by Anne Hampson
‘I have my own child, and a husband. Miss Ridgeway has no one but herself to think about!’
‘That’s absolutely true—from now on, Mrs Poulton. I believe my friend told you that we hadn’t finished our tea? So you’ll understand if I bid you good evening—I am bidding you good evening, Mrs Poulton, so you needn’t interrupt me again. And I advise you to take your foot out of the doorway—because I assure you that I intend to close the door, and I should hate to break your ankle. Oh, and by the way… if you come back the door will not be opened. We don’t wish for any more interruptions to our meal.’
‘So quiet and yet effective,’ laughed June when he returned. ‘Lena’s feeling better, so let’s go and finish those excellent goodies she prepared for us!’
***
The following morning June went out and rang Lena’s doctor. This in spite of Lena’s repeated protests that she was feeling better and that she really ought to go and collect the children.
‘They’re more used to me than their aunt,’ she pointed out. ‘I can’t help feeling they’ll be fretting.’
‘Rubbish! Those detestable brats wouldn’t know how to fret!’
Doctor Knowles, who had been given the complete picture by June while Lena was upstairs, having decided to make the beds, looked gravely at Lena and said outright that she was in no fit condition to care for the three boys.
‘Even if they were your own I should recommend that you go into hospital for a rest cure,’ he said sternly when Lena would have made a protest. ‘Your friend here has told me of her invitation; I strongly advise you to accept it, Lena.’ He had known her a long while and had always used her Christian name. ‘I did warn you, a few months ago when you called at the surgery with one of the children, that you were heading for trouble. This is a mental problem as well as the physical strain that’s entailed by having the children. Both consciously and subconsciously you are resentful; you’re perpetually aware that your life is being sacrificed—and for children that have no claim on you whatsoever. Had they been your father’s children you would have owed them something; you owe absolutely nothing to the children of a woman, now dead, who was a total stranger to you until a year ago.’
‘It was all very logical,’ Lena was agreeing when the doctor, having extracted from Lena the promise that she would accept her friend’s invitation, had left the house, ‘but I have a most uncomfortable feeling of guilt. Somehow, I feel that I’m letting my father down. You see, June, he intended to take those children under his wing; he would have expected me to accept the responsibility for them.’
‘I don’t believe that your father, who thought so much about you, would have wished you to sacrifice your entire youth to strangers. Why, even I can remember his repeatedly saying he wished you could find a boy you could begin going steady with because he’d like to see you married before anything happened to him.’
Lena nodded; she was once again feeling lethargic; vaguely she knew she was being driven into a situation which was not of her own choosing, but she had to own that it was most pleasant to allow someone else to make these plans which all she had to do was follow—without even exerting a modicum of energy. South Africa… a farm. She had always imagined what it must be like to live in the country, away from the crowds and the noise, but she had never imagined herself taking a holiday in a place so attractive as South Africa. How long would she stay with June and Gerald? They had both said, last evening before Gerald left, that she must stay for just as long as she liked.
‘I might become so enamoured with your country that I shan’t want to return,’ she warned, but the answer she received was to the effect that such a decision would not come amiss, since she had no real ties in England.
As June and Gerald were not returning to Africa for another three weeks, June insisted that Lena should stay with her parents.
‘That’s not really necessary, June,’ said Lena as she and June sat over a cup of coffee half an hour after the doctor’s visit. ‘I shall be all right here. I’ve to gather a suitable wardrobe together, and this is best done on my own.’
‘You can still do it on your own if you live with us. No, you can’t stay here, Lena, simply because that dreadful woman will bring those kids back.’
‘I’ve no need to take them.’ What a relief it was not to have them, thought Lena. Any ordinary morning she would have been running around after them—attending to their wants, or trying to stop one or the other of them screaming for something he could not have. There would be the beds to make, the breakfast dishes to wash, the children to get ready and take out with her if she happened to have some shopping to do. This sitting here with her friend in the peace and quietness of a tidy room was sheer bliss, and already a bloom had settled on her cheeks, cheeks that had been pale for months. But her general appearance was by no means satisfactory; she was drawn and, during the past months, she had lost so much weight that most of her clothes hung drably on her thin figure.
