Edge of the Rain

by Beverley Harper

  ‘Doing what?’ Alex wished his own future was as clear.

  ‘Shuffling numbers,’ Paul told him seriously. ‘Getting numbers to speak to me. It’s all the rage.’

  Alex laughed. ‘What do these numbers say to you?’

  ‘Any damned thing I want them to.’

  ‘That’s scary.’

  ‘Nah,’ Paul said with all the wisdom and experience of a schoolboy. ‘It’s the way the world’s going.’

  Alex stayed at the only hotel, down near the railway station, before catching the train to Francis-town. When he walked into the bar he heard a voice saying, ‘I’m telling you, boyo, you can stick that bloody drive. It’s the last one I’m doing.’

  He looked over. Pat had his back to him and was thumping the bar with his fist. Willie was half turned to him, grinning at Pat. Bob, facing him, raised his glass to drink and his eyes met with Alex. ‘Jesus Christ!’

  Willie looked up, Pat looked around. ‘Jesus Christ, mother of Mary.’

  Alex was grinning. He walked over to them. ‘Meant to tell you this before, Pat, that doesn’t make sense.’

  Pat grabbed him and pawed his arms and shoulders. ‘Where did you spring from? Why did you leave like that? You never even said goodbye.’

  ‘I didn’t have much choice.’

  ‘Whaddya mean? Kel said you’d just up and left. Jeff was so angry he refused to talk about it.’

  ‘Is Kel here?’ He looked around.

  ‘Kel? Nah! Jeff got rid of him. Bugger had been climbing a tree outside Madison’s room. Jeff caught him at it. Bastard was wearing Willie’s American boots so he’d get the blame.’

  ‘What’d Jeff do to him?’

  ‘Kicked him off.’

  ‘That’s all, just kicked him off?’

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  Alex told them what had happened outside Kang.

  Pat had violence in his eyes. ‘The bastards. They never said. Christ, boyo, you might have died. To think I wasted sympathy on that little shit Kel for what happened to his face.’

  ‘Why? What happened to his face?’

  ‘Fell of his horse. Got a bit banged up,’ Pat said vaguely. ‘It happened just after you disappeared. Little turd said nothing about Jeff laying into you.’

  ‘Always knew Jeff had a mean streak.’ Bob looked troubled. ‘He should have said something.’

  ‘Is he with you?’ Alex did not want to run into the man. Ever.

  ‘No. He’s in Ghanzi. Madison’s here, though.’

  ‘What! On the drive!’

  Pat laughed at that. ‘Madam Madison? Oh dear me no, darling. Much too dirty. She’s working here temporary until she leaves for Europe.’

  ‘Where’s she working?’

  ‘Now there you’re at it again, boyo. Haven’t the past few years taught you anything?’

  Alex grinned. ‘Yeah. They’ve taught me that Madam Madison and her bloody father can fall off the edge of the world.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Pat stopped and looked at Willie. Willie looked back.

  ‘What? What?’ They were looking over his shoulder.

  ‘Actually, boyo, she’s just walked in.’

  He spun around. At nineteen, Madison Carter was more beautiful that his wildest imagination could conjure. She had seen the men, smiled and waved. Then she was walking towards them. He watched her. Dark hair falling like silk to her jawline. Smooth skin, tanned lightly. Dark grey eyes. Those breasts, hidden under a snowy white blouse. Tiny waist. Slim hips. Legs that went on forever.

  ‘Hi there.’ She smiled from Pat to Bob to Willie.

  ‘Hello, Madison. What brings you here?’

  ‘Dad phoned. He said you’d be in town.’ She looked pointedly at Alex.

  He stared at her. Did she know what her father had done?

  She stared back, a small frown marring the smooth perfection of her brow, as though she was trying to remember something.

  God, she’s beautiful.

  ‘Like a drink, Madison? Beer’s very cold here. Best in Bechuanaland.’ Pat was babbling to cover the awkward silence.

  He wanted to hate her. She tried to bridge the gulf growing between them. ‘Dad would like to see you again. He owes you an apology.’

