Walk in the Shadows

by Jayne Bauling

  Her hazel eyes were frightened as she assimilated his grim expression, but she forced herself to remain seated, because to stand up would give away the nervous need to attempt to match his overawing height.

  `Where's Melanie?' Barak enquired coldly.

  `In the library,' Nicola replied hastily. 'Barak ...' she began apprehensively, stretching out a hand.

  I see you know what to expect,' he said drily. 'How did you know I'd seen you?'

  Nicola's hand dropped into her lap. 'Melanie told me you'd been up at the top plantation.'

  `Yes—Melanie,' Barak said thoughtfully, looking down at her from his imposing height. Nicola longed to stand up, but even then she would not be on a level with him, although she was not a small girl.

  `What about Melanie?' she asked stupidly.

  Barak's control shifted and he said in low but furious tones, 'Haven't I already pointed out how children of that age can talk out of turn?'

  `Not Melanie; she knows how to hold her peace, and when to do it,' Nicola said flippantly, but sharply aware that she was courting danger by this attitude. Such talk would only serve to aggravate Barak's wrath,

  but she was afraid of breaking down completely if she addressed him in any other way.

  `I suppose she's become well versed in the art of keeping a secret since you've been here,' Barak taunted with contemptuous anger.

  `It's an art she's always possessed,' Nicola contradicted him

  `And you've reinforced it,' he snapped. 'I won't have my niece learning deception from you, Nicola, and I believe I told you before that I didn't want your affair with Baxter carried out on my property. If you must meet him, do it elsewhere. God knows, I've no right to point out what a fool you're making of yourself over him; you're an adult and you can choose your own lovers but I can insist that your cruelty to Hilary Baxter is not enacted here on this farm. If you and Baxter meet here, I'm in a way responsible, and I refuse to be a party to it.'

  Nicola was too weary to argue. 'It won't happen again,' she promised him listlessly, turning her eyes once more to the faraway blue mountains which were now creased with darker purple shadows. 'Anyway, I'll be leaving soon, so you won't have to worry any further.'

  He was silent for a moment. 'The portrait is finished, then?'

  `It will be by midday tomorrow,' Nicola told him briefly.

  Barak's eyes were chilling. 'You'll be able to see Baxter in Johannesburg without a small girl constantly present. I imagine you'll find it a relief.'

  `I won't be seeing Todd again,' Nicola said stonily.

  `No?' He sounded cynical. 'Since you've been here, you've repeatedly assured me that your affair with Baxter is over, yet you've continued to see him, and what I saw this afternoon . .' He paused, and his eyes went to the mountains. 'I don't think you've been wholly truthful.'

  Nicola's eyes sparkled with a rage which was deliberately induced. She needed anger as a defence against his power, and if she stopped being angry, she might start weeping. She said, 'That's the worst of being away from your own home—you have no privacy. Anyone can overlook you at any time. I object to being spied on. As for your opinion that I'm untruthful—I don't care a damn what you think of me, Barak ! Your opinion counts for nothing where I'm concerned, however much the entire Soutpansberg may heed it. Why should I care?'

  Barak's expression grew colder still. 'There you go again, dragging matters up to an emotional level.'

  `It's better to be over-emotional than to be cold— cold as ice, which you are, because you left all your emotion behind in the past,' Nicola snapped. 'You're not prepared to even appraise new emotions because you're always so busy trying to capture those you had in the past.'

  `You do delight in referring to that past, don't you?'

  `I feel sorry for Denise, that's all,' Nicola assured him untruthfully. 'Why can't you look at her as someone of today, an entity divided from any other belonging to yesterday? You rob yourself of so much,' she concluded with a constricted feeling in her throat.

  Barak looked bored. 'I'm no more interested in your

  opinions than you are in mine, Nicola.'

  'Then there's nothing more to be said, is there?' she said bleakly, wounded by his indifferent tone.

  `Not a lot,' he concurred. 'However, I hope you've understood my wishes in this matter, although I don't suppose it matters as you'll be leaving so soon. But don't let me find out that you've been meeting Baxter on this farm—you can do that elsewhere.'

