The House Called Green Bays

by Jan Andersen

  “Oh, lord, no. He’s cured for life of disobeying that kind of order. And Pieter’s getting on all right. He can’t walk much yet, but he gets a bit better each day. He’s doing a bit of office work just now, to curb his impatience, but he longs to get back on the job. He was lucky, wasn’t he?” she added soberly.

  Tracy nodded, shuddering to remember the sight of that vicious cable. The two girls walked along together and Alex said briefly, “I’ll see you when the others get here, Tracy.”

  Sally stared after him. “Did I interrupt something? I know how easily Alex gets into one of his moods.” Tracy paused, hit by more uncertainties. Moods? Alex has moods?”

  “Heavens, yes ... but I’m talking too much as usual. Pieter and I are fond of him and long for him to settle down. He needs the stabilising influence of a nice girl. We’re always teasing him that he’s more wedded to the animals than anyone else in the Park. If it’s not the animals it’s the influence of his father. But I expect you’ve found that.” She paused for breath. “I wish you would get him to bring you along to dinner one night. Are you staying long?”

  Tracy shook her head. “Not this time. I’ve got my mother and uncle with me.”

  “Oh, shame ... but next time. Now I must go and find Ian. We’re due back at the main camp. He’s playing with some American children and undoubtedly leading them into trouble.” She waved a cheerful goodbye.

  At lunch Tracy was very quiet, rousing questions from her mother and Roger as to whether she was feeling the heat. She shook her head. It was not the heat but her heart that was affected. It seemed most painfully constricted. The Alex that other people saw could not be her Alex, surely? What if he was moody? she thought obstinately. It was no crime... then the thought of Sally’s careless remark about his father’s influence. Had she been blind all the time? She must talk to Alex, she must.

  After lunch Julia remained behind, but Roger drove the car as in the morning. This time Tracy needed no persuading to accompany Alex in the truck and this time there was only Abraham in the back, wrangling happily and noisily with another native ranger.

  As they drove off, with the car about a quarter of a mile behind them, Alex said: “Now let’s have it?”

  “All right,” she said bluntly. “It seems you find a trace of Uncle George in Kimberley, but you didn’t choose to tell me about it.”

  “Oh.” He was silent, then he tried to excuse himself. “It didn’t seem worth following up.”

  “Wasn’t that up to me to decide? Anyway, you deliberately misled me by saying that no one had a clue about him. Why, Alex, why?”

  “I don’t know,” he said miserably. “I suppose I thought that if you did find your uncle you would never get away from Green Bays. Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve found him now, and I did wrong, I realise that, but isn’t it better to forget it? I love you, Tracy ... I only did it for the best.”

  “For whose best?” she demanded. “Your father’s?” She could tell by his sudden flush that she had hit home. That he should have done it for himself was bad enough ... but that he should have been obeying his father’s orders was a thousand times worse. She was tempted to ask if the ‘business’ that took him to Kimberley was also his father’s, but that seemed to be rubbing his nose in it unnecessarily. Instead, she slumped back in the seat, unutterably depressed.

  They came to a fork in the road and at the last minute Alex swung with a scream of tyres off to the left on the narrower of the two ways. A little further along that he pulled into the side and snapped an order to the two Africans, who got down from the back and headed in to the bush.

  “If you’ve stopped to make me talk about this,” Tracy said sharply, “it won’t work, Alex.”

  “But you can’t let this spoil things between us. Just one stupid thing like that.”

  “To me,” she answered wearily, “it isn’t stupid. It’s a matter of trust. How am I to know your father didn’t order you to propose to me and get a foot in Green Bays that way?”

  “Tracy!”

  “All right, you make me say stupid things, but I must have time to think. Please, Alex, let’s go back to the camp. I don’t feel like animals any more today.”

  “All right, but tomorrow...” he stopped as Abraham came running from the bush, waving his arms and pointing. Behind him Tracy could see a thick column of smoke.

