Anne Hampson - Call of The Veld

by Anne Hampson

  'You've just said that Irma needs convincing. How are we to convince her?'

  'There really shouldn't be any need,' he answered shortly. 'The very fact that we're married should be proof enough that we're in love.' So calm and casual! He might have been talking of the weather, or that field of mealies over there, for all the emotion he put into his voice. Sara, bride of three weeks, was of course often allowing her mind to see a different picture, that of herself as a well-loved bride… But there it was; not for her the rapture that had been Irma's. She was fortunate, anyway, Sara had decided. Mistress of this beautiful home, a handsome husband to escort her to the Club dance on a Saturday night. Carl was satisfied with his bargain and so was she. As he had prophesied, it was a most convenient arrangement for Sara and for him, but one part of it seemed to have failed—unless Irma could be convinced that Sara was in love with her husband. Carl was speaking, wanting to know how it had come about that Irma had asked such pointed questions.

  'She just began by saying she was staggered that you and I had got married. She knew, you see, that we didn't like one another very much.'

  Carl nodded thoughtfully.

  'She used to hint now and then that you and I were not as neighbourly as she would have expected.'

  'What are we to do?' asked Sara again, her eyes filled with anxiety. 'She was very low in spirits today.'

  An exasperated sigh escaped her husband.

  'Apart from making love in front of her I can't think!'

  'Making l-love?' Sara's eyes opened very wide indeed, as well they might. 'What———— ?'

  'I meant kissing and cuddling, of course.' He had to laugh at her expression. 'Are you willing to act with a little—er—affection towards me, just for her benefit?'

  'If it's really necessary,' she said after a little frowning silence.

  'If it's so abhorrent to you, then we won't bother!'

  Sara said nothing more about her sister. Carl was obviously not feeling up to a discussion on the matter and so it was prudently dropped by Sara, who abruptly changed the subject, talking about other, more trivial things.

  The following afternoon Carl arrived at Njangola Farm, having ridden over after being with his boys all morning, supervising the felling of several mahogany trees. Sara watched from the window of Irma's bedroom as Carl slid lightly from the gelding's glossy back, secured the reins to a tree and went off towards the dairy where Ray was on a ladder, painting the new guttering that had been fixed beneath the repaired roof. What would Carl say to her brother-in-law? Sara wondered, turning her head as Irma asked what she was looking at that interested her so much.

  'It's Carl; he's talking to Ray.'

  'Carl—your husband.' Irma's voice was so low as to be scarcely audible. 'Tell me, what's it like, living in such a luxurious house as Ravenspark?'

  'I've been living in a luxurious house for some time,' Sara reminded her, but immediately went on to say, 'I love it at Ravenspark. As you know, the gardens are fantastic, and the house itself—well, you've been inside it, so you know how comfortable it all is.'

  'Yes; we went to a party there once, when we first came here… and I was able to dance every dance, and take part in the games, and stroll in the grounds——————'

  'Irma, stop being so bitter I It's not always going to be like this!'

  'No? Tell me, then, how is it ever going to change?'

  Sara found herself spreading her hands helplessly.

  'I don't know, Irma, but I just feel it isn't always going to be like this!'

  'Bet your life it isn't! I'm not intending to live, Sara.'

  Sick at heart, Sara turned away. She watched Carl and Ray walking towards another of the farm buildings —where they would be out of earshot of the boys working by the dairy, Sara supposed.

  'We were talking about Ravenspark.' Irma's voice caused Sara once more to turn her head. 'Tell me about the other rooms. I've seen only two.'

  'There's Carl's study, which he has let me see, but that's all. It's definitely his own private domain. Then there's a small sitting room which we like to use in the evenings. The bedrooms are very attractive, all the decor having been planned by Carl's mother—I did tell you about her gift, didn't I?'

  Irma nodded.

  'Go on,' urged Irma, and Sara was only too willing to oblige, glad that Irma was interested in something for a change. She continued to describe the house which was now her home.