  `I've told you—I won't be meeting him again,' Nicola flared.

  `Am I expected to believe that after what I witnessed this afternoon?' Barak said scornfully. 'You may actually believe your protests that your affair is over, but you seem to have some difficulty in delivering the death-blow. How much more time do you and Baxter need to finalise the end of a casual affair? It's a long, long goodbye the pair of you have been exchanging since you came up here. I think you lack the strength of mind to bring it to its conclusion ... You mentioned a painful lingering death to me once, but this is ridiculous. Parting should be a swift severance—it's less painful that way.'

  `Thank you for the advice,' Nicola said with sarcasm. `This mortal is honoured that the god should utter for her benefit.'

  `It wasn't intended to be advice. But—God, Nicola!' he said with a sudden renewal of anger. 'You're constantly taking it upon yourself to tell me that I'm a fool who can't let go of the past. What about you? You seem to have more difficulty than most women in bringing an affair to an end—or don't you want it to end? You're hanging on to what's over and done with,

  trying to stir life into the dead ashes.'

  `You know so much about it, don't you?'

  Barak said, 'I know enough. But the point I'm trying to make is this; you cling to what's over instead of going forward, and at the same time have the temerity to accuse and condemn me of the same thing.'

  `Well, it's true, isn't it?' Nicola hit back. 'At least where Todd is concerned, there might be some life left to be squeezed out of what remains.'

  His face tightened, but he only said, 'Quite a lot of life, I should say, judging by the hand-holding and fond embrace this afternoon. But not on my property again, or in Melanie's presence, please, Nicola. Remember that.'

  He turned abruptly and strode into the house, leaving Nicola to stare at a horizon made wondrous by the setting sun, but it failed to move her; in fact, she hardly saw it, because her eyes were dim with pain.

  It probably wouldn't have improved matters between them, but she wished fervently that it had never been necessary for Barak to believe there existed or had existed an affair between her and Todd Baxter. Of course it wouldn't help, she thought impatiently, but she wanted him to see her as someone unattached, free ... only she wasn't free, was she? Because she already belonged, utterly, to Barak Sorensen, and there would never be any freedom again.

  She shrank from the agonising greyness of the future as she now beheld it. What joy was left for her now?

  If only Barak had been closer to them this afternoon, he might have realised that she had found Todd's attentions unwelcome. But from the top plantation,

  he would only have been able to discern the figures and their movements, while guessing at facial expressions.

  The following morning Nicola finished the portrait without requiring Traugott for any posing, so he was down in the house with his wife when she brought the large canvas in and propped it up in the lounge.

  `Well, Traugott,' she said softly as she stepped back from it, 'I've given you my best—and before I left Johannesburg, my father said that would be my triumph.'

  `I like it, Nicola. I think it's wonderful,' Ellen said decisively.

  Traugott was more cautious. He scrutinised the painting from several different angles, and Nicola watched him anxiously.

  Ha!' he breathed at last, still looking at it. Then he turned to Nicola and a broad smile split his tanned face. 'Will you think me vain, Nicola, if I say it is a very handsome portrait?
'

  Nicola laughed and her eyes shone with relief. 'If that's so, then the credit is yours.'

  `You have your triumph,' Traugott added.

  `Thank you.' Nicola inclined her head. She had a humility where her art featured, but now that she was no longer involved with the work, she allowed herself to judge the portrait, and she concluded that she had progressed another step in her education as an artist. Traugott lived and breathed on the canvas, with sunlit farmland in the background, and he would not be disgraced by the portraits of his nine brothers.

  `Maybe you should specialise in portraits,' Ellen suggested as they continued to examine Nicola's work.

  `No, thank you,' said Nicola. But having done this, I won't feel inadequate again if I see someone worth painting. I've proved to myself that I can paint people in addition to the earth and sky and veld, but those last will continue to attract me.'

