The House Called Green Bays

by Jan Andersen

  Mrs. Harris said gently, “So you found him?”

  She nodded.

  “And now you’re going to leave him again?”

  “He wants it that way, but I think I’ve persuaded him to come and visit me. I’m glad my father didn’t know he was leading this kind of life. He would never have forgiven himself.”

  Tracy caught the train to Johannesburg that night. And she was back at Green Bays for lunch the following day.

  Noni welcomed her like a long-lost daughter. “Oh, missie, it is good to have you home safely! Even Mr. Roger does not like it when you are gone.”

  Tracy gave a hollow laugh. “That, Noni, is something I can’t believe.”

  The great wide eyes looked hurt. “But it is true. He prowls about like a lion. You see, he will be all right now that you are here.”

  Tracy did not see Roger until he came in from the orchards in the evening. He looked tired and a little drawn as he walked across the terrace towards his bungalow.

  “Hello, Roger!” she called.

  He turned, very slowly, she thought, and when his eyes met hers she felt he was trying to control their expression. Unwelcoming, probably.

  “Hello, Tracy,” he said quietly.

  They stood facing each other awkwardly for a moment, as if the memory of their last quarrel was too strong for comfort.

  “You look a bit pale,” he said abruptly.

  “Oh, I had a bout of gastric trouble. And it was very hot down there.”

  “Was the trip successful?”

  “I found Uncle George, if that’s what you mean.” Suddenly it all poured out. “Oh, Roger, I found him out at the alluvial diggings, living like ... like a tramp. He lived out there, sleeping, eating, everything. He didn’t even have a tent. He can’t have any money at all. Oh, how I wanted to help him and make him come back here!”

  His face softened suddenly. “I think you want to help too many people, Tracy, but I’d like to bet your uncle will be paying you a visit. Mind you, don’t forget a lot of these old-timers actually prefer the life there, tough though it is. They turn away from civilisation as we know it. And there’s always the hope that one day they’ll strike it rich.”

  “Uncle George did strike it rich a few years ago,” she said soberly, “but he spent it all in a month and was back where he started. Thank heavens Dad never knew.”

  Roger smiled suddenly, warmly. “Come on, we’ll go and have a drink to celebrate your return—and the finding of Uncle George.”

  She looked puzzled. “You don’t mind, then?”

  “What, your safe return—or finding Uncle George? All right,” he held up his hand and went on lightly, “I know exactly what you mean. I know I’m the villain of the peace, but really I’m glad about Uncle George. He sounds like a man I would get on with, a man with the courage of his convictions.”

  “What a strange man you are Roger. I ... I don’t think I understand you one little bit.”

  “As long as you don’t hate me...”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’ve tried hard enough,” she said wryly.

  Over supper she asked, “Have you seen the Lawsons?”

  “Julia, not the old man. She was appalled by the spraying tragedy, but nothing will shake her—or her father, I gather—from the belief that it was our mistake.”

  “Well, it’s done now,” Tracy sighed. “Alex said...”

  “Was he at Kimberley?”

  “Yes,” she said abruptly, not wanting to talk about it. “He was down there on business.”

  “A real coincidence,” Roger said dryly,

  “Well, he spent his whole time helping to find Uncle George when I was ill,” Tracy flared unthinkingly.

  “Don’t jump on me all the time,” Roger said gently. “I was just thinking that the Lawsons can’t be overkeen on your Uncle George turning up here. With two partners established at Green Bays, it will be much more difficult to get you out.”

  “Maybe, but you seem to think that Alex thinks along the same lines as his father—and his iceberg of a sister. He has nothing to do with them. His life was made away from the farm a long time ago.”

  Roger said nothing, and she held back any further retort, but got up from the table and walked restlessly to the window. “You see,” she whispered, “we can’t even have a meal without beginning to quarrel. What is it that makes us attack each other?”

  He came over and swung her round to face him. “Don’t you honestly know, Tracy?” he said harshly. She shook her head, puzzled at his sudden violence. His arms dropped to his sides. “No, I don’t believe you do know. I’ll tell you something, Tracy. I was always brought up to believe that every man—or woman—has to find out right and wrong for himself. And however much he knows he is in the right he can never impose that knowledge on someone else. One day I hope you’ll realise what I mean.” He added curtly, “I’m going back to the bungalow to do some work. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Tracy watched him go, saying nothing, but she had the uneasy feeling that if he wanted to he could make a fool of her.

  A few days later Tracy met her mother from the train. She had waited impatiently at the station wondering whether she should have driven all the way to Johannesburg instead of letting her mother come by train. But when the train came steaming into Neilsprut the reunion was so happy that Tracy knew it did not matter one little bit.

  In the car she examined her mother critically. You look tired,” she said severely. “You’ve been overdoing it.”

  “Well, there was rather a lot to do before I came away.” Mrs. Jamieson protested, “and so many people wanted to say goodbye.”