  'The guest rooms are in blue and gold and blue and white, while—while————- ' She checked just in time, her heart giving a little bump. She had almost given away the fact that she and Carl occupied separate rooms!

  'While what?' demanded Irma, frowning in puzzlement at this pause.

  'While ours is in a lovely shade of peach—the curtains and the bed-cover are peach, and so are two of the walls.' Sara went on to expand on the rest of the decorations, and to describe the furniture. When she had finished she heard Irma say, 'That sounds awful for a man's room. It's too dainty for a man like Carl.'

  Sara said nothing. She had brought two books from Carl's library and she had already read one short story to Irma, but now she asked if she would like her to read another. She would far rather have seen Irma reading the stories for herself, but although she did quite a lot of reading when Sara was not there, she seemed always to want Sara to sit on the bottom of the bed and read aloud to her.

  'No, I want to go to sleep. Give me a couple of tablets, will you?'

  Sara frowned darkly.

  'You don't want to sleep at this time of the day, Irma. Let me read to you.'

  'I want to sleep.'

  'I ought not to give them to you,' began Sara, when Irma almost snapped, 'For heaven's sake, Sara, do as I ask! I know what I want better than you do!'

  With a sigh of resignation Sara went off to get the tablets, which she took back to the bedroom, along with a glass of water. A few minutes later she stood by the bed, her eyes filled with tears, and watched her sister's eyes begin to close.

  Carl had left when she went out to the dairy to speak to Ray, telling him about the tablets she had been forced to give Irma.

  Ray shrugged, much to her astonishment.

  'I don't argue any more,' he admitted dispiritedly. 'If she wants to sleep her whole life away then who are you and I to try to stop her?'

  'Ray, how can you be so unconcerned? Are you sitting with her in the evenings, after you've done your work?'

  'Sara, please don't you start. Carl's just been on to me——— ' He broke off, his voice quivering, his eyes actually moist as tears came close. 'I've been so damned blind, Sara! I've made a terrible mess of my life.' He looked down at her in a way that made her catch her breath between her teeth in a little sound of protest, and she involuntarily brought a trembling hand to her mouth. 'Don't say it,' she whispered, but already he was speaking and as she heard his broken accents her heart cried out for him. 'It's you I love—-God help me! I couldn't see it until she told me that you were in love with me, that you'd fallen in love with me that first night———————-'

  He turned away and Sara's heart twisted in anguish as she saw his shoulders shake and knew that he was crying. How she kept from comforting him she would never know; it was sheer agony not to go to him, and to cradle his head on her breast. Instead, she said persuasively that he had better go into the house, as some of his boys were coming across from the hut where they had been having their afternoon drinks and sandwiches. He nodded, and a few moments later she and he were sitting on the stoep, facing one another across the rattan table.

  'I'm surprised that Irma spoke like that to you,' she said, speaking into the oppressive silence. It was a strange thing, but she felt so calm about Ray's knowing that she loved him. And all at once she knew why: she was married, and therefore safe from any temptation.

  'She thinks you married Carl as a cover-up, so that you and I could have an affair without anyone suspecting it.'

  'She——— !' Horror-stricken th
at Irma could even imagine anything so infamous as that sort of conduct, Sara was speechless for a full half minute. 'Oh, what's got into her, Ray? It—it sickens me!'

  'And me, but I have to agree with her when she says you didn't marry Carl for love. It fairly staggered me, as you know, when you came back from that holiday engaged to a man you'd never even liked.' Ray was wiping a hand across his eyes, looking a little shamefaced because he had allowed his grief to escape all control. Grief? Yes, and regret that he had not realised that it was Sara he loved…

  'I'd rather not talk any more about it, Ray.' Sara's voice was sharper than she meant it to be, but in some vague, inexplicable way she resented Ray's stating so confidently that she did not love her husband. 'The thing we do have to talk about is what's to be done for Irma. She's taking too many tablets for one thing, and for another she must be given something to make her life worth while——————'

  'And what can you suggest?' almost sarcastically from Ray. 'I suggested she learn to paint and while you were away I contacted a lady willing to come here and give her some tuition. Irma flatly refused even to have a chat with the woman.'

