Anne Hampson - Call of The Veld

by Anne Hampson

  'You didn't take him from me. I loved him, yes, but he was never mine, so you couldn't have taken him from me.'

  'He loved you later, though. I've seen it, although he's tried to hide it from me, I'll give him that.' Irma frowned as if the subject of her husband was one she no longer wished to pursue. 'You say you didn't love Carl when you married him,' she said, glancing at Sara as she moved the tray without even trying to persuade her to eat something. 'Did he love you?—but he must have done or he wouldn't have asked you to marry him, would he?'

  Sara put the tray on a small table and turned.

  'We made a bargain, Irma. Neither of us loved the other. I'm not willing to enlighten you as to Carl's side of our bargain.' She was pale now that her angry colour had faded, and she desired nothing more than to get away. She wanted to go home, to the peaceful, uncomplicated atmosphere of Ravenspark. 'Is there anything else I can get you?' offered Sara, flicking a hand automatically to the untouched food on the tray. 'Surely you want a drink?'

  Irma nodded, saying she would have a cup of coffee. She watched Sara pour it out, then took it from her. It was a few moments before she began to speak again.

  'Bernard and I are intending to live together…" A rather wry note entered Irma's voice as she went on, 'No one can accuse us of immorality, can they? It wouldn't matter if they could—in fact, I only wish they could!—but it wouldn't make any difference; we'd still go off and live together.' Irma's eyes were dreamy. Sara had seen her like this before—when she was engaged to Ray.

  'Go off?' repeated Sara automatically, shaking her head. The complications seemed enormous, yet at the same time Sara was recalling how, before her accident, Irma had been more than ordinarily capable of conducting her life, and it now appeared that she could do it again.

  'We're leaving Africa,' Irma said quietly. 'We're going to England. Bernard's got relatives there who are farmers. He's intending to buy a smallholding and progress gradually until he owns a fair-sized farm.'

  Sara, still a little dazed by it all, shook her head again in a little incredulous gesture.

  'You seem to have everything all worked out,' she observed.

  'To perfection. And I don't intend to be a complete drag on Bernard. I'm going to have one of those chairs, and learn to use it. And one day I hope to drive myself about, to do the shopping and other jobs. Lots of people like me have learned to live again, and I shall do the same.' Courage mingled with the happiness in Irma's eyes. Sara's own heart felt lighter than for many months.

  'I still believe you'll walk again,' declared Sara with complete confidence.

  'Funny—so do I. As you've said so many times, Sara, all kinds of miracles are being performed these days in the field of medicine.'

  'It seems impossible that this change in you has come about. Oh, Irma love, I'm so happy for you!' Gone was the last vestige of anger and resentment against her sister. Gone was the hopelessness and despair, gone the terrible fear that Irma would one day take her own life. 'I can tell you now, Irma, that Bernard has already told me he loves you.' Irma made no comment and Sara added, 'Does Ray know yet—about your plans, I mean?'

  'I told him when he came in last night. Bernard advised me to, because we're not intending to delay. As soon as Christmas is over we shall be gone. Bernard's relatives will put us up, he says. He's writing to them immediately, telling them everything and asking them to begin looking out for something suitable in the way of a smallholding. As you know, I still have my house over there—the one Uncle left me. I wouldn't sell until I got my price, and am I glad I didn't! Ray would have got it all to put in this place! As it is, I shall sell for what I can get, and the money, put along with Bernard's, should buy us a nice little place somewhere in Wiltshire, where Bernard's relatives live.' Irma took a drink of her coffee, her lovely eyes still dreamy as she looked into the future.

  'It all seems so simple!' Sara could not help exclaiming. 'When you first told me of your love for Bernard the problems seemed so colossal as to be insurmountable. But after hearing your plans the whole thing seems to be simplicity itself.'

  'It is, Sara. When love is the spur it's amazing what can be done.'

