by Lark, Sarah
“How dare you. How could you, after—”
Doortje had raised her hand as if to strike Kevin, but now she let it drop.
“Doortje, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wanted—I’m so sorry.”
Roberta could sympathize with Kevin’s despair, even though she knew nothing about his connection to the bereaved woman. But over the whole scene hovered her bitterness and sorrow at her lost dream.
Chapter 12
“But she doesn’t even care about him,” Daisy declared.
The three young women had moved into their own tent, feeling a bit guilty when they realized the Boer women were fifteen to a tent. Of course, Daisy brought the conversation immediately around to Kevin, who had made an excellent impression on the two nurses. He had needed some time to recover from the business with Doortje. Vincent, as good an observer as Roberta and without a doubt better informed, had hustled the threesome out of the room.
“Dr. Drury is still busy,” he said calmly. “I’ll introduce you to Dr. Greenway first.”
Greenway had greeted them amicably and at once had undertaken yet another tour of the hospital. Roberta would have preferred to join Vincent, who had quickly and discreetly taken his leave and disappeared into the room where the child had died. Heated voices emanated outward, but Roberta could not understand. After a few minutes, the black woman ran out, and then Vincent led the Boer woman out of the room. Kevin only joined his colleague and his new assistants somewhat later, composed and in a clean smock.
“I must apologize for my inattentiveness. I should have been the one to greet you and give you the tour.” Kevin smiled at the young women in his usual charming way and seemed honestly delighted to see Roberta again. The light in his eyes would have made her happy—were it not for that embrace, which had sent all of her illusions up in smoke.
“Roberta! Or, I ought I to say, ‘Miss Fence’? After all, now you’re all grown up and a teacher—although, really, you’re too cute for the job. How will the children ever be afraid of you?” He gave her a mischievous look. “But in all seriousness, Roberta, we need to sit down together as soon as possible and plan out your work here. Though some might think the children need better food first and only then instruction, one should never underestimate intellectual sustenance. The children simply must learn English.”
Kevin had invited the women into his office, and the same black woman had served coffee and tea. She looked tearful and timid even though Kevin treated her warmly. He thanked the women for the donations, told them a bit about the camp, and, finally, showed them to their tent.
“Tomorrow, you’ll go straight to the hospital to report for duty, Nurse Towls and Nurse Harris, and we’ll talk about the school, Roberta. When I find a moment, I’ll also show you the black camp.”
“You got exactly what you wanted!” Later, in the tent, Daisy analyzed the conversation with Kevin. “He was nice to you, he noticed you—he even called you cute! And tomorrow you have a meeting with him. Alone.”
“But Roberta’s right about that Boer woman,” Jenny said. She, too, had been watching closely. “He’s pretty clearly in love with her.”
Roberta was crestfallen. She would have preferred to pull the covers over her head and cry instead of discussing the matter with her friends.
“She doesn’t care at all about him,” Daisy insisted anew. “Sure, he hugged her, but she was about to give him a slap. I’d be more worried about that Nandi. She really is beautiful. I mean, if you like black women. And she works for him.”
“But he doesn’t look at her like that,” Jenny objected. “No, no, the Boer’s your rival. And you’ll come out ahead. Maybe he’s tired of her. Sure, she’s pretty, but given time . . . Dress up nicely tomorrow, smile a little, and above all, don’t fly the white flag so soon.”
Roberta nodded because she knew it was expected of her. But she knew that if she did not bury her hopes now, she would never forget that look, the one Kevin Drury had given so many women—just not her.
The next day, the newcomers experienced a burial. Kevin had not mentioned it, perhaps had not thought of it, but as Dr. Greenway explained, they could expect a funeral every three days.
“This time, we have an especially large number of fatalities—because of the Boer women’s disastrous boycott of the hospital. You met Doortje van Stout yesterday. She’s one of the bereaved, as you know.”
