Anne Hampson - Call of The Veld

by Anne Hampson

  'Mr van der Linden,' she said earnestly, 'I happen to know without any doubt at all that your opinion of me is low. Don't ask me how I know, because I can't tell you. It's enough to say that I've had proof '

  'Proof?' he snapped. 'When?'

  'Today.' Sara felt she was gradually getting herself into a trap of her own making. 'But I've no intention of going into details, so please let the matter drop.' Her voice had fallen into a pleading note. She fervently wished she could take back the words that had led to this situation.

  'You ask me to allow a thing like this to drop?' Carl looked at her with incredulity not unmingled with arrogance. 'No, my girl! You'll explain yourself—and at once!'

  Sara went hot at the thought of having to confess that she had listened, and for a moment she contemplated defying him. But a covert glance at his stern implacable countenance convinced her that he was determined to have an explanation from her and— as he had said—at once. She swallowed, aware that his eyes were dark with anger but bewildered also. Obviously he had no idea at all what form her explanation was going to take. She heaved a sigh of resignation, becoming hotter still as she told him, in a quiet, self- deprecating tone, that she had overheard him telling his mother that Irma had had a raw deal from her sister.

  'So you's-see,' she added, avoiding his dark scrutiny, 'I have had the proof I mentioned.'

  Silence, deep and profound. A breeze came in from the sea, fanning Sara's burning cheeks and tousling her hair. The silence continued and her nerves began to stretch. She lifted her head and looked into eyes so hard and stern that she instantly glanced away again. She began to fumble with a handful of golden sand, letting it trickle through her fingers. At last he spoke, and to her great astonishment his voice was kinder and more human than she had ever heard it before.

  'I must congratulate you, Sara, on your superb control. Any other woman would have had to come out with it and tell me what she thought about me. You, though, kept it to yourself. For my mother's sake, I assume?'

  Sara nodded, her eyes wide and questioning.

  'Aren't you contemptuous, because I listened?'

  The amber eyes held the trace of a smile in their depths.

  'I'm glad you did, in a way. It means that some plain speaking can now be done. However, the first thing is to inform you, little Miss Clever, that if you must listen, then make sure you put the correct interpretation on what you hear. It's obvious that you missed a word or two of what I was saying. And those words altered the sense. You've just said that you heard me say that in my opinion Irma's getting a raw deal from you.'

  'Yes, that's exactly what you did say,' returned Sara defensively, but Carl was shaking his head even before she had finished speaking.

  'What I said was: "In the beginning it was my opinion that Irma was getting a raw deal from her sister," and after that I added that it was now my opinion that Irma was fortunate in having you to take care of her.'

  Sara could only stare, going over in her mind what Carl had just said.

  'I—I didn't hear aright, did I?' she faltered at last.

  'No, my dear, you didn't.'

  'I'm sorry—er—I ought not to have been so hasty in coming to a conclusion.'

  'No,' he agreed, 'you ought not.'

  Sara swallowed saliva collecting on her tongue; she looked at him across the small expanse of sand that separated them. She might not have heard aright before, but she had certainly heard aright now… when he had said, 'my dear'. She had also heard aright when he told her that his opinion of her was exceedingly high… He had spoken the truth, too, but she had all but called him a liar.

  'I don't know what to say. I feel rather foolish,' she was forced to admit.

  He opened his mouth and she waited for the caustic rejoinder which obviously hovered on his lips. To her surprise he smiled instead of voicing the words, and when presently he did speak it was to say, in that quiet, kindly voice he had so recently used to her,

  'Shall we forget it, Sara?' The expression in his eyes matched the tone of his voice as he added, 'Embarrassing moments are best forgotten, aren't they?'

  Sara nodded, wondering if he were subtly referring to that other embarrassing time she had had with him. Perhaps, but it was obvious that he was not going to mention it specifically. He was waiting for her answer, that kindly expression still lingering in his eyes. She nodded again, and a smile fluttered to her lips.

