The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (9 page)

She tried to remember all that Alex had told her about driving in bad weather and as the nightmare of the drive grew worse and mist enveloped them so she had to crawl along, looking anxiously for the glow of lights from approaching cars, she really wondered if she should sell the farm. Was this the sort of life
she
could cope with? These terrifying storms, the terrible roads . . .

But there again, that unanswerable question came up: Why had Uncle Ned said the farm must never be sold to Alex Roe?

‘Why?' she asked herself. If only she knew!

As she drove down towards the valley, the rain ceased and the clouds moved away, and by the time she reached the valley the roads were dry, the sun shining. All the same, she was glad to see Jabula and even more glad as she drove into the open garage and switched off the engine.

She sat still for a moment. What a nightmare it had been! Now, as she got out of the car and the two dogs came bounding to meet her, she saw Alex drive in. She was surprised, for she had thought he would drive on past to his own home. Perhaps she should thank him for his consideration, for maybe it had even upset his plans.

‘Alex . . .' she began as he strode towards her, but he spoke at the same time.

‘Congratulations,' he smiled. ‘You did darned well.'

She could not believe it! Alex praising her! Then he added: ‘Considering it was your first storm.'

Some of the pleasure caused by his words vanished. Why must he spoil everything?

‘I was terrified,' she confessed.

He smiled again. ‘Aren't we all, especially
the
first time. It's not a pleasant experience, Jon, but in time one learns how to cope. Next time you won't find it so hard.'

She ran her hand through her hair. ‘I hope not. I'm exhausted.'

‘What you need is a cold drink and something to eat. So do I.' He glanced at his watch and whistled softly. ‘Any idea of the time?'

‘None.' Jon looked at hers and gasped. ‘Why, it's nearly three! You'll have missed your lunch.'

‘And you yours. Can't I share it? What are you having?'

‘Just cold meat and salad.' Jon hesitated. ‘Mum is out,' she added, thinking that he might have suggested staying to lunch in order to see her mother.

He grinned at that. ‘So what? Afraid there'll be a local scandal because we lunch alone?'

She went red. ‘Of course not. I just thought . . .'

‘Well, I'm hungry, so why are we wasting time?' He took her arm and led the way up the steps to the stoep. ‘Go and shout for Violet and I'll get the cold drinks.'

She obeyed, stopping briefly in the bathroom and surveying her flushed face with a frown for her hair was rumpled and her nose shiny.

‘Jon!' Alex called.

‘Coming!' Jon shouted back, giving a little
shrug.
It would be a waste of time trying to make herself look attractive with two people as lovely as her mother and Madeleine around. In any case, Alex never even ‘saw' her; she was merely ‘little Jon', the niece of his best friend.

As they ate lunch, Alex asked abruptly: ‘Is your mother feeling happier here?'

Suddenly wary, Jon looked up. ‘Definitely,' she said and hoped he had not heard the note of defiance in her voice.

‘I thought so this morning,' Alex went on, his tone casual. ‘I'm glad she's making so many friends, because she needs friends, you know, Jon. She's not a loner like you.'

Jon's mouth was dry. ‘You . . . you were here this morning?'

‘Yes, you were out with the dogs. I just looked in.' He stared at her for what seemed an endless moment. ‘Didn't your mother tell you I looked in?'

Jon shook her head silently. Had he seen her walking towards the house? Had he seen her hesitate and turn hurriedly away? Would he make her lie and then tell her that he knew that she'd heard what her mother had said.

‘She didn't tell me.' At least, Jon thought, she could say that truthfully.

‘It wasn't about anything important. This is good meat, Jon. Which butcher did you go to?' he asked, and the conversation changed as they discussed the difficulties of shopping, the necessity of having a deep-freeze, and it wasn't
until
they were on the stoep, drinking coffee, that Jon became wary again, for Alex said casually: ‘I was surprised to see your car in Qwaleni this morning. You see, I'd told your mother I was going in and she said you had been taking her in but her plans had changed. She was so sure you wouldn't go in alone, as you hate the drive. What made you change your mind?'

