by Anne Hampson
‘Where am I?’ she whispered to herself, again looking towards that firm and noble profile. No man should look as handsome as Kane. He was like a god, she thought… and this could be heaven…
At last Kane turned his head, and looked into her upturned face, his own an inscrutable mask. ‘Your enthusiasm has certainly produced rapid results. I don’t think I’ve ever known a garden to take shape quite so quickly as this.’ He walked on; she did not follow immediately, but stood very still, watching him. How majestic he was, with those broad and noble shoulders and the easy lightness with which he walked. Turning his head, he stopped abruptly, waiting for her to join him. ‘Something the matter?’ he queried as she came up to him. She looked away, acutely conscious of the wild beating of her heart and the dryness in her throat. She shook her head mechanically.
‘No, of course not,’ she replied, expecting him to walk on. But he made no immediate move as he asked, a curious intonation to his voice,
‘What were you thinking, as you stood there in the moonlight?’
‘I was thinking about the garden.’ The answer came far too swiftly; she was not really surprised to note the sceptical expression which entered his dark metallic eyes. However, the last thing she expected was that he should say outright that she had told a fib. But he did, actually quirking a smile at her as he spoke. Thrown into confusion by this, Lena could find nothing to say in reply, and after a small silence Kane added, with total disregard for her feelings, ‘I’ve disconcerted you, Miss Ridgeway… and the result is rather delightful.’
She stared, bereft of speech by this total dropping of all formality. It was true, she reflected, that, almost from the first, he had tended to treat her with rather less reserve and aloofness than he treated others—but this… Bewilderedly she shook her head.
‘I d-don’t know what you mean, Mr—Mr Westbrook.’
The smile deepened and she caught her breath. How inordinately attractive the man was! Too attractive by far. Lena knew without the trace of a doubt that, were it possible to run from him without making herself look ridiculous, she would not have hesitated to do so.
‘You don’t?’ His straight brows lifted a fraction. ‘Another fib… but I expect it’s understandable,’ he added cryptically.
‘Shall we continue to walk round the garden?’ she suggested. ‘I’m thinking of June, and the dinner. It might spoil if we stay out too long.’
‘Changing the subject, eh?’ A small pause and then, ‘Which way now?’
‘The lawn…’ The garden no longer seemed to hold her enthusiasm. She was far too affected by Kane’s presence, by the almost intimate way he had adopted with her… and most of all by her own uncontrollable emotions. It were as if she were being plunged into a situation which, in the end, was to cause her some considerable heartache. ‘And we—Hendrik and I—have begun to build a rockery. Also, I wanted to ask you if it would be wise to put some blue-gums along the extreme edge—’ She pointed. ‘Along the eastern border? They grow so quickly that I thought—’
‘Blue-gums do grow quickly,’ he agreed, but added that they had greedy roots and nothing else would thrive anywhere near them. ‘Pepper trees are the same,’ he told her. ‘However, as these latter are most attractive, with their tiny bee-attracting flowers, and the rose-pink berries that follow, you might like to include a few. Put them in the corners, though, and don’t plant anything of importance near them.’
After thanking him for his advice, Lena suggested they return to the house. Kane agreed and together they walked along the newly-cleared path which bordered the area that was to become the tennis court. Hendrik had done all the work on the path and Lena was under the impression that it was finished. It was not until she had actually trodden on a small boulder, twisting her weak ankle, that she knew otherwise.
‘Oh, my ankle!’ she cried, and would have fallen had not Kane caught her, bringing her so close that for a fleeting moment she could actually feel the beating of his heart through the thin safari jacket he was wearing. She trembled beneath his touch, every nerve in her body affected by his nearness. It was only afterwards that she realized that Kane could have instantly released her—but he did not do so. Instead, he held her close to him, in the sweet mysterious silence of the African night. From the dark vault of the sky the out-sized moon shed its argent glory over the garden and the fields and the timeless bushveld beyond. The air came alive with sounds and scents, casting a spell in which Lena was instantly caught. Shyly she looked up; saw a nerve move in his cheek before, with an abrupt movement that completely broke the spell, he released her.