  'Yes, indeed, Mr van der Linden, embarrassing moments are best forgotten.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Carl was dressed and waiting by the car as Sara came from the changing hut. She saw his appreciative eyes take in her appearance in one sweeping glance and was glad she had chosen the white cotton dress with the wide blue belt of plaited moire ribbon, since it suited her to perfection even before she had acquired the lovely suntan which now contrasted so strikingly with it. She was happy and it showed; she had vague glimpses of another life—of treacherous burdens and mental discomforts, a life peopled by Ray and Irma and Sadie and Makau, but this was the life she was living now, this ever-precious moment. And she still had more precious moments, days, even, before the return to reality.

  Carl saw her into the car, closed the door on her and went round to the other side. She watched with interest as he tucked his long frame into the driver's seat and thumbed the starter. Relaxed, she pressed luxuriously against the upholstery and gave a contented little sigh.

  'You sound like puss when she's been stroked,' said Carl, and she gasped at the unexpectedness of words like those. But after the shock had worn off she entered into his mood, saying, with a hint of tartness in her voice,

  'First I'm a scarecrow, and then I'm a cat! I wonder what I shall be next!'

  He laughed and something tingled pleasantly beneath her skin.

  'You're improving; what more do you want? With luck—and time—you might become something quite attractive.'

  She just had to say—because, womanlike, she was fishing,

  'I wish I understood you, Mr van der Linden.'

  'You do?' He slanted her a glance, then returned his attention to the road again. They were traversing an avenue of blue gum trees whose foliage met overhead so that the sunlight was obscured and the whole scene became dramatic, with blue-black shadows forming great pools which seemed to close in on Sara as she sat there, mystified by the incredible change in Carl's attitude towards her. 'Perhaps,' he said after a small silence, 'you will soon understand me, Sara. I did say, you'll remember, that some plain speaking can now be done. You and I shall have a talk later, after dinner, maybe, when Mother's retired with her book and her thimbleful of brandy which she chooses to call her nightcap. Meanwhile,' continued Carl as they emerged into the sunlight again, 'I do feel that Mother's right in saying you ought to drop the formalities and use my given name.'

  'It's so… difficult————— ' She shook her head. 'No, I can't call you Carl…' Sara's voice drifted off to silence as she saw the twitching of Carl's lips. 'You and I haven't yet—what I mean is, we've always been so aloof up till now. We can't suddenly become intimate————-'

  'My dear girl,' broke in Carl, seriously enough but with an undertone of amusement which could not possibly be missed, 'I have no intention of becoming intimate with you.'

  She coloured enchantingly. Carl shot her a swift sideways glance and laughed.

  'It isn't funny, Mr————- ' She stopped abruptly, realising just how amusing the whole thing was. 'Yes, it is funny, when you come to think of it.'

  'I'm glad you agree, and I hope you'll agree that as I found no difficulty in using your name you ought not to have difficulty in using mine.'

  'It's different for a man.'

  'Rubbish! I shall stop the car in a moment if you continue to be so stubborn.'

  'I can't see what good that will do,' she retorted.

  'I shan't continue our journey until you've done as you're told.' Firm decisive tones which she would have resented not so long ago, but not now. T
he car slid to a standstill unexpectedly at the side of the road; Carl switched off the engine and turned towards her. 'You've managed to use my name once,' he reminded her, 'and very easily it slipped out. Now, let's have no more nonsense. I'm waiting,' he added when she failed to obey him at once.

  'Is it so important?' she could not help asking, faintly puzzled by his insistence.

  A small silence followed, the kind of silence which could only add to her puzzlement.

  'Yes, it is important,' he answered, and there was the most odd inflection in his tone. 'Don't ask any more questions, Sara,' he went on swiftly as she opened her mouth to speak. 'I've said we shall talk later. When we do you'll have all your questions answered automatically.'

  'But, Carl, I————- ' She stopped; they looked at one another and burst out laughing.

  'And now,' decided Carl as he pressed the starter, 'we can continue with our journey.'

