The golden valley

by Hilary Wilde

  CHAPTER V

  SALLY sat on a low boulder by the water's edge, kicking off her sandals and dipping her toes into the water. "Ouch!" she cried instinctively as the icy water chilled her. At the same moment, she heard someone laugh. She swung round, looking up and down the river. She thought she saw a rock move which was absurd. And then she wondered if it could be a crocodile! But the laugh had been that of a human being. Quickly she thrust her feet into her sandals and stood up. "Who's there?" she called. There was an absolute stillness. Very similar to the one she had noticed the day Ouma had shot . . . Ouma! Her heart seemed to stand still for a moment. Was that brave but fanatical little woman standing behind a tree, her shotgun levelled at Sally? "Next time," Ouma had said, "I shall shoot to wound." "I'm on our side of the river!" Sally called loudly. "Sh!" a voice called. "Don't shout, please." It was a girl's voice, and as Sally stood still, holding her breath, she saw a girl suddenly stand up behind the rocks on the other side of the river. She was perhaps sixteen, with a cloud of long honey-brown hair and deep blue eyes and a very fair skin. She wore a long white frock, which she lifted as she picked her way barefoot across the river, jumping on boulders where she could, walking knee-deep in the icy water where she had to do so. "You're Sally," the girl said. Sally felt as if it must be a dream. Yet the girl was 70 THE GOLDEN VALLEY real as she came close to Sally and lightly touched her cream silk blouse and then looked at her green jeans, "Are they comfy to wear?" she asked, and her face was suddenly bright with laughter. "Ouma didn't approve, did she, but then anything that's fun, Ouma dislikes." "Ouma?" Sally repeated. She sat down on the boulder and die girl sat by her side, but she was tense and looked ready to leap away at a moment's notice. She reminded Sally of a duiker, the small graceful animals they often saw leaping across the road, their eyes wide with curiosity and fright. "Yes, Ouma's my grandmother," the girl said. "I'm Netta, and Ouma mustn't know I'm here." She put her finger in her mouth like a small child, her eyes bright with mischief. "Next time, she might hit you," she said, and giggled. Sally frowned. "She said she would. She was very angry." Netta's face seemed to crumple, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. Sally, I really am," she said. "It was my fault. I turned the signpost round and . . ." "You did?" Sally exclaimed and drew a long deep breath. But at least, she told herself, now she knew that she had been right. She had not lied or made a mistake, she had been to her knowledge on the right road! "But . . ." "Sally, please believe me," begged Netta, the tears sliding down her cheeks. "I just wanted to meet you. When I heard Uncle Piet had two girls staying with him. I was so pleased, but Ouma said I must not cross the river or she would send me to a convent. She always says that, but I'm afraid that one day she will, and I'd die! I'm so lonely. Sally, and I thought if you drive up to the house Ouma'd have to be polite. She teaches me to be, so ... I ... turned the signpost back as soon as you'd driven by and I got home quickly by a short cut, THE GOLDEN VALLEY but . . . but you weren't there, and then I heard the shots and I was afraid, and I cried and cried and . . ." Sally smiled. "Well, don't cry any more. I quite understand." It was like switching off an electric light Netta's tears vanished and she was smiling. "I knew you'd be nice. Ouma is silly, for she thinks I know nothing, but I listen to what the servants say, and when Jonathan is there I listen at night, when they think I'm asleep . . ." "Jonathan?" Sally echoed. Of course, she thought, she should have realised that he would be involved. Netta beamed. "I'm going to marry Jonathan one day," she said. "Ouma says so." "Oh, does she?" Sally murmured, wondering what Cynthia would have to say if she knew. "Ouma's horribly mean to me, Sally," Netta went on, dangling her toes in the icy water and apparently not noticing the cold. "I've never been out of the Valley, you know. Not since I was a baby." 