The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (5 page)

She had laughed, ‘That's years ago, when I was a child.'

‘Once a rooinek always a rooinek,' a young man with short blond hair had teased.

Jon sighed, stretched and tried to find a comfortably cool spot on the pillow. There had been another strange moment she had noticed but not understood. She had been talking to Mr Jones and he was telling her something when he jumped and gave a hastily hidden little groan. But Jon had seen why he'd made that strange noise. His wife had kicked him!

What had Mr Jones said? She closed her eyes and battled to remember. She tried to recall the conversation. What had they been talking about? Suddenly she knew.

They had been joking about her name, saying everyone had taken it for granted she was a man, and then Mr Jones had begun:

‘Well, if he can't
buy
the farm, then he . . .' and it was then Mr Jones' wife kicked him.

But why? What would the rest of the sentence have been? she wondered. ‘If he can't buy the farm then . . .' Then—what?

And why, she asked herself again, why was everyone so
sure
she wanted to sell the farm?

Surely when you inherit something you
don't
immediately sell it? Not without giving it a trial, anyhow.

Another annoying part of the evening had been Madeleine with her patronizing air and sarcastic remarks. She had rattled off a series of questions, barely waiting for the answers.

‘Did you have to work in England?'

‘It must be pretty dreadful there with the sun never shining and everyone in such a mess. Hadn't you a car? How positively ghastly!' and then the way her voice had changed, become disbelieving. ‘Oh, you did have a car. I wonder you could afford it.'

Then, when Madeleine had learned Jon was a pharmacist, she had told everyone.

‘Just think, Uncle Ned's little Jon is a pharmacist, whatever that is!'

Everyone had laughed. Alex had joined in the teasing.

‘Don't you know? She mixes medicines, counts the pills and we'd all better watch out for she must know a lot about poisons!'

While everyone laughed, Jon had—to her subsequent shame—lost her temper.

‘There's much more to it than that,' she had said crossly. ‘You need a degree, and it's a highly responsible and well-paid post.'

Even as she spoke, she knew she had made a mistake. She should have laughed with them instead. She had known at once how stupid she had been, for she had seen the smile Madeleine had given Alex—the sort of pitying
yet
exasperated smile the behaviour of a child can make you give.

‘We're only teasing you, little Jon,' Alex had said and it had made everything much worse. Jon had sat still, painfully conscious of her red cheeks as Alex deftly changed the conversation.

Later he had come to sit with her, his voice reproachful.

‘Your mother's very tired, Jon. It's time you went.'

And Jon had stared at him, tempted to say that she had twice suggested going home to her mother and each time her mother had frowned, saying: ‘We can't go yet. It would be rude. Besides, we have no transport, so we must wait for Alex to suggest it.'

Now he had, blaming Jon for staying!

When he had driven them home, he showed Jon how to switch off the electricity.

‘You can't leave it on all night, Jon. Tomorrow I'll show you it. Leonard's task is to heat the water, cut the wood, and cope with the electricity, but sometimes he forgets, so it's just as well if you know how to do it.' Alex had talked of it casually as if it would be the easiest thing in the world, but Jon felt nervous, for she had never been very bright with things mechanical and she could only expect to make a fool of herself.

Then Alex had shown her how to lock the windows and outside doors. He gave them
torches
to have by their beds and showed them the candles and matches in case they needed them, and finally told them to leave the bedroom doors open and let the dogs roam the house.

‘That way no one can break in. Besides, there's always the night watchman.'

Then Alex had gone and suddenly the house seemed very quiet. Jon had sympathized with her mother, who openly admitted her fear.

‘I don't think I can stand this, Jon.'

‘If Alex says it's all right, it must be,' Jon had said. ‘He wouldn't let us stay here alone if he wasn't sure.'

But now, with her mother sound asleep and the strange creaks in the air, Jon wondered. Alex could be wrong . . .

Now as she lay in the oppressive darkness, she was glad when she heard Rex scratching himself. You're being very stupid, she told herself, you're not alone and nothing can happen.

Just at that moment, the dogs leapt up and began to bark shrilly. Jon's hand groped for the torch and finally found it. The dogs were in the lounge, leaping at the window. Somehow she pulled on a dressing gown and followed them, her torch alight, throwing a bright beam ahead.