CHAPTER SIX
In order to make the numbers even June had invited Rex to the dinner party, and when Kane and Lena arrived back at the homestead the four were on the stoep, drinking sherry. Rising instantly, Rex greeted Lena like an old friend. Taking both her hands in his, he asked how she was, said it was good to see her again, and finally congratulated her on her appearance. Watching this little scene with a rather bored expression, Kane was actually raising a hand to stifle a yawn when June, noting this, nudged her husband, indicating that he pick up the sherry decanter.
‘Kane—Lena, are you having a drink?’ he asked, quick to grasp his wife’s desire. ‘Rex, perhaps you would like to give Lena your chair, and you can have that other one.’ He glanced at Kane. ‘Is it sherry for you?’ he said, and Kane nodded his head.
‘Lena’s done marvels with that land of yours,’ he commented, easing his long body into one of the rattan chairs. ‘The transformation’s almost unbelievable.’
‘She’s worked a miracle and no mistake,’ agreed June enthusiastically. ‘What energy! She’s never stopped, except to eat and sleep, of course. I think she’s wonderful!’
‘And her not being used to our kind of heat,’ added Gerald, merely smiling at her.
‘And hampered by that ankle,’ added Kane, looking at Lena. ‘It’s still not right yet—not by any means.’
‘No?’ Gerald spoke anxiously. ‘What makes you say that, Kane?’
‘It gave way just now.’
‘It did?’ June looked with some concern at her friend. ‘Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?’
Lena shook her head.
‘It was just that I trod on a stone.’ She avoided Kane’s gaze, reflecting on that little episode when he had caught her to him. Obviously he himself had been unaffected by her nearness, she concluded, chiding herself for her own inability to remain immune to the attractions of the man.
He sat opposite to Lena at the table, with his cousin on his right. Wearing a low-cut evening dress of bright green velvet, with long earrings and a sparkling jewel in her hair, Jennifer looked very different from the ‘country girl’ whom Lena had first seen in a checked blouse and jodhpurs. Watching her, Lena saw that despite the fact of her having implied that her case was hopeless, she flirted subtly with Kane who, if he did notice—and Lena felt very sure that he did—chose to ignore his young cousin’s tactics, merely turning away to speak to one of the others present.
Rex sat next to Lena. He talked much, Kane little. Yet Kane was all attention, and she would surprise a most odd expression on his face whenever Rex passed some compliment, which was often.
‘Rex is falling heavily,’ smiled June when, after the meal was over, she and Lena were in the kitchen making the coffee. ‘Do you like him—in that way, I mean?’
‘He’s all right,’ replied Lena non-committally.
‘Enough said,’ grimaced June. ‘It’s no use my trying on any matchmaking tricks, is it?’
‘None at all, June. I’m quite happy in my single state.’ Mechanically she placed the coffee cups on the tray, the action affording her a reflective interlude. She found herself living again that moment, out there in the celestial splendour of the garden, when fleetingly she had been in Kane’s arms. Why must his image intrude? Lena firmly told herself that she must contrive to control such mind-wanderings, since they were both troublesome and unprofitab
le.
With this resolve fixed determinedly in the forefront of her mind, Lena—after visiting the doctor the following day and being advised to wear a supporting bandage for a few weeks, but at the same time being warned not to ‘coddle’ the ankle—expended all her mental and physical energies on completing the garden. This completion she achieved, with the continued help of Hendrik who, because Gerald was so impressed with the transformation, was engaged permanently as the gardener. Lena, with time on her hands now, found her life falling into a pleasant routine of work and play, the former comprising some work in the garden and some help in the house, while the latter was merely her leisure, which she spent in visiting, or in going into town in Gerald’s station wagon. She had dined at Dakana Farm, where she had met Rex’s brother and sister; she had struck up a pleasant acquaintanceship with Doris and Phil, the couple who kept the general store in Fonteinville. On two occasions she had gone with June and Gerald to dinner at the Impala Club, and on another occasion she had been their guest at the Yacht Club dance. Kane was at these functions, and he always had several dances with her, but his time appeared to be taken up with the glamorous Magda—so much so that no one would have been at all surprised to hear of their engagement.