Jon tried to think quickly. Alex mustn't find out about the advertisement for the farm manager until it had all been settled.

‘I felt restless. I hadn't anything much to do.'

He looked amused. ‘Don't tell me you're getting bored? I thought you loved the quiet simplicity of your new life.'

‘Of course I do, but . . .' Jon stopped herself in time, for it would be a mistake to let him make her lose her temper.

Alex stood up. ‘I must go. I've wasted enough time already today. What you need is a husband and six children little Jon, then you wouldn't have time to feel restless.' He smiled down at her. ‘Seen Madeleine?'

‘Yes. She came here this morning, looking for you.'

‘I told her yesterday that I was going to Qwaleni today. She never remembers anything. Did she remember to invite you both to dinner tomorrow?'

‘Yes.'

‘You're
going, of course.'

‘Well, I don't know about Mum . . .'

‘She wants to go. I asked her this morning. She hasn't a very high opinion of Madeleine, has she? How do you get on with her?'

‘With Madeleine? All right, but . . .'

‘But . . . ?' There was a strange note in Alex's voice. Was it anger, exasperation, or irritation? Jon wondered. She stood up. She hated it when he towered above her and it made it a million times worse when she was sitting down.

‘We get on all right, but we're not close friends, Alex. You know that very well.'

‘She wants to be friends. She needs one badly.'

‘Does she? That isn't the impression I get, Alex.' He looked surprised. ‘I don't understand.'

Jon moved impatiently. ‘Of course you do. Madeleine is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, but she never lets me forget it. And it's I . . . I . . . I . . . all the time. She's been most helpful, but I'm sure it was only because you told her to be.'

‘You think she'd obey me? Just like that?' Alex was smiling, openly amused by Jon's outburst.

‘You know very well she'd do anything you told her to.'

He laughed. ‘I'm flattered. I don't think you know Madeleine very well. She suffers from an
outsize
inferiority complex.'

‘Madeleine?' Jon stared at him. ‘That I can't believe.'

He shrugged. ‘Well, she does.'

‘But . . .'

‘You'll understand better after you've been to her home. I'm sorry for the girl.'

‘Sorry—for Madeleine? You're teasing me,' Jon said.

‘Why should I waste my valuable time teasing you?' Alex asked with a smile, lifted his hand and said goodbye. ‘See you tomorrow, then,' he said casually, and walked off to his car.

Jon waited until the car was out of sight and then she sat down, ignoring for once the loving tongues of the two dogs as they moved round her, trying to persuade her to take them for a walk.

‘Wasting his valuable time,' Alex had said. Wasn't that just what Madeleine had said, too? So he must have said those very words to her and she merely repeated them. Had he, perhaps, told Madeleine to tell Jon? Well, she thought angrily, soon he wouldn't have to waste his valuable time. Soon she would have her own farm manager and be quite independent. Perhaps then people would stop laughing at her and waiting for her to give in and admit failure. Perhaps the laughter and watching was due to Alex's . . . ? Well, they were all due for a big surprise. Nothing—but
nothing
was going to make her give up the farm. Nothing whatsoever.

Rex began to whine, rolling over on his back and waving his legs, then leaping to his feet, barking excitedly.

Jon laughed. ‘All right, all right!' she told the dogs. ‘Let me just change my shoes and we'll go for a walk.'

The well-known beloved word brought them both to life as they raced up and down the stoep, barking impatiently until Jon was ready.

She walked slowly down the track, a light hat on her head. She had so much to think about. The two dogs leapt about and raced far ahead, occasionally looking to make sure she was following them and then rushing off again. The spaniel, Jock, walked behind her, still ignoring her but no longer avoiding her, even wagging his tail when she stroked him. Maybe he was accepting her in a minor way, but she still was not his beloved Uncle Ned.

Jon thought of her uncle, wishing she had known him better, wishing for the thousandth time at least that her mother would stop blaming him for something he was not guilty of doing. She also wished she could tell her mother that it had been Uncle Ned financing them for those nine years, without any expectation of gratitude or friendliness from them.

