‘Why? Where is he going?’ Tessa had half expected this but hearing it was like a pronouncement of the end of the world.
‘I don’t know,’ Claire lied. ‘Join us for breakfast,’ she said, leaving the room.
‘I’ve got to see him,’ Tessa thought feverishly as she dressed. ‘I must.’
Everyone else was already at the table. Her mother, calm and kind, acting as though everything was normal. Gregor, between mouthfuls, still reciting his lines. Sally embarrassed and silent. Michael had his head in the previous day’s Natal Mercury. He nodded curtly to her and went back to it. A few seconds later he gave a gasp of shock.
‘What?’ Claire asked.
‘It’s Dyson. He’s escaped. The police have instigated a manhunt up near Bulwer.’ Michael rattled the newspaper in agitation, then read the entire piece.
Forty-five policemen and ten tracker dogs are combing the hills around Bulwer for escaped prisoner Dyson Mpande.
In the early hours of Thursday morning, Mpande broke out of the high security prison near Pietermaritzburg. Possible sightings on the R617 to Bulwer have been confirmed by the discovery of prison clothing in the Umkomaas River.
Police from Howick, Deepdale, Bulwer and Himeville have set in motion one of the biggest manhunts ever seen in the area.
According to a spokesman from South African Police Headquarters in Pretoria, Mpande is a known member of Umkhonto we Sizwe, a wing of the banned African National Congress which has claimed responsibility for a number of terrorist bombings in recent years. Mpande may be armed and is considered highly dangerous. The public are warned not, under any circumstances, to approach him. All sightings should be reported to the police anti-terrorist unit in Himeville.
Mpande is described as five feet, ten inches tall, stocky build, dark complexion and has a disfiguring scar over his right eye.
Michael flung down the newspaper. ‘They don’t say anything about being held without charge or trial for three-and-a-half bloody years do they? They implicate him in the bombings but conveniently forget to mention that he’d been inside for two years when the first one went off. And what about the scar? He sure as hell didn’t have it when he was arrested. It’s all too convenient. After pulling God knows how many strings I finally get word two days ago that a trial date is to be set. Now this. It stinks. It’s as if he was deliberately allowed to escape so they can justify killing him before he ever reaches a court.’
Tessa looked up from her plate. ‘If he came here would you help him?’
‘What kind of question is that? Of course I would. He’s my friend.’
‘But, Michael,’ she said sweetly, ‘it’s against the law.’
‘I would . . . it’s not . . . dammit, can’t you see?’ He glared at her. ‘This is different.’
‘How?’
Michael glanced at Claire. The expression on her face was clear. ‘Your call.’
On the surface, Michael had to concede she did have a point. He rationalised that his concern for Dyson was based on a friendship going back over twenty years whereas Tessa’s fixation on Jackson was wilfully, defiantly and completely carnal.
Abruptly, he rose from the table. ‘I’ve got work to do.’
Claire had to take Gregor into Empangeni for rehearsals. Sally, who had her learner’s licence, asked if she could drive. Tessa said she’d stay home and was surprised when Claire raised no objection.
On the way into town Sally said, ‘She’ll try to find Jackson.’
‘Most probably,’ her mother said calmly. ‘If she finds him she’ll also discover that Wilson is watching his every move.’ Claire had her fingers crossed.
Tessa wasted no time when they left. She kept close to the fences along which shade trees cast an intermittent shadow. She could not risk being seen, either by Michael or any of the farm employees. Having no idea where Jackson might be made it more difficult but, since he had recently finished school and would not be considered experienced, chances were he’d be working somewhere where others could advise him.
All she could think of was that Jackson was going away tomorrow. The news had devastated her. She was totally convinced of her love for him and her heart was breaking.
She stopped, scanning the open pasture. Cattle grazed but no people were in sight. Turning, she looked towards the stockyards further up the hill. There. Figures moving, too far away to see who they were. Tessa made her way forward, heart pounding with anticipation.