  Anger at Jeff burned in his gut. With an effort he pushed it away. He had learned much from !Ka. He accepted that anger led to violence and violence led to sorrow and the way to avoid sorrow was to have no anger in the first place. But, while this belief was etched in !Ka’s soul, it only sat in Alex’s heart and he had to work at it. ‘Your father can go to hell, Miss Carter.’

  She flushed, angry and embarrassed. ‘It was a mistake.’

  ‘No. Half killing me was the mistake. He should have finished the job.’

  ‘He didn’t . . . Dad wouldn’t . . . he said he fired you.’

  Alex laughed cynically. ‘Your father beat a sixteen-year-old kid half to death and left him in the desert. Like I said, Miss Carter, your father can go to hell.’

  She was still staring at him. ‘You’re lying,’ she said coldly.

  He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’ Slowly and deliberately he raked his eyes down her body and then, with a small smile, turned his back on her. He knew it was madness. What had happened had not been her fault. And God she was beautiful. He turned back, ready to apologise.

  ‘Dad was right about you.’ Her voice was clipped and hard, hatred blazing in her eyes. ‘You’re nothing but a lout.’

  ‘He’s not a lout, Madison,’ Pat said quietly. ‘He took a terrible beating from your father for nothing. He was a kid. If anyone’s a lout . . .’

  ‘It’s us,’ Willie said quickly, before Pat could jeopardise his job.

  She tossed her head. ‘Well, I can see I’m not wanted here. Good night.’ She turned and quickly crossed the floor, not looking back.

  ‘What are you up to now?’ Pat asked, grabbing his jaw and forcing his head away from Madison’s exit.

  ‘Between jobs. I thought I’d go home for a bit. It’s been a long time.’ It was hard to talk with his jaw being squeezed. ‘Let go, Pat, before my teeth pop out.’

  Pat let go. ‘You’re not going anywhere, boyo. Not yet. We’re in town for two more days. You’re with us.’

  It seemed that Carter’s Crazy Crowd knew every damned person in Gaberones. They lurched from one party to another, from one bar to another. Pat seemed determined to drink every house dry and bed every woman he met. On the second night Alex found himself at the home of yet another acquaintance of Pat’s. He had been drinking most of the afternoon and was well on his way to being drunk when Madison walked in with a man. She came directly to him and, just as directly, got straight to the point.

  ‘I’ve been talking to Dad. He said to tell you he’s sorry. I’m sorry too. I didn’t think he would do anything like that.’

  He looked at her blearily, respecting her courage for coming to him. ‘Forget it.’ He wished he didn’t feel so out of control.

  ‘I can’t. What he did was shocking. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

  ‘Do me a favour.’ Why did she have to keep moving?

  ‘What?’

  ‘Please get me some coffee.’

  He never did discover who she arrived with. He drank black coffee for several hours and sobered up. Madison seemed content to sit and talk with him.

  His time with !Ka and the clan had taught him many things. Among them, not to put off something which causes you to quake with fear. As !Ka had reasonably pointed out, there is no use in worrying about that which may never happen or, if it is going to happen, that which you cannot prevent from happening. It is always best to face extreme fear with action. So he did. ‘Can I take you home?’

  Hesitation. ‘All right.’

  That hadn’t hurt a bit. ‘What about . . .’

  ‘Forget him.’

  !Ka had taught him something else: ‘I shall eat’ is not ‘I have eaten’; ‘I have eaten’ is that which is in the stomach. But he forgot thos
e wise words in his excitement at finally, finally getting close to Madison without her hating him.

  He said goodbye to Pat and the others. ‘Stay in touch, boyo.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Watch her. She’s still her father’s daughter.’

  ‘She’s over eighteen. Daddy can go to hell.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean.’ Pat looked troubled. ‘She’s not a one-nighter. You tangle with her you’re likely to find it’s permanent.’

  ‘Jesus, mother of Mary, Pat. I’m only taking her home.’

  Pat raised his eyebrow knowingly. But all he said mildly was ‘That doesn’t make sense, boyo.’

  She offered him coffee at her place but he had sobered up and, after the black coffee at the party, felt thirsty. ‘Rather have a beer.’

  She got two.

  ‘How long have you been living in Gabs?’ He and Marv travelled the thirty miles of dirt road between Molepolole and Gaberones most weekends. While they enjoyed the quieter aspects of the rural village, the action in the capital beckoned between Friday and Sunday. He wondered why he hadn’t bumped into her.

