The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (2 page)

‘When he came back, you wrote?'

Her cheeks burned uncomfortably. ‘I did, but Mum . . .'

‘Didn't approve?'

‘No. I . . . well, I even gave Uncle Ned the
address
of one of my friends, but she brought a letter round one day when Mum was there and . . . well . . .' Jon hesitated. She didn't want to tell Alex Roe, but she could vividly remember the emotional scene, her mother's tears, bitter words, accusation of disloyalty, the repetition of the old words: ‘If Ned had done his duty, Dad would be alive today, because he never wanted to be an architect. It was all your uncle's fault.' Even as it hurt Jon, she had understood, for in her mother's world there was only right or wrong, nothing in between. It seemed odd that anyone so lovely as her mother could be so narrow-minded, so full of bitterness, even of hatred, yet Jon always thought it might be due to her mother's strict upbringing by aged parents, for there had to be a reason or a cause.

‘I'm beginning to understand a lot of things,' Alex said slowly. ‘I only wonder your mother hasn't married again, because she's most attractive.'

Grateful for the chance to change the conversation, Jon unwound her legs, letting them swing down as she leaned forward. ‘I know. That's how I feel. I want her to marry again. She's so young.'

‘How old are you?'

‘Twenty-three.'

‘You look barely seventeen,' he teased.

‘Is that a crime?' she asked coldly.

‘Of course not.' He laughed again. ‘That
makes
your mother only forty-one. I wonder why she never remarried. I'm sure she must have had plenty of chances.'

‘Oh, she has. There was Bill in Bexhill where we lived. I liked him and I thought . . . but then we heard about this and Mum said I couldn't come out to cope with the farm alone, so she . . . she came out.' Suddenly worried by his silence, Jon looked at him. ‘She's wonderful, you know. She's sacrificed a lot for me.'

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I can believe it,' he said, but something in his voice told her he didn't.

Jon twisted her hands together, avoiding looking at him, for she was hoping he could not read the thoughts in her head. Her mother's ‘sacrifices', if they had been that, had been wasted. Jon had longed to work her way round the world, but how could she leave her mother who was so dependent on her?

‘Did you have a boy-friend you had to leave?' Alex sounded amused and to Jon's utter humiliation, she felt her cheeks burning again.

‘Yes,' she began, about to tell him of shy Jimmy, a year younger than she was and who was a marvellous dancer but that was all.

At that moment a plumpish African girl in a blue frock and crisp white apron came out on the stoep, carrying a large brass tray with glasses, bottles of orange and lemonade, and
an
ice bucket.

‘Thanks, Violet,' Alex said, and Jon stared at the girl, who gave her a quick curious look back.

Jon knew there were two maids. The other would be Dorcas, then. It seemed odd, Jon thought, to think of her new life with servants to do all the work, garden boys and a large number of farm workers. She remembered the small two-bedroomed flat on the Bexhill front with the floor polisher, vacuum cleaner and small but adequate washing machine and spin dryer. It would be odd to have no housework to do. She wondered if they did the cooking.

‘Violet's the cook,' Alex said, almost as if he was able to read Jon's thoughts. He stood up, to pour out the drinks. ‘A darned good one. Your Uncle Ned was fussy about his food.'

At that moment, Jon's mother joined them. She looked cool and beautiful in a yellow kaftan with loose sleeves, her dark hair shining, her long dark lashes against her creamy skin adding to the beauty of her eyes.

‘How lovely—a cold drink! There's plenty of water, if you feel like a bath. Sorry I've been so long, but I suddenly felt so wet and sticky in this dreadful heat,' she said, and sat down with her usual gracefulness.

Alex passed her glass to her. ‘I've arranged a cold lunch for you about one o'clock. That'll give Jon time to have a bath. Then I suggest you both rest this afternoon and I'll be along
later
to show you round the place and I hope, if you're not too tired,' he smiled at Jon's mother, ‘I would like you and your daughter to come to dinner tonight. First nights in strange houses are always dismal and there are a few people I'd like you to meet. That is, of course, if you're not too tired,' he repeated, looking anxiously at Jon's mother.