  “Veld fire,” Alex snapped, “that would come.” He jammed the gears into reverse and swung the truck round as the two Africans jumped in the back. While he drove he barked orders at them. When he stopped at a point much nearer the fire he dragged some equipment from the back and said, “Look, Tracy, stay just where you are, it’s quite safe. But don’t get out whatever you do. There’ll be animals getting into a panic at fire. In the fire area there are some rare antelope breeding, and I must save them whatever I do.” Before she could do more than nod he was gone.

  She seemed to be making a habit of sitting in the middle of the bush waiting. But in the hot sunshine it looked deceptively peaceful and she was not afraid, her thoughts too full of her own problems—and the unsatisfactory talk with Alex.

  When she next looked up a herd of impala was bounding across the road followed by a warthog and its family. From then on the bush around her was alive with scared animals. To Tracy it looked as if the fire was increasing with every second. The smoke had turned to flame and she could even hear its crackling carried on the still air.

  The first niggle of fear stole up on her when she turned round and saw that a few hundred yards back her way had been cut off, and although there was no wind the fire seemed to be sweeping slowly towards her. This was confirmed when a blackened leaf drifted down and into the driving cab. It was intolerably hot. With the window open smoke drifted in; with the window closed she could hardly breathe. She knew she must not get out; on the other hand she could hardly drive off and leave Alex and the men stranded. Perhaps this was a common occurrence to them, but her discomfort was growing acute.

  She had few doubts of Alex’s safety. He had often talked about the method of dealing with veld fires, saying that the fire could never spread beyond each block surrounded by a criss-cross of fire-breaks. What she did think was that he could easily have forgotten her in his anxiety about the rare antelopes. This, she realised with sudden bitterness, would be the pattern if she were to marry Alex ... she would always come second to his beloved animals. Another girl might accept it happily, but not she, nor could she bear to live under the shadow of a man like Paul Lawson. Perhaps it was a good thing after all that the Kimberley business had brought to light that aspect of his character, for she could easily have married him and learned too late of his weakness.

  There was smoke swirling everywhere now and she was forced to close the windows to stem the streaming of her eyes. Two hyenas raced across the front of the truck and behind them the lithe body of a cheetah. She could not possibly get out. Her fear of the frightened animals was even greater than her fear of the fire.

  Suddenly, when she thought she could bear it no longer, her door was wrenched open and two strong arms took hold of her.

  “Oh, Roger, thank heavens!” And she wept tears of relief.

  He put her gently in the front seat of his car and was in the act of turning it round when Alex ran across to him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing with Tracy?”

  “What you should have done half an hour ago—getting her out of here.” He spoke with calm control, but Tracy could see he was white with anger.

  “Don’t be a fool, man,” Alex blustered. “I had my job to do to get the animals to safety. Tracy couldn’t have come to any harm here. I told her that.”

  “I reckon you and I must think rather differently. It seems to me that a man’s first responsibility is to other humans. And you certainly can’t be human if you leave a girl, scared to death, surrounded by smoke in a truck that could stifle her to death if no worse. Now, move ... and get on with fighting your fire and saving your
animals. We’re going back to the camp, and I have a feeling you’d do best to stay out of Tracy’s way this evening. Mine too. I could so easily raise a fist to you.” He moved the car so fast into first gear that Alex had to jump back. Tracy’s last sight of him was standing in the middle of the road, bewildered. That was half the trouble, she thought; he honestly did not believe he had done wrong. And the next time he would behave in just the same way.

  When they were out of the range of the smoke Roger stopped the car and opened all the windows. From the picnic bag he pulled a bottle of lemonade. “That should ease the throat,” he said.

  She summoned a smile. “What, no brandy?”

  “Dam it, I left it in my saddle bag!” he returned gravely. “Do you feel better?”

  She nodded, taking great gulps of air and lemonade alternately. “But I want to know why you came to look for me.”

