Anne Hampson - Call of The Veld

by Anne Hampson

  'Oh, well if that's what you think. There's no need to be shirty about it, though.'

  Not trusting herself to speak, Sara walked over to the door. As she reached it Irma said,

  'I'd like you to stay with me when you fetch the drink. You don't seem to realise that I get bored, here on my own so much.'

  'I don't leave you too long,' protested Sara, though in a patient tone of voice. 'I do have other things to see to, remember.'

  'Well, I don't know what!'

  Sara gave a small sigh, still trying to be patient. It was certainly difficult at times, especially when Irma was in one of her fractious moods, as she was today. But I'd be the same, thought Sara, realising just how devastating it must be to be confined to that bed all day.

  'In spite of what you think, Irma, there really are other things which I have to do.'

  'Such as looking after Ray, I suppose?' Irma's voice had a hollow sound that made her sister wince. 'We have Sadie to do that, and a houseboy.'

  'Neither of them does any cooking, you know that.'

  'All right,' sharply as Irma flopped back on to the pillows. 'There's no need to make excuses for the time you spend on Ray, and with him.'

  'I don't think I understand you, Irma?' Sara had turned back into the room, a frown marring her clear wide brow.

  'I'm not a fool, Sara.' The lovely girl on the bed looked at her sister through narrowed, resentful eyes. 'You were in love with Ray even before we were married. It was plain for everyone to see—and it's just as plain now! I'll bet Carl knows, because he has the sort of keen perception that can see such things. I often wonder if you're glad that I went out that day in the runabout, not knowing the brakes were faulty. If the truth were known you were on top of the world when Ray cabled you to say that I was in hospital———'

  'Irma!' Shocked beyond belief, Sara found speech impossible for a full thirty seconds after uttering her sister's name. 'What a dreadful thing to say to me!'

  'You're all righteous indignation, but can you deny that you were in love with Ray—that you still are in love with him?'

  Pale, and with anguish twisting at her heart both for Irma's misery and her own, Sara again found difficulty in speaking, but after a while she was able to say,

  'If you thought that, then why did you ask me to come here?'

  'Because, at the time I wrote that letter I scarcely knew what I wanted. I felt lonely and lost with nothing but blackness ahead. I knew that Ray's life was shattered, finished as far as sex was concerned. I couldn't even offer him friendship—————-'

  'Certainly you could! Your friendship would have deepened, on account of the other part—the sex part of the marriage.'

  'What an idealist you are! What man of Ray's age wants nothing more than friendship from his wife?' Sara said nothing and Irma continued with what she had been saying previous to the interruption. 'We used to play tennis, to swim, to go for long rambles over the moors…' Irma's restraint broke and she burst into tears. In seconds Sara had her arms about her shaking body, her own eyes filling with tears.

  'Don't, Irma! Oh, please don't cry so! If only I could do something!' She was angry because of her own helplessness. Irma, at twenty-five, a hopeless invalid. It wasn't fair! It was not fair! Sara wanted to scream, to curse fate, to shout at the doctors that they were wrong, that her sister would walk again! 'Dearest, if there was only something I could do to take away this unhappiness…' Sara's voice sank gradually, to a low pitch, while her strong young arms tightened protectively around her sister's tear-racked frame. Both girls were distraught, clinging to one another in an attitude of abandonment and lost hope. 'Why, oh, why do such things have to happen 1'

  'I never thought that I'd be struck down like this! Sara, why wasn't I killed!'

  'No!' almost shouted Sara. 'There'll be things to live for eventually. Believe me, Irma, it will become more bearable as time goes on.'

  'As time goes on and I'm growing old, here in this bed—unloved by my husband, pitied by everyone else! I can't bear it! I shall kill myself!'

  Sara, rocking to and fro, her sister held close to her breast, was unable to speak for the terrible lump in her throat. It was choking her, causing her actual physical pain. She thought: why didn't it happen to me? I have no husband to mourn, and I'm stronger than Irma. I'd have got over the worst eventually and -learned to live again!

  'Don't cry any more,' she beseeched. 'I'll fetch you that drink, darling, and sit with you for as long as you want me to.'

