People of Heaven

by Beverley Harper

  Annie came out on to the verandah where Michael sat ruminating. ‘Checking Tessa?’ she teased.

  ‘No. Just wool-gathering.’ He smiled at her. The long blonde curls had been cropped as soon as she noticed the first grey hair. She needed glasses to read and, when not in use, they hung on her chest, suspended by a chain. The violet of her eyes had faded a little but their beautiful colour could still give much younger women a run for their money.

  She was a little rounder, a little slower but she still swore like a trooper and had no time for pretensions. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he told her fondly.

  ‘You need glasses you silly old bugger,’ she laughed. But her eyes had gone soft and she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. ‘Like a drink?’

  ‘Love one.’

  After she had gone back inside, Michael shook himself out of his recollections. But not before he had one last ironic thought. All his life, and over and above any family affections, three things had remained a constant for Michael. His respect for the Zulus and the belief that they deserved their own independent territory. His love of South Africa and the desire to see all that was wrong with the system come right. And his concern over the near extinction of the black rhinoceros.

  It came to him then that the only winner, so far as he could see, was the black rhinoceros.