  'She's madly in love with you, Ray, and I firmly believe that you could help her a great deal if you wished. I asked if you spent your evenings with her. Do you, Ray? Do you play the games I bought?'

  He shook his head.

  'I don't love her, Sara————- '

  'You do!' she cried. 'You do love her! Why, you've only been married for seven months, so you must love her…' Sara let her voice fade as Ray shook his head.

  'I thought I loved her, but I know now it was nothing stronger than infatuation, and had we not rushed the wedding there wouldn't have been a wedding at all, simply because I'd have discovered my feelings and broken off the engagement. I've known ever since you arrived here that I was thinking about you a lot more than I thought about her—in fact your face was with me all the time I was out there, in those fields, working. Yet it never dawned on me that it was you I loved, not until Irma told me you loved———-'

  'Stop!' Sara put her hands to her ears. 'Stop, I say! You love Irma—I know you do!'

  'Sara, you're very sweet, and good and kind. I was bound to fall in love with you even if I was in love with

  Irma in the beginning. Besides, what future is there for me, tied to a girl like that?'

  Sara's eyes blazed at the callousness of his words. He was thinking about himself alone, and caring nothing for the plight of his wife.

  'You're talking about my sister! Don't you dare refer to her as "a girl like that"!'

  'I'm sorry. I scarcely know what I'm saying. Forgive me, Sara, and please promise you'll never stop loving me.'

  She closed her eyes tightly. Why had Irma imparted that information to him? She must have been distraught, for otherwise she would never have disclosed her knowledge.

  'You're Irma's husband,' she reminded him when at last she could trust herself to speak. 'You owe her your whole life, because of the vows you made in church. You took her for better or—————'

  'Oh, for goodness' sake! I've been expecting you to say that! Do you realise, Sara, that I'm not yet thirty? Am I to be expected to spend the rest of my life listening to the self-pitying complaints of my wife?'

  A terrible silence ensued. Sara, her illusions shattered, looked at Ray through her tears. Good-looking he might be—the kind of man she had always hoped she would marry… but what was beneath the exterior? Where was the loyalty, the duty, the love which was his wife's by right? She turned away and, without another word, went into the house and along to Irma's room. Her sister lay very still, her pale face against the pillow drawn and faintly lined around the mouth. There were traces of dampness on her beautiful lashes, evidence that she had wept a little before going to sleep. Sara's mouth trembled and again she turned away, this time to go home, to her husband.

  He was out; she had not really expected him to be in, because a good deal of felling was being done at present, especially in the far plantation. Should she go to him? He would think it strange, seeing that she had no real reason for seeking him out. In any case, why did she want to go to him? Sara found no answer; all she knew was that she wished that Carl were here… to comfort her.

  After strolling about the garden for a while she decided to take the small car and go into town. It was not that she wanted anything, but she was at a loose end, having come from Njangola sooner than she had expected to do. It was the first time she had been so desperate to get away, and her gratitude towards Carl overwhelmed her, because he had made it possible for her to get away; he had provided her with a home, a precious haven to which she could fly and where she would find that peace and tranquillity for which her heart had craved since the day she had set foot on African soil.

  The journey to Paulsville helped to soothe her nerves, this plus the quiet half hour spent in the gardens of her home; and to make things even better she met Bernard immediately she parked the car. He had driven into town to bring some produce which the general store had ordered from his brother-in-law. As usual his greeting was gay and light; and then he asked about Irma, and it seemed then that his voice and manner changed and he was no longer gay, but oddly weighted down with something akin to anguish. Sara, puzzled, but reluctant to inquire about his change, told him frankly that she had come away earlier than she had intended.

  'Irma was asleep,' she added, 'so there was nothing for me to stay for. Ray will see to her when she wakes.'

  'Will he?'

  'Of course,' answered Sara, surprised at the question.

  'Are you going to the shops?' he inquired, abruptly changing the subject.

