Mrs. Prost, the housekeeper, appeared to take quite an interest in me. She was a woman who liked to gossip; and I must confess, so did I.
A strong friendship was growing between Myra and me and I fancied that she was less nervous. Mrs. Prost said my visits did her a power of good. I stayed a night or two occasionally. We played chess together. Lilias had taught me and I taught Myra. She was becoming quite an enthusiast.
There was one day when Roger went to Johannesburg on business and he asked me if I would spend the night at the house to keep Myra company. I said I would and we spent a pleasant evening chatting and playing chess.
In the night Mrs. Prost came to my room to tell me that Mrs. Lestrange was ill and she needed my help with her. I went with her to Myra who was very sick.
After a while she recovered and I said I would stay with her, which I did. I was very relieved when, in the morning, she was considerably better.
She took great pains to make light of her disorder.
“Don’t tell Roger,” she said. “I’m glad it happened when he was away. He doesn’t like illness … and he worries about it too much.”
“Perhaps he ought to know,” I said. “Perhaps we ought to call the doctor.”
“Oh no … no. That’s the last thing. I tell you I’m perfectly all right. It was just something I ate … something that didn’t agree with me. I’m going to be all right now.”
She did admit to feeling a little tired and said she would spend the morning in bed.
While she was resting I went down to Mrs. Prost’s sitting room.
“Do you think it was something she had eaten?” I asked the housekeeper.
Mrs. Prost was a little shocked.
“Cook wouldn’t be very pleased to hear that, Miss Grey.”
“Well, certain things upset some people. It may be something that she just can’t take.”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. But I reckon we ought to be watchful. She was really bad. She frightened me. I was glad you were here … Mr. Lestrange being away.”
She told me it was a different household from what it used to be. “When the Riebeecks were here … my goodness. You had to be all right and proper then, I can tell you.”
“You must know this house very well, Mrs. Prost.”
“I was here before I was married. Then my husband and I … we were both here together. He was a butler and I was a housemaid when we met … and I stayed on when we were married. It worked well, the pair of us … and then he died … a heart attack. Very sudden. And I stayed on.”
“That all happened when the Riebeecks were here, of course.”
“We never thought there’d be change. The house had been in the Riebeeck family for years … about two hundred, I think. Very strict they are … Boers … I know because Mr. Prost was one of them. My family came out when I was a little girl. And once you’re English, you’re always English, and though I married Mr. Prost I was never one of them … if you know what I mean.”
“It must have been a great shock when the Riebeecks decided to sell the house.”
“You can say that again! It was all this trouble that’s been going on for ten years or more. The British and the Boers. It went badly for the British, but old Mr. Riebeeck said it wouldn’t end there. There’d be more trouble and he didn’t like the look of things. The British would never let things stay as they were, so he thought he’d get out while the going was good. He’d always been back and forth to Holland … something to do with business. He was more Dutch than anything else … and I suppose, getting old, he had this hankering for going home. So he just sold Riebeeck House, lock, stock and barrel.”
“All the furniture and everything … and the Model House.”
“Yes, that and all. The lot. So it’s all just as it used to be as far as that goes. Well, Mr. Lestrange, he’d just got married to Margarete Van Der Vroon.”
“So you were here when all that happened!”
“Of course I was. I can tell you there was quite a stir in the town when Jacob Van Der Vroon found that diamond. They reckoned it was one of the biggest finds, not only in Kimberley but in the whole of South Africa.”
“Did you know the Van Der Vroons?”
“No … not really. I didn’t know any of the miners. They lived in one of those places near the mine … more like huts than houses. No, I can’t say I knew them. What a find, though! The whole town was buzzing with it. They were nothing and then overnight …”
“Paul was quite a child then. I was surprised to hear he was not Mr. Lestrange’s son.”
“Oh, Mr. Lestrange is such a good man. He tries to be a father to that boy. He’s put up with quite a lot from him. When I think of all he’s done for that boy …”
“Poor Paul. He remembers his father and a child can’t be expected to switch fathers just when he is told to.”
“All the same, I think young Paul ought to be a little more grateful. But Mr. Lestrange makes the best of it. It was a bit of luck for Margarete Van Der Vroon that she got such a man.”
“I didn’t think she was very lucky. Didn’t she die soon after?”
“Oh, a tragic accident, that was. Poor Mr. Lestrange. He was heartbroken. They’d only been married a year. I used to think how lucky she was. To come to a lovely house like this with a man like Mr. Lestrange as her husband. She’d never had much before, I can tell you. They bought this house soon after they married. It fitted in nicely. The Riebeecks leaving everything like … the house and all the furniture that went with it. A ready-made home for them, all waiting.”
“I heard that.”