  ‘I’ve only just arrived.’ She took a swig from her bottle. Her hair swung back as she tilted her head. It was the action of a tomboy, not the Madam Madison he remembered.

  ‘Are you planning to stay here?’

  ‘No.’ Her hair swung forward, framing her face. ‘I’m leaving for Maun next month.’

  ‘What to do?’

  ‘Working for Game Department. It’s only temporary, just till I go to Europe, but I like it.’

  ‘Is that what you do here in Gabs?’

  She was looking at him with curiosity. ‘You seem different from how I remember.’

  ‘I’m older.’

  ‘No, that’s not it.’ She swigged her beer and he watched her hair. ‘I thought you were nothing more than a thug.’

  ‘The fight you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He asked for that. ‘I’m not proud of it, I lost my temper, but he really did have it coming. I don’t like fighting, Madison, but sometimes, like then, well there are principles involved.’ He told her about Nightmare and the stick and then he found himself telling her about Nightmare and the stallion and all the time he spoke he was aware she was watching him and listening with interest, not dislike.

  ‘You actually lived with the Bushmen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are they like?’

  So he told her that too. He talked about their gentleness, their respect for nature and each other, their love of children, their sense of loyalty and their understanding of how the world and their bodies work, despite having no education. She watched his face, smiling sometimes, nodding at others. ‘You can’t help but be influenced by them,’ he said finally. ‘Their way of life makes more sense than anything else I’ve seen.’

  She put down her beer. ‘Alex, you talk too much.’

  He put down his. ‘You make me nervous.’

  She rose. ‘Why?’

  He rose and moved towards her. ‘You’re so damned beautiful.’

  She laughed up at him. Her body leaned into his. Her breasts brushed his chest. Her face was turned up to his. He lowered his head. Electric currents threatened to stop his heart. It started gently, but her soft lips and the tip of her tongue weakened his legs and had blood pounding in his head. He tightened his arms around her and crushed her into him, and the kiss deepened and his heart was thumping wildly, so wildly he could hear it.

  She pulled away. ‘Alex, wait. This is too fast.’ The intensity of his kiss disturbed her. ‘That was no ordinary kiss.’

  He pulled her back. ‘No. This is right. It’s been coming a long time.’ He kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss, and felt her reluctance dissolve as desire flooded both their bodies and she kissed him back with a growing urgency that left him drowning in liquid warmth.

  When at last they pulled apart he looked deeply into her eyes and saw the need in her, but he also saw apprehension. He realised that while he had woken the woman, the lingering child was unsure. He was not very experienced but instinct told him to take her gently from where she was poised or he would frighten her. His hand brushed her hair softly back from her face. ‘Are you sure, Madison?’ he whispered.

  Her eyes were searching his, looking for reassurance. Doubt and confusion were being replaced by a myriad of surging emotions which she had, up till now, suppressed. ‘Yes,’ she whispered back finally.

  He put out his hand and she took it, like a trusting child. He felt tremors of desire and nervousness in her fingers. He tugged gently on her hand and she came to him, her eyes never leaving his. He wrapped her in his arms and held her against him, allowing her to feel his intent, giving her one last chance to change her mind, but she stayed in his arms and her ragged breath told him she was as committed as he. ‘Come,’ he said, leading her towards the bedroom.

  They stood facing each other at the foot of her bed. Gazing into her clear grey eyes which were rimmed with a blue so deep that the outer edges looked violet, Alex saw her trust in him and it touched him more deeply than anything he had ever felt before. Slowly, gently, he unbuttoned her blouse and she shrugged out of it so it fell to the floor in a whisper of silk. Her lacy brassiere joined it seconds later and he bent his head and sucked first one, then the other nipple so they hardened and she moaned with the unfamiliar sensations which burned at the very core of her sensuality.

  Holding back his own need, Alex undressed her completely, his hands gentle on her burning skin, his tongue finding soft corners until he knew, by her trembling and tiny sounds of pleasure, that she was ready for him, that she wanted him as urgently as he wanted her.