She saw the faint beam of a torch lighting the front path and shone her torch on the man
she
could see faintly.

The glare of the torch showed his startled face. She recognized the night watchman, as Alex had pointed him out before he left; a slightly stooping African, carrying a knobkerrie and a torch as he did his rounds.

Just how stupid could she be? Jon asked herself as she went back to bed, first looking in on her mother, who had slept peacefully through the noise, and wished, for a moment, that she had taken her mother's advice and swallowed a sleeping pill.

She lay down. This time she was going to sleep, she told herself, despite all the creaks and blackness.

When she awoke, the sun was pouring into her room. She felt something jump on her bed and cuddle up close, lying on her leg. It was the little cat. Rex chose that moment to stand up, stretching his legs, looking at Jon, then lying down again, rolling over on his back, waving his legs in the air, then jumping up to come to her side to lick her hand.

Jon looked up at the high raftered and thatched roof and at the huge timbers that held it aloft. She gently tugged at Rex's ears; he seemed to like it and a sense of happiness swept through her. This was home—her home, a home given to her by someone who had loved her very much. Surely that alone should make her happy?

She heard furniture being moved, a burst of
laughter
and then Dorcas brought in a tray with a small teapot, cup and saucer, milk and sugar.

Jon yawned and smiled; it was a change from her old life. She had always gone to work earlier than her mother, so had taken a breakfast tray into her before leaving. Now, she thought, she was also being waited on. Later she bathed and dressed and the dogs— for the boxer had come from her mother's room—were jumping up excitedly. Jon saw her mother was still asleep, not having even noticed the tray of early morning tea, so she went out through the kitchen as the two girls were still polishing the floor in the lounge. Even Jock, the quiet unhappy spaniel, followed her.

Jon drew a long deep breath of the warm air and looked up at the mountain that towered above them. Up there was Alex's wild life sanctuary. There was a red earth track, rutted with the wheel marks of the tractors that drove over it daily, and the dogs had raced ahead so she followed them. Sandy and Rex were leaping across the pineapple plants, racing in circles while Jock, poor old darling, trotted along slowly just behind her and when she stopped and put out her hand, he sniffed at it and walked by. Poor Jock, how he must have loved Uncle Ned—but how could you explain to a dog what had happened to a beloved master?

Although
she enjoyed the walk, glancing all the time at the beautiful distant mountains across the valley, she was sticky with heat when she got back, so she had a quick shower and changed all her clothes, for they were damp from the heat, too. There was a large linen basket in the bathroom, so she dropped them in. Just think of having all your washing done for you! She wondered if the girls understood how to wash drip-dry clothes, for all of hers were, though oddly enough, her mother preferred clothes that had been ironed. That would keep Dorcas and Violet pretty busy if this heat continued.

A little bell tinkled and Jon found that breakfast was ready—a delicious grapefruit followed by a boiled egg. Jon took her mother's in to her, for she was waking up, still sleepy and not very happy.

‘Did you sleep well, Jon? It took me ages to go off and then I had an awful dream. The dogs barked like mad and a burglar . . . What? My breakfast. Yes, of course. Thank you, but I don't know if I feel like eating.'

‘Just try, Mummy,' said Jon. ‘Alex is coming down at nine to show me how the electricity works and then, remember, we're going on to the club.'

Her mother's face brightened. ‘Of course! What a dear Alex is. Why don't you like him, Jon?'

Jon was startled. ‘Why . . . why don't I like
him?
But I do . . .well, in a way.'

‘Ah, that's so typical of you, darling. You're so cautious in case you get involved. Your father was the same.' For a moment, Ursula's face clouded with grief. Then she smiled: ‘Not that you could ever get involved with Alex. You're far too naïve and young. He needs a more sophisticated woman.' She chuckled. ‘Madeleine is being very stupid, acting so obviously.'

‘Obviously?' Jon echoed.