  Sara was glad she had decided to bring the wild silk evening dress. It was originally Irma's and had, as Irma said with a wry grimace, cost a small fortune. But she had never even worn it, deciding it did not suit her after all. Sara loved it and had immediately offered to buy it, which she did, but for half the price which her sister had paid for it, Irma's having insisted on this even though Sara would have been quite willing to pay the cost price in full.

  She had bathed and was now holding the dress against her; she was filled with a sort of nervous excitement, as if something of vital importance was going to be conveyed to her this evening when that 'plain speaking' took place between Carl and herself. She had quite naturally pondered the matter, but then had dismissed it as being far too troublesome; in any case, the answers would come to her soon enough—this evening after dinner and when Carl's mother had gone to bed.

  She stepped into the dress and zipped it up, her lovely blue-grey eyes shining, reflecting the pleasure she felt at wearing the dress. Of a soft creamy colour, it was fashioned in a faintly Oriental style, with sheath-like lines fitting Sara's slender frame as if it had been made especially for her, and to her measurements. The high mandarin collar was deceptively modest, for the back of the dress was open to the waist and the skirt slashed almost to the thigh. Full sleeves, gathered tightly into a wristband, added to the impression of modesty, while the bodice, fitting with such perfection, accentuated the exquisite curves of firm and youthful breasts.

  A brisk brushing of her golden hair gave it a delightful gloss; a little colour on her cheeks and lips, a spot of purple eye-shadow and the result was perfection. Sara faced the long, gilt-framed mirror and breathed a sigh of sheer pleasure. The excitement was still very much with her, filling her whole being, vanquishing clear and logical thought. She recalled that uplifting sensation which followed upon her agreeing to pay this visit to Carl's mother. She had felt that a whole new vista was opening out before her and she was feeling exactly the same way now. Vaguely she knew that if she had tried to recapture a picture of her life at Njangola Farm she would not have been able to do so. It had become too remote, too much a thing of the past, of a world which she had left behind. This house was different; it was restful, it had an atmosphere clinging to it that spelled happiness, contentment, a total absence of strife or heartache.

  She felt incredibly shy as she was about to enter the lounge where she would join Carl and his mother for pre-dinner drinks, and she actually paused, her hand resting on the gleaming brass knob of the door. Then suddenly it swung inwards, away from her, and, startled, she stared up into the impassive face of the man who had been occupying her thoughts for the past hour, while she had been dressing for dinner. She saw his expression change as his eyes roved over her from the top of her head to the perfectly-shaped toe-nails peeping from between the straps of her beige kid sandals. A tense moment followed, with neither inclined to break the silence. Sara's mouth quivered a little; her long dark lashes swept down as her shyness increased, and adorable shadows were cast upon her cheeks. When she glanced up again it was to see the unmistakable gleam of admiration in his eyes. And then, absurdly, she was thinking of scarecrows and cats and in consequence a smile of sheer amusement parted her lips. She found her shyness slipping away, but she did blush a little when, after Carl had questioned her as to the reason why she was so amused, she was forced to say,

  'It was the idea of the scarecrow, and the cat… it seemed so funny…'

  The fine lips twitched; the amber eyes actually laughed.

  'You obviously know that in this superb dress you deserve a much more flattering description.' Despite his obvious humour his tone was dry and carried a hint of mock disparagement. 'You're a surprising girl; I hadn't connected you with vanity———'

  'Oh, no, I'm not in the least vain!'

  "All women deny it———— ' His hand lifted imperiously to stem another protest. 'However, I shall pander to your vanity, as I always pander to my mother's. You look charming, Sara.'

  'Carl, when you have quite finished bestowing your doubtful compliments on my little friend perhaps you will allow her to come past you. I want to see this superb dress with which you appear to be so impressed!' The voice of Mrs van der Linden was quiet, musical, but commanding for all that. Laughing, Carl stepped aside for Sara to enter the room. Her shyness had returned and she stood for a moment, not quite knowing where to sit. 'You look absolutely ravishing!'

  'Thank you, Mrs van der Linden…' Sara moved automatically towards the chair which Carl was indicating. 'I must admit I love this dress. It was my sister's, but she found she didn't like it, so she sold it to me.'