  'I suppose so, although I've nothing to buy.'

  'I've done my delivering and I was just going home, but if you don't mind I'd like to come along with you. I can carry your parcels,' he suggested, appearing to brighten up again.

  'I don't expect I shall have any parcels, but come along by all means. As a matter of fact, Bernard, I feel the need for company, so meeting you was like the answer to a prayer.'

  'The brand new bride wanting company?' Bernard raised his brows interrogatingly. 'Had your first tiff, or something?'

  She managed a forced laugh.

  'No, nothing like that, Bernard. Carl and I never quarrel.'

  'You've not had much time, have you?' he countered with a grimace. 'By Jove, Sara, you were a couple of dark horses! What did Carl's mother have to say about it?'

  'She was pleased, although she was very surprised, naturally.' She had been more than surprised; she had been exceedingly puzzled, and with her astuteness it was to be assumed that she knew there was a great deal she had not been told. But she accepted it all with her usual calm composure and without asking the questions that must inevitably have arisen in her mind.

  Sara and Bernard had reached a bookshop and they automatically stopped.

  'I never can pass a bookshop,' admitted Sara, but went on immediately to say that her husband's wonderful library was now at her disposal and she was looking forward to the time when she would be able to read some of the books.

  'As it is, you're too busy looking after Irma,' said Bernard.

  'Yes; but I don't mind ..Sara's voice trailed to silence as she recalled her eagerness to get away from the farm a couple of hours ago.

  'It must be time-consuming for you.' Again he seemed to be affected by some inner distress. Sara ventured to ask him if anything was wrong. 'Not really.' His answer, brief and rather more curt than she would have expected, prevented Sara from saying what she had intended saying, which was that he seemed upset about something. Instead, she. glanced in the window and casually remarked on the Christmas decorations which the proprietor had begun to put up.

  'Three weeks,' she added. 'I never thought I'd be in my own home by Christmas this year!'

  'Is it a nice, pleasant feeling to be the lady in charge of a mansion like Ravenspark?'

  'It's wonderful, Ray!'

  '
And wonderful to be in love.' He frowned, then said, 'Are you wanting anything from here?'

  'No, I don't think so.' Sara had already got her sister's present; it was an antique gold bracelet which Sara had bought a couple of years ago and which Irma had always admired. It would be far more acceptable than anything she could buy in Paulsville, Sara thought, for now that Irma was bedridden the selection of presents for her was greatly limited. As for a present for Carl— well, Sara felt that, their relationship being what it was, anything too intimate, or too expensive, would be out of place, and therefore she had ordered a book which lie had mentioned buying for himself 'some time'.

  'Then let's go to the Club tea-room and have tea and cakes.'

  'All right.'

  They sat on the verandah, at a teak table set in the shade. Bernard seemed tense and once again Sara asked him if anything was wrong.

  'I've been visiting your sister,' he returned.

  'Yes?' Sara's eyes flickered as she waited for what was to come next.

  'She's dreadfully unhappy!'

  'Yes, that's natural.' Sara looked at him across the table, noting the tightness of his lips, which was so unlike him, since he was almost always smiling or laughing. 'She's taking a long time to accept that she's the way she is. I'm hoping that eventually she will realise there's nothing to be gained by being so unhappy and then she might take up a hobby. Ray wants her to paint————— '

  'So she told me! He just wants her to occupy herself so that he won't have to spend any time entertaining her!' His voice had risen so high that some people at the far end of the verandah glanced his way. 'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'I ought not to have become so heated.'

  An incredulous silence followed as Sara, her eyes wide and disbelieving, stared at Bernard's flushed face.

  'It's not true,' she murmured, 'it can't be!'

  'It is true!' he flashed, losing his apologetic air as his voice lifted again. 'I'm in love with her!'

  'Oh… God…' What a muddle! Poor Bernard! He was so charming, so honest and good-humoured, so carefree up till now, working and saving for his own little farm. And now he was in the depths of despair, in love with another man's wife… but a wife who was an invalid, who could never have been a helpmate to him anyway.