  'Will you, Sara? Will you stay with me all day?' Irma drew away, searching beneath a pillow for a handkerchief. Sara brought her one from a drawer, and one for herself.

  'Of course I will, love.' Sara tried to smile, hoping her sister would respond. 'I won't be gone many minutes,' she promised, and left the room.

  Once in the kitchen, where Sadie was standing on a stool tidying out the top shelf of a cupboard, Sara stood quietly for a spell, going over in her mind what had just transpired between Irma and herself. The situation was becoming more and more fraught with difficulties as time went1 on. Irma was obviously going to brood as she lay there in that bed, tortured by visions of her husband turning his attention to Sara, who loved him even though as yet he had no idea of this. Sara herself suffered agonies as she watched Irma's misery eating deeper and deeper into her heart, as she saw the pain and hopelessness which came so often to her brother-in-law's eyes, and as she herself became oppressed by the utter bleakness of her future. There was no light ahead, no hope, nothing. Three people, living here at Njangola, all condemned to unhappiness for the rest of their lives.

  What must she do? To leave here was not possible, because in spite of what Irma had just said when in her overwrought state, Sara knew that she needed her, desperately.

  'Miss Sara, is there anything I can do for you?' The dusky housegirl's voice put an end to Sara's thoughts and she mentally thanked her for it.

  'No, thank you, Sadie. I've only come for some orange juice for Mrs Barton.'

  'I've some ready, Miss Sara. I thought she would want it.'

  Sara hesitated, then, as Sadie jumped down from the stool she waited, accepting the long slender tumbler from the girl's hand.

  'That looks nice. I see you polished the glass.'

  Sadie's fine white teeth were revealed in a smile.

  'Glasses always look prettier for polishing. I've a little lace doiley here, and it would look nice under the glass.' Sadie fetched a saucer, placed the lace mat upon it and then, taking the glass of orange juice from Sara, she put it on the mat. 'There, that's nice for Mrs Barton, isn't it?'

  Sara nodded her head. Everyone was eager to have things 'nice' for Irma. It was a pity she so often failed to notice. And she failed to notice this time, but Sara could make excuses for her today, as it was one of those times when she was especially depressed.

  'Thank you, Sara.' Irma took a drink, looked at her sister with faint apology and said, 'I'd rather have Ray with me. Do you mind?'

  'Of course not.' Sara took the damp handkerchief from the table by the bed, relieved to notice that the evidence of tears was not nearly so marked as she would have expected it to be. 'I'll send Ray in at once.'

  'Will he come, do you think?'

  'Certainly he will,' answered Sara without hesitation. 'Why should you have doubts about it?'

  'He doesn't enjoy being with me any more.'

  'Nonsense. You imagine things, love. Ray adores you.'

  'He used to, but how long does love last when one partner's as useless as I am?'

  How long does love last… This was the second time within half an hour that Sara had heard the question. Ray must not stop loving his wife! He must not! He had made vows in church, and he would have to keep them; he must love his wife for as long as she lived!

  'Irma wants you to go to her,' she was saying a moment or two later as she entered the living-room where Ray was now sitting talking to Carl. A frown creased his brow instantly, causing a little rise of anger w
hich Sara had never felt against him before. Her glance was drawn somehow to Carl as Ray rose reluctantly to his feet. Carl's eyes were narrowed and their expression was undoubtedly one of contempt.

  'I'll be back directly,' Ray was saying as he reached the door. 'Sara dear, will you make some tea?'

  Dear… He scarcely ever used that expression when talking to anyone other than his wife, and Sara felt vexed that he should have used it now. However, her voice betrayed none of the anger she felt as she replied,

  'Yes, of course, Ray. Er…'

  'Well?' He paused by the door, impatience even in his pose of immobility.

  'Irma would like you to stay with her for a while. Perhaps you'd like me to bring your tea in to you? She's particularly unhappy today.' She spoke gently, a persuasive inflection in her voice. To her dismay her brother-in-law seemed almost indifferent to what he had just heard.

  'She ought to be sleeping!' He went off, his frown increased to a scowl. It was evident that he preferred Carl's company to that of his wife. Sara gave an audible sigh and glanced at Carl, who was leaning back languidly in his chair, one indolent hand resting on the arm. He was staring at her with that inscrutable expression which she disliked so much.