“Is there anything particularly special about Miss van Stout?” Daisy probed. “I mean, because Dr. Drury—”
Greenway waved her off. “Dr. Drury knows the family. Their house was once requisitioned for a hospital. And here in camp, the family has influence because Adrianus van Stout is an infamous commando—or was. His wife led classes of a sort here.” Roberta’s ears pricked up. Was Doortje also a teacher? “Which we did not take kindly to. She only told stories to incite the children against the British. But now she’s passed too.”
“Doortje van Stout passed away?” Jenny asked.
The doctor shook his head. “Her mother. A real tragedy for Doortje—yesterday, both brothers, tonight her mother. Normally, Miss van Stout gives Bible readings at the burials. She leads devotions, too, and she does it quite nicely. Fortunately, she sticks to religion—at least when we’re present. These people like to mix religion and politics. In the Boers’ view, the Bible is a sort of instruction manual for the subjugation of South Africa. Anyway, Miss van Stout will hardly be capable of leading her own family’s burial. So, it falls to us. Probably to Dr. Drury.”
When Kevin arrived, he apologized briefly to Roberta and Jenny, as both the school discussion as well as the ride to the black camp had to be postponed. He then stepped very calmly in front of the women waiting in the cemetery behind the hospital. The gathering overflowed the little square—it looked as if everyone who could haul herself out of her tent had come to Bentje van Stout’s funeral. Doortje van Stout stood stone-faced in front of the two small coffins and her mother’s quickly cobbled-together coffin. The camp carpenter could hardly keep up, but he always put his best efforts into giving the children a dignified burial.
Doortje had foregone the services of the photographer. There was no one left in her family to whom she could have shown the pictures. Still, she did tolerate Cornelis at her side—it looked as if he were the last living relative to whom she was, or had been, halfway close. Now, he crossed to Kevin.
“Dr. Drury, it would be better if I took over,” he said seriously. “My aunt Bentje, it’s true she didn’t much like me either, but, well, a British soldier speaking at her graveside—there could be a riot. And Doortje’s at the end of her rope. It’ll be better for her if I lead the funeral.”
Suddenly, a choir of children’s voices began singing a hymn that seemed vaguely familiar to Kevin—probably it existed in English too. Who could have organized this? Dumbstruck, he spotted Roberta among the children. And one of the nurses was handing wildflowers to the little ones.
“And now, prayer,” the other nurse prompted in terrible Dutch.
“Our Father . . . ,” said Roberta.
It sounded as if the women had only just learned the foreign words, but the Boer women joined in, and one of them quickly took the lead. When they were finished, Roberta determinedly opened the Dutch Bible and began to read.
“‘I am the resurrection and the life . . .’”
The words passed her lips haltingly, but after a few lines, she put the book in the hands of a young girl who timidly read a few sentences and then passed it to the next.
Kevin supposed the Boers would have chosen a passage from the Old Testament. And yet, Roberta’s tender, improvised funeral nonetheless placed the women under its spell. No one protested when, finally, Cornelis said a few words, depicting his aunt as a stern but loving woman, obedient wife, and selfless mother. When the coffins were lowered into the graves, many people cried, and the children followed Roberta peacefully to the graves and threw in their flowers just as Roberta, Daisy, and Jenny modeled f
or them.
Doortje let Cornelis put an arm around her. She accepted Kevin’s expressions of sympathy wordlessly. Her eyes remained dry.
“You did wonderfully,” Vincent Taylor declared as the crowd dispersed. “Truly, Miss Fence, exceptionally moving.”
“Above all, you’ve prevented a riot,” Kevin said. “Well done, ladies. I already see what an advantage you’ll be for our work here. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but you’ve already established trust with the women. I can’t thank you enough. But what brought you back so soon, Vincent? Aren’t there any sick horses?”
Vincent turned red at once. “There, hmm, another aid shipment has arrived addressed to Miss Fence, and I thought I’d—” He smiled shyly at Roberta. “I thought it would be all right with you if we—”
Daisy nudged Roberta. Kevin also seemed to recognize the look in his friend’s eyes.