“And Mr. Lestrange was here with his bride. It must have been an eye-opener for her … after living in one of those little places … and Paul a little boy who’d lost his father, now to have another who’d look after him. There she was … a frightened little thing when she found herself left a widow … but a widow with something worthwhile … this Kimberley Treasure as they call it. There were one or two after her … or shall I say after the diamond. Mr. Lestrange was different. He had money of his own. He just fell in love with her. I think it was because she was a poor helpless little thing. It touched him somehow … and that sort of thing can lead to love. The present Mrs. Lestrange is rather like that. He’s a tender-hearted man, is Mr. Lestrange.”
“You admire him very much.”
“Anyone would who’d worked for the Riebeecks. They are as different as chalk from cheese.”
“The marriage didn’t last long. There was that dreadful accident.”
Her voice sank to a whisper. “I think she drank … too much.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. Lestrange was upset about that. He didn’t want a slur on her memory. But I think what happened that night was that she had been drinking too much … she didn’t see the top step … and down she went and killed herself.”
She paused, clearly upset at the memory.
I said: “Who found her?”
“I did. I was the one. It was early morning. I just went down to see her. I’d just gone to see that everything was all right, as I did most mornings, and there she was … lying on the floor. All twisted up. It was a terrible shock.”
“It must have been. How long had she been there?”
“Since the early hours of the morning, they said.”
“And Mr. Lestrange?”
“When he woke she wasn’t there. He thought she’d got up early as she sometimes did. She’d get up without him being aware. She’d go down to the garden. She loved the garden … then they’d meet for breakfast.”
“What did you do?”
“I ran up to their room and knocked on the door. Mr. Lestrange was asleep. I went in. I couldn’t stop myself. I cried out, ‘It’s Mrs. Lestrange. She’s lying at the foot of the stairs and she looks … she looks …’ He stumbled out in his dressing gown and we went together. It was just terrible. We knew she was dead. He was so shocked. All he could say was ‘Margarete … Margarete’ just like tha
t. I’ve never seen a man so shocked. He was very upset he was … heartbroken.”
“He soon married again.”
“Well, there’s some men who have to have a wife … lost without one. And the present Mrs. Lestrange … well, she reminds me of the first. She’s gentle. Not very sure of herself … and very much in love with her husband. Of course, Mrs. Myra has been brought up as a lady. You couldn’t really say that of the other … dead though she is. She wasn’t exactly a lady … but there’s something similar about them …”
“I think I understand what you mean.”
I came away from that conversation feeling that Roger Lestrange must be a very good master to arouse such admiration and loyalty in his servants.
THERE WAS A CERTAIN TENSION in the streets. Trouble was coming. Everyone was talking of it and speculating what the outcome would be. Negotiations were ensuing between Paul Kruger and Jan Smuts on one side and Joseph Chamberlain and the High Commissioner Sir Alfred Milner on the other. There was deadlock while we all waited for the result.
There were changes in the town. The garrison was being strengthened and one saw more and more soldiers in the streets. There were other new faces. The Afrikaners were coming into the town. I heard their voices, saw their faces … stern, weather-beaten, determined.
I had discovered during my brief spell in South Africa that most of the Boers were farmers, whereas the Uitlanders had settled in the towns. The latter were the people who had come to find diamonds and gold and had set up the banks and official buildings, changing the entire aspect of the place.
“It is small wonder,” said Lilias, “that they will not tolerate being deprived of taking part in government.”
It was in October of that year 1899—the last of the century— when the storm broke and South Africa was at war with Britain.
When school was over John Dale came to see us.
He was very concerned. “I don’t know what this is going to mean,” he said.
“Surely these people will not be able to stand out,” replied Lilias. “They will be subdued in a week.”
John was not so sure. “It’s difficult terrain and the Boers are familiar with it. Moreover it is not easy to fight so far away from home.”
“We shall have the men.”
“There are not so many British forces here now.”
“More will surely be sent. Why, ten thousand came not so long ago.”
“We shall have superior arms, of course, and well trained men. The Boers are only farmers … part-time soldiers, but remember they are fighting on territory they know, and which they regard as theirs. I have an uneasy feeling that it is not going to be as easy as some seem to think.” He looked from Lilias to me, the anxiety in his eyes obvious. “It was all going so well,” he said ruefully. “But perhaps you should not have come.”
Lilias smiled at him. “I don’t regret it,” she said. “I never shall.”
He returned her smile rather sadly, I thought. Then he said: “The town is already different. It’s full of strangers. They are getting ready to take it over when the time comes.”
“It would not be for long,” said Lilias.
“What difference will it make to us?” I asked.
“I don’t know. We shall be regarded as the enemy, perhaps.”
“Most of the people in the town are what they call Uitlanders.”
John lifted his shoulders. “We shall have to see,” he said.
We attempted to go on with our lives as we normally did. But we were all so uncertain and when news began to filter through of the Boers’ triumphs over the British our hopes for an early end of the war deserted us.