She also wished she could understand her
uncle's
letter. Why couldn't her mother read it? And why could the farm be sold, but not to Alex?

If only she could understand the real Alex! Sometimes she would think him sympathetic, even kind, and then instantly he would change, openly laughing at her.

And how odd that he should say Madeleine suffered from an inferiority complex? How could she, when she looked so lovely?

And why—another question came into Jon's mind—why had her mother been so silent at breakfast? Why not have said Alex had looked in and that they'd been invited to dinner at Pumula? Surely she couldn't have forgotten it in that short time? Then her mother had also known Alex was going into Qwaleni? Why hadn't she said so? For that matter so had Madeleine known and she had said nothing

Jon rubbed her face wearily and yawned, for it was too hot to walk far. She saw the mountains ahead and the clouds were coming in fast and low, hiding the green pastures and grey-blue rocks. She called the dogs, turned and walked back to the empty house. She could hear music from the radio in the girls' rooms and their laughter, but as she went from room to room of the house before having her shower, she tried to think of her uncle living here alone, always alone.

Showering, she wondered what Alex had meant when he called her a ‘loner'. Hadn't he
once
before said the same about Uncle Ned? What exactly was a loner?

As she rubbed herself dry, she decided that maybe he meant that she and Uncle Ned were rarely lonely and preferred not to be one of a crowd. In England she had had her friends, but she didn't
need
them.

Putting on a clean frock, she thought of Madeleine. How could she need a friend? In any case, after the way she had spoken that morning, it was obvious that Madeleine had no friendly feelings for the rooinek—the ‘laughing-stock' of the neighbourhood!

Dressed, Jon went into the guest room of the house. Would it be suitable for the farm manager? she wondered. She could get him a table or desk to go under the window. She could move in an armchair from the lounge. There was a bedside lamp. The colour scheme was leaf-green, quite attractive. Would he consider it big enough? He need only have his meals with them, of course. It seemed an excellent plan, for her mother would be much happier, knowing a man was sleeping in the house to protect them.

She went back to the stoep, wondering what sort of applications for the job she would get. She must choose wisely or else Alex would have another opportunity to make fun of her.

How quiet it was! For once there were no noisy tractors, but the clouds were getting lower and coming closer. Now there was only a
small
part of the sky that was still blue, touched with a faint tinge of pink, reminding her that it was later than she had realized and that soon the sun would go down.

She went out to the kitchen and told Violet there would only be one person for dinner. Not feeling hungry, she changed her mind, telling the girls they could go to their rooms and she would cook her own dinner. It would give her something to do, she teased herself as she got out her writing case. She'd scramble some eggs and add some tomatoes, since all she felt like was a light meal.

She was busy writing letters when suddenly a wind seemed to spring up from nowhere, making the curtains blow into the room and the doors and windows rattle. It was like a gale. Jon jumped up. The trees were being whipped savagely by the wind, bending almost to the ground. Even as she hurried round the house, closing the windows, shutting the doors, the electricity came on and she silently blessed Leonard for remembering to do it for the sun had gone down and everything was getting dark. At that moment the rain came.

Never had she seen such rain. It was even worse than it had been during the storm she met coming back from Qwaleni earlier that day. The hard rain beat into the ground so that it became mud almost instantly, making deep ruts through the garden. As Jon stood by the windows watching, she could see the havoc
being
played amongst the flowers as they were whipped out by the wind or beaten to the ground by the rain. A terrific clap of thunder filled the air and the room was bright with the flash of lightning. Jon moved rapidly away from the window and then felt ashamed of her fear. She hoped they were not having this bad storm where her mother was, for she, poor darling, was absolutely terrified.

So was she, Jon confessed, as the storm grew worse. Never had she seen such savagery as the sky was cut in half almost by the brilliant lightning while the thunder made a reverberating crash at the same instant. It was as if she was in the centre of it all, caged in, never to escape.