‘He’ll marry her,’ prophesied Jennifer just before she left Koranna Lodge. ‘And when he does, that’s my visits finished, for I can’t stand the woman!’
Lena, remembering her resolve, had made no comment, but had put Kane and his girl-friend out of her mind. However, it was not easy, for as time passed and she became more a part of the social life of Fonteinville and its surroundings, Lena found herself meeting Kane over and over again. She tried to be cool, but as invariably the conversation turned to the garden, she instantly became enthusiastic, answering his questions spontaneously and inviting him over to see how well everything had become established.
‘It looks as if it’s been there for years,’ she told him happily when, a month before Christmas, she and her friends attended a dance at the Impala Club. As Kane had come to her almost immediately she realized that Magda had not yet arrived; as usual, she meant to make an ‘entrance’. ‘Everything’s in flower—and all the trees and bushes have taken root!’
He seemed inordinately pleased with the keenness she was displaying.
‘You’ve had a great deal of pleasure from the making of that garden,’ he commented. ‘I expect you’re feeling extremely satisfied with yourself?’
She nodded, smiling up at him.
‘Rather more than satisfied; I’m thrilled with the entire result. Nothing went wrong—even the weather was kind, bringing gentle showers instead of torrential rain which would have washed away the soil before the plants could take root and bind it.’
‘You’re learning fast—about our country, and its drawbacks.’
‘Its merits far exceed its defects,’ she was quick to say, and again she had the impression that her answer had pleased him.
And so, her resolve broken soon after it was made, Lena found herself forming a most happy friendship with Kane. He had invited her to watch the polo, he himself being one of the star players; on another occasion he had taken her along the river in his boat. And, together with her two friends, she had been invited to the party he was giving on Christmas Day.
‘Life’s so very good!’ she was exclaiming to June one day when, after having applied for the post of assistant at the bookshop in Fonteinville, she had been told by the proprietor that her application would be seriously considered. ‘If you’ll have me—and providing I can get a job—I think I shall stay in South Africa.’
‘Super! Yes, of course we’ll have you. We want you.’
‘You’re kind, June, and I’m lucky.’
‘Kind? Rubbish. We love having you. Besides, look what you’ve done for us. Kane told Gerald that you’ve substantially increased the value of our property, that if we ever sell to get a larger place, we shall get a lot more for this than we would have done if the land surrounding the homestead had been left in that neglected state.’
‘If I have done something really worthwhile, then I’m glad. But, June, you all seem to have overlooked the fact that I chose to create a garden for my own pleasure—so I don’t want this praise I’m receiving.’
‘Oh, we do realize that praise might embarrass you. Nevertheless, praise from a man like Kane is really something, believe me. He’s the most critical person I’ve ever met, and that’s because he himself is a perfectionist.’
A perfectionist… Even yet again Lena’s thoughts flew to the lovely girl whom he was interested in at the present time. If Kane should want perfection in a wife then he could never improve on Magda.
Would he eventually marry her? Dismissing this from her mind, Lena asked June if it would be all right if she took the station wagon into town.
‘I want to get my hair done—if I can manage it without having made an appointment.’
‘Certainly you can take the station wagon.’ June glanced at her hair. ‘It looks fine to me; however, you know best.’ A small pause and then, ‘Anything special coming off this evening, or tomorrow?’
‘No, I’d have told you if there was.’
June laughed and said teasingly,
‘I thought that perhaps our austere neighbour had invited you to dinner or something.’
‘That isn’t very likely.’
‘Why not? He’s taken you on his boat.’
‘You and Gerald were supposed to come too, remember?’
