Storms Over Africa

by Beverley Harper

  David raised his hands despairingly and shook his head.

  ‘You go to bed,’ Steve told him, ‘I’ll stay with her.’

  Penny walked unsteadily back to the table. ‘I don’t need anyone to stay with me, I’m not a child.’ She sat down heavily and gave a short laugh. ‘What’s in my belly, that’s a child. Oh boy, is that a child. A big black bastard child.’ She pummelled her fist into her stomach. ‘Die, you little shit, die.’

  David looked sick but he said quietly to Steve, ‘I’ll stay too. She’s my sister.’

  Suddenly Penny was crying. ‘I don’t want this baby, I don’t want it. He said he’d marry me. I hate him and I hate his child. It’s like an alien thing growing in me. It’s obscene.’ She slumped over the table, then raised her head and screamed, ‘Get it out of me, get it out, I can’t stand it!’ before putting her head in her arms and sobbing brokenly.

  Steve and David watched her in silence. Her sobbing quietened and they thought she had fallen asleep but, after several minutes she stirred and mumbled, ‘I’m going to be sick.’

  They reached her together, helped her outside and held her while she retched so violently, and for such a long time, that Steve had to thump her back to help her breathe. Then, supporting her on either side, they took her upstairs and put her to bed. She gave no resistance, she was out on her feet.

  David went to his own room. Steve returned downstairs intending to go to bed but, passing through the dining room, the sight of the uncleared table was too much so she cleared everything away and washed up before going to bed herself.

  It seemed she had only been asleep a few minutes when David shook her awake. ‘Come quickly, there’s something wrong with Penny.’

  On the way upstairs she could hear the girl moaning. Entering the bedroom she could see from the light of the bedside lamp that Penny’s face was a lather of sweat. David pulled down the sheet. ‘She’s bleeding.’

  The drugs, the whisky, the violent retching and her unstable mental condition were combining. Penny was miscarrying.

  The volume of blood frightened Steve. She had no experience in such things. There was a sound at the door and the comforting bulk of Elizabeth rushed into the room. She literally shoved Steve out of the way. ‘Boil some water,’ she ordered. David hurried from the room, thankful for something to do.

  Her eyes never leaving Penny’s face, Elizabeth pulled up the girl’s nightdress and began to massage her abdomen. ‘My poor baby, it’s all right, nanny is with you.’ Her hands rubbed firmly but tenderly. Penny screamed. ‘I know, darling, I know it hurts.’

  Steve went to the other side of the bed. ‘Get a cloth and wipe her face.’ Gone was the servant, Elizabeth was in charge. When Steve returned with the cloth, Elizabeth, without missing a beat with her hands, said, ‘Madam Penny has never been good with pain. Some people are good about pain, some are not good. My baby has never liked pain.’

  Suddenly Steve understood she had been wrong to tell Elizabeth and Wellington to take the night off. They were more than servants. They were a part of this family and, by trying to cover up Penny’s drunkenness, she had unwittingly excluded them from helping a girl they loved as much as they would love their own child. She wondered briefly what it must have been like for Penny to grow up having, effectively, two mothers.

  ‘There, it’s coming.’ Elizabeth kept rubbing. Her face gleamed with sweat in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. ‘It will soon be finished,’ she told Steve. ‘This baby has only just started to grow, it is not too very big.’

  There was a final rush of blood, Penny groaned one last time, then her body relaxed, the furrows of pain on her brow went away, and she fell instantly into a deep sleep. David returned with a bowl of steaming water and Elizabeth, using the facecloth, cleaned Penny up. Then, with Steve helping, Elizabeth stripped the girl, put her into a clean nightgown, picked her up in her strong arms and carried her to her father’s room and lay her gently in his bed.

  ‘I’ll stay with her if you like,’ Steve offered, worried the girl might haemorrhage.

  ‘There is no need,’ Elizabeth said quietly. ‘I will be with her all night.’

  Steve had some things she needed to say to Elizabeth. ‘Penny is like your daughter, isn’t she?’