Jackson saw her coming but only because he’d been watching for her. He knew she was home and was convinced she would come looking for him. Last night he’d sneaked out of the compound and waited on their rocks but she hadn’t come. He glanced around at the others. No-one else had seen her approaching. They had finished work on that section of the fence and were preparing to move further along.
Jackson was glad his father wasn’t there. The news brought by Michael this morning that Dyson had escaped had stunned Wilson and Nandi with fear for their eldest son’s safety. They were under no illusions that he would be returned to prison. He would be shot on sight. Michael had advised Wilson to stay at the compound. ‘The police will be around sooner or later,’ he told them. ‘Stay here.’ In his own anxiety over Dyson he’d forgotten all about reminding Wilson to keep an eye on Jackson.
Jackson called to the others. ‘I’m going to see if there’s any news of my brother.’
He set off down the hill, hoping that Tessa would have the good sense to stay in among the trees. Jackson saw her look in his direction. Her steps faltered but she quickly lowered her head and kept walking. Next time he looked, she had completely disappeared. He thought he knew where and changed direction slightly, heading for the solitary grave, set inside its own fenced-off garden, of Joe King. There, sandwiched between the large headstone and bushes behind it, he found her. She was stark naked, lying on the ground, discarded clothes spread under her.
Jackson caught his breath. For a white girl she was beautiful, of that he had no doubt. Right now it was not her looks that interested him. He’d been making do with hlobonga since they’d last been together. The memory of complete sex with her had burned him as much as it had Tessa. With a quick glance to make sure they had not been seen, Jackson dropped down beside her.
‘I waited for you last night.’
‘They locked me in.’ Her hands reached for him. ‘Don’t talk. Fuck me. Fuck me as hard as you can.’
And there, on the ground that covered Joe King, his daughter and the son of UBejane’s Zulu induna quelled the fires which raged within them.
Much later, physically sated, Tessa asked, ‘Where are they sending you?’
‘To my grandparents. It is to keep me from you.’
‘I don’t want you to go. I love you. Nobody understands.’
Her words surprised him. He never imagined any deeper feelings from her. It was sex, pure and simple.
‘Why don’t we run away?’ Tessa had already decided there was no other way for them to be together.
‘Where to? Where would we go?’ For some time now Jackson had also been thinking of running away, but not with Tessa. He intended making his way north to the newly independent Zambia where, he’d been told, many South African blacks were being trained in guerrilla warfare.
‘Bechuanaland,’ Tessa said promptly. She’d already worked it out. ‘We could live there, save money and then, if we wanted to, move to England.’
Jackson considered it. He could easily get into Zambia from the sparsely populated British protectorate which consisted largely of the Kalahari Desert. Having Tessa along would be no hardship. He would simply dump her when he felt like it.
‘We would have to leave now,’ he said. ‘Right now.’
Tessa reached for her clothes, thinking of nothing but the pleasure of being with him again. ‘Wait for me here.’ She kissed him on the lips, not noticing his distaste for such a gesture. ‘I’m going down to the house. I know where Mother keeps some money.’
Wh
ile he waited, Jackson wondered idly what would happen first. Would he get sick of Tessa or would she tire of the hardships of which she obviously had no clue? He knew he shouldn’t take her with him. It was madness. If they were caught the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. But the lure of her willing body was too powerful for him to think straight.
Tessa arrived back twenty minutes later carrying a knapsack stuffed with food. ‘I found nearly a hundred Rand,’ she said proudly. ‘Here, you keep it.’
As he pocketed more money than he’d ever seen in his life, Tessa added, ‘I also took these,’ and held out her hand. Glittering in her palm lay her mother’s engagement ring, a diamond-encrusted brooch and a gold necklace studded with sapphires. All gifts to Claire from the lonely man who lay under their feet.
They were about to leave when dust on the road below caught their attention. ‘Police,’ Jackson hissed. ‘Looking for Dyson. Come on. We must get away before my father sends for me.’