  “When we lost your track and saw the first signs of smoke I drove your mother and uncle straight back to camp, thinking to find you there too. When you didn’t turn up I started to look for you and happened to speak to your friend, Mrs. Vorster. She said something that made me come tearing after you.”

  “What did she say?” Tracy said quietly.

  He hesitated. “If Alex is out there fighting a fire, he’ll undoubtedly be making Tracy help him. That made me see red ... Tracy, I just can’t think what made him leave you there. The man must be out of his mind.”

  “Not really,” she answered, “he just has different values. Let’s forget him. I had learned my lesson today long before this happened. Now I just don’t want to think I came so near to making a fool of myself.”

  Back at the camp her mother and uncle were waiting impatiently, and when Roger suggested they phone Noni to tell her they would be home for supper there was a general cry of agreement. One day they would come back, but not just yet.

  It was a quiet journey home to start with, and Uncle George suggested stopping away from the camp for a quiet drink to shake off the blues. “There was a wonderful place not far from here high on a rock, I visited once. That would be an ideal place to stop.”

  Before Tracy could say anything, Roger put in smoothly, “A bit too near the camp, I think. I know another hotel a few miles further on. What do you say, Tracy?”

  “I think that’s a better idea,” she said gratefully. Her feelings were raw enough already without visiting the very place where Alex had proposed. She glanced at Roger, but his eyes, as usual, were hidden behind sun-glasses, so she could not gauge their expression. It was difficult to imagine him so sensitive to her feelings ... or was it? Wasn’t it she who had always tried to judge him too harshly without considering his motives? Right from the beginning when he had—justifiably—shown that he considered farming a man’s prerogative, she had been hitting back, again and again, wanting to hurt him far beyond the bounds that he had hurt her.

  They reached home at last and she felt very tired. Her real thanks to Roger must wait until the morning. Mrs. Jamieson, also feeling the strain, took her supper to her room, while Tracy ate hers with the men.

  Just as they were finishing they heard movements at the back door and Noni came in. “I think you must come, Master. It’s Dinga, and he looks terrible.”

  Roger groaned. “We’ve had enough drama for today,” but he got up from the table and the other two followed him.

  Dinga did indeed look terrible, with a huge cut above his eye, a tooth missing and streaks of blood down his shirt. But he was grinning his head off.

  “Good lord, man,” Roger gasped, “what war have you been fighting?”

  It took Roger and Noni the best part of fifteen minutes to get the whole story from him. He was so delighted with himself that he kept going off into peals of laughter.

  Finally Roger clapped a hand on his shoulder and congratulated him, telling him that he would see him in the morning, but first, he said sternly, he must go to bed or he’d be in no state to work tomorrow.

  “Well,” Tracy demanded, “I can’t bear the suspense any longer. I wouldn’t have thought it was like Dinga to fight.”

  “Only when his honour is at stake. It seems he met some of Lawson’s workers last night and they started jeering that Green Bays was finished. Apparently he’s had a theory for some time that there was dirty work over the spraying, so when they’d gone he waited for the bully and threatened heaven knows what unless he told him who put in the double spray. The boy finally admitted that it was their head boy. Dinga went and routed him out, beat him up and learned for Ids pains that Lawson had given the order. What do you make of that?”

  “Oh, no ... and I never believed you when you said Lawson would stop at nothing to get this place.”

  “Well, even I didn’t think he’d stoop that far. We could sue, but I think we’re better off facing him with our knowledge and telling him to keep his hands off Green Bays—or we really will let the cat out of the bag. I think he’s a man who knows when he’s beaten. It makes me begin to imagine that somehow he fixed the red scale ... but we shall never know that.”

  “I’ll tell you what else he did.” And taking a deep breath she told him how Alex had misled her down in Kimberley.

  Roger’s smile was warm with sympathy. “No wonder you were upset. Mind you, I think they know we mean business with Mr. Jamieson here. You are going ahead with the timber, aren’t you, sir?”

