The Sound of Thunder (38 page)

“Good afternoon, Colonel.” The orderly sergeant recognized him immediately and jumped to attention with such alacrity that he overturned his stool.

“Afternoon, Thompson,” Sean told him. The honours of his rank still embarrassed him. Thompson relaxed and inquired with more than just the formal concern: “How are you, sir? Sorry to ‘ear about your belly, sir.

“Thank you, Thompson, I am fine now. Is Major Peterson in?

Peterson was delighted to see him. He made tender inquiries after the movement of Sean’s bowels, for irregularity was often one of the unpleasant aftermaths of a stomach wound. Sean reassured him and Peterson went on: “Have some tea. The old man is busy right now but he’ll see you in ten minutes,” and he shouted for Thompson to bring tea before he returned to the subject of Sean’s wound. “Much of a scar, old chap? ” he asked.

Sean loosened his Sam Browne belt, unbuttoned his tunic and pulled his shirt out from his trousers. Peterson came around the desk and inspected Sean’s hairy stomach at close range.

“Very neat. Damn good job they did on you.” Peterson gave his expert opinion. “I got one at Omdurman, , one of those fuzzy wuzzies pegged me with his dirty great spear.” And he in turn partially disrobed and displayed his pale hairless chest. From common courtesy Sean was forced to cluck and shake his head at the small triangular cicatrice on Peterson’s bosom, although secretly he was not impressed.

The attention went to Peterson’s head.

, Got another one, damn painful it was too!” and he unbuckled his belt and had his trousers half down when the inter leading door opened.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything, gentlemenl” General Acheson inquired politely. There were a few moments of con fusion while they both attempted to dress and make the correct military salutations. Peterson had the nicest decision to make, not covered by the Articles of War. It was one of the few occasions in history where a senior divisional commander was received by a field officer standing at rigid attention with his trousers round his ankles. Major Peterson affected a rather startling line in scarlet flannel underwear. Once Acheson had understood the reason for this irregularity of dress among his officers, he was strongly tempted to join in the exhibition, for he also had some fine scars, but he restrained himself admirably. He led Sean through to the inner office and gave him a cigar, Well, Courtney. I hope you haven’t come looking for a job, ” “On the contrary, I want to get the hell out of this business, sir.

“I think we can arrange that. The Paymaster will be relieved.

Acheson nodded. “I’ll get Peterson to draw up your papers.

“I want to leave tomorrow, Sean insisted, and Acheson smiled.

“You’re in a big hurry. All right. Peterson can post them to you for your signatUre, your unit has already been disbanded so there is no point in kicking your heels around here.”

“Good!” Sean had anticipated resistance, and he laughed with relief.

“There are just three other items,” Acheson went on, and Sean frowned with quick suspicion.

“Firstly, a parting gift from His Majesty. A Distinguished Service Order for catching Leroux, there will be an investiture next week. Lord K. would like you to attend personally.

“Hell, no! If I’ve got to stay in Johannesburg, I don’t want it.

And Acheson chuckled. “A surprising lack of gratitude! Peterson can post it to you also. “Secondly, I’ve been able to bring a little influence to bear on the War Claims Adjustment Board.

Although Parliament hasn’t passed the Bill, they’ve gone ahead and sanctioned your claim. ” “Good God!” Sean was stunned. At Acheson’s suggestion he had registered a claim for ten thousand pounds, his deposit in the Volkskaas Bank, which had been seized by the Boers at the outbreak of war. He had expected nothing from it, and had promptly forgotten about it. “They haven’t made a full award, have they?”

“Don’t be naive, Courtney,” Acheson chuckled. “Only twenty per cent against a possible further adjustment once the Bill is through the House. Still, two thousand is better than a poke in the eye with a blunt stick. Here’s their cheque. You’ll have to sign for it.

Sean examined the slip of paper with rising delight. It would go a little way towards paying off his loan from Natal Wattle.

He looked up quickly.

“And the third item?” he asked.

Acheson slipped a small square of cardboard across the desk.

“My card, and a standing invitation to visit and stay as long as you like whenever you are in London.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Good luck, Sean. And I’d like to think it isn’t good, bye.