‘Yes, I was disappointed that both Gerald and I felt off colour. I still can’t think what we ate that you didn’t.’ June gave a yawn and looked at the clock. ‘I think I’ll take a siesta. That camp bed we’ve put on the back stoep looked exceedingly inviting just now when I came past it.’ She grinned as she turned away. ‘See you some time, then.’
After taking a bath Lena put on a crisp new blouse she bad bought before leaving England; it was in a pretty shade of green, and went perfectly with the emerald jeans she had washed and pressed that very morning. Brown leather sandals and a shoulder-bag completed her outfit, and as she stopped for a moment to survey herself in the mirror, she was rather pleased with what she saw. All signs of strain had gone from her face; her cheeks had filled out and so had her figure.
‘I’m no longer the drab, half-starved creature who came out here a couple of months ago,’ she told her reflection as she hitched up the bag. ‘I’m becoming more like my old self every day.’
She was singing as she drove the ‘bone-shaker’, as the station wagon was called by June and Gerald, along the track which led to the main road. Once on this newer, smoother road the vehicle was a much more comfortable one in which to ride, and Lena leant back in her seat, prepared to obtain the utmost enjoyment from the journey. She passed a huge flock of merino sheep, grazing on what seemed from this distance to be no more than dead twigs; Lena had from the first marvelled at the way animals in this parched and arid land could find nourishment. Adaptation to environment, as usual, she had concluded. An animal used to the lush green fields of England would soon die of starvation if brought out here and left to its own devices. In the far distance, nestling beneath a cactus-crowned kopje, was a Dutch-gabled farmhouse belonging to the owner of the sheep. White, with its corrugated-iron roof gleaming like silver in the sunshine, it was typical of the farmhouses scattered over the veld in this part of South Africa. The grander, porticoed and balustraded stately homesteads like that belonging to Kane had usually been inherited, having been built by the first settlers. Many of them had stood for a hundred years or more—large, white and Dutch-gabled, with lofty stoeps and enhanced by well-kept mature gardens, with magnificent trees to form an adequate screen around the less attractive buildings necessary for any flourishing farm.
The sun, high in the clear brittle sky, was giving out an intense heat and as she passed more animals grazing in the fields Lena wondered how they could live continually without shade. The heat, shimmering over the veld, seemed
to writhe, like oil on the surface of moving water. Under a small clump of pepper-trees by the roadside a couple of piccanins in their birthday suits stopped their rolling in the dust to stand up and wave, their teeth shining like pure white pearls as they flashed their smiles at her. Laughing merrily, Lena waved back; the piccanins danced up and down with delight, their jet black bodies gleaming, their woolly heads moving in rhythm with their feet.
Another farmhouse appeared in the far, heat-hazed distance as Lena topped a rise in the road. A squat, whitewashed building with a flat tin roof, it seemed to cower beneath a cover of half-nude gum-trees and a couple of more healthy-looking peppers.
When at length she arrived in Fonteinville, she parked the car and went straight to the hairdressers’. This establishment was run by a middle-aged woman from Birmingham, in England, who had emigrated after having had enough of the humdrum existence of sunless bus rides at eight o’clock in the morning, followed by four hours in the salon, an hour’s lunch break with another five or six hours of working hard for someone else to take the lion’s share of the profits, then a wintry ride home to her parents’ terraced house in suburbia.
‘I’d come to the end of my endurance,’ she had told Lena on the first occasion when Lena had gone to have her hair washed and set, ‘so I decided something rather drastic must be done. A friend of my sister’s had been running this place for over ten years and she wanted to retire. I bought it, and I’ve never for one single moment regretted it. The people here are marvellous; they welcome you so warmly that after the first day or two you’re no longer feeling like a stranger.’
She looked up now, brush in hand, as Lena entered the salon.
‘Eunice, can you possibly give me a shampoo and set this afternoon?’ asked Lena after the two had greeted one another.
‘I can in about an hour. I’ve two appointments, or I’d do it at once.’
‘An hour?’ Lena nodded, saying that would be fine. ‘I’ve some shopping to do, and I want to call in at the bookshop.’