Before he turned away, Jackson allowed himself a last lingering look at the compound. He noticed that Tessa felt no similar moment was required. She took his hand and led him away from the grave, only saying, ‘We should head for the railway line and follow it as far as Breyten.’
‘Where’s Breyten?’
‘In the Transvaal. I’ve got a map. The line goes through some pretty deserted country. I’ll show you later.’
As they set off the only thing in Tessa’s heart was that she was happier than she’d ever been in her life.
Tessa had been unable to resist leaving a note but it wasn’t found until much later in the day when Claire became worried about her daughter’s ongoing absence.
‘She might be at the beach,’ Gregor suggested.
‘I can just see Tessa walking all that way,’ Michael said.
Sally, having one of her premonitions, found the note propped against Tessa’s pillow. Acting more on knowledge of her twin than any divine messages, she suggested they check to see if anything of value was missing.
Claire took the loss of her jewellery pragmatically. ‘I never wore the stuff anyway.’ But she was tight-lipped about the petty cash.
‘Good riddance,’ Michael said, screwing up Tessa’s note and throwing it into the wastepaper basket beside Claire’s desk.
A sob at the door announced a very distressed Nandi. ‘Madam, Jackson has disappeared. The police wish to question him.’
Michael groaned inwardly. Life had been testing enough for the Mpande family without this. ‘Come in, Nandi. There’s something we have to tell you.’
Nandi took the news with outward calm. ‘Perhaps he will take her to our village.’ Trembling lips gave away her true feelings.
‘Show her the note, Michael.’
He retrieved the crumpled paper and spread it out for Nandi to read:
You have made my life unbearable. I am running away to live with Jackson. Do not try to find us, I will refuse to return. I love Jackson and he loves me. Neither of us will be missed. We will make our life somewhere else.
Nandi lifted her eyes. ‘She is wrong. Already we miss our son.’
‘What do we do?’ Claire strode around her office. ‘Should we contact the police?’
‘No!’ Michael and Nandi said in unison.
‘Think, Mother,’ Michael continued. ‘They’re both eighteen. The police would throw them both in prison.’
Claire sat down behind her desk. ‘We can’t just forget about them,’ she said despairingly.
‘Tessa’s made it abundantly clear that that’s what they want,’ Michael countered. ‘Personally, I believe it will all fizzle out. The road they’ve chosen is a hard one. Give them a couple of weeks, they’ll be back.’ He went to the door. ‘I have work to do.’
Claire watched him go. ‘Nandi,’ she said softly. ‘Michael’s right. It’s the best we can hope for.’
Nandi sighed and turned to leave. ‘Forgive me, madam, but Miss Tessa has led my boy astray.’ She stood stiffly, expecting a rebuke.
But Claire knew she was right. ‘I have never been able to reach her. If this is the life she has chosen then I pray with all my heart that Jackson knows the dangers and treats her well.’
Nandi, so deep in sorrow over Dyson, was beyond caring. ‘The danger is your daughter herself,’ she said sharply. ‘If your girl cannot keep her legs together there will be others, many others, and that has nothing to do with my son.’
Michael drove to the compound to find Wilson. The Zulu was still badly shaken by the news of Dyson and trembling with rage at the bullying tactics of the police who had just left. ‘More bad news, I’m afraid,’ Michael said.
‘What could be worse?’
‘Jackson and Tessa have run away.’
Wilson closed his eyes as if to shut out the world.
‘We cannot call the police,’ Michael went on. ‘All we can do is hope they know where they’re going and reach there safely.’
‘Bechuanaland,’ Wilson said suddenly. ‘Jackson will go there. Then into Zambia.’
‘To get guerrilla training?’
‘Yes.’ Wilson shook his head. ‘He is hot-headed, my son. He has no patience for slow change. He would rather fight than talk.’
‘Then he is a dead man,’ Michael said flatly. ‘And my sister is likely to die with him.’
‘I do not think they will stay together. They are both too selfish. What she offers him is, for now, irresistible but later . . .’ He shrugged.