  Uncle George looked from one to the other. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, and it’s one way I could make myself useful. I suggest we have a good talk about it tomorrow and you two can pull my ideas to pieces if you want to.”

  Tracy hugged him. “We won’t want to do that, will we, Roger? We knew all along we needed you—Roger especially,” she added with a twinkle.

  In the morning she felt refreshed and had shaken off the remains of her depression over Alex. Some instinct, she told herself, had made her play for time when he asked her to marry him. If her love had been as strong as it should, she would have accepted immediately. Humming happily, she came downstairs, to find she had a visitor.

  “Why, Mr. Rens,” she held out her hand, “what a surprise!”

  “Well,” he apologised, “I’m really much too early for social calls, but I’m on my way up north and I couldn’t come as near as this without calling on you and perhaps meeting your uncle.”

  “And Mother,” she told him. “We’re really all together now. Uncle will be in from the orchards soon. In the meantime I hope you’ll join me for coffee.” They chatted for a while, then got round to the subject of Green Bays. She asked him suddenly, “Tell me, Mr. Rens, did you know that my uncle had in effect put up the money for the farm?”

  “No, I didn’t, although now I do know it doesn’t surprise me. There was something about the deal and about the way your father made his will that should have given me the clue. Tell me, Miss Jamieson, how are you getting along with Roger Louw?”

  She hesitated. “Of course, I was forgetting, you don’t like him much do you? Well, I didn’t at first, in fact for quite a while. Now I’m realising that without him Green Bays would probably not be here. I owe him an awful lot, and I’ve behaved rather badly towards him in return for all his hard work. But I’ll make up somehow.”

  “Miss Jamieson, you’re mistaken in thinking I don’t like him. I merely tried not to show too much favour towards him. You see, your father thought the world of him and was convinced that you would too. In fact,” he added delicately, “he thought things might go further than friendship. Still, that’s not the point. He said, I was not to tell you this until I was convinced you had realised the young man’s worth.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tracy said, “I don’t think I understand.”

  “You will shortly. Actually, I might have told you earlier, but I had a letter from Roger Louw soon after you arrived, reiterating what your father said, in case you should feel beholden to him. He obviously must have sensed your dislike of him. Although your uncle in fact bought the farm your father wan
ted to expand it, and when Roger Louw came about six months ago there was no money left in the kitty. That young man handed over all his savings to your father, without strings, without interest.”

  “And I thought he was trying to sell out Green Bays,” Tracy said soberly. “But he must have placed a great deal of trust in my father, whom he didn’t know.”

  “It was mutual. I’m not quite certain of the details, but I believe young Louw had a spell at the diamond mines. There was a theft and a couple of his African workers were accused. Rather than let them suffer for a crime he knew they did not commit, he insisted that technically he was to blame. Well, in the diamond business there are no second chances, and he lost his job. I understand that people were very sorry for him and knew he was perfectly honest, yet he could not get another job, certainly not in the diamond industry. That’s when your father took him on, when he must have been very bitter about the treatment he had received.”

  Poor Roger, no wonder he had felt so strongly at the lack of trust she had sometimes placed in him. It was enough to sour any man, when he had taken such a burden upon himself. She now understood the hints. Alex had thrown out about his past.

  When Uncle George came in she left the two men alone to talk business while she went to find Roger to bring him in as well. Probably, she thought, it was in the diamond fields that Uncle George had seen Roger. As she walked down through the ripening orchards her thoughts were confused. Since she had arrived at Green Bays she had made more mistakes than she could have imagined possible. It was difficult to know how she could put them right.

  Idly she fingered the glowing skin of an orange, a perfect fruit, the end to all Roger’s labours.

  A gentle cough behind her told her of his presence. “Owners of fruit farms should know better than to touch with their bare fingers.” But his voice was full of teasing laughter as she snatched her hand away.