  ‘It is as if I carried her in my own womb.’

  ‘Then it was wrong of me to tell you and Wellington to leave for the night.’

  Elizabeth smiled briefly. ‘You are not of our land. Our ways are strange to you.’ She smiled again. ‘But we see you learn very fast. My husband and I are thinking you will be a very good madam for this house.’

  At school, Steve had walked on air for days when she had been accepted into the inner circle of the school’s Fox Society, so named because the girls in the group were classified as the foxiest girls in Year 12. When she was twenty-two she believed all her dreams had come true when her first photographic assignment had won a minor prize in an exhibition for journalistic photography. But she had never been so touched, or so proud, as she was now. The simple dignity of Elizabeth, and the woman’s approval of her, had more meaning than she had thought possible. But it had come too late.

  The next morning Penny was wan but she appeared calm, as though she had slain a personal demon. She even grinningly told Steve, when Elizabeth was out of earshot, that her hangover hurt more than the miscarriage. ‘Are you relieved about the baby?’ Steve asked.

  ‘Wouldn’t you be?’ Penny replied, but there was a fleeting dark shadow in her eyes. Penny was a woman and her body had been designed to carry children. As much as she had not wanted Joseph’s child, Steve realised that she must now be questioning her ability to fulfil her body’s function.

  God, we’re a complicated lot.

  ‘You’ll still have to see the doctor. Especially now.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’ll still have to go to South Africa.’

  ‘Don’t nag.’

  ‘You’re very naggable.’

  Penny looked ashamed. ‘I’m sorry, Steve, I must have been a bit of a trial last night.’

  ‘On the contrary. You were bloody horrible.’

  ‘I don’t know what gets into me sometimes.’

  ‘I do. You’re your father’s daughter through and through.’

  Penny grinned.

  Steve raised her eyes.

  Peace had been restored.

  They all became increasingly anxious about Richard as the day wore on.

  ‘I thought he’d be home by now.’ They were at the dinner table where the wine, at Steve’s insistence, was conspicuously absent. David looked worried.

  ‘So did I,’ Steve did not want to be there when he returned but she needed to know he was safe.

  ‘You don’t know Dad like I do,’ Penny told them both. ‘He’ll track Joe . . . Joseph . . .’ her eyes clouded briefly, then hate for him returned, ‘. . . until he finds him. Remember what Greg said? This is like it used to be during the war. Dad and Greg are working, not just chasing him for revenge.’

  ‘Are you okay about that, sis?’ David asked tentatively.

  ‘I am now.’

  Steve looked at her. She still had a long way to go but she was calmer, her eyes were more at peace and she had made no comment about the lack of wine.

  Penny tried to convince Steve that Richard was in no trouble. David eventually agreed, saying, ‘If Dad were in trouble she’d know. They’re very close.’

  Penny cocked her head sideways and then suddenly sprang up. ‘We still are.’ She was excited. ‘Here he comes.’

  They heard the Land Rover outside and Winston’s hysterical barking.

  ‘Dad!’ David was relieved.

  ‘Excuse me.’ Steve flung down her napkin and fled the table, making for the guest room. ‘Don’t be there when I get back.’ His words burned her. She sat on the bed, hands clenched. She could hear his deep voice in the dining room, hear Penny and David laughing with him. Then she heard his footsteps outside her door and s
he jumped up.

  He knocked briefly and opened the door. She opened her mouth to apologise for being there. ‘Don’t say anything.’ He shut the door behind him and crossed to where she stood, putting his arms on her shoulders and pulling her into him. ‘Don’t say anything.’ He rocked her in his arms. ‘I love you so much, my darling Steve.’

  She buried her face against his chest and sobbed with relief that he was all right.

  ‘I love you, I love you.’ He said it over and over.

  ‘I love you,’ she managed.

  ‘There’s so much to say.’ He rocked her. ‘There’s so many things to say. Don’t leave. Don’t ever leave. We can work things out, darling.’

  She raised her face to his and he kissed her lovingly.