  'I'll make the tea,' she said, and turned away from him.

  'You say Irma is particularly unhappy today?' His voice reached her as she opened the door and she merely said over her shoulder,

  'Yes, she is.'

  'Is there any particular reason for this unhappiness?'

  At the insistence in his tone she was forced to come around and face him.

  'The reason's obvious, Mr van der Linden. Irma's lying there———— ' She stopped abruptly, resenting all at once the authoritative manner in which Carl had put his question. Sara had been about to say that Irma was lying there imagining things, that she was adding to her unhappiness because of it. Irma had been more active than most people, and it was a terrible, terrible thing for her to be laid up like that. This was what Sara would have said to anyone else who asked the question, but she had no intention of saying it to this arrogant man here, a man who normally found difficulty in even speaking to her.

  He was staring at her, waiting for her to continue, but she remained silent, her eyes shadowed and the scalding tears pressing against the backs of her eyes, for she was seeing Ray, with that heavy frown and that air of impatience as he went off to obey his wife's request to come to her. She knew that Irma would quite naturally sense that Ray had not come to her willingly.

  It seemed that burden after burden was being added to Sara's troubled mind and, because she had no desire that Carl should see her crying, she went from the room, her manner unintentionally rude as she left him with words half-spoken on his lips.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When she returned with the tray, daintily laid with a white cloth of fine lace and gleaming silver, Carl was still alone in the room. He stood by the window, erect, wide-shouldered, staring out, and Sara's own eyes wandered to where his maize fields sloped right down the valley sides. It was a fascinating landscape, hauntingly mysterious in the soft blue haze cast by the warmth of the sun-drenched atmosphere. At present all was placid, with that serene peace lingering over the bushveld, but clouds were still gathering, great banks of cumulo-nimbus piling up in the east, and gusty winds would soon be driving them towards the valley.

  Turning his head, Carl glanced at the tray with that air of indifference to which Sara had become used. It was as if he said to himself,

  'She's made the tea, so I'd better have a cup, just for the sake of politeness.'

  Aloud he said, 'We're in for a heavy downpour. It'll do good, but at the same time it's going to batter down the more delicate of the garden flowers.'

  'Yes, it's a pity. We haven't many flowers here, but Ray tells me yours is a magnificent show. Is there no form of protection you can give them?'

  'Only to plant hedges, which was done a long while ago. The hedges merely prevent the wind from driving the rain on to the beds, but of course they still receive a great deal, and more often than not it's damaging.'

  Sara put down the tray and straightened up. Was he talking simply in order to avoid an awkward silence?

  It would seem like it, seeing that he was voicing nothing of any great interest. She poured the tea and handed Carl his. He thanked her coolly, then sat down. She turned away, uncomfortable under his impassive stare. What was he thinking? she wondered, bringing to mind what Irma had said about his probably having guessed that she, Sara, was in love with Ray. The idea filled Sara with dismay. She had been so sure that her feelings for her brother-in-law had been effectively hidden, but now she felt she might have been overconfident. If Carl had guessed, then what of Ray himself?

  Shame possessed her; she had the urgent desire to leave here as soon as she could arrange to do so. If only she had not come! She was of course profoundly aware that Irma's letter had had the effect of causing her to act impulsively, for although her decision to come out here had been a reluctant one from one aspect, Sara had been guided more by anxiety for her sister than anything else. Certainly she had not given sufficient thought to the emotional problem that lay before her. She recalled that when she had read Irma's letter begging her to come to Africa, her one all-consuming thought was that of Irma lying there, alone for hours on end, because Ray would be forced to do his work on the farm. Irma would brood, and weep, and in consequence her mental condition would deterioriate.

  'I can't let that happen,' Sara had told her employer who, although most unhappy at the idea of losing her, was infinitely understanding of the situation in which Sara found herself. She had said in that quiet gentle tone of voice,

  'You know where your loyalties lie, my dear. If you feel it's your duty to go over to Africa and nurse your poor unfortunate sister, then do so.'

  Carl spoke at last, breaking into Sara's unhappy thoughts, saying that he had had one or two long talks with Irma lately. His finely-timbred voice was cold and stern… accusing, almost, decided Sara, not without a hint of anger rising within her.