'You haven't?" Sally said, startled. Netta beamed. "Shall I tell you the whole story?" "Please," said Sally, and was rewarded by a happy smile. Netta was obviously hungry for an audience. It was a strange, almost unbelievable story that Sally listened to in silence. Apparently Netta's mother was dead there had been more tears at this stage as Netta had said that Ouma told her a man had killed her mother. Then smiles as Netta said that Ouma didn't know it, but Netta read newspapers at night when Ouma was asleep, and that the servants told her of the world. The world, to Netta, was the part of East Griqualand that wasn't the valley. Ouma had taught her lessons. but seemed to have omitted geography. "Why won't Ouma let you leave the valley?" Sally asked. "She's afraid I'll get killed. I'm seventeen. Sally, and THE GOLDEN VALLEY a woman, and when Jonathan marries me, I'm going to do what I like," said Netta, tossing back her hair. She was a pretty child. Sally thought, but what a child. Dramatising everything, being a little hysterical, so eager to be liked, so hurt if she wasn't. "How can you get killed, Netta?" Sally said gently. - Why ?" Netta's blue eyes widened. "I'm all Ouma has, you see. Uncle Piet is a disappointment and Jonathan is always away, so Ouma needs me. She's afraid I'll fall or cut myself or walk on a snake or be eaten by a leopard . . . but I'm so lonely. Sally. You will come often and see me?" Sally hesitated. "I'm not allowed your side of the river." "I'll come across. I'm not scared," Netta said. "Not even of the tokoloshe?" Sally asked. "I thought you were one at first." Netta stared at her and began to giggle. "You are interested in the tokoloshe, then. Sally? Jonathan said so and Ouma said you could never have heard of it." "I read about it," Sally said stiffly. So Jonathan had discussed her with Ouma, she thought. Netta giggled again. "Didn't Mr. White tell you about it?" "No, he did not," Sally said crossly. Netta's face crumpled childishly. "Now you're cross." Sally put her hand out and saw the way Netta jumped nervously away. "I'm not cross with you," said Sally, letting her hand fall. Netta put her head on one side. "You're cross with Ouma? Jonathan?" She laughed suddenly. "Please don't be cross with Jonathan he's so kind." Sally looked at her. "How did you disappear the other day?" Netta giggled. "That's a secret. If you come and see c* THE GOLDEN VALLEY me every day, one day I'll tell you." She giggled again. "I know lots of things Mr. White would like to know, Sally." "You do? Good," said Sally, keeping her voice matter of fact. "Legends and things like that? One day you can tell me, but I must go now. It's getting late and ..." "Jonathan likes you. Sally," Netta said abruptly. "He said you're a nice girl, but Ouma says you can't be or you wouldn't work for Mr. White." Sally frowned. "Why do you all hate Mr. White so?" Netta's face was bright with mischief. "One day I'll tell you, but it's a secret. 'Bye, Sally, try to come tomorrow. I'll be waiting." As she spoke, she was off across the river, dancing from boulder to boulder, more like a water-sprite than ever. Sally thought. Sally walked home slowly, trying to collect her thoughts. It seemed a strange and cruel thing to do to keep a seventeen-year-old girl prisoner in the valley. For that was what she was a prisoner. They Ouma and Jonathan had obviously given her everything they could, but it was not enough she still stayed lonely. Which was natural. How hard Netta would find it to adjust herself when she did meet other people. Sally looked blindly at the monkeys chattering and 'watching her. She could understand Ouma's possessive protectiveness, though she certainly didn't approve of it, but Jonathan was different. He was young enough to know that Netta needed friends of her own age. And how did he fit marriage to Netta and marriage to Cynthia into his life? Or was he merely letting Cynthia think he was in love with her? They were awkward questions. Sally thought, and impossible to answer. She felt exhausted, for Netta was like a child, happy one moment, then heartbreakingly sad. But who could blame her, and why was Jonathan treating her like this? Sally wondered. THE GOLDEN VALLEY 75 It was late that night that Douglas drove Kay home. As usual, she woke Sally up by flooding the room with light and coming to perch on Sally's bed. "More news about your wonderful Jonathan," she said cheerfully. Sally was too sleepy to argue. "Can't it wait?" "He's not the knight on a white charger I thought him," Kay went on. "D'you know, he has a bride-to-be hidden away here in the valley?" Sally caught her breath. "He has?" Kay, who saw that she had succeeded in waking Sally up, laughed. "I thought that would shake you. What a Don Juan!