  In his eyes, Madison was perfect and he wanted to make this perfect for her and so he took her far beyond a state of readiness. He took her soaring in a sky filled with wonderful new feelings until the woman emerging in her reached a pulsating pinnacle of pleasure and she went spiralling down into a warm sea filled with wonder and contentment and, above all, a need as old as time itself to have his body joined to hers. When he entered her she cried out, a throaty deep cry of longing fulfilled, an animal growl of the sweetest of delight and she moved with him as though she were a part of him and they reached the pinnacle together, and together they plunged into the warm contented sea, and together they lay as one with their hearts and minds as joined as their bodies.

  ‘Madison,’ he whispered when he could. ‘That was beautiful.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ she said softly, her breath still fluttering in her throat. ‘I feel so alive, so free.’ Her fingernails traced gentle patterns on his back, giving him goose bumps. ‘It’s like I’ve been flung off a roller coaster and suddenly find I can fly.’

  He rolled off her and lay on his back, staring upwards. His limited experience with girls had not prepared him for the way he was feeling. For the first time he did not want to get up and go. The conversation girls seemed to need after lovemaking, something he shied from because it always seemed that they were seeking commitment, was now what he wanted. ‘That was your first time,’ he said. ‘I didn’t hurt you did I?’

  ‘No.’ He heard puzzlement in her voice. ‘Everyone says it hurts but it didn’t.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  He gathered her up in his arms, a need in him to hold her close, to feel the softness of her against his body. She snuggled into him and they lay together in silent wonder, the magic of their shared intimacy around them like a cloak of fulfilment. Alex wanted to hold her like this forever.

  Finally she stirred. ‘Alex,’ she said softly, hesitantly, ‘can we talk about Dad?’

  He was too full of new feelings to understand that she needed his forgiveness for her father’s actions so that she could forgive her father herself. Her question should have alerted him that, in this regard, she was vulnerable; that for someone as proud as Madison, this vulnerability was intolerable and that her question was another form of trust. But Alex didn�
�t want to talk about her father. The beating he received, the callous indifference to whether he lived or died, always made him angry. Besides, lying naked next to her, the only thing he wanted was to touch her again and again, hold her close to him, feel her heart beating against his.

  ‘Forget it,’ he said, harder than intended in the usual rush of anger. ‘It’s done. It’s over. Nothing can change it. Just forget it.’

  She sat up. ‘Don’t tell me to forget it.’ She got off the bed and pulled on a robe. ‘I’m trying to understand it.’ She moved to the dressing table and attacked her hair with a brush so stiff that Alex could hear the crackle of electricity. ‘He’s my father,’ she said between strokes of the brush. ‘He did something terrible, something I would never have expected of him. Surely you can see why I want to talk about it.’

  Alex rose and pulled on his clothes, cursing her father for having spoiled the mood. He spoke without thinking. ‘Your father is pathological about keeping you pure. The thought that I had been spying on you through your bedroom window was too much for him. He lost control. That’s all there was to it.’

  She stopped brushing her hair and stared at him. ‘What do you mean, pathological?’ Her tone should have warned him.

  ‘He told all the men to keep away from you. You are his princess. Most fathers want to protect their daughters but yours went overboard.’ Anger triumphed over his attempt to stay calm and he took it out on her. ‘If your father had his way you’d still be a virgin when you were fifty.’

  A look of pure hate crossed her face. ‘Is that why you seduced me?’ She stood up, breathing hard. ‘I trusted you and all the time it was to get even with my father.’ A tear of rage slid down her cheek. ‘You used me, you bastard. Get out. Go back to the gutter where you belong.’

  He was shattered she believed that. ‘Madison, that’s not true.’ He took a step towards her. ‘I didn’t use you.’ He only just ducked in time to avoid the hairbrush she flung at him. ‘Madison, for God’s sake calm down.’

  ‘Dad was right about you.’ Her eyes blazed. ‘You’re not good enough for me.’

  For Alex, whose emotions had run the gauntlet from elation to anger, that was the final straw. ‘You’re not so special, Miss Carter, and I was good enough for you ten minutes ago. I didn’t hear you yelling rape.’ He turned to go. ‘To hell with you,’ he grated over his shoulder. ‘You’re nothing but a spoilt brat. Who needs it.’