An Unquiet Place

by Clare Houston

  Alistair continued: ‘The problem, though, was that without his decisive strong leadership, the Boer generals left behind began to fight among themselves. The Boer leadership model was far flatter and less structured than the British military. Old General Prinsloo assumed command, but other Boers supported Paul Roux instead. They wasted time, the idiots, and soon it was too late. The British captured the first, second, and third passes. Unsurprisingly, Boer morale dropped horribly.

  ‘General Hunter was just brilliant. De Wet would have been the only match for him, but he was long gone. Hunter feinted, by taking a column and heading for Naauwpoort Nek – you know, the pass near Leliehoek?’ Alistair pointed his stick towards a mountain range in the distance. ‘The Boers quickly split their force to send reinforcements there. At the last moment, Hunter veered right and moved on Retief’s Nek, catching the Boers by surprise and bombarding their position. Major Generals Macdonald and Hamilton captured Naauwpoort Nek and Golden Gate. By 24 July, the basin was closed and the Boers were trapped. They had been completely outmanoeuvred. They took up a position on this farm, then called Slaapkranz, and the British met them here on 28 July. They blitzed the hillsides with artillery.’

  Hannah looked around her, the breeze lifting a quiet rustle down the slope. The picture of that battle was strangely vivid, the assaulting roar of shells pounding the earth and rifle fire scattering the hillside. The contrast of that day and this heightened her senses, and it was not difficult to imagine a sharp smell of cordite burning her nostrils.

  ‘The next day, Prinsloo offered the surrender of all commandos in the basin. This angered the commandos loyal to De Wet and Roux, and one and a half thousand men managed to escape with their horses. De Wet was furious when he heard of the surrender. If the generals had followed his instructions, things might have been very different.’

  Hannah thought of Rachel’s account of the loss of Naauwpoort Nek; of the resulting influx of British and the farm burning. Could that have been avoided?

  Alistair began to speak again. ‘On 31 July, the Scots Guards, the Royal Fusiliers, and the Royal Irish stood in formation on this hillside as a guard of honour to receive the Boers. They unfurled the Union Jack and waited for the Boers to appear. The Boer generals Prinsloo, De Villiers, and Crowther appeared first, tall and upright on their horses. Then came the commandos. Proud men, dressed in dusty civilian clothes with slouch hats, they approached, throwing down rifles and ammunition in front of the British. And the men kept coming, lines of men on horses, winding down the steep slopes. Over four thousand men, including elderly men and young boys surrendered across the basin.’ Alistair turned to face the others, emotion clear on his face.

  ‘A British soldier wrote that the Boers halted in the road – and we’re talking about that road,’ he said, pointing to his left. ‘Imagine that road without the cutting. Dry, rutted gravel heading over the crest of this hill. An older man, tall and composed with a sandy beard, rides along the line of Boers, shaking hands here and there. When he reaches the head of the column, the men raise their hands in a kind of salute and say, as a goodbye, just the word, “Generaal”. It was General Prinsloo saying goodbye.

  ‘Two million rounds of ammunition and thousands of Boer rifles were burnt, and it is said that the bare patches of earth, which you can see near the plinth over there’ – he pointed to the memorial plaque near the cars – ‘are where those piles of metal melted into the ground, making the soil barren for over a hundred years.

  ‘The prisoners were marched to the closest towns and put on trains to Cape Town. From there, they were shipped to POW camps overseas to return only when the war was done. Many would die there, and the rest would not know if their wives and children were still alive or not. Because, of course, now began the awful process of civilian internment into the camps.’

  Hannah looked up at Alistair from where she sat in the grass. She had been gripped by his narrative, transported back to the battle which had raged in that very spot. Her skin raised to goosebumps, though the sun was warm on her skin. ‘So the war carried on after the surrender?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, this surrender had two big implications. One was that, over the next few days, the British moved to take Harrismith to the east, which crucially opened up the supply line from Durban. The other implication was that it cemented the idea of guerrilla warfare in the Boer mind. They were always going to be disadvantaged by set-piece battles which favoured the structured British. Now began the stage of war where the Boers’ mobility, horsemanship, excellent marksmanship, and knowledge of the terrain would be their greatest allies. They kept the British on their toes for almost another two years.’