In a rosy state of elation induced by freedom and the prospect of a loving farewell with Candy Rautenbach, Sean stopped the cab first at the railway station to reserve a seat on the following mornings southbound train, and to cable Ada of his homecomIng . Then, on to Commissioner Street and the lobby of Candys Hotel to ask for the proprietress.

“Mrs. Rautenbach is resting, sir, and cannot be disturbed,” the clerk informed him.

“Good man!” Sean passed him half a guinea and ignored his squawks of protest as he climbed the marble staircase.

He let himself silently into Candy’s suite and crossed to her bedroom. He wanted to surprise her; and there could be no doubt that he succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. Candy Rautenbach was not resting. In fact she was most strenuously employed in the entertainment of a gentleman whose tunic, hanging over the back of one of the gilt and red velvet chairs, showed him to be a subaltern in in one of His Majesty’s regiments.

Sean supported his subsequent actions on the hypothesis that Candy was his exclusive property. In the flood of righteous indignation that overwhelmed him, he took no account of the fact that his visit was a farewell gesture, that his relationship with Candy had been at best vague and intermittent, and that he was the following morning leaving to propose matrimony to someone else. All he saw was the cuckoo in the nest.

So that no discredit may reflect on the courage of the subaltern or the honour of his regiment, we must remember that his knowledge of Candy’s domestic arrangements, if not those of her anatomy, was incomplete. She had been introduced to him as Mrs. Rautenbach and now in this terrible moment as he returned to reality he assumed that the large and angry man who bore down on the bed, roaring like a wounded bull; was the one and only Mr. Rautenbach come home from the wars. He made preparation for departure, which began with a rapid descent from the high four-poster bed on the opposite side to that of Sean’s approach.

In a condition of stark mental clarity induced by a super-abundance of adrenalin in the blood stream, the subaltern became aware of his own nudity which prevented flight into the public gaze, of the fact that Mr. Rautenbach’s threatening advance made such flight imperative, and finally that Mr. Rautenbach wore the uniform and insignia of a full colonel. This last consideration weighed most heavily with him, for despite his age he came from an old and respected family with an impressive record of military service and he understood the decencies and orders of society of which one of the strictest was that you did not unite with the wife of an officer who outranked you.

Sir, he said, and drew himself up with dignity. I think I can explain. You little bugger! Sean answered him in a tone that suggested his explanation would have little consequence. Taking the shortest route, which was over the bed, Sean went for him.

Candy, who had in these first few seconds been too preoccupied pulling the coverlets over herself to take any active part in proceedings, now shrieked and lifted the silk eiderdown in such a way that it wrapped around Sean’s boots as he leaped over her, and became tangled in his spurs. Sean fell with a crash that reverberated through the whole building and startled the guests in the lobby below, and he lay for the moment stunned his feet on the bed and his head and shoulders on the floor.

out! Candy shouted at the subaltern, as Sean began to stir ominously. Then she gathered up an armful of bedclothes and spread them over Sean, winding him and smothering him.

Hurry up. For God’s sake, hurry! she entreated as her friend hopped with one leg in his breeches. He’ll tear you to pieces. And she pounced on top of the struggling, cursing mound of sheets and blankets.

Don’t worry about the boots, and the subaltern tucked them under one arm, slung his tunic over his shoulders and placed his helmet on the back of his head.

Thank you, ma’am, he said, and then with gallantry, I realy regret any inconvenience I have caused you. Please.

my apologies to your husband. out, you fool, she pleaded, clinging desperately to Sean as he heaved and swore. After he had left she stood up and waited for Sean to emerge.

Where is he? I’ll kill him. I’ll murder the little bastard!

Sean threw off the bedclothes, scrambled to his feet and glared wildly around him. But the first thing he saw was Candy, and Candy was shaking with laughter. There was a lot of Candy to shake and most of it was white and round and smooth, and even if the laughter was a little hysterical it was still a very pleasing spectacle.

Why did you stop me? Sean demanded, but he was fast transferring his interest from the subaltern to Candy’s bosom.

He thought you were my husband, she gasped.

The little bastard, growled Sean.

He was sweet. And abruptly she stopped laughing. And who the hell are you to come barging in here, anyway? Do you think you own the world and everything in it? You belong to me. Like hell, I do!