  'And you've considered it to be one of your best ever buys, eh?' said Carl's mother with a smile. Her glance had moved from Sara to Carl, and she seemed to fall into a considering mood. Then her lashes were lowered, as if she desired to hide her expression from the two other occupants of the room. Carl was at the cabinet, pouring Sara a dry sherry; he brought it to her, standing over her for a second before handing it to her. She thanked him, aware of delicious tinglings which she refused to analyse. But she did admit to herself that Carl was responsible for the way she felt. Her eyes followed him as he walked back to the cabinet, to pour his mother's second drink. He was wearing a white linen suit which had a soft, almost draped line, very casual, but elegant for all that. What an impressive figure he made! No wonder his mother had spoken of him with such pride.

  The dinner was, as usual, a most pleasant meal—far different from the meals at Njangola, which, for Sara at least, seemed invariably to be eaten in a hurry, because of the need for serving Irma with the various courses. Ray had grumbled because Sara was always getting up, but his protests had been ignored, since Sara felt that it would not be very pleasant for Irma if she had to wait too long between each course.

  Soon after the meal was over Mrs van der Linden bade Sara and Carl good night and went to bed. It was not unusual for her to retire early, and Sara was actually glad to see her go, so troublesome had become her curiosity about what Carl was intending to say to her. They were on the verandah outside the dining-room, and the soft lights were throwing a flattering glow on to Sara as she sat there opposite to Carl, who was languidly relaxed in his chair, his eyes fixed upon her face.

  'I can see that your patience has been stretched a good deal since this afternoon,' he commented. 'Well, I shan't keep you in suspense any longer, Sara. I did warn you that some plain speaking would be done. I hope you're prepared for it?'

  'Yes,' she nodded, 'I am.'

  'Good. Then I shall begin by saying that I know how you feel about Ray.' He stopped, and the only sound intruding into the silence was that of the trilling cicadas in the tamarind trees close by. Sara, glancing at Carl, felt relieved that his plain speaking had begun in this way. She could now let him have her side of the story. She spoke, saying that she had known that he was aware of her love for Ray, then went on to ask how he had learned of her secret.

  Irma had told him, he said briefly. Sara did not want to know any more. It was very plain that dur
ing those long visits, when Carl and Irma had talked, that Irma had said things to blacken Sara's character. This explained in some measure the dislike and the contempt which Carl had shown towards Sara; it also explained why Irma would never tell Sara what she and Carl had been talking about. It was, however, inevitable that in spite of what he was hearing from Irma, Carl would eventually judge Sara for himself, and this he had done, with the result that he had readily admitted that his opinion of Sara was now high. She spoke again, in a calm unembarrassed way as she said, 'I've felt, Carl, that you condemned me out of hand at first, and promised myself that, should you ever come right out and say what you have said, I would let you hear my side of it.'

  He nodded, his face inscrutable.

  'I'm ready to listen,' he said quietly.

  Sara talked, explaining exactly what had happened. She kept her eyes on his face, interestedly watching for any change of expression. All she saw was a faint hint of grimness touching his otherwise mask-like countenance. When she had finished he was frowning rather heavily and for a long moment he remained silent, deep in thought.

  'You were right in that you believed I felt contempt for you,' he agreed at last, but went on to say that, of late, he had changed his opinion, fully realising—as he got to know Sara better and listened to odd things she had said about her sister in the course of conversation —that Irma had been very fortunate in having Sara to care for her. 'I admit, though, that I believed you had come here mainly in order to be near to Ray. You've now made it clear that this was not so.' He paused, and she saw deep regret in his eyes even before he said, 'I'm sorry I misjudged you, Sara. I hope you won't hold it against me, because I have something very important to say to you, something I hope you'll think about carefully before making a decision.'

  Her eyes flew to his; she had suddenly begun to tremble, and although her heart was fluttering and her nerves were agitated in sympathy, she knew it was not fear which caused these disturbances, as it had been a few moments ago.