Cynthia, and now this girl. No one has ever seen her. D'you know why she's being kept prisoner?" Kay demanded. She waited until Sally wearily shook her head. "Because Netta is an heiress and Jonathan wants the money." "But . . ." "It's true, all right," Kay said. "Netta's father was very wealthy and Netta was made a ward of Ouma and Jonathan until she's twenty-one. They handle her estate now, and when Jonathan marries her, I bet he'll keep her hidden away here and spend her money for her." Sally sat up in bed. "I'm sure that's not true." Kay giggled. "I thought you didn't like him?" "I don't, but I know he isn't like that," said Sally. Kay was still giggling as she switched off the light and left Sally to lie awake for hours, trying to find a reasonable and logical reason for Netta's imprisonment. ** Sally was able, for the next three afternoons, to slip quietly down to the river and meet Netta. Netta showed her the tree house Jonathan had built her it was on Ouma's side of the river, but Sally, to please Netta, took a chance. Netta asked about clothes, and Sally wore THE GOLDEN VALLEY dresses for Netta to handle and admire and told Netta something of life beyond the valley. "It sounds too wonderful," sighed Netta. "One day, will you take me for a ride in your Land Rover, Sally? I've never been in a car in all my life." Sally hesitated. "Ouma would be very angry." "She needn't know," said Netta. "Once a month she goes to town to see the doctor, and we could do it that day." "It seems wrong," objected Sally. "I mean, I've no right . . ." "But I'm not a child. Sally, and I've asked you." Netta's mouth trembled ominously. "We'll see," Sally said quickly. "D'you know why Mr. White has come here?" Netta asked, a sly childish look in her eyes. "Of course," said Sally. "To write a book." "D'you really believe that?" Netta giggled. "Jonathan doesn't." "Well, Jonathan is quite wrong. We've already started it," Sally snapped. Later, as she walked home, she had to admit that it was a very poor start. A start that might not have even begun had she not nagged Malcolm White, asking him how long it would be before they really started to work, so on the last two days he had dictated notes on the tape recorder. It would be wrong. Sally knew, to take Netta for a drive, yet she was tempted to do so. The girl ought to see something of the world outside. As for Kay's story, Sally still refused to believe it, yet the evidence seemed to add up more and more against Jonathan. Ouma, apparently, had made Netta terrified of men. She had said men hurt and destroyed women who loved them. She had also told Netta that Jonathan was the only man who was kind and whom they could trust. THE GOLDEN VALLEY It was like a fairy-tale on Cinderella lines plus a little Sleeping Beauty mixed in it. A lonely girl, brought up to distrust everyone save the man they planned for her to marry; a girl given no chance to meet other men and to learn what love really was. Yet Sally could not believe Jonathan would be so cruel. That night they were all going to the dance at the Club. All except Piet McSeveney, that was. Fortunately he had declined. It would be difficult enough with Malcolm White there probably Jonathan would avoid them like the plague when he saw Mr. White was with them. Sally thought. Thinking of Cynthia's critical eyes. Sally dressed very carefully. She chose her prettiest frock, one that Aunt Gabby had said was "made for Sally." It was of softest jersey silk and a wonderful turquoise blue colour, an Empire line, high-waisted, the long skirt falling in soft folds to Sally's feet. She swept her hair back from her neck and forehead and did it in a small round bun on top of her head, twisting a turquoise blue ribbon through it. Standing back, she tried to see herself in the small cracked mirror. So long as no shoulder straps showed, or her slip! Cynthia would be the first to see it. It was a long dusty drive and Sally was glad that Douglas had suggested they all wrap themselves up in old sheets, and as soon as they reached the Club the two girls raced for the cloakroom to try to repair any damage done. Kay leant close to the mirror, retouching her eyes, spreading eye-shadow over eye-shadow. As Sally's hair was up, Kay had decided to wear hers down, and the ashblonde curls just reached her shoulder. She had chosen to wear a very dramatic black velvet frock that clung to her figure with a high neckline in front, but was slashed open down to her waist at the back. THE