  Then, with his hands on either side of her head, and looking deeply into her eyes, ‘I have been a fool about so many things in my life. I’m not going to be a fool about this.’

  He saw pain and worry leave her eyes. He saw her love for him. And he thought he had a second chance. With her. With life.

  ‘David,’ she whispered.

  He would not lie. ‘I don’t know. There must be a way.’

  Penny knocked on the door. ‘Daddy. Please come out. You too, Steve. Please. I have to talk to you.’

  Steve looked up at him. ‘Give me a minute.’ She was wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

  He kissed her forehead. ‘A minute. Then I’ll come looking for you.’

  She smiled a little, then turned away.

  ‘Steve?’ He pulled her close again.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Richard. I don’t see a way.’

  His heart constricted. ‘We’ll find one. We must.’

  ‘Daddy?’

  ‘Wait a bloody minute.’

  ‘Fine. Forget it. Just forget it.’

  ‘Christ! Keep your hair on, I’m coming.’ He grinned at Steve ruefully.

  ‘She’s been through a lot.’ She felt he might at least show some understanding.

  He went to the door. ‘Haven’t we all.’ He turned to open the door and missed the sudden look of anger on her face.

  Penny stood outside the door, arms folded. ‘Can’t you show some patience?’ He was irritated with her interruption.

  She looked past him to the closed door. ‘Steve.’ She was on the thin edge of anger.

  ‘She’ll be here in a moment.

  David joined them. ‘Dad, I have to talk to you.’

  ‘So do I,’ Penny grated.

  David ignored her. ‘I want to talk to you and Steve.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘Well I do too.’

  ‘Stop squabbling like children,’ Richard snapped. He felt wrung out and exhausted.

  The guest room door opened. ‘Can we all sit down and talk like civilised people. I swear, you Dunns are the last word in impatience. I’m getting heartily sick of it.’

  They were all tired and strung out. It was a terrible time to talk.

  ‘Lounge,’ Richard spat out. ‘Now.’

  On the way through to the lounge he tried to put his arm around Steve’s shoulder but she pulled away.

  They sat in four chairs, facing each other. ‘You first,’ Richard barked, pointing to Penny.

  Penny looked angrily at him. ‘When I’m ready. He can go first.’ She pointed to David.

  David stood up. ‘This is the wrong time. I’ll talk to you later.’ He went to leave.

  ‘Sit down,’ Richard roared.

  David sat.

  Richard stood.

  Then he saw Steve’s face. She was looking at him in disbelief. ‘What? What have I done now?’ he asked.

  Steve treated them all to a long, cool stare. ‘I don’t believe you people. Penny has been through hell and you dismiss her. David has been through hell and you snap at him. You’ve been through God knows what and your children pull and tear at you as though they’re the only ones who matter. And the only way you all try to resolve things is to get angry with each other.’ She ran her hand through her hair, dislodging the knot. Richard opened his mouth and she silenced him with a glare. ‘Don’t trot out the old “This is Africa, baby”. I swear, you people use that expression to try and excuse everything from the war to the weather.’

  She was well and truly angry now. ‘How about a little give and take? Or would that hurt the wild African image? How about some consideration for each other?’ She stood up. ‘It only takes a little practice.’

  Penny was crying. ‘Shut up. What do you know? We’ve always been like this, that’s the way we are. What makes you think you can come in here and tell us how to behave?’

  ‘Belt up, sis, Steve’s right.’ David stood again. ‘I repeat what I said, this is not the time to talk. Good night.’ He stalked out, leaving Richard gaping after him.

  ‘Good night.’ Steve left them as well, banging the door to her bedroom hard.

  ‘Please, Daddy, I really need to talk to you.’ Penny was sobbing.

  Richard had a snarled reply ready. He was exhausted. He still had to tell Poppie that her husband was dead. Steve seemed to hate him, and all his selfish daughter wanted to do was talk about her own problems. Then he remembered what her problems were and he was instantly ashamed. He remembered his thoughts when he believed he would be shot, the honesty and understanding which had visited him in his tent. He crossed to Penny, lifted her by the elbows and guided her to the settee where he pulled her down and held her close. ‘I apologise, Penny-farthing. I’m nothing but a selfish bastard. I’m very, very sorry.’

