick with dust, too.

‘There was an accident with one of the tractors at Mlutilon and they couldn't get you on the phone, Dean, so they called me. We had a job getting the man out from underneath. The tractor had gone down a slope. You can imagine the mess!'

Alex made an expressive gesture, showing his dirt.

‘You can see the state I'm in doing your job,' he went on curtly. ‘I'm taking Lucas straight to
hospital,
Jon, but you'd better go out, Dean, at once as the others need some first aid. Maybe you'd better go, too, Jon.'

Madeleine jumped to her feet, ‘I'll go with Tim, Alex. I'm used to this sort of thing.'

Tim was on his feet. ‘How did the accident happen?'

Alex's face was as cold as stone. ‘Inefficient brakes. Lucas said he'd told you.'

‘Lucas is a liar. We'll take the truck, Maddy,' Tim said, and they both hurried away.

Jon sat very still. She felt almost an intruder—at any rate completely inefficient. No one seemed to realize that as a pharmacist, she knew a lot about first aid. Maybe she should have said so, but it would only have started an argument and another chance for Alex to be sarcastic.

Alex, too, had gone, hurrying out to the waiting truck. Standing up, Jon could see the body of Lucas lying in the back of the truck with another African bending over him.

Jon caught her breath. What exactly had happened to Lucas? Would he be all right? It was a long bumpy road to the nearest hospital.

Inefficient brakes? Tim had answered that Lucas was a liar. But Lucas was one of their best drivers, young, alert, eager to learn and thoroughly reliable, Alex had said once. Yet it could be true. Lucas must have forgotten to tell Tim and to save himself from getting into trouble might have lied to Alex. In any case, if
Lucas
had to be rushed to hospital, was he able to talk sensibly?

Jon wandered round the house miserably, thinking of how hot poor Lucas must be feeling, how the jerk of the truck must hurt any broken limb. She also felt horribly useless and lonely.

The girls had finished cleaning and were now in their rooms, chattering, laughing and listening to their radio. At twelve they would come back and get lunch. And now she had a farm manager . . .

Well, she told herself suddenly, self-pity won't get you anywhere. Do something constructive about it. So she showered and changed into a clean yellow frock, combed her hair back and went out to the car, leaving the dogs to look at her with reproachful eyes.

Jon was wondering why her mother had never learned to drive. It would have given her far more freedom, here.

‘I'd much prefer to be driven,' Ursula always said when it was suggested. ‘It's much more fun.'

Driving along the dusty road, battling with the tiny fruit flies that seemed to find the hot inside of a car inviting, Jon gave herself a scolding. She told herself she was ungrateful, stupid, despicable; that the average girl would be thrilled if she had been left such an exciting, beautiful heritage. How could anyone be so miserable when she had so much?

How
angry Alex had been with Tim. But rightly so in a way, for it was Tim's job. How had it happened that Tim had not got the message? The clerk was usually in the office, and if Tim was out on the lands, supervising the work, the clerk should know where to find him.

It was funny, Jon thought with a sigh, how much more complicated life had become since she came to Africa to live. All the same, she loved it. Maybe Alex was right and you get used to things, she thought, as she realized that the winding climbing road she usually hated had not worried her at all.

She jammed on her brakes suddenly as a cow wandered out from behind a bush and began to cross the road. It was followed by more cattle, all strolling, looking aloof from the waiting car as if too proud to take notice of it. Then a small boy with a thin bit of skin tied round his middle came running out, waving a tiny stick. He looked at Jon and gave her a big grin and she waved to him as he hustled the cattle out of the way and watched with wide-open eyes as she drove by.

One of the hazards of driving, she reminded herself. Wasn't Alex always giving her lectures on the subject?

She was usually annoyed. ‘I drove for four years in England.'

And he would look scornful. ‘England is very different from Africa.'

He
was right, too. She was glad he hadn't been there to see the way she had jammed on her brakes. She should have been watching for the cattle, because this was a particularly bad part.

In Qwaleni, she parked her car and went to the bookshop, not quite sure why she had come in or what she was looking for. She wandered round, looking at the shelves.

‘Just what are you looking for?' a familiar voice asked.

Jon jumped, turning to find herself uncomfortably near Alex. He had obviously showered somewhere, for he was clean, though his safari suit was crumpled and dusty.

‘How is Lucas?' she asked quickly.

‘Going to be all right. Concussion, broken arm, two broken ribs. In hospital, of course. Good thing I was around.'

‘Oh, it was. I can't think why the clerk wasn't in his office.'

‘He was,' Alex said sternly. ‘Dean was out and the clerk didn't know where. I'll tell young Dean that in future he must tell the clerk where he is.' His voice changed. ‘However, these things happen at times. What are you looking for?'

‘I thought I'd brush up my first aid as no one seems to think I know any.'

‘Because I let Madeleine go with Dean?' Alex's voice became hard. ‘Did you want to go with him?'

‘Lucas
is my employee, not Madeleine's.'

Suddenly Alex was smiling. ‘Look, Jon, be sensible. Madeleine has lived out here since she was a child. She grew up here. She's used to accidents and coping with such problems. Imagine her in a lab. or a chemist's shop— she'd be lost, and you'd be at ease, confident you knew your job. You can't know everything. However, I have got a good book about first aid in the bush if you'd like it.'