  `Melanie has shown us the painting you finished for her yesterday,' Traugott commented. 'Ellen and I were both impressed.'

  `I enjoyed doing it—as I enjoyed painting you,' Nicola said, a little shyly. She knew she would miss these two when she left, for she had become fond of them, and they were always kind to her.

  `What sort of frame do you suggest for this?' Ellen asked.

  Nicola's brow creased. Then she darted into the dining-room and looked up at Traugott's nine older brothers who overlooked the round table from two walls.

  Returning to the lounge, she said emphatically, 'A plain frame, very plain.'

  Traugott nodded appreciatively. 'I've never liked those fancy ones, curls and whirls and gilt all over the place.'

  `That's because you're such a simple, direct person, yourself, I think,' Nicola stated gravely. 'Sometimes ornate frames can look wonderful. A lot depends on the room and its decor, of course.'

  `Are you still bent on leaving tomorrow?' Ellen said wistfully.

  `I think so,' Nicola replied steadily. 'I must go. You've been so kind, and this is a wonderful part of

  the Transvaal, so I'll be sad to leave ... but I'd like to get back to my father.'

  It was as good an excuse as any, and true as well. Earlier, the elderly couple had been very insistent that she remain for a while, and she didn't want to offend them. She knew it was more than mere courtesy which had prompted their invitation :the affection she felt for them was returned with a genuine warmth.

  `Then of course you must hasten back,' Traugott agreed sympathetically. He patted her hand approvingly. 'I am glad to know you are a dutiful daughter.'

  Ellen caught Nicola's eye and they exchanged a smile. Ellen had told Nicola that filial respect was something Traugott, with his strong belief in family unity, approved of.

  Nicola said, 'I'd like to go for a last drive through the Soutpansberg this afternoon, if you have no objection.'

  `That's all right,' said Ellen. `Traugott, do see if you can find Barak and tell him he simply must come and see the portrait at once. I can't wait for people to come and admire my husband ! '

  Not wanting to expose herself to the weakening effect Barak had on her senses, Nicola escaped from Ellen almost immediately Traugott had left the room.

  She set off on her drive immediately after lunch and, as always, the dreaming surroundings calmed her, allowing a measure of peace to seep into her soul, in spite of the pain which was constantly with her now. It was the pain of emptiness, because yearning for Barak had made her that way, achingly unfulfilled, longing for her love to be returned.

  Nicola heaved a small sigh as she returned the wave of a now familiar old Venda.

  There might come a mild serenity, instilled by this land, but it failed to completely dim the fiery pain, and she thought she might find greater solace in the bustling city which had been her home very early in life and then again when she had left Natal to attend art school. Perhaps she might find a modicum of comfort in all that was so dearly familiar there; the ugly modern skyscrapers, the tapered Brixton Tower, Northcliff mountain There would be some comfort, but would it be enough to ease the aching?

  Was she destined to walk for ever in the shadows to which the man Barak had brought her? For how long? As long as Barak had, in loving Vanessa? She knew it was ten years since he had loved Vanessa and lost her to Karl; four years since their tragic death which had left Melanie an orphan.

  Nicola rebelled at the idea of her own suffering continuing for so long. Her life had been so pleasant once, and she resented the new darkness which had wrapped itself about her.

  At dinner that night, Nicola glanced at the space the completed portrait would occupy and the part of her which was artist, taking pride in work completed, enabled her to smile.

  `What are you smiling at?' Melanie asked from beside her, startling her out of her reverie.

  `I expect she's glad to be going home,' Barak said urbanely, and Nicola perceived that he was pronouncing himself to also be glad of the same thing. 'I congratulate you on the portrait, Nicola.'

  `Thank you,' she said, and resumed eating. She thought wearily that she had never been so miserable in her life.

  Melanie also ate in silence for a while. Then she looked up. `Well!' she announced, giving the impression of having come to a profound conclusion. 'I think it's rotten of you to be glad you're leaving, Nicola.'

  `Her father needs her, dear,' Ellen said gently.

  Not really, but let them believe it, Nicola thought.