  Love… It did appear that once again it was to be Sara's lot to love and herself be unloved. Well, as she had said to herself the other night, there was hope, and it might one day work out that she was no longer an unloved wife. For the present, it was Irma whose happiness was paramount in Sara's thoughts. This was nothing short of a miracle, and it was rather a chastening thought that Bernard had done in a few short weeks what Sara had been desperately trying to do for months—make Irma have the will to live again.

  Sara stood for a moment looking at her sister, seeing as so many times before the flawless beauty of her features, the big blue eyes fringed by long curling lashes, the mouth which of late had been so thin and petulant but which was now rosy and full and very kissable.

  At last Sara spoke, asking about Ray's reaction to Irma's plans for her future.

  'He was relieved, naturally.' A pause, rather strained and uncertain. 'Sara,' said Irma at last, 'he'll ask you——— ' She stopped, more unsure of the choice of words than before. 'To be blunt,' she said with sudden decision, 'he thinks he's only to ask you, and you'll leave Carl and run right into his arms.'

  'Oh… !' Sara coloured, partly with embarrassment, partly with anger. 'Well,' she managed presently, 'he's in for a shock!'

  'So it seems. He's not worthy of a girl like you, Sara.' A small hesitation and then, 'Are you sure that Carl doesn't love you?'

  She nodded, her mouth trembling.

  'Yes, Irma, I am sure.'

  'He'll love you one day; it just couldn't be otherwise.'

  'Perhaps,' murmured Sara, and for one fleeting moment her own eyes took on a dreamy look. 'I hope so,' she added, then changed the subject, telling—Irma that whatever she wanted doing then she would be available to do it for her.

  'There'll be the packing, but little else. Bernard's the dependable kind; he'll see to everything regarding the travel arrangements.' Irma drained her coffee cup and passed it to Sara, whose hand was already outstretched.

  'Sara ..

  'Yes?'

  'I've been rotten with you at times, and yet you've never retaliated. Your patience amazes me, and although it's seemed that I've been ungrateful, that I haven't even noticed all the care you've given me—I have, Sara, and I thank you.' The last three words came slowly, in a low voice which was sincere. Sara smiled a happy smile and said, 'You've no need to thank me, Irma. I know you'd have done the same for me, had our positions been reversed.'

  A slight pause followed this confident statement before Irma said,

  'I'd like to think so .but I'm not made of the same stuff as you. You threw up a job you loved, a well-paid job, to come out here and work for nothing. Yes, I'd like to think that I'd have done the same for you, but I don't really know if I could have resigned myself—as you did— to sacrificing the whole of my life for another person.'

  Sara made no comment on this; it was unimportant anyway.

  'I'll get you the water and towel,' she said, and picked up the tray. Five minutes later Irma was washing herself, a task which, apart from her hands and face, she had always left to Sara. When she had finished the bowl was taken away and Sara set about making the bed. At last Irma, looking very lovely as she sat there against the pillows, the pretty blue of her bed jacket matching the colour of her eyes, settled down with a book and Sara went back to the kitchen. Sadie was surrounded by jars and bottles—they were on the table, the shelves above the cupboard, and even on the chairs. All this for one man I But Sara rather thought that Ray would sell up and leave Africa. She hoped he would, and because she felt sorry for him she found herself hoping that, one day, he would find happiness.

  'I'm just going out for some fruit.' Sadie's pleasant voice broke into Sara's thoughts and she smiled at the girl. 'I'm bottling some of the fruit, so we can make pies with it later on.'

  Off s
he went, a basket over her arm. Sara began washing the pretty nylon nightie which Irma had taken off, but less than a minute elapsed before she wheeled swiftly, conscious of footsteps which she had recognised at once.

  'Ray, aren't you working in the fields?' She was trembling slightly, and apprehensive too. He was staring at her with an expression of eagerness and this was reflected in his voice as he said, 'I want to talk to you, Sara. You know what it's about, because Irma's been telling you everything. She said she would. Come out into the copse over there————- '

  He stopped as Sara shook her head.

  'There's nothing for us to talk about, Ray,' she told him quietly.