  “Then you’re to have a wonderful rest. The farm is simply beautiful.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be quite happy,” Mrs. Jamieson said placidly. “You say there’s no one there except you and the manager? That never seemed quite right, but I suppose you know what you’re doing.”

  “Of course I know what I’m doing,” Tracy laughed. “Anyway, Roger Louw lives in his own bungalow, not the farmhouse. Noni, Dad’s housekeeper, is the only one who sleeps in. You’ll like her, Mother, but Roger I’m not sure about” She sighed. “We don’t seem to get on too well, however hard we try. You’ll probably be a marvellous peacemaker, and if Uncle George comes...”

  “George?” said her mother sharply. “I thought he’d disappeared.”

  “So did I, but I found him only last week. He’s living a terrible life, that’s why I wanted him to come to Green Bays for a time. You don’t mind, Mother, do you...? Mother, are you listening?”

  “Oh ... darling, yes, I’m sorry ... no, of course I don’t mind. It was a bit of a shock, that’s all. Expecting to see your father, and George turning up instead.”

  “Well,” said Tracy practically, “we’ll see how it all works out anyway.”

  She was amazed that right from the beginning her mother and Roger took to each other. She had never heard her mother laugh so much—or sing—and she had not known that Roger liked to tease and play the fool.

  Late one evening she came in to find the two of them playing chess and accusing each other lightheartedly of cheating. Frowning, she watched them for a moment, conscious of a ridiculous feeling of anger ... as if she was an outsider in her own house.

  Mrs. Jamieson looked up with twinkling eyes. “What’s the matter, darling? Are you jealous?”

  “Jealous?” she cried. “What on earth are you talking about? You two are behaving like a couple of children!” And she stalked up to her room.

  Later, her mother came in to say good night. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you, Tracy, but you used to be able to take a joke.”

  “I didn’t find what you said a joke,” Tracy said coldly, not raising her eyes from her book.

  “Why,” Mrs. Jamieson said slowly, “I believe you were jealous after all. And why not? He’s a charming young man. If I were twenty years younger...”

  Tracy slammed down her book, outraged. “Once and fo
r all, I am not jealous! If you really want to know, I can’t stand the man. You may find him charming, I merely find him a rude boor. It just happens that farm managers are not easy to replace!”

  After she heard the door snap behind her mother, she lay there shaking with anger. At what, she couldn’t analyse. But if this kind of thing was going on it would be preferable to go back to the days when her mother was not here. The peace was uneasy then, but at least it was peace.

  By the following day she had simmered down and even offered a gruff apology for her rudeness. Mrs. Jamieson was subdued, and Tracy hugged her warmly in an effort to ask forgiveness for her thoughtless outburst.

  Then, at lunchtime, everything changed. The three of them were sitting over coffee at the shady end of the terrace while Tracy was trying to explain to her mother some of the facts she had picked up about citrus growing, when Roger said, “That’s an unusual sight, someone walking up the drive on foot. Who on earth is it?”

  Tracy swivelled round to stare at the distant figure, striding along. He seemed to be carrying a pack on his back. “I think,” she said at last, “yes, I believe it is, Mother, it’s Uncle George!” She waved frantically and, in spite of the heat, ran down to meet him.

  “So you did come,” she said happily. “Now all the family I’ve got is here.”

  He patted her on the shoulder. “I decided I couldn’t waste the company of a pretty niece. And with a welcome like that... now I know I was right.”

  Only afterwards was Tracy a little puzzled at the greeting between her mother and uncle. There was a kind of restraint, as if they did not like each other very much. At the time she did not think about it because Uncle George, having announced that he had hitchhiked all the way from Kimberley, said there was one thing he craved before food or drink, and that was a shower.

  While Mrs. Jamieson went inside to tell Noni to prepare a fresh plate of salad Tracy said slowly to Roger, “Did you notice anything ... a feeling something was a bit wrong? I know they haven’t met for eight years or more, but they are relatives after all.” She added unhappily, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone to find Uncle George.”

  Roger’s eyes were dark and serious as he looked into hers. “Look, Tracy, you’re a clever young woman, but you can’t take the problems of the whole world on your shoulders. Already you’ve had far too much responsibility for a girl of your age. Yes, I did notice something between them, but it’s up to them to sort it out. Don’t you think it possible they were both thinking of your father? It could have been quite an emotional moment.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, relieved at a possible solution. “I was going to stay at the house this afternoon to be with them both, but on second thoughts I’ll get on with some work and leave them together after Uncle George has had lunch. They can talk over old times, and Dad, and everything.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea. The two generations don’t always mix.”

  “Listen who’s talking,” she said lightly. “You and Mother haven’t been away from that chess board for nights.'”

  “Your mother is a charming woman,” he said gravely, “and not a bad chess player. I didn’t see you offering to play chess with me.”

  “I didn’t know you could play,” she retorted.

  “I daresay there are many things you haven’t troubled to find out.”

  “Oh, you!” she sniffed. But for once there was no anger in her voice.