Roger Lestrange, John Dale and most able-bodied men joined the garrison, for it looked as though it might be necessary to defend the town. The Boers might be farmers, unaccustomed to urban life, but they were shrewd and would recognise the importance of a prosperous town such as Kimberley. They would surely attempt to capture it.
It was early November, approaching the height of summer in South Africa, and the weather was almost unbearably hot.
Myra seemed to be growing weaker. She admitted to me that she had periodic bouts of illness.
“I feel quite weak,” she said. “I don’t feel any desire to eat. Of course, if there is a siege we shall all have to go short of things, I suppose.”
“I expect so,” I replied. “But in the meantime we are trying to keep everything normal. The children are coming to school and life goes on.”
One afternoon I went to Riebeeck House and I found Myra in a state verging on hysteria.
I went to her bedroom. She and Roger had separate rooms now. She had told me that she preferred it because she was worried about being restless in the night.
“What is it, Myra? Would you rather tell me … or …”
“I want to tell you,” she said. “I’m being foolish, I think. But it really frightened me. It’s uncanny.”
“Yes?” I prompted.
“It was in the Model House. I know I shouldn’t go there. It upsets me after I saw that other figure. But this … it was there. It looked so real … I just stared at it. What does it mean?”
“But tell me what you saw.”
“It was those carved figures. It was so like … something that happened. You could imagine it.”
“But what actually did you see?”
“It was the figure of a man cut out of wood … and in his hands he was holding …” She shivered and buried her face in her hands.
“What was he carrying, Myra? You must tell me.”
“He was carrying a woman. Holding her up. Just as though he were going to throw her down the stairs.”
“Oh no,” I murmured.
She looked at me fearfully. “It was awful. Because she … Margarete had fallen down the stairs … I just ran away … screaming. I couldn’t help it. It was because … it seemed to mean something. Roger was there. He tried to comfort me. It was some time before I could tell him what I had seen. He went there then … I followed him. I was afraid that the figures might not be there and it would seem that I had imagined the whole thing.”
“And were they there?”
“Yes … he saw them.”
“What … did he do?”
“He picked it up and broke it. He was so angry because it had upset me so much. He held it in his hand, just looking at it for a moment. Then he put it back, but it wouldn’t stand up. He laid it on the top of the staircase; then he put his arm round me and took me back to my bedroom. He said some person was playing silly tricks and he was going to find out who … and whoever it was would no longer be a member of his household.”
“And he did not find out?”
She shook her head. “Oh, he is so kind to me, Diana. He made me lie down. He said it was all nonsense … nothing to worry about. It was just silly and the only reason why he was so angry was because it had upset me.”
“Who, do you think, would do such a thing?”
“We don’t know. Roger tried to find out. He summoned all the servants to the library and he asked the one who had done it to own up. Who was it who had thought it was amusing to put figures in the Model House? That house was not to be touched by any of them … except those who were to dust it under the supervision of Mrs. Prost.”
“Did anyone own up?”
“No one. But Roger is going to find out. He is determined to.”
“Myra, why should anyone do such a thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“They would have to go to the trouble of carving the figures in the first place and getting up there …”
“I think it was someone trying to frighten me.”
“With little figures like that?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Tell me what’s in your mind, Myra. Why are you so frightened?”
“It’s because of that staircase. I think someone is saying that Margarete did not fall down the stairs because she had been drinkin
g too much … I think they are saying it was not an accident.”
“And you wonder whether …”
“I sometimes feel the figures in the Model House are meant to be a warning …”
“Oh, Myra!”
“I’m afraid to go near that staircase. But there is a sort of compulsion to go there. It is as though someone … is luring me there.”
“Someone?”
“It sounds silly, but strange things do happen. Roger is a very attractive man, isn’t he, and I … well, I’m rather insignificant. It is rather miraculous that a man such as he is should want to marry me.”
“He did marry you, Myra. He must have wanted to.”
“I thought that Margarete might be a little … jealous.”
“But she’s dead!”
“They say that sometimes the dead return. And we are in the same house. Just imagine! She was happy here with him. She had never been happy like that before.”
“Paul says they were a very happy family when his father was alive.”
“But he wouldn’t understand the sort of love she had for Roger. In this house I can believe the past lives on, and I think that she is there waiting to separate us … to lure me to my death …”
“Really, Myra, that’s nonsense.”
“I know. But I am just telling you my feelings.”
“Well, she couldn’t make carvings and put them in the Model House to frighten you, could she? And how is that going to lure you to fall down the stairs?”
“I go there sometimes. I stand at the top and think of her plunging down.”
“Look here, Myra, you’re not yourself. These attacks have been weakening you. They’ve given you odd dreams and fancies … hallucinations perhaps. You’ve got to get back to normal. No ghost can make you do what you don’t want to, nor can it put figures in certain places. Promise me you won’t go wandering round this part of the house alone.”
“I promise,” she said.
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