‘What will you do with the house?’ June spoke after a short silence; Lena knew at once that she had changed the subject deliberately, hoping that Lena would have time to consider her proposal and eventually come to the conclusion that she would, after all, be better staying with June’s parents until her departure for South Africa. ‘Will you let it while you’re away?’
‘Perhaps that would be best,’ replied Lena thoughtfully. ‘It wouldn’t be wise to leave it empty, would it?’
‘Not for any length of time,’ returned June with a frown. ‘You might be burgled.’
Lena nodded, but at the same time she glanced around and decided that there was not much of any value in the house. Her father had earned an excellent salary, but he had never been a thrifty man, spending his money on things which Lena often considered to be trivial.
‘I ought to put it in the hands of a house agent.’
June agreed, and then asked again if Lena would come and stay with her parents. Lena nodded, having by this time decided that her friend was right when she predicted that Mrs Poulton would bring the children back. And, knowing herself, Lena feared she would feel so sorry for them that she would take them in again; in consequence she would be right back to where she was before June had arrived to rescue her from the plight into which she had been thrown by the deaths of her father and his wife.
‘Yes, June, I’ll come,’ said Lena with a smile. ‘And thanks a lot for everything.’
‘No need to thank me—’
‘Oh, but there is! I’d got into a rut, accepting my lot without even trying to extricate myself.’
‘Well, if our presence here yesterday has helped you that’s all the reward I need, Lena. As for this invitation—we shall both love having you living with us. The homestead isn’t anything spectacular, but it’s comfortable.’
‘Is it lonely there?’ asked Lena curiously. ‘From your letters I seemed to gain the impression that it was.’
‘It’s all on its own, yes. Our nearest neighbour’s land adjoins ours, in that a stream divides us, but his house is about a quarter of a mile away.’
‘It sounds wonderful.’ Lena was already becoming enthusiastic about her forthcoming holiday. ‘Can you see your neighbour’s house?’
‘Koranna Lodge? Yes, it stands out, not only because it’s on a rise, but also because it’s a very splendid place—a colonial mansion built by his great-grandfather. It’s the “house of character” type, set in the most beautiful grounds with mature trees and shrubs, and with spreading lawns. In his gardens you’ll find numberless flowers, like the African tulip tree, the poinsettias and hibiscus, allamandas and bougainvillaea—oh, he has so many exotic flowers that you’d need to see them to believe it!’
Lena’s eyes began to shine. She loved flowers; she loved trees even more.
‘You’re friendly with these people?’
‘People? There’s only Kane—Kane Westbrook. He’s a bachelor—not much time for women at all from what I’ve gathered since knowing him. Yes, we’re fri
endly—although not intimately so. He’s a jolly helpful neighbour, but there’s an aloofness about him that’s rather difficult to penetrate. You never feel totally at ease with him. He seems—’ June stopped, reflecting for a space. ‘He seems far superior to us; we’re the plebians and he the patrician—if you know what I mean,’ she added with a deprecating little laugh.
‘You’ve made your meaning very clear indeed,’ returned Lena, and there was a grim edge to her voice. ‘He sounds as if he’s a snob.’
‘No, you’re wrong! Oh, dear, I’ve given you a totally wrong impression of him, I’m afraid. He’s one of those people you would like to have for a close friend but who, because of this aloofness, will not allow you to become quite that intimate. It’s as if he’s willing for you to go so far, but you mustn’t go too far.’ June looked at Lena, a faintly anxious expression in her green eyes. ‘I still haven’t conveyed a true picture of Kane, have I?’
Lena hesitated, loath to say anything at all about a man she had not yet met.
‘I feel I shall be afraid of him,’ was her frank admission at last.
June laughed.