  Penny sobbed into his shoulder.

  ‘I’ve been a shit of a father, I know.’

  She cried harder.

  ‘Selfish. Impatient. Intolerant. Nothing but a shit.’

  She cried even harder.

  ‘You deserve better.’

  Penny was beside herself.

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, stop blubbering and tell me what’s wrong.’

  Silence.

  ‘Pen?’

  She giggled.

  ‘Pen?’

  One last sobbing breath then she threw her arms around him. ‘I couldn’t stand it if you reformed. I love you just the way you are. Please don’t change.’

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘At this stage of my life I’m fucked if I can see how I can.’

  ‘Daddy!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said fuck.’

  ‘Don’t swear. No I didn’t.’

  ‘You did, you did, I heard you.’

  ‘I did not. I said fucked. And don’t swear.’

  They were laughing. They were loving each other. It had always been like this between them. ‘Do you think Steve’s right?’

  ‘Yes I do. We are a very badly behaved family. If your mother . . .’

  ‘I know,’ Penny said sadly, ‘she would have kept us on track.’

  He leaned back, his arm thrown around her shoulders. ‘Okay, Penny-farthing, talk to me.’

  ‘You’re tired aren’t you, Daddy?’

  ‘The teeniest bit.’

  ‘Did you catch him?’

  ‘The army did. He’s no longer an item. By the time he gets out he’ll have forgotten his own name, let alone his plans for this country.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘All caught.’

  ‘No wonder you’re tired. A man your age . . .’ She yelped when he tickled her.

  ‘Speak to me.’

  ‘Okay, Daddy.’ She told him about the miscarriage.

  Richard listened to his hurt little girl. Where before he had heard defiance and stubbornness, now he heard confusion and insecurity and he knew, in a blinding realisation, it had always been there. He was vastly relieved about the miscarriage but, in his new-found wisdom, understood her reaction to it. She would, he knew, bounce back. But right now she did not know that herself. Right now she was hurting and scared and trying to hide it.

  She had fallen silent. ‘You
’re a dope.’

  A slight smile. ‘You got that right.’ Defiant, tough, and so very vulnerable.

  ‘You’ll have more, don’t worry about that.’

  He had hit it right on the button. Tears slid down her face.

  ‘You’re not crying again?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  She put her hand in his and her head on his shoulder.

  Richard felt like crying himself.

  ‘Daddy?’

  ‘What?’ Gruff, full of hatred, full of love.

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, idiot features.’

  ‘Thanks, Daddy.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  She sighed. It had a contented sound. Then she told him about the clinic in South Africa and how she wanted to go there.

  ‘And Joseph?’ he asked, when she had finished.

  She looked serious. Then she grinned. ‘Um . . . I’m going to try, really try, not to be so provocative.’

  ‘That’d be nice,’ he said dryly.

  ‘I won’t make any promises.’

  ‘God no! Don’t do anything like that.’

  ‘But I will try.’

  He kissed her head and stood up. ‘Is that it? Are we finished? Can I go back to being nasty again.’

  She giggled up at him. ‘You can try,’ she grinned, ‘but you don’t fool me.’ Then she put her hand up into his. ‘You didn’t fool Mummy either, did you?’

  He looked down at her. He loved her so much. ‘No,’ he said wryly. ‘But I’ve sure got David and Steve flummoxed.’

  He poured himself a scotch, raising an eyebrow at Penny, and was relieved when she shook her head. ‘I’m going to bed. Good night, Daddy.’ She kissed his cheek and went past him.

  Richard sank into a chair, sipping his drink. He could not remember feeling so tired, so tense or so alone. Poppie? David? Steve? Who should he go to first? Poppie would be asleep but he could not put off telling her about Samson until morning. She had to be told tonight. He desperately wanted to put things right with Steve. But in the end, he went to his son.