Ursula Hampton's eyes shone. ‘We'd love it, wouldn't we, Jon?' she said, and sounded so pleased that although Jon felt more like curling up in bed for the next twenty-four hours, she had to agree with a smile.

They watched the car drive down the rutty earth track, over the cattle trap and then on to the wide earth road.

Ursula Hampton turned to her daughter with a smile. ‘Maybe life here won't be so bad after all, darling. He seems quite nice, doesn't he?'

Jon yawned. ‘He's all right, I suppose. I must go and bath,' she said, and went inside.

*          *          *

After Jon had had her bath, the lunch was served in a square shaped room where there was a fan bringing in the breeze. It was a pleasant but simple room with white walls and dark brown antique furniture. The table was circular, there was a Welsh dresser and a long sideboard. The curtains were yellow and there
were
yellow grass mats on the polished brown boards.

Dorcas, a thin African girl in a yellow and white check overall with a white apron, waited on them. She moved lightly and silently, but smiled when they thanked her It was a simple but delicious meal of cold ham and salad with sliced onions, tomatoes and lettuce. Afterwards they had ice cream.

‘Your Uncle Ned certainly lived well,' Jon's mother said dryly.

Jon looked up quickly, but fought back the words she wanted to say. Why shouldn't Uncle Ned live well? she asked herself silently. He had earned the money. She still could not get over the fact that it had been Uncle Ned's money they had lived on for these long nine years. She longed to tell her mother, but Alex Roe had been very definite about Uncle Ned's desire for it not to be known. Surely the knowledge would make her mother think more kindly of poor Uncle Ned? On the other hand, her mother might say it was a sign of his feeling of guilt—or even that as Uncle Ned was the eldest of the family, it was his duty . . . That was something her elderly parents had taught her.

But Jon herself knew that she would never forget it. How good of him, how thoughtful and understanding.

Dear Uncle Ned who had given her the farm and the money. That had annoyed her
mother.

‘He should have left it to me. You're too young, Jon,' she had said angrily.

Jon had tried to find a logical reason to remove the hurt her mother obviously felt. ‘He knew you were a city girl, Mum, and that my dream has always been to live in the country.'

How startled her mother had looked! ‘Has it? I never knew,' she had said, but Jon had changed the subject, for it was true, her dream had always been to live near mountains where there were wide open spaces and a lake or sea. Here—the first two parts of her dream had come true, but, so far, there was no river or lake in sight!

Now, as they ate their lunch with Dorcas moving quietly round the room, Jon's mother talked of their new home.

‘It's quite nice, but I had no idea we'd be so isolated, Jon. Your uncle should have thought of that. Two women living alone.'

‘I expect we'll have a night-watchman, Mum.'

‘If we can trust him.' Jon's mother played with a piece of bread, gazing out of the window across the valley to the distant blue-grey mountains. ‘I wonder where the town is. We didn't pass any shops or houses on the way here. I wonder if we did the right thing in coming out, Jon. Maybe we should have taken Mr Williams' advice and sold the farm.'

‘But he didn't
advise
us to sell it, Mummy.
He
merely said that if we were unhappy here we
could
sell it. Uncle Ned wanted me . . . us . . . to live here and we must give it a try.'

Her mother sighed. ‘I suppose so, but somehow I can't see us settling here for good. Now, be honest, can you, Jon?'

Worriedly Jon looked at her mother. How frail and unhappy she looked! If this sort of life was really impossible for her, Jon thought, but somehow she managed to smile: ‘Let's give it a chance, Mum, and if it doesn't work out, we'll think about selling it.'

Her mother smiled, lifting her hand to touch her pretty dark hair. ‘All right, darling, but somehow I have a feeling that we won't be here for long.'

They had coffee outside on the mosquito-screened stoep. It was very hot and the mountains were vanishing in a haze.

‘It's so terribly quiet,' Jon's mother said. ‘Almost eerie. I wonder if we have any people near us. It's so lonely. Maybe we're the only people for miles and miles.'

‘There must be people, Mum. Alex said he would introduce us to some this evening.' Jon stifled a sigh. Strange how different she and her mother were. Already Jon loved the quiet serenity of the silence, the isolation, the scent of the gardenias, the lovely colour of the purple creepers, the tiny lizard she had just watched scuttle over the stones and up the wall as if aware of danger, but her mother was
yawning,
seeing none of the beauty.