“Oh yes, hmm, well,” he hemmed and hawed. “Then, uh, do go on and help her unpack it. If you have nothing else to do.”
Kevin disappeared into the hospital while Vincent helped Roberta pry open the crate and sort through the clothing and toy donations. There was also a small blackboard, which reminded Roberta of her actual task.
“But where can I even set up the school?” she asked. “There aren’t any available rooms, and—”
“Just do it outside,” Vincent suggested. “Ask the carpenter to make a few benches. It’d be a welcome change of pace from the endless coffins. Hang the board on a tree, and see if the children come. It probably won’t be easy at first, even with your coup today. The mothers surely don’t want their children learning English. But in time? No one here has anything else to do.”
“I’ll lure them in.” Roberta smiled. “They’re all hungry, after all, and we have food donations. For a few weeks, at least, that’ll be enough for a school lunch.”
Daisy soon instigated something similar in the hospital. “No wonder you’re not getting volunteer helpers! You need to offer them something,” she explained to the astonished Dr. Greenway. “Extra rations for those who help cook and clean and care for the sick. That also does away with the problem of the Boers rejecting the black assistants. Speaking of, Jenny and I have thought of something: we’ll send the black women back to their own camp, and they can build up the hospital there with Jenny’s help. And I’ll train the whites here. That’ll take more pressure off you doctors, and you can ride to the black camp every day. What do you think? And when do we get to see that camp? Jenny’s quite impatient.”
Roberta and Jenny accompanied Kevin the very next morning to the black refugees’ camp and were just as horrified by the conditions as he had been a few days before. Jenny moved herself and all the black nursing assistants over the very next morning—together with the large stable tent, which, to the Boer women’s horror, Jenny intended to share with Sophia and the other workers. Into Roberta and Daisy’s tent—to the even greater horror of the Boer women—moved Nandi.
“I not go back and leave baas Dr. Drury,” Nandi declared with great seriousness. “And beautiful house. Someone must clean.”
Nandi’s English improved every day. The young woman was intelligent and willing to learn, but she was scared to death of being sent back to the black camp after what had happened to her there. Kevin was very relieved when Daisy and Roberta offered to share their lodgings with her.
“Otherwise, the whole thing would have caused me a lot of trouble, you see,” Kevin confessed to Roberta. The two of them rode together almost every day to the black camp now, Kevin to do rounds and Roberta to teach school. Whereas the Boers only hesitantly took her up on her offer of instructing the children, the black children were wild about learning to read, write, and speak English. Especially when that was connected to bread and jam or other delicacies at lunchtime. “The women in camp already talk about me and Nandi, which is total nonsense, of course.”
“Oh?” Roberta plucked up her courage. “I mean, Miss, um, LaBree was also rather dark skinned.”
Kevin turned red at once. He had heard about Patrick’s marriage to Juliet but only now learned of the further developments from Roberta. The subject was exceedingly unpleasant for him. Still, he really had no reason to feel guilty regarding Nandi.
“Roberta, please, the girl must be eighteen years old. She’s still practically a child and completely uneducated.”
Roberta’s heart beat faster. If Kevin put such value on education, things between him and that Doortje would not go far. Although she could still read and write and likely knew half the Bible by heart.
“But she’s very pretty,” Roberta said.
“That’s why people are quick to impute something to me. Regardless, I’m happy she’s staying with you two. Otherwise, I guarantee she would have set herself up in my kitchen again, and Doortje—” He bit his lip and changed the subject. “So, what’s all this about riding lessons, Roberta? It really does slow us down to have to drive the wagon back and forth every day.”