‘I would. I do want to be . . .' She stopped abruptly, for she had nearly said too much. She wanted to be part of the farm, able to take her rightful place as owner of it, and how could she be while she was still so ignorant? Yet if she said that to Alex, maybe his mood would change and he would start teasing her about what a rooinek could do and how little she knew. So she drew a long breath and began again: ‘I'd like to learn their language, too. I mean, Violet and Dorcas are good at English and I feel . . .well . . .'

Alex smiled. ‘Inferior because they can speak your language but you can't speak theirs. Well, let's face it, you haven't been here very long. However, it's an estimable idea.' He leant towards a shelf and pulled out a paperback book. ‘This might help you.'

‘Thanks.' Jon hastily looked through the pages and saw with dismay that it was going to be far from easy! But then neither was English easy, she reminded herself. ‘I'll try.'

She
looked up at him and saw that he was glancing through a book as if uninterested in what she was doing. Her heart ached as she looked at his rugged ugly-handsome face, his mouth that could be tender as well as cruel . . . If only she didn't love him so much!

Now he looked up. ‘Well, what do you think of it?'

‘It looks fine. I'll get Violet to help me.'

‘I'm afraid I must go, as I've a lunch appointment.' He looked down at his suit ruefully. ‘Well, they'll have to forgive me, that's all. See you!' he said cheerfully, and without giving her time to reply, walked away.

Suddenly the shop seemed cold and empty. As in a dream, Jon chose several magazines she knew her mother liked to read, and took them and the book to the counter to pay for them. She drove home more slowly, watching carefully for the cows or goats that might wander across the road.

The best thing for her to do was to be candid with Tim. She was sure he'd understand how important it was for her to know how to run the farm. It meant so much to her. So very much.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

As the days became weeks, Tim became more and more a part of the Hampton family. It was so pleasant having him around, Jon thought happily, apart from the fact it had released her from depending so much upon Alex.

The house was full of laughter, her mother enjoyed his company, the farm ran smoothly, there were no more problems. Certainly Tim had changed many things, but either Alex did not know about them—which seemed unlikely, as he appeared to know everything—or he was uninterested or that it meant Tim was a success and Alex could not admit it.

Tim, for instance, never got up at four-thirty a.m. Instead he gave the
induna
directions the night before and left it to him to call the rota every morning. When Tim awoke and got up, he would take the truck and drive round, checking the work that was going on, but he always got back in time to accompany Jon on her early morning walks with the dogs. She enjoyed them, for he was full of amusing anecdotes and always ready to argue cheerfully with her when they failed to agree. With Tim, she was completely relaxed, not having to be on guard, watching her words. Yes, there was no doubt but that Tim was pleasant to have around, and having a farm manager had
obviously
been the right thing to do.

Of course, as she admitted privately to herself, there were a few disappointments, but then you could never have everything perfect. Tim, for instance, had not agreed when she asked him to take her round the farm with him, learning as she watched.

‘Look, Jon,' he had said, his cheerful gaiety vanishing, his voice becoming almost stern, ‘I can only be your manager if I'm left to handle it my way. I can't cope with my boss hanging on my tail all the time.'

‘I wouldn't, Tim. I just . .' she had begun to explain, then had stopped, realizing that she couldn't tell him the truth: that she wanted to run the farm herself. That would mean that by teaching her, he would be preparing the way for his own dismissal.

Tim had changed as she paused, taking her hand in his. ‘I do understand, Jon, you're bored to tears. After your life in England with an interesting job, this must be terrible. We'll go and see the Oswalds. Kirsty might be able to help you. She hated this life until she found out how to live here.'

‘But I find farming interesting, don't you?' Jon had said.

Tim had smiled. ‘Interesting? It's just a way of earning a living and it's darned hard work, too. Or can be, unless you're sane and know how to manage things. Take Alex Rose, for instance. Just a show-off. Getting up at
four
a.m. !' he had said scornfully. ‘Anyone can run a farm this size without breaking his back.'

Then there had been the case of the little cat. One day she noticed the little cat had vanished. This was so unlike the little animal that Jon was worried, but before she had time to say anything—this was in the early days soon after Tim's arrival—Alex had arrived.

‘I found your cat on my stoep. Goodness knows what made her come back to me,' he had said, holding out the small furry bundle.

‘I'm so glad. I wondered where she was.' Jon had taken the cat into her arms and Tim, by her side, had sneezed violently.

‘I didn't know this was your cat,' he said. ‘I thought it was a stray. I'm allergic . . .' he sneezed again and again . . . ‘to cats, I'm afraid.'

Jon, staring at him, had thought for one alarming moment that perhaps Tim had dumped the little cat somewhere, then she felt ashamed. Tim was not like that!

Alex had reacted instantly, taking the cat from her arms.

‘I'll have him. He knows me well and I'm not allergic to anything,' he had said curtly.

Tim had been very upset and she had felt so sorry for him as he explained how embarrassing it was, sneezing all the time when a cat was around. She had remembered then that during his first days with them, he had sneezed a lot and her mother had thought
he
was getting a cold. However, she told herself happily, as she carefully weeded the seedlings she had planted in a carefully-built brick seed container, Kirsty Oswald had suggested it and Jon was getting a lot of pleasure from her new interest in gardening; there was no doubt that having Tim as a manager had been a wonderful idea. He was so amusing and interesting, too. When he was nineteen years old, he and a friend had set off round the world on what he called ‘the thinnest shoestring ever'. His exploits were funny and Tim got many laughs when they went out to parties. A young attractive bachelor is always welcome in a small community and it seemed to be taken for granted that when Tim was asked out, Jon was included.