Candy exploded. Now get out of here, you big lumbering ox. Put some clothes on. Things were taking an unforeseen turn. Sean had expected her to be guilty and contrite.

“Get out of here, ” she yelled, as her temper started to run.

Sean had never seen her like this and he only just managed to field the large vase she hurled at his head. Frustrated in her desire to hear breaking china, Candy grabbed another missile, an ornamental mirror, which crashed with satisfying violence against the wall behind him. Her boudoir was furnished in splendid Victorian taste and provided an almost unlimited supply of ammunition. Despite Sean’s nimble footwork, he could not remain unscathed for ever and finally he was hit by a gilt, framed picture of some nameless officer. Candy’s taste leaned rather heavily towards martial men.

“You little bitch!” roared Sean in pain, and he launched a counter, attack. Candy fled, naked and squealing, but he caught her at the door, lifted her on to his shoulder and carried her kicking to the bed.

“Now, my girl,” he grunted as he arranged her, pink bottom up, across his lap. “I’m going to teach you some manners.”

The first slap left a perfect red print of his hand upon her chubby cheeks, and stilled her struggles. The second slap had considerably less force behind it, and the third was an affectionate, pat. But Candy was sobbing pitifully.

With his right hand raised, Sean realized with dismay that for the, first time in his life he was striking a woman! “Candy! ” He spoke uncertainly, and was amazed that she twisted and sat up in his lap, clasped him about the neck and pressed a damp cheek against him.

Words welled up in his throat, words of apology, a plea for forgiveness, but his good sense prevented them from emerging and instead he demanded huskily,

“Are you sorry for your behaviour?”

Candy gulped and nodded shakily. “Please forgive me, darling. I deserved that. ” And her fingers fluttered at his throat and across his lips. “Please forgive me, Sean. I’m so terribly sorry.

They ate dinner in bed that evening. In the early morning, while Sean soaked lazily in the sunken bath and the hot water stung the scratches on his back, they talked.

“I’m catching the morning train home, Candy. I want to be home for Christmas. ” “oh, Sean! Can’t you stay, , just a few days’?”

“No.

“When will you come back’?”

“I don’t know.

There was a long silence before she spoke again.

“I take it then that I am not included in Your plans for the future?”

“You are my friend, Candy,” he protested.

“Now, isn’t that nice.” And she stood up. “I’ll order your breakfast. ” In the bedroom she paused and regarded herself slowly in the full, lepgth mirror. The blue silk of her gown matched the blue of her eyes, but at this time of the day there were tiny creases in the Skin of her throat.

I am rich, she thought, I don’t have to be lonely. She walked on past the mirror.

Sean walked slowly up the gravel drive towards the Goldberg mansion. He walked between an avenue of

“Pride of India” trees and around him the green lawns climbed in a series of terraces towards the rococo facade of the house. It was a morning of drowsy warmth and the doves in the Pride of Indias cooed sleepily.

Faintly from among the ornamental shrubbery he heard the tinkle.

of laughter. He stopped and listened to the sound of it.

Suddenly he was shy, loth to meet her again, unable to know how she would receive him for she had not replied to his letter.

At last he left the drive and crossed the carpet of lawn until he reached the lip of an amphitheatre. In the bowl below him stood a miniature replica of the Parthenon temple. Clean, white, marble columns in the sunshine, with a circular fishpond like a moat around it. He could see the shapes of carp gliding slowly through the green water below the lily pads. The lily blossoms were white and gold and purple.

Ruth sat upon the raised marble edge of the pond. She was dressed all in black from her throat to her toes, but her arms were bared and she held them out and cried: “Walk, Storm. Walk here to me.”

Ten paces away, her solid bottom solidly planted on the lawn, Storm Friedman regarded her mother seriously from under a bang of dark hair.

“Come on, baby,” Ruth urged her, and very deliberately the child leaned forward. Slowly she elevated her plump posterior Until it was pointed towards the sky, displacing a laced and beribboned pair of pantaloons beneath the short skirt. She remained like that for a few seconds and then, with an effort, came up on to her feet and stood balanced precariously on her fat, pink legs. Ruth clapped her hands in spontaneous delight, and Storm smiled in triumph, displaying four large white teeth.