GOLDEN VALLEY "Your Jonathan will be here?" she asked Sally in a loud whisper, and several girls, crowding round the mirror, turned. Sally's face was hot. "He is not my Jonathan," she said fiercely. "Wish he was mine," Kay said with a giggle. Two girls by their side turned with a smile. "Don't we all?" one of them said. "He's too wary to be caught," the other girl with very young eyes and strangely white hair added. "We've all tried and failed." Kay, Sally discovered, had already met a lot of the members of the Club and Sally was soon confused by the faces she had to remember, and trying to connect the right names to them. Everyone was friendly, and Sally soon found herself dancing with different men, but always with Douglas hovering around, watching to make sure she was quite happy with her partner. The Club had an orchestra which played well, and outside on the wide terrace were small tables where people could sit. On the lawns were large blazing torches to keep away the mosquitoes which, despite the cold wind, were there in large numbers. Dancing with Douglas, Sally glanced up at his humorous concerned face. "Douglas, why do you always guard me like a watchdog?" she asked suddenly, then smiled. "Don't think I don't appreciate it, for I do. It gives me a ... a sort of cherished feeling. But why do you? I mean, you don't bother half as much about Kay, and she's my age." He looked uncomfortable. "It's quite different with Kay," he said. "She's well able to look after herself. I doubt if she was ever young." Sally began to laugh and then stopped. "You know, Douglas, in a way you're right. Kay was the same at school. Maybe she's had to be tough." THE GOLDEN VALLEY Douglas swirled her round and round. He smiled. "You always find an excuse for everyone." "I do not," said Sally. "I'm not really helpless, Douglas." "That's what you think," he said, his mouth rueful as he looked down at her. She smiled. "Anyhow, thanks, Douglas." "Has anyone told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he asked, bending his head so that his cheek brushed hers for a second. "Me?" Sally said in surprise, and then forgot what they were talking about. She could see the entrance to the room and there in the doorway stood Jonathan and Cynthia. At the same moment the music stopped, and somehow everyone turned to look at the doorway. It was like the arrival of a Royal couple, and they acted like royalty, too. Sally thought, as Cynthia and Jonathan walked forward, smiling graciously, Cynthia lifting her hand in greeting to friends. Sally caught her breath. She had always thought Jonathan handsome, but tonight . . .! He wore tails, something Sally had rarely seen except on television, and he looked wonderful. The smooth-flowing muscles of his body showed under the perfectly cut coat. His face looked so virile and strong, his hair was so blond. There was a proud lift to his head as he walked forward, Cynthia's hand resting on his arm lightly. And Cynthia! There was a small hushed sound as if the dancers who had suddenly become the audience stifled a murmur of praise. Cynthia's black hair was elaborately styled yet looked completely natural as it curled round her head. Her skin was like ivory, her dark eyes shone. Her dress was simplicity itself ambergold chiffon draped round her body, panels falling from her shoulders and swaying gently as she moved. THE GOLDEN VALLEY They both looked arrogant and amazingly happy. Sally wondered if they had settled their "quarrel" and named a date. A man standing near Sally seemed to have the same thought, as he said quietly to his partner: "I bet you she's landed him. She looks like a cat licking her paws after a platter of cream." And then the orchestra started to play and the moment was gone, and Sally was in Douglas' arms once more. He looked down at her, his face thoughtful. "How d'you get on with Cynthia?" he asked. "I haven't met her yet, but . . ." "She was very nice to me," Sally said. In a way, it was true. It was halfway through the evening before Sally spoke to Jonathan and then only, she thought, because her partner happened to pause as the music stopped near Cynthia and Jonathan. "Have you met Sally?" the thick-set man, whose name Sally could not remember, asked. Jonathan stared down at Sally with an odd look in his eyes. "Yes, we've met," he said, and he sounded amused. Sally saw the quick look Cynthia gave him and then Cynthia turned to Sally. "He doesn't know you. Sally, you look so pretty. I