  Douglas raised himself on one elbow. ‘I’ve heard it said that almost every Boer soldier was as good a shot as the best British snipers. Imagine facing that stuck in a column, exposed in the veld.’

  Kathryn spoke for the first time. ‘I guess those Boers would have grown up on horses with rifles in their hands.’

  ‘And,’ added Alistair, ‘many British soldiers in the lower ranks would have come straight from mines or factories. Just being in the sun was a major challenge, let alone firing at invisible enemies scattered over the hillsides.’

  Hannah’s mind was racing with scenarios, thinking of Rachel’s father and brothers. ‘Do you think all the men from this area would have been shipped off to the POW camps?’

  ‘That would have depended on which commando they belonged to, and which general they were following. I know that some Boers from the Leliehoek area went to Ceylon – families still have mementoes from their great-grandfathers’ internment. But then, some might very well have managed to stay uncaptured until the end of the war.’

  Douglas lay back in the grass and was staring at the sky. He took a long grass stem from his mouth. ‘It’s strange to think we are all products of that time – it certainly shaped the future of South Africa, much of it for the bad, but not all. I’m a mix of Afrikaner and English blood, and yet my great-great-grandparents would have sat on different sides of the war.’

  ‘Mine too,’ said Hannah. ‘Even my ouma wasn’t too thrilled when my mother married an Englishman.’

  Alistair smiled at her. ‘My great-great-grandfather Barlow came out with the Lancashire Fusilier’s 2nd Battalion as an eighteen-year-old. When he returned home to England and his struggling family, he decided his fortunes might be better back in South Africa. I think it was the same for many young British soldiers. They had seen space and opportunity out here which they would never see at home.’

  Clouds were forming in the distance. Hannah wondered how the sky could seem so much bigger. She remembered London’s sky, a tiny sliver of grey wedged between buildings. This ridiculous blue expanse was simply breathtaking. She understood why British soldiers would leave that for this.

  Out the corner of her eye, Hannah saw as Douglas leant over on one arm and tickled Kathryn’s ear with his grass stem. ‘What about you, Kathryn?’ he asked.

  She batted the grass away and looked over her shoulder at him. ‘I don’t know much about my ancestors – my parents and grandparents never wanted to talk about the past. Too much apartheid pain, I suppose. But I think there are slave roots way back and Dutch blood, all mixed up. That’s the way of the Cape, hey?’

  Alistair reached out a hand to pull Hannah up. ‘How about we open up that picnic basket, Kathryn?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Kathryn, scrambling up and nudging Douglas with her foot. ‘Come on, the kids have probably found the picnic already, they’ve gone awfully quiet.’

  They ambled down the slope and found the twins stretched out on the bonnet of Kathryn’s car, warming their backs now that the breeze had freshened and the sun had slipped behind a cloud. Alistair and Douglas pulled camp chairs and a folding table from the back of the pickup and set them up in the lee of the vehicle.

  Kathryn pulled out a large flask and plastic cups. Two old-fashioned cake tins revealed large choc-chip cookies in one and a magnific
ent carrot cake in the other. Hannah sat in a camp chair and pulled her knees up to her chest. After seeing the contents of the picnic basket, she decided Kathryn should be invited on all outings. She finished a generous slice of cake and licked the cream cheese icing off her fingers. As she stared up the slope, Hannah wondered when she had last had such a good time with friends. She was accepted just as she was. There was no feeling of being less. Less glamorous, less successful, less clever. Had she lived so many years under that word? She leant her head back into the chair, closing her eyes, content.

  What felt like the very next moment, she jumped in fright, nearly falling out of her chair, as a soccer ball hit the side of the Toyota next to her head.