  'Last Monday was one occasion,' continued Carl, 'when you were in Paulsville collecting some fertiliser for Ray. It's my opinion that your sister must be firmly watched. These fits of depression are dangerous.'

  Sara shot a troubled glance at him.

  'I try to bring her out of them,' she quivered. 'She's in one now.'

  He was frowning heavily, but before he had time to speak Ray entered the room. Carl's eyes flickered towards him, then moved to Sara's face. She coloured, averting her head. It was obvious that he was searching for some sign that she and Ray were lovers. Revulsion sweeping over her at this idea, she had an almost irrepressible urge to round on him and tell him to keep his disgusting suspicions to himself! But of course she did no such thing, the absurdity of it striking her at once. She had no notion of the man's thoughts, so she could scarcely put forward accusations that had stemmed from nothing more concrete than her own imagination.

  'I'll leave you to pour your tea,' she said to Ray. 'I feel Irma mustn't be left.' She was angry with him for leaving her sister. She had said she would bring in his tea, but he had not given her time and it was plain that he'd had no intention of remaining very long with his wife.

  'She's going to have a sleep.'

  'She is?' in some surprise. 'She didn't seem at all sleepy when I was with her just now.'

  'She asked for a tablet.'

  'You shouldn't have given her one, Ray. She takes far too many sleeping pills. They're bad enough at night, but in the daytim…' Sara frowned and shook her head. 'How is she to sleep later on if she sleeps now?' She turned her head, aware that Carl's attention was well and truly arrested. She made for the door, having no wish to answer questions he might be feeling inclined to ask. That he had taken a keen interest in her sister was evident, and Sara wondered why she should resent this interest. All she knew was that she would very much like to tell the disagreeable Carl van der Linden to mind his own
business!

  'If you'll excuse me?' she murmured. 'I'll go to her.'

  Ray opened his mouth to protest, saw her expression and changed his mind.

  'Will you tell Mikau to put some milk to settle? Irma wants fruit and cream for her meal this evening.'

  'Fruit and cream?' repeated Sara, her eyes widening. 'Is that all?'

  'For afters. She wants a chicken salad, so we'll have the same.'

  Sara went out, along to Irma's bedroom which had its own flower-bedecked verandah running the full length of the large window. This window had been put in recently at Sara's suggestion, so that Irma could have a wide view as she sat up in bed, propped against the pillows. The flowers—hibiscus, canna lilies and anthuriums, oleanders and roses—had been planted in pots by Sara and were already in flower, while others were in bud. The oleanders, Carl had said, would outgrow the pots very soon, but they were so showy that Sara decided she would keep on planting new ones. Sara had also been planting a mauve bougainvillea vine and this she knew would be a real delight when it eventually established itself and began to produce flowers.

  'Ray says you want to sleep.' Sara stood for a moment after opening the door of her sister's room, noticing Irma's pale face, her quivering mouth, and the listless way one white hand was resting on the counterpane. Sara's heart was as heavy as it was possible to be, and her feet dragged a little as she moved towards the bed. Irma's big blue eyes were glazed, her fair hair untidy on the pillow.

  'I'm better when I'm unconscious. Oblivion—total oblivion—must be wonderful.'

  Sara actually flinched, and a cloud of tears rushed to the backs of her eyes.

  'Don't say such things,' she begged. 'Have you ever considered the improvements being made in medicine all the time? I'm optimistic enough to hope that, one day, you'll actually walk again.'

  Irma drew a breath impatiently.

  'You always did possess the happy knack of looking on the bright side of everything, didn't you?'

  'I hate to admit defeat.'

  Irma looked at her through sleepy eyes.

  'Meaning that if you were in my place you'd be making an effort to walk?' Drowsy though she was, Irma struggled to ease herself up almost to a sitting position. Watching her, Sara strongly suspected that Irma was taking so many sleeping pills that they were not now having the effect they had at first. She had been trying to persuade her to cut down the number, keeping the use of the tablets strictly to the night time. But Irma succumbed whenever she felt depressed, declaring, as she had done a moment ago, that she preferred to be unconscious.