‘My sister is a whore,’ Michael said harshly.
‘Then, Nkosi, I am very much afraid that, in the Zulu tradition, she will be treated as one.’
‘That is probably the only thing that will make Tessa happy,’ Michael said bitterly.
Wilson placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. ‘We cannot always understand what is in the hearts of others, even if they are joined to us by blood. The things that drive my son and your sister were there when they were born. All we can do is try and steer them to a safer path. If they fail to take it,’ Wilson shook his head, ‘then we can only hope they remain safe. Their destinies have already been shaped. All they do is follow.’
‘Yeah!’ Michael replied, suddenly switching to English. ‘Straight to hell.’
‘Come. We will walk, you and I.’
They left the compound and walked to where Wilson could see the cattle. The sight always calmed him, left him feeling that though his ancestors must be displeased with him in some way, the sleek, healthy beasts were living proof that the spirits were not angry enough to send disaster to them too. And that, as far as Wilson was concerned, was cause enough to carry a little optimism in a heart full of sorrow.
Michael broke the silence that had fallen between them. ‘What did the police tell you about Dyson?’
‘Pah!’ Wilson dismissed the visit contemptuously. ‘They say if he comes here I must tell them. Do they think my son is a fool? Do they think they can frighten me? Do they imagine I have forgotten this?’ He pulled up his shirt.
Michael had seen the scars before. Three years ago the police had used truncheons to get through Wilson’s silence after Dyson had been captured. The broken ribs had healed but his body would carry the marks for the rest of his life. It had been Michael who had half-carried Wilson from the police station the day after the entire Mpande family had been arrested. Nearly fainting with pain, Wilson refused help to get out of the car once they’d reached the compound. He emerged slowly, then stood erect and dignified. Slowly, with hands that trembled, he took off his shirt, turning so all could see his injuries. Around him, exclamations of shock and anger erupted. Then Wilson moved forward and went into his house, shutting the door behind him. He did not set foot outside for a week. When he returned to work he made no mention of the beating.
Nandi, Jackson and the two younger children had been interrogated but otherwise left alone.
Michael had not been able to take Wilson to the hospital. If Africans needed treatment as a result of violence, doctors could
do nothing for them unless they were accompanied by the police. That was the law. Michael knew there was no point in asking so he took Wilson home. Colin’s wife, Anna, had been a nurse and generally dealt with injuries. It was Anna who put ointment on the broken skin before taping Wilson’s ribcage.
Wilson pulled his shirt down angrily. He was still trembling.
Michael could only guess at the emotions running through this man. Indignation, anger, fear, sorrow.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said and they both knew he was apologising, not commiserating.
‘Thank you,’ Wilson responded quietly. He looked away over the land where cattle grazed. ‘It is too late to stop. It has gone on too long, gone too far.’ He turned back to Michael. ‘I have a great fear of what happens next. If a man’s right to live like a man is taken away there is only one thing left. He has no other choice. If respect for his life is gone, then he will look to his death.’
‘The death of a warrior? Glorious in defeat?’
‘It is better to die fighting than to live in fear.’
‘When will it end, for God’s sake? How much longer can this madness last?’
‘It will last for as long as minds are not the same.’
‘Then it will never end.’
‘Yes. Look at my own family.’
He was right. Wilson, Dyson and Jackson, all seeking the same thing, all seeking them in very different ways.
‘Jackson has the hot blood of youth. He disobeys everything we taught him.’ He smiled wryly. ‘He thinks we are fools. He is too young to know what we know. The only fool is Jackson.’ Wilson fingered a leather thong around his neck before stretching it so much it snapped. ‘He goes too far.’ He held out the piece of leather. ‘See what happens.’
Michael said nothing.
‘And Dyson,’ Wilson continued. ‘If he lives he will be like the reed. When the wind blows, he will bend. When the wind stops, he will stand straight and proud.’
‘And you?’ Michael asked.
People of Heaven Page 26