‘Oh, Jon darling, don't be so dumb. Isn't it obvious to everyone that she intends to marry Alex?' Ursula laughed. ‘She hasn't a hope. He's not a fool. You must have noticed the way she bosses him around, fusses, makes out she's the hostess—and then of all the corny habits to hold his hand as he lights her cigarette! I thought that went out in the early thirties. Oh, I know she's beautiful, but she's too brash, to my way of thinking. She thinks she has Alex like a puppet on a string.'

‘You don't think she has?' Jon asked. ‘She seems very sure.'

‘I doubt it very much. A man like Alex dislikes being chased so obviously. I think he's a darling. Have you any idea how old he is?'

‘Madeleine told me he was thirty-five.'

‘Is that all? I'd have thought he was nearer forty . . .' Then Jon's mother smiled. ‘Run along and eat your breakfast or your egg will be cold. What a chatterbox you are!' she added
affectionately.

The egg and coffee were both cold and Jon sat looking at them, strangely puzzled. She had never heard her mother speak so well of any man before. Bill had been all right, but he had his faults. So had George, the one before. But apparently to her mother, Jon thought, Alex was perfect. And that strange remark about age. Her mother had thought him nearer forty.

Jon half closed her eyes, seeing Alex's rugged suntanned face. Did he look as old as forty? Her mother was a very young forty-one, gay and attractive.

Jumping up, she went to the window. Was that why Mrs Jones had kicked her husband? Had they had the same idea that was now in Jon's head?

Was Alex being so nice to them because he planned to marry her mother?

Jon caught her breath. Mr Jones had said: ‘If he can't buy the farm . . .'

But Alex didn't want to buy the farm. At least, he had never said so.

Suddenly she heard the sound of a car coming, and turned and drank the unpalatable coffee, for he might remark on it and then give her a lecture on chatting too much! She was waiting on the stoep when he arrived.

‘How did things go last night?' he asked.

He was wearing what she had been told was called a safari suit—a pale grey jacket and shorts with matching knee-length stockings
and
dark shoes. Surprisingly elegant, she thought, staring at him.

‘Fine,' she said with a stiff smile, for nothing would ever make her tell him of her fright in the night!

But it was no good. His smile showed that he knew.

‘You gave old Robert a fright, shining your torch in his face like that.'

Jon's cheeks burned. ‘The dogs barked. I had to investigate.'

Alex smiled. ‘You're so right, little Jon. The dogs were wrong to bark, because they should have known his step, but it's not a bad idea really, for any casual prowler hearing that noise would stop and think twice about breaking in. Are you ready to see the electric plant? You think you can cope?'

She lifted her head and looked up at him, her mouth a thin line of determination.

‘Of course I can cope,' she said with a confidence she didn't feel, but, as she followed him, she wondered what choice she had. Uncle Ned loved this farm and her and somehow or other, with or without Alex's help, she must be able to cope.

Alex looked over his shoulder and smiled. ‘Know something, little Jon? I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you can.'

CHAPTER
THREE

Alex drove them to the club about eleven o'clock. The sun was bright and the air humid, but the blue sky had huge white clouds piling up and Alex said there might be a storm later.

Ursula, sitting next to him, shivered. ‘How I hate thunderstorms! They terrify me.'

He smiled. ‘You'll get used to them, but they can be pretty frightening. Don't worry, you'll . . .'

‘Get used to them!' Jon echoed, sympathizing with her mother who was, she knew well, really frightened of so many things. ‘You're always saying we'll get used to things.'

Alex turned his head. ‘Because it's the simple truth, little Jon. When you have no alternative, you have to accept conditions as they are and, in time, you get used to them.'

‘I absolutely agree, Alex,' Ursula said quickly. ‘One adjusts in time.'

Jon stifled a sigh. Once again she was wrong! She looked out of the window of the car. They had driven along the valley on a rutted bumpy track, but were now on the main road, if such it could be called, for though it was wide, it was an earth road with corrugations that made the car jolt and bump. The heat already was terrific. She found herself wishing that it would rain. She wanted
to
laugh, to tell them how fantastic it all seemed to her—this new strange life with no beds to make, no breakfast to cook, no dishes to wash, no floors to polish, no ornaments to dust—but she hesitated. Alex was sure to use anything she said as a weapon against her, making her feel small, and her mother would back him up.