‘I was like that with him at first, so I can’t honestly say you won’t be, can I?’
‘You were afraid?’ Lena shot her a disbelieving glance. ‘I’ve never known you to be afraid of anyone!’
‘There aren’t many people who can intimidate me,’ June had to own. ‘But Kane has a way of—well, putting you in your place if, by some spontaneous act or remark, you happen to forget it.’
Lena said nothing; the picture she was forming was not too attractive. This Kane Westbrook appeared to be a man with whom one must always be on one’s guard, taking care not to put a foot out of place, as it were. Oh, well, she would not be having much to do with him so she had nothing to fear.
‘He sounds wealthy,’ she remarked at last, just for something to say, as the conversation had languished.
June nodded her head. The sunlight caught her auburn curls and they shone. Lena was reminded of the time when she, too, had hair that shone—healthy hair, not lifeless and dull as it was now.
‘He’s as rich as a nabob! Has hordes of Africans working on his estate, and no less than four servants in the house. It’s a large place, though, so he needs four servants.’
‘Tell me about your house,’ invited Lena, much more interested in Mtula Farm than the imposing mansion belonging to this Kane Westbrook. Lena liked small houses, not great barns which were cold and unfriendly, as she was sure Koranna Lodge must be.
‘It’s rambling but unlovely, made of corrugated iron with a thatched roof. In the kitchen there’s an enormous cooking stove.’
‘Don’t you have electricity?’
‘Not yet. It’s rather nice, though, to use oil lamps and candles.’
‘Yes,’ murmured Lena, ‘I expect it is.’ She paused a moment, her big eyes becoming dreamy. ‘Tell me about your garden, and the farm.’
‘We don’t have a great deal of time to bother about the garden, unfortunately. However, we do have some flowers…’ She paused, her glance darting to her friend’s face. ‘You’ve always loved gardening. So if you want to do some…?’
‘I shall adore doing it!’ exclaimed Lena. ‘June, I’m going to enjoy this holiday no end!’
‘I sincerely hope so.’ Another pause and then, ‘As for our farm—it’s mixed, as I said. We grow oats and maize, and we keep sheep and cattle. It’s a neat farm, and well run, because it’s been in Gerald’s family for about twenty-five years; but it’s just an allotment in comparison to Koranna.’
This brought a slight frown to Lena’s forehead.
‘I’m quite sure that I’ll be far more thrilled with Mtula Farm than with the pretentious colonial mansion belonging to your arrogant neighbour.’
‘Oh, dear,’ sighed June but with a hint of wry humour in her voice, ‘I have given you a bad impression of Kane. He’s charming, really.’
The ‘really’ seemed to qualify the word charming—at least, to Lena’s ears, but she refrained from saying anything more about the ‘patrician’, as June had termed him. His house was a quarter of a mile distant from Mtula Farm and, as Lena had already predicted, she would see little or nothing of him during her stay with June and her husband.
CHAPTER TWO
Over the silent bushveld lay the shimmering heat of the midday sun, which shone down mercilessly from an azure sky. Reclining on the back stoep, a book on her knee, Lena allowed her thoughts to wander back to the day of her arrival in South Africa. The weeks prior to her departure had been somewhat hectic, her having to contact the house agent, and then rearrange the furnishings of the house so that she could safely lock away in one room all those items which she did not wish to include in the general furnishings of her home. June had helped her with this task, but Lena, reminding her that she had many friends and relatives yet to visit, refused to accept any assistance with the garden which, Lena felt, must be weeded and made to look attractive for the prospective tenants who would be taking over the house during her absence.
‘I thought I’d have oceans of time!’ she was exclaiming when, with only three days to go before her departure, she had still not bought all that she considered necessary for her holiday in a hot country. ‘I feel I haven’t anywhere near enough cotton dresses and blouses.’
‘I’ve a sewing machine,’ June told her soothingly, ‘and you can buy dress materials in Fonteinville—that’s our nearest town, where we shop and find entertainment. If you’re short of everyday clothes then you can easily make some.’