t's such a change to see you in a frock!" Cynthia's laugh was gay as she spoke to the man whose name was hard to pronounce and even harder, Sally thought, to remember. "Sally's usually in slacks and covered with dust," Cynthia said, laughing, "so we were really taken aback." She looked Sally up and down. "What a charming dress, so delightfully young and sweet. Just right for you. Sally. I love the colour so few people can wear it successfully. Well," she turned with a smile to Sally's partner, "aren't you going to ask me to dance?" she teased. "But of course." He looked confused, but, as the music began, took Cynthia in his arms and they danced THE GOLDEN VALLEY away. Cynthia was head and shoulders above him and he held her very lightly, as if afraid she might break, and he looked acutely miserable. Jonathan was smiling. "Well, shall we venture?" he said to Sally. As she went into his arms she felt tense. He had such a poor opinion of her, it only needed her to fall clumsily over his feet to make him despise her more. Cynthia was such a perfect dancer but then Cynthia was perfect in everything. Much to Sally's surprise, she found she could follow Jonathan perfectly. He was an excellent dancer, guiding and leading so that she could relax and enjoy it. Of course, he was much taller than she was, but he did not seem to mind, and they chatted as they danced, though inwardly. Sally would have preferred him not to talk, so that she could give up her whole body to the pleasure of dancing. When the music stopped, Jonathan led her out on to the terrace, found chairs and ordered drinks. "What about Cynthia?" Sally asked worriedly. "Oh, she'll be glad of the chance to dance with her old flames," he said, offering her a cigarette, rising to light it for her. "Old flames?" Jonathan laughed. "I forgot, you're a different generation, Sally," he said lightly. "Old boy-friends is perhaps the expression you'd understand better." "Is?" "Cerberus an old boy-friend?" Jonathan asked, and chuckled. "Of course. I doubt if there's a man in town who hasn't tried to talk Cynthia into marrying him." Including you ? Sally asked herself silently. They talked idly, of the weather, the coldness up here in Ubito as compared with the damp heat of the valley the need for rain but before long, Jonathan said, the THE GOLDEN VALLEY rains would come and they'd all probably complain of floods. "I see your boss is enjoying himself," Jonathan said abruptly. Startled, Sally looked where Jonathan indicated. Malcolm White was in the middle of a small group of women who were obviously impressed by his charm. He was talking a lot, waving his hands, tugging at his small black beard occasionally. "How's the book going?" Jonathan went on. Sally smiled. "Fine. We've really started now," she said happily. "You have?" Jonathan sounded impressed. "I haven't forgotten my promise to introduce you to Chief Keremido. He's away at the moment, but when he comes back . . ." "Thank you," said Sally. The silence seemed to last a long time and she studied her fingers in order to avoid looking at Jonathan. Why did he, she thought, so dislike Malcolm White? There must be some reason for it else why had he discussed Malcolm White so often with Ouma? He must have done so, otherwise Netta would not have known so much about Malcolm. There were so many questions Sally longed to ask Jonathan but chiefly about Netta. She could not forget Netta and her youthful wistfulness, her longing to see the world, her enforced loneliness. It didn't seem to make sense at all. Sally thought Jonathan was an arrogant man, yes, but not a cruel one. "Douglas seems to hang around you like your shadow," Jonathan said abruptly. "You like him?" Startled by a note in Jonathan's voice, Sally looked up and found that he was staring at her intently. "He's very nice," she said warmly, "and he is protective, as you say. I asked him why. He seems to think I'm helpless!" THE GOLDEN VALLEY "You have the look," Jonathan said, sounding amused. "But I'm not helpless," Sally retorted, rather annoyed. "I mean, I can drive and ... I may only be nineteen, but I'll soon be twenty . . ." "And then, of course, you will be an adult," Jonathan commented. She saw he was trying not to smile. "I'm an adult now," she said quickly. "Know what. Sally?" Jonathan asked her. "You're something of an enigma . . . that means a puzzle . . ." "I know that!" Sally snapped, her cheeks hot. "Good. Well, in a way you are very mature for your age, and in other