  That evening Noni cooked a celebration dinner and Roger produced a bottle of champagne. Tracy saw her uncle as a different man from the shabby tramp of the alluvial diggings—although he kept insisting that they would have to forgive him for any lapse of manners. He had been away from civilization for a long time.

  “And what’s it like being back?” Tracy said quickly.

  He looked round him at the dark, starlit sky and the moon shedding a faint silver glow over the orange groves and said, “From where I sit now, it’s pretty good.”

  “Are you going to stay, then?”

  “Ah,” he looked thoughtfully at her, “that’s something to be carefully considered. To you I may seem an old man, but I’m only fifty-two. Hardly ready for an appointment at the undertakers, so if I’m to leave Kimberley, then I must find a job.”

  “But you own half Green Bays.”

  “And I don’t know one end of an orange from another.”

  “Neither did I,” she reminded him, “but I’m learning.”

  His deep laughter rang out. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Besides, even I know that this acreage of orange trees won’t keep us all in comfort. No, don’t press me, Tracy, I’ll think about things until you—and your mother want to turn me out.”

  Mrs. Jamieson made a small sound, then looked quickly away. Tracy glanced from one to the other and wondered what they had talked about that afternoon.

  Late that night she went into her mother’s room and said bluntly, “You don’t really like Uncle George, do you, Mother? Did you once have a quarrel, or something? Whatever it was it’s a long time ago. Maybe I shouldn’t have persuaded him to come here until I had talked to you ... but you see the farm is half his, and a little while ago it seemed that Roger and I needed someone else to act as mediator. We’ve had trouble with the next door people...”

  “Stop, Tracy, stop! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Tracy stared at her mother, a tone of command in her voice rarely heard.

  Mrs. Jamieson sighed. “I suppose I’d better tell you a few things. I’ve kept them back for eight years, but there always comes a moment of truth. First, have you any idea how your father managed to buy this farm?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did I, but I had a fair guess, that somehow his brother helped him. Now I know how. George went down to Kimberley for reasons I’ll explain later, but quite early on he dug up a valuable stone.”

  “Yes, I know. He blued the lot in a month, they said.”

  “You could put it that way. He invested all the money in Green Bays and handed it to your father on a plate. Now you see why Jack left his brother a half share?”

  “I should have guessed too, I suppose,” Tracy said slowly.

  “No, you shouldn’t, because you knew nothing of the different natures of the two brothers. Let’s go back eight years to when I left your father. It was true I was tired of the roving life, convinced he would never settle down, but once I had got to England and had seen your grandmother, part of the reason I didn’t come back was George. We’d got on well for several years, but neither of us realised quite how strong the attraction was growing. Don’t think we ever did anything wrong,” she put in hastily, “because we didn’t. In fact I don’t think we ever put it into words. George was devoted to Jack, and I ... well, I knew it was hopeless anyway. I thought the best thing for us all was a clean break.

  “I can only guess what happened out here. George is a very honourable man and I think he felt deeply that he was partly responsible for your father and me separating. So when he found the diamond it was in some measure an atonement, and in another he felt it might stabilize his brother. Which is just what it did. I wish now I had taken matters into my own hands two or three years ago and come out here then ... but it’s no use having regrets. I don’t think your father ever had ar. idea of all this.”

  Tracy said nothing, remembering the hint in that last, unposted letter. But it was no use adding to past unhappiness by telling her mother. So she squeezed her mother’s hand in sympathy. No wonder there had been restraint in the meeting!

  “And now?” she said at last.

  “I think we must wait and see. George and I must get to know each other all over again and we all want to see the farm well on its feet ... and you, Tracy, I want to see you happy, darling.” She paused. “You haven’t talked much about the young man you mentioned so often in your letters.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yes. He sounded as if he were growing fond of yo
u. Do you feel the same way?”

  Tracy moved restlessly over to the window. Did she love Alex? She had never put it into words before. Every time she saw him she felt as if she were running to the edge of a precipice but stopping just in time. She had never been in love before. She had nothing to compare this feeling with.

  “Don’t answer, darling,” her mother said quickly. “If you’re sure, you’ll tell me soon enough. Now, go to bed, it’s been a long day and you work far too hard in this heat.”

  The next day when she was out in the orchards Tracy could not get out of her mind last night’s revelation. All the years and she had never had the slightest glimmer of her mother’s predicament. It was a sobering thought how adult and discerning she considered herself, yet she had never thought to probe deeper into her mother’s unhappiness. It made her all the more determined that life at Green Bays would be all that she had promised.

  She and her Uncle George breakfasted alone the following morning. He was up early, he said, because Roger had promised to take him all round the farm. “You’re coming too, of course?”

  “Of course,” she answered. “I can’t let my partner go off without me.”

  “You seem to have a good fellow in Roger Louw. I’m impressed by what I’ve seen of him. Funny thing,” he mused, “I feel almost certain I’ve met him somewhere before. There’s something familiar about his face ... but just where I’ve seen him, or his double, escapes me.”

  “He’s been in and out of jobs, I gather,” Tracy said carelessly, “so it’s quite possible.”