‘Well, I don't know about you, darling, but I feel like a good rest.'

‘You are feeling better?' Jon asked anxiously.

Her mother laughed. ‘Yes, but I must confess I prefer being on
terra firma
. That last flight really scared me.'

They went into the quiet house, separating to go to their own bedrooms.

Jon liked hers. It was austere in a masculine way with a single bed against the wall. Uncle Ned must have been fond of yellow for her curtains, too, were that colour. There was a chest of drawers with a small mirror on the wall and a large cupboard. But Jon stood by the open window, shielded from the mosquitoes by a screen, as she looked almost hungrily at the mountain peaks, fast vanishing in the heat haze. She unpacked, hanging up her clothes. Thinking of the trunks and crates that were coming out by sea, she knew a moment of dismay. Had they done the right thing, she wondered, making such a decision, giving up the flat, selling the furniture and rushing out here? It had been her mother's idea,
then
, yet now . . .

‘Alex Roe is coming at four o'clock,' Jon's mother said urgently, standing by Jon's bedside.

Slowly and with difficulty, Jon woke up. She yawned, stretching herself. ‘I must have been
tired.'

‘You've only got ten minutes.' Ursula Hampton hesitated. ‘Jon, I wonder what we should wear tonight? First impressions are so important.'

Jon slid out of bed and shrugged. ‘We'll ask him if it's black tie.'

‘Black tie?'

Jon laughed. ‘That's what they call it when you have to dress up. Surely you knew?'

‘My friends never dressed up, unfortunately,' Ursula Hampton said sadly. ‘Bill always said it was too much bother. If they knew what it means to us! It's so much more fun. Well, darling, you'd better get going. Alex Roe is a busy man and . . .'

‘I know, Mum,' Jon said patiently, and hurried to the bathroom where she had a quick shower. Then she dressed, pulling on a pink cotton frock for the time being. It was much too thick, she thought. Somehow they must find some shops so that they could buy some thin dresses, more suitable for this intense heat.

She was on the stoep as the big black car drew up. Alex got out. He was wearing khaki shorts and a matching shirt. His hair was damp as he smiled at her and opened the car door.

Out tumbled three dogs who hurtled through the air towards Jon, and Alex called sharply:

‘Steady on, Rex, Sandy, Jock! Calm down!'
He
grabbed at the dogs and they looked up at him, their tails wagging. ‘Sorry about that, Jon,' he said. ‘I should have let them out one by one. These are your dogs, incidentally.'

‘Mine?' Jon stared at him, her eyes wide with delight. ‘They were Uncle Ned's?'

‘Yes, I've been looking after them. You like dogs?'

‘And how!' Jon held out her hands invitingly and the dogs came round her, sniffing at her suspiciously at first, then finally showing their acceptance of her friendliness by licking her hands.

Alex turned to open the car door for a moment. When he came back, he held a small cat in his arms. ‘This is also yours,' he said. ‘Little Tim, Uncle Ned called him. It was a stray kitten he found in the market, terribly thin and covered with sores.'

‘He looks all right now,' Jon said as she took the small bundle of fur in her arms.

‘What on earth!'

She swung round as she heard her mother's startled voice. ‘Our watchdogs, Mum. They'll look after us all right.'

Alex smiled. ‘You also have a good night watchman, Mrs Hampton. You have nothing to worry about.'

‘It seems so lonely after living in a flat, Mr Roe.'

‘I'm sure it must. Look, couldn't you call me Alex? We don't go in for formalities here.'

Jon
saw her mother's face brighten. ‘I'm glad. My name is Ursula,' Mrs Hampton said quickly, ‘Alex.'

Alex Roe gave a little bow. ‘Thank you, Ursula.' He turned to Jon. ‘Would you care to be shown round? That is, if you want to see it all?'

‘Of course,' Jon said quickly. What a stupid question, she thought. Naturally she wanted to see her farm.

Alex had turned to her mother. ‘Would you care to?' but Ursula Hampton was shaking her head as she sat down. She had put on a blue skirt and thin, matching blouse. Now the boxer, Sandy, came up to nuzzle his nose against her hand.