The Blue Mountains of Kabuta

by Hilary Wilde

  The Oswalds, too, had helped a lot, she knew. Mark was tall, thin, with long blond hair. He usually wore khaki shorts and a vivid coloured shirt, usually open and showing the blond hairs on his chest. While teaching, he wore sandals. At home he went barefoot. He worked hard in the evenings and Jon found she could help him by going to the library and getting him the books he needed for research, or even writing away to the nearest city for them. Kirsty, his wife, rarely went out except to shop. Short, slender, she looked frail but was tough as nails, as Tim said. She wrote books but rarely sold them. When she did, they paid the family bills. Mostly she painted, and even introduced Jon into the fascination of oil painting.

  So gradually Jon's empty days were becoming filled. Tim had even induced her to play tennis and now she was helping to cater for the Sunday lunches at the Club. This was all due to Tim, she knew, and she was grateful for it.

  Christmas was coming closer and she found it hard to imagine a Christmas where the temperature could be in the hundred zone and the sun always shone. The thunderstorms of their earlier days seemed to have gone, but she knew they could return.

  ' If not rain, then hail,' someone had said. Jon had guessed he was teasing, for whoever heard of hail in the summer !

  Jon straightened, looking proudly at the small healthy seedlings which would, she hoped, give colour to their garden. This was the wonderful part of this country

  even in winter you had roses and sweet peas and all sorts of flowers. She wiped her brow and wondered if it was any cooler in Qwaleni, for her mother had been given a lift there by Alex.

  Alex was still the biggest problem of her life, but she was learning to control herself and live with it. Sometimes she thought that he was in love with her mother —at other times she wondered if her mother appealed to Alex because she was so helpless and feminine, which he obviously liked.

  As she went into the house, it was terribly hot. Even the dogs had deserted her, hiding under the beds which were apparently the coolest spot at the moment. As before, Jon wondered what air-conditioning would cost. She had suggested it to her mother, but she had said it would be a waste of money if Jon finally decided to sell the farm.

  Sell the farm ? Never, Jon thought firmly, still irritated by people who kept asking her why she wouldn't. Uncle Ned had given her the farm and she was not going to sell it, she would say again and again.

  ' Hot, eh ? ' said Tim, coming out from his room. He had obviously been sleeping, for his hair was tousled, his face wet with sweat.

  They sat on the stoep, leaving the doors open in the vain hope of getting a draught through as they drank long cold drinks. Suddenly she heard a terrible frightening roaring sound . . . She looked up and through the open door saw the small white plane, zooming so low over the trees that she felt sure it must hit one of the long branches—or even hit the house.

  Somehow she must have stood up and turned impulsively, and she found herself in Tim's arms.

  ' It's all right,' he said, holding her close. ' It's only the plane spraying the plants.'

  She began to laugh and cry at the same time. How can I be so stupid . . .' she began, when Tim kissed her.

  Startled, she drew away and he let her go. She stared at him.

  I'm sorry. It gave me such a fright—that dreadful noise ..

  Tim smiled. Should I be sorry, too, for kissing you ? '

  For a moment she was dismayed. Why had he kissed her ? Had she encouraged him ? She liked him, but that was all . .

  Tim laughed, Don't look so scared, Jon. I've been waiting for a good chance. D'you know you're delicious, delightful and delectable ? '

  She could laugh, too, sharing the joke.

  ' Come and see the plane,' he said, leading her out on to the lawn. The plane came back. Once again Jon wondered how it could dare to zoom so low, but this time her fear was for the pilot, but as they watched the small bird-like plane climb up into the sky at a sharp angle, circling and returning, the pilot—easily seen in his small box-like part—waved. She waved back