That was true, so Lena relaxed, feeling that to rush around the way she had been doing was more than a little stupid; she had no desire to arrive at the farm feeling as tired as when she had had the children living with her.
Excitement had filled Lena when the actual day of departure arrived. She had never flown, and the great VC 10 which took her and her friends to Johannesburg was in itself a treat. The flight was smooth and pleasant; Johannesburg itself, when she at last looked down upon it, was disappointing, with its dark and smoky evidence of mining activities, its high-rise buildings and its ‘peas-in-a-pod’ houses, appearing from this height to be of matchbox proportions.
The plane’s touch-down had been easy, the ensuing formalities conducted without fuss, and then had come the journey by car to Mtula Farm, a journey that had been interrupted by a night’s stay at Risdstad, a small town about half-way between Johannesburg and Fonteinville.
Lena recalled her first glimpse of the house in which she was to live; unpretentious and sprawling, it was at the same time warm and inviting. And as she sat here now, in the cool of the stoep, she allowed her eyes to wander over the house and garden. ‘Home is what you make it’, her grandmother so often used to repeat, and never was that more true than at Mtula Farm. June was a homemaker; she had a flair for decor, for the blending of colours; she seemed to have an especial insight as to how a certain piece of furniture or bric-à-brac would look in a certain corner, or room. With her limited means she had created a veritable palace within the austere walls of the house. Almost unconsciously Lena allowed her eyes to wander to the colonial mansion on the rise, its white walls gleaming in the sunshine. June talked a good deal about the owner of Koranna Lodge, but as yet Lena had not met him. Not that she had any desire to do so; the man seemed too superior for her liking. The house, though, was the most attractive Lena had ever seen. Even from this distance it arrested the attention, and when, having strolled to the stream one day, Lena had managed to get a closer view, she had just stood and gasped in admiration. From the main road itself the house was not visible, but its high wrought-iron gates and supporting granite pillars provided the evidence that a home of some elegance lay at the end of the long avenue of ancient oak trees which lined the drive.
‘Sleeping?’ June’s soft voice broke into Lena’s reverie and she turned her head, a smile leaping to her lips.
‘No—just day-dreaming,’ she murmured, moving
her rattan chair a little in order to make room for June to pass and take possession of another chair. June flopped down and gave a long contented sigh.
‘I adore it here. Do you know, Lena, I haven’t yet got over the novelty of living in this hot and beautiful land!’
‘I can understand that,’ returned Lena with feeling. ‘It’s the peace, for one thing, that appeals to me. But there’s the sunshine as well, and the scenery…’ Her voice trailed off as her eyes found the clear outline of the mountains. Massive against the crystalline sky, they formed a rather awe-inspiring backcloth for the lovely white mansion standing on its hill. Sweeping away to the west was a spectacular valley, with grassy slopes and plains on which thousands of Kane Westbrook’s sheep grazed. Away in another direction stretched the veld, still shimmering under the ruthless heat of this, the hottest part of the day. On the veld vegetation was often sparse, but here and there were scattered thorny mimosas, while willows fringed the banks of what few tributary streams there were. Prickly pear and the milk bush sometimes relieved the parched aspect of the landscape, and over by a meander of the river was a large copse of blue-gum trees.
‘I’m glad you’re liking it here,’ from June in tones edged with relief. ‘Gerald and I did wonder if the heat would get you, or whether the continuous profusion of the sun itself might prove too much for you.’
‘I love the sun! I’m feeling a lot better already,’ added Lena, looking with gratitude at her friend. ‘And that’s only after one week!’
‘You’re not looking yourself, all the same,’ remarked June, examining Lena’s face critically. It’ll take some time for you to recover fully from all that overwork. It wasn’t as if you’d been used to it. You and your father didn’t make a mess, so there was very little to do in the way of household chores.’
Allowing this to pass without comment, Lena said after a pause,
‘About the garden, June—I really could get to work on it—’