ways you're just a child." "Jonathan," Sally's voice shook a little with anger, "sometimes I think you're quite impossible. You give with one hand and take away with the other. Just like a mistress we had at school she'd give us good reports, but always there was a sting in the last sentence." "Do I?" said Jonathan, and it sounded as if he meant it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude or unkind, Sally. It's just that you're in many ways very different from the average girl." "I am?" Sally wondered if Cynthia had been talking about her to Jonathan, saying it was a pity Sally didn't behave like other girls and take care of her looks. He nodded. "In a way you remind me of myself. You love anthropology because it's linked up with your life with your father. He was your ideal. My father was mine, too." He paused, ordered more drinks, asked Sally if she was cold, and gave her a cigarette, rising to light it, before he went on: "You see. Sally, my father was interested in mining. He came out from England, met a lovely Afrikaans girl and married her. My father struck gold at the right time and became very rich, but his marriage fell to bits. I never knew why. Maybe I was too young to understand, THE GOLDEN VALLEY but they just fell out of love with one another and finally separated. My mother loved England, the gay life it offered a wealthy woman, and she took me with her. So I went to school in England and I didn't see my father again until I was seventeen, when my mother died. She and I had never been very close. I made her feel old, she always said . . ." He paused, his mouth smiling ruefully as if he was remembering an unhappy childhood. "Always I dreamed of my father," Jonathan went on thoughtfully, "and the first thing I did was to come out here to be with him. It was wonderful. He made it all so exciting gold, diamonds, uranium. He taught me all I know. We used to camp in the most remote places. Dad was an amazing man. He died when I was twentyfive. Like you have found, to me life has never been quite the same since." Sally stared at him, wide-eyed and sympathetic, honoured that he had confided in her. But it opened up a lot more questions she would have liked to ask him. Was that why he hesitated to marry Cynthia? Did she remind him of his beautiful, city-loving mother? Did he fear that their marriage could not succeed? Was he being torn in two between love for Cynthia and his love of mining and lonely places? What was it Jacobus had said? Sally wondered, as she tried to remember. Something about no marriage in Jonathan's family ever having been a success? "Oh, Jonathan, we've been looking for you," Cynthia said, as she came out to join them. She smiled at Sally. "Did you give up? Jonathan is too tall for you, isn't he?" She looked at Jonathan again. "Eustace Hervey wants to talk to you." She hesitated as he frowned. "I think it's important. He wants you to be fire warden in the valley while you're here. He's worried about it everything's so dry." THE GOLDEN VALLEY With obvious reluctance, Jonathan left them and Cynthia sat down in his seat, still smiling at Sally. "Having a good time?" she asked. Sally nodded. "Yes, thank you." Cynthia looked round her, but they seemed the only people outside at the moment. Cynthia leaned forward. "Sally, why were you so surprised to hear that I'd never met Ouma?" she asked abruptly. Sally was startled into truth. "I thought .it odd. because you and Jonathan . . ." Cynthia nodded. "So you do realise how it is with Jonathan and me?" she said. Her hand lightly touched Sally's arm, but it was cold as ice and Sally felt herself shiver. "Sally, you're young and naive and easily hurt," Cynthia went on, her voice quiet. "I wouldn't want you to waste your time dreaming about Jonathan. Most of the girls do." She smiled. "Not that I blame them, for he is something very special! But it's all settled; one day, if we are patient, all will end well. We have an understanding, but it isn't easy for us . . ." her smile was wistful ". . . to be patient, always." She lit herself a cigarette and inhaled slowly. "Sally, it seems odd to you and also to me, that I've never met Ouma. What sort of woman is Ouma?" Sally tried to describe the sturdy short woman with white hair and the long old-fashioned dress. "She was really angry, and I had a feeling afraid of something," she said, talking as slowly as she could, uncomfortably aware that she must watch every word or else she might betray Netta.