  ‘Sorry!’ shouted Douglas, laughing at her wide eyes and gaping mouth. Hannah realised she must have dozed off and missed the beginnings of a game. They had marked out two sets of goals, and Alistair and Emma-Jane were taking on Douglas and Matthew. She relaxed back into her chair and watched the four of them race around. The two men eventually picked up their respective team mate, using the twins as croquet mallets to kick the ball at the opposite goal. Shouts of laughter echoed across the impromptu pitch, and Hannah couldn’t help smiling at the natural way these two men responded to Kathryn’s children. The game ended with Alistair tackling Douglas to the ground and the twins piling on top of them, shrieking in delight.

  Kathryn was packing up the picnic when the twins, each hanging on one of Douglas’s arms and standing on a foot, begged him to ride back with them in Kathryn’s car. Hannah caught Kathryn’s eye and raised one eyebrow, smiling at the colour that crept into Kathryn’s face.

  ‘Stop pestering the man,’ said Kathryn, becoming more brisk in her packing.

  Douglas picked up the twins, one under each arm like two rugby balls. He posted them on the back seat to much shrieking and giggling, then pressed his nose against the glass and pulled ridiculous faces.

  ‘You enjoyed yourself today, Hannah,’ said Alistair, hauling the folding table over the tailgate.

  ‘Every minute,’ she said, rewarding him with a happy smile which reached her eyes. He had watched her this afternoon, and had found himself wanting to touch her. Wanting to step behind her. Put his arms around her. Pull her against his chest as they stood on the hillside, looking out at that huge sky and grassy slope rolling away beneath them. He had wanted to pull her into his lap as they sat with their tea. Wanted that simple physical affection couples have in the company of friends – that relaxed intimacy which comes with being secure and easy together. Wanting her like that had brought his years of isolation sharply into focus. He had shut down completely after Marilie. He had shunned the few opportunities that had come his way over the years, not being able to think about any kind of encounter, even for the sake of sex without strings. He had managed without the sex, but now he missed the affection with a pang that was painful.

  He looked across as Kathryn started her car. Douglas was about to get into her passenger seat and he gave Alistair a salute with a cheeky wink.

  ‘I guess that means I’m coming with you,’ said Hannah. ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘Of course, it would be silly to squeeze five people into Kathryn’s car,’ he said, kicking himself for not saying what he should have – that he wanted her with him.

  Hannah climbed into the cab and shivered. The sky had darkened, threatening a storm, and the afternoon had cooled further. She pulled from her bag the blue fleece she had borrowed on the plateau. ‘Sorry it’s taken so long to return it.’

  He turned the key in the ignition, leaning over the steering wheel. ‘Put it on again – it’s getting cold.’

  She smiled wryly at him and slid her arms into the sleeves, zipping it up to her neck and lifting her hips to pull it under her buttocks. The hem came to mid-thigh, hiding the denim shorts she had on underneath. He found the sight of her in his top with bare legs below unsettling. Erotic. He amended his earlier thoughts. In moments like these, he did miss sex. A picture of pulling her across to him and pressing her down into the seat blossomed in his mind, and he smothered it before he lost control, his fingers clenched over the steering wheel. They were quiet for a while, Alistair pushing thoughts away and trying to focus on the road in front of him.

  ‘You tell a good story,’ she said quietly. ‘Have you ever thought of taking people on tours, I mean professionally?’

  He glanced across at her. ‘We did think about it once, when we were first married. We were so full of ideas. We planned on opening a guest house and running battlefield tours on horseback.’

  ‘What happened?’ She sensed his unwillingness to go on, to cast a shadow on the afternoon. ‘You don’t have to tell me, Alistair. Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.’

  He looked across at her again. ‘No, it’s okay.’ He took a deep breath. ‘It took a few years to register as a guide and set up the business. Plans had been passed to build on the farm. By the time it was all coming together, Marilie had a breakdown. She couldn’t come to terms with not being able to conceive. She blamed me. Hated herself. I decided to shelve the whole business and keep things simple. And then she was killed. And the nightmare began. I had nothing left. I mean, I had no reserves to take on anything new. Or anyone.’

  ‘And then I come and push you around,’ said Hannah.