Now it was Roberta’s turn to blush. For days, Vincent Taylor had been offering to teach her the fundamentals of riding on a well-behaved horse, perhaps a Boer pony. But Roberta had resisted. Horses still reminded her of her childhood at the racetrack: her abusive father, her mother’s constant fear of his losses, and the fight between Chloe and Colin Coltrane. What was more, she was nervous about spending time with Vincent Taylor, who so obviously wished to be near her. Under no circumstances did she want to get his hopes up, especially if there might ever be any chance for her with Kevin.
All this made Roberta feel stupid and dishonest. And Kevin’s encouragement to take Vincent up on his offer additionally pained her, no matter how much she told herself he wasn’t playing matchmaker but merely wished to ride more easily from one camp to the other. The path to Karenstad II, as they had started calling the black camp at Jenny’s suggestion, was in terrible condition. They advanced slowly and were always risking a broken axle. A rider, by contrast, could make it there in under half an hour.
“Well, we would have needed the wagon today, anyway,” Roberta said, pointing to the bed.
It was filled with crates stuffed with clothing and food donations, more and more of which had been arriving. The bleak reports of Miss Hobhouse’s nurses and teachers had begun to reach England and the colonies.
“Did you apportion them equitably?” Kevin asked with a smirk.
The apportionment of the donations was a constant theme among the women in the camp. While the nurses and Roberta wanted to distribute everything equally, the Boers would not accept that black children should receive toys and school supplies too. As for the rare medicines, there was a proper brawl over them after the first white women began to learn the fundaments of modern medical care. Daisy’s approach of paying them with extra rations had been astoundingly successful, and they fast proved themselves highly competent. The Boer women and girls were not stupid, only shockingly uneducated. Some, like Doortje and Cornelis, had been taught by their fathers, but other families thought instruction unimportant. Moreover, reading material other than the Bible was rejected as unchristian. The Voortrekkers’ church desired members who were plain and devout. Alert, critical thinkers like Cornelis were not wanted.
Roberta raised her chin proudly. “I saw to it the food was equally split. As for the goods, they’re mostly books, so none of our white ladies were keen on them. The only one who reads is Miss van Stout. And even she doesn’t want to be seen with my books. I caught her at the river reading secretly.”
To general surprise, Doortje had counted among the first women to report for duty at the hospital. Roberta had at first suspected she was trying to get close to Kevin, but in fact, the Boer went out of her way to avoid him. Jenny suggested that she wanted to distract herself from her enormous loss.
But Daisy made an interesting observation. “She’s in it for the extra food,” she declared. “I saw her yesterday, wolfing it down like she was starving. The others always give the families some of
it, but Miss van Stout doesn’t have anyone anymore.”
“She’s put on a little weight too,” Jenny agreed, thinking of the skeletal women in the black camp. “She looks astoundingly good when you consider the circumstances.”
Indeed, in spite of all her grief, Doortje seemed to recover. Kevin could hardly take his eyes off her whenever she—now once more in clean clothing and with a starched bonnet—passed through the hospital. Thanks to the new donations, the hospital laundry was at last furnished with plenty of soap and starch.
Kevin did not comment on what the nurses said about the young Boer woman. He never spoke with them about Doortje van Stout, even though Daisy was always trying to get information out of him about his time in Wepener. She was somewhat more successful with Cornelis. She had immediately wrapped him around her little finger, even though Roberta thought a calm, learned type like Cornelis suited Jenny better. He viewed Jenny’s focus on the blacks’ camp with suspicion, however, and so would never have tried to get close to her.
Now, though, Kevin had an idea. “Maybe you could make more use of Miss van Stout in the school,” he told Roberta. “Surely she knows better than we do how to talk to the women and children.”
With an aching heart, Roberta took his advice. She did not like Doortje, and not just because of jealousy. Doortje’s abrasive self-confidence, her apparent lack of feelings, and her stubbornness put Roberta off. She could easily understand why sweet Nandi was afraid of her and still spoke to her reverently as baas even after the mejuffrouw had forbidden her from doing so.
As for the school, Doortje did, nevertheless, help her make rapid progress.