  'There is, Sara! We love each other! Oh, I know you're married, but we'll get over that—————— ' His words were cut again, this time by the reappearance of Sadie. She had obviously not got the fruit she went out for. 'Come outside,' he begged. 'We can't talk here.'

  'I don't want to talk to you,' Sara began, then paused; it struck her that they would have to talk—at least she would, to tell him that she no longer loved him. 'All right,' she agreed, drying her hands on a towel. 'We'll go over to the copse.'

  As soon as they entered the privacy of the shadows she told him that her feelings had changed, and that she was now in love with her husband. Ray stared, aghast, and it was plain that the blow had struck hard. His hands moved spasmodically, clenching and unclenching as if releasing some unbearable inner torture.

  'I don't believe you,' he said hoarsely at last. 'It isn't true I You love me, we both know it. You haven't to think of Irma now, because she's got her future all nicely settled I And as for your marriage—we can easily get over that problem——————-'

  'Ray,' broke in Sara gently, 'please don't say any more. I love my husband, very dearly. What I felt for you was trivial in comparison, believe me.' Much as she despised him she had to pity him too. He was shattered, his features pale and twisted; it was clear that he had believed that he had only to call and she would come. 'I do love Carl,' she added quickly. 'I can see you don't believe me '

  'No, I don't believe you! It's me you love, but you're troubled now because you're married! If this had happened before your marriage you wouldn't have hesitated! But what does it matter? We can forget the marriage—live together, or you can get a divorce!' He was incoherent, mad with disappointment. 'I said you hadn't married Carl for love and I meant it! Irma saw it too!'

  Sara gave an exasperated sigh. She had no wish to prolong such a fruitless conversation. Ray was acting like a lunatic, and as she looked up into his twisted face she wondered why she had never realised just how weak and despicable a specimen of manhood he was.

  'I must go,' she said, moving away a little.

  'No! You shan't go until we've come to some agreement. You're being stubborn, Sara. As I've said, you didn't marry Carl for love. I'll never believe you love him!'

  Sara's patience was fast becoming exhausted. Ray, it seemed, was determined not to be convinced.

  'I really don't care whether you believe me or not,' she told him curtly. 'You yourself agreed that what Irma said about my marriage as a cover-up sickened you as much as it sickened me, and yet—unless I'm very mistaken—you'd have entered into an affair with me ' Sara got no further. Taken completely by surprise, she did not even struggle when Ray, catching her slender body in his arms, kissed her passionately on the mouth. She was just gathering her scattered wits together and would have sent him staggering backwards, when suddenly she felt a vicious tug at her hair and cried out in sheer agony as she was literally dragged from the copse and jerked, savagely, against her husband's hard sinewed frame.

  'Oh—Carl,' she gasped, 'don't————- !'

  'You little slut!' he snarled, towering above her, his eyes blazing with fury. 'Get into the car! Get into it, I say!'

  'Carl,' protested Ray, 'leave her alone!'

  'I'll deal with you later————- '

  'If you'll listen a minute————— ' began Sara, then stopped, for Carl had her by the shoulders, propelling her unceremoniously towards the car which was standing in front of the homestead. The door was flung open and Sara bundled inside. Then the door was slammed so violently that the whole body of the car shuddered. Sara righted herself, sitting down in the back of the car where her husband had flung her. She put a shaking hand to her heart, because it was thudding so violently that she was actually frightened. Never had she seen fury such as this, never would she have believed that the man whose demeanour had always been one of cool unruffled self-possession could have acted with such violence, revealing a temper more primitive than the land in which he lived.

  She lifted a hand to her cheek, wondering if she were as white as she felt. Her whole body was trembling and the pain in the back of her head had increased to excruciating proportions. Her shoulders, where he had ruthlessly dug in his fingers while thrusting her towards the car, were hot and sore. Her eyes filled up and within seconds the tears were running down her face and on to the spotless white blouse she wore. She was actually sobbing uncontrollably when her husband returned, his dark face harsh as thunder, his amber eyes reminding her of a tiger's—fierce and threatening.