"Ouma called me a liar and like you," Sally said with a quick smile, "disapproved of my slacks." "I don't disapprove of them. Sally," Cynthia interrupted. "I only think it's rather a tragedy when some girls wear them." "Ouma threatened to wound me next time and the THE GOLDEN VALLEY third time I intruded she said she would kill me," Sally went on. "She's as fanatical as that?" Cynthia mused thoughtfully. "It's a very tragic family. Sally." She was looking at Sally as she spoke. "You've heard of Netta, of course." Although Sally had been bracing herself, preparing for the moment, it caught her unawares. "Yes." Cynthia leaned forward. "How did you know Netta existed?" she asked. Even while Sally searched wildly in her mind for an answer, Cynthia unconsciously helped her. "I see you've heard local gossip." "Kay told me there was a girl in the valley who'd never been out of it and her name was Netta," Sally said, relief flooding her, and annoyance with herself. She must be more careful, she told herself, she should have remem bered that Kay had told her about Netta. Whatever happened, Cynthia mustn't know that Sally actually knew Netta. "I see. Well, it's a queer family and if Jonathan wasn't related so distantly Ouma is his grandfather's sister I would be worried. You see, Ouma's daughter, Piet's sister, committed suicide when Netta was a baby because her marriage broke up. Netta, the child, isn't normal," Cynthia went on. "I'm not suggesting she's mad, but . . ." She shrugged. "There must be a reason for Ouma's fanatical behaviour," Cynthia went on. "Netta must either be mentally retarded or odd in some way, otherwise why has no one ever seen her? I mean. Sally, it's very strange behaviour, isn't it?" Sally drew a long deep breath. She was holding her hands together tightly, pressing her nails into her palms as she fought the overwhelming desire to defend Netta. Jonathan and Ouma had no right to inflict this on Netta, Sally thought. No matter what happened in the future, some of the scandal would remain alive and be THE GOLDEN VALLEY like a smear. People would whisper when they saw Netta. "Locked up for all those years ? Must have been something wrong with her," they would say. Sally was almost shaking with anger and the desire to tell Cynthia that there was nothing wrong with Netta that it was simply because Ouma was a possessive, frightened grandmother but she had to control herself for Netta's sake. But was that the only reason, Sally wondered, Ouma's love for Netta? Sally remembered what Kay had said that Jonathan would keep Netta in the valley all her life so that he had control of her money. And what had Cynthia meant. Sally wondered, when she said they had an "arrangement," that if they could be patient all would work out all right? Had Cynthia some idea that if Netta was mad, Jonathan could marry her for her money, then divorce her or have her . . . Suddenly Sally could bear it no more. She stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I ..." Cynthia smiled. "Of course." She glanced at her watch. "I'd better go and rescue poor Jonathan, I think." She paused and looked at Sally. "Don't forget what I sa.id. Sally," she said, and her voice was kind. "I'd hate you to break your heart over Jonathan, but it would be just waste of your time. He loves me. I know that beyond a shadow of doubt."