  ‘No,’ he said, wanting the remorse in her eyes gone. ‘Then eight years passed and I should have got over my mistrust of strangers. And women.’ He lowered his voice to a mutter, ‘And especially strange women.’ He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road but feeling her surprised glance.

  ‘Hey!’ she objected, poking him in the arm. ‘I heard that. I’m well-versed in men, you know.’ His sardonic look had her laughing. ‘I mean, I’ve had years of managing my aggravating bloody brother.’

  Alistair liked the tone of this banter better. ‘What’s your brother’s story?’

  ‘Joseph? He’s older than me. He has a brilliant mind and is the rising star in his archaeology department at Cambridge. He’s been the golden boy in our family since he was born. Of course he crawled, walked, talked, and began reading way before other children. My parents call him gifted.’

  ‘And he’s not?’

  ‘He is very bright, but I think his giftedness is more along the lines of making people love him. It’s much easier to be successful if everybody thinks you’re amazing. I am disappointingly average, and my mother hasn’t ever really known what to do with me.’ He glanced across at her to gauge her mood and met her eyes. She was smiling; she had taken on this picture of herself.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Alistair. ‘You speak at least two languages fluently, maybe more?’ He glanced across at her and saw her nod. ‘More? What else?’

  Hannah kept her eyes on the road and said lightly, ‘I picked up some French and a bit of German. A smattering of Dutch, but that doesn’t really count – it’s so close to Afrikaans. Nothing extraordinary.’

  ‘But you can converse in them?’ She nodded. ‘Read them?’ She nodded again, and he burst out laughing. ‘Hannah! You are completely nuts! Add to that, you’re doing your PhD at a prestigious university. You move on your own to a strange town, pick up a new business, and within days you have a legion of fans throughout the town, my parents among them. This is in no way average on any front.’

  Hannah looked at him in surprise. ‘I am bunking out on my PhD; I’m flying by the seat of my pants in the shop; and “fan” is a strong word. But that aside, it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.’

  He glanced from the road and took in her bemused smile, thinking it was a sorry indictment of the people in her life. ‘And Joseph’s position at the moment?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘I’m not entirely sure – he says he’s taking a break for a few weeks and can help us with our investigation into the Goshen camp. Are you free to meet and talk about a way forward?’

  Alistair noted she had made the investigation sound like a team effort. He wasn’t sure what
he thought about that. It made him more than the reluctant landowner he actually was. On the other hand, it would mean time with her.

  ‘My sister arrives this weekend from Cape Town. She’s on leave over Christmas, but I’m around.’

  They pulled up outside the bookshop and Alistair walked Hannah to her gate.

  ‘Thank you for the lift home,’ she said with a smile. ‘And for the afternoon. It was wonderful. All of it.’

  He caught her arm as she turned to open the gate, arresting her movement. ‘Hannah.’ His hand slipped down her arm. He held his breath at the feel of her skin beneath his hand.

  She looked at their hands joined. ‘We managed to get through a whole afternoon without fighting,’ she said lightly.

  He knew what he wanted to say, but it was an act of will to speak the words out loud. ‘Hannah … I’d like to see more of you.’

  She looked up and raised an eyebrow, amused. He laughed out loud, grateful the tension had snapped.

  ‘I didn’t mean that exactly, though what man wouldn’t? I meant, I want to spend more time with you. I enjoyed this afternoon. So much.’

  At that moment, Joseph opened the door, calling out, ‘Alistair, you coming in?’

  ‘Bloody Joseph,’ muttered Hannah as their hands separated.

  Alistair raised his hand in a wave to Joseph and gave Hannah a rueful smile. ‘I’ll rather go.’

  ‘How about meeting Monday morning, here?’

  ‘Come to the farm, then we can walk the site. Ten o’clock?’

  Hannah nodded and he stepped away from her, walking around the car to his door.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The farm phone was ringing when Alistair pulled up at his house. He didn’t hurry, thinking that, if it was important, the person would call back. But it kept ringing. He picked it up eventually. ‘Goshen Farm.’ There was silence on the line. ‘Hello?’

  A whispered voice, close in his ear, ‘I know you did it.’