  `But none of us wants her to go away,' Melanie persisted.

  `True enough,' Traugott rumbled.

  Barak's soft laugh was full of irony, and Nicola flushed. Yes, they would like her to stay; all of them except Barak. If he had wanted her to remain ... Nicola's heart contracted painfully. Would anything ever assuage this sense of desolation?

  Later that night she finished packing her belongings, her dull spirit resting heavily on her, weighing her down with despair. The telephone in the hall was ringing as she left her bedroom to return a book to the library, and she heard Barak answer it. She was still in the library when he came to her, his face a tight mask of anger.

  Nicola looked at him apprehensively. What now? She couldn't think of any reason for him to have sought her out in this mood of controlled anger.

  `Come with me,' he said abruptly, his grey eyes very dark. 'We're going out.'

  `What? But Barak, where?' she demanded, frightened by his expression.

  `Never mind that. It's just a short drive. I want to show you something.'

  `You must be crazy,' she told him. 'Why should I leap to do your bidding when you won't even give me a reason?'

  He stared at her with narrowed eyes and she grew conscious of her appearance. She was wearing the cream panelled skirt and jade blouse with the matching necklace that she had worn on the first night she had been on the farm, but this time her hair was drawn back into a sleek knot at the back of her neck.

  He said, 'I told you; I have something to show you, Nicola.'

  `I don't understand you,' Nicola did not know why she was protesting. 'It's late and I was about to go to bed after I'd returned this book. I want to make a fairly early start tomorrow.'

  Barak sounded suddenly tired. 'Please come.'

  `All right.' It would be self-inflicted torture, but she knew she wanted to give way.

  `Come on,' he said impatiently, gripping her arm. He steered her into the lounge where he addressed Ellen and Traugott : 'I know it's late, but I'm taking Nicola up to Angel's Throne. Don't feel you have to wait up for us. You'll be able to say goodbye in the morning.'

  `What a good idea, Barak,' said Ellen, looking pleased. 'I had thought that if Nicola stayed on we could have taken her up to see it. Of course, it really ought to be visited by day for the view, but this is better than nothing.'

  `Enjoy yourselves,' Traugott adjured them as Barak, still holding Nicola's arm in a vice-like grip, guided

  her out of the lounge and into the hall.

  `What's Angel's Throne?' Nicola demanded when they were outsid
e.

  `It's a hotel at the top of one of the neighbouring mountains and commands rather a special view,' Barak said shortly.

  Instead of going to the station-wagon he used for travelling about the farm and surrounding countryside, he opened the door of the blue Lancia Stratos which he rarely used.

  `And were you telling them the truth when you said we were going there?' Nicola asked when they were on their way. She was very conscious of his nearness.

  `Yes, I told them the truth—without giving them the reason.'

  `And what is the reason?' she enquired frigidly.

  `I had a phone call from Mr Graeme. Denise has done one of her disappearing acts again. Of course, she made sure her parents knew where she was going first.'

  As at New Year, Nicola thought bleakly. She saw Barak's grim profile in the darkness. Was Denise with Todd Baxter again? If so, there would be no Nicola Prenn this time to help her out of an awkward situation when Barak arrived.

  `As you've consistently assured me that your private life is none of my business, I find it strange that I'm now being dragged along to help round up your stray ... girl-friend. What does it mean?' she said.

  'You'll soon find out.' His tone was clipped.

  `As Denise isn't formally engaged to you yet, do you have any right to interfere in her activities?' she demanded. 'Her life ought to be her own—it's a trans-

  gression of her freedom for her parents to have told you what she was up to and sent you chasing after her. Oh, I know twenty-one is still officially the majority age in this country, but most allow their children to lead their own lives after they leave school. Denise is an adult.'

  `She is,' Barak concurred quietly. 'But Denise's parents worry over her behaviour. I have no right to interfere in her activities, but I can assist her parents who are my friends.'

  `Why is it necessary for me to come with you?' Despite herself, she could not keep out a slight tremor from her voice.