  'He's nursing a few bruises!' he snarled, thumbing the starter even before he had closed the car door. 'And you'll be doing the same ten minutes from now!'

  'Carl,' she stammered, y-you c-can't believe that—that I——— ' The words failed, stopped by the ball of fear that had settled in her throat.

  'I knew you were in love with him when I married you, but never did I imagine you'd lower yourself to carrying on a clandestine love affair with your own brother-in-law!' His fury was terrible to see; the car shot forward, slithered on a muddy patch of ground, gained speed again and was raced along the drive on to the lane. Sara at the back was jerked about until she felt physically sick—in addition to the sickness of fear that engulfed her like a deluge. 'Your own sister's husband ——————-!'

  'Carl,' broke in Sara, drying her tears, 'you can't think such awful things of me—you can't !'

  'I can believe the evidence of my own eyes!'

  She sagged against the upholstery. If he loved her how easy her explanation would be! She was horrified to think he would so easily condemn her, that he could believe her capable of such infamous conduct. The more she thought about it the more her fear gave way to anger. How dared he condemn her without a hearing! And as for that threat about inflicting bruises on her—well, just let him lay a finger on her!

  'Out!' The car had crunched to a dizzy stop; the imperious flick of a hand accompanied the one harshly- spoken word. Unsteadily Sara managed to get out of the car. Her husband stood over her, his face full of the towering rage which consumed him. His lips were compressed, thin and cruel. In spite of her own anger Sara was actually shivering with fear. What was he going to do to her? She felt so helpless, utterly in his power. 'Into the house I' he commanded with another flick of his hand. 'Into your room—I don't want the servants to hear what I've got to say!'

  Sara obeyed, wishing she could make a run for it, but admitting that such action would not get her very far.

  In a moment she was standing in the middle of her bedroom, wondering if she would ever live through a more terrifying moment in her life. She tried to see the Carl that she knew—the handsome-featured, arresting mail with whom she had fallen in love, but all she saw was a monster—a being she did not know. She stared at him as he stood there, with his back to the closed door, his face almost contorted with anger.

  A little sob escaped her involuntarily; for some reason it acted like a spur to unleash her husband's smouldering fury and before she could take even one step backwards she was being shaken unmercifully, shaken until her teeth chattered together and her pleading cries were lost in his furious invective. Tears ran down her cheeks and by the time she was released her body, bruised and shaking, was racked by sobs. She staggered to the bed and sat down, burying her face in her hands and weeping as th
ough her heart would break.

  For so long she had carried other people's burdens, had tackled one problem after another… and now that she herself was in trouble there was no one to come to her aid. The silence was strange; she glanced up, to see her husband staring down at her, his face pale, his mouth moving in a strange spasmodic kind of way. His fists were clenched at his sides, his long lean frame stiff, unmoving. Sara's temper flared. She threw him a vicious glance and told him to get out of her room.

  'I hate you,' she quivered, uncaring that she lied, or that her expression could be mistaken for one of utter loathing. 'Get out of my room, I say!'

  'Your room…?' softly and yet carrying the low guttural sound of a jungle cat ready to leap upon its prey. 'Your room, did you say?'

  Terror seized her, an altogether new kind of terror. It caused every vestige of colour to drain from her face. It must not be like this! Everything else had been done in cold blood—but not like this! She would not have him take her in anger!

  'Carl,' she whispered through the convulsive tightness in her throat, 'you haven't listened to me.' No anger now, just pleading, gentle and feminine and persuasive. 'You've condemned me, Carl, without a hearing.' She rose unsteadily, wincing at the cruel pain in her head. She extended a hand in an almost supplicating gesture, so strong was her desire to prevent him from committing an act which she knew instinctively would bring him bitterness and regret. 'There could be an explanation, but you haven't asked me for it, have you?' She closed her eyes for a second, to shut out that harsh implacable countenance. 'I haven't been unfaithful to you——-'

  'Are you trying to tell me my eyes deceived me!' he snarled, taking a step towards her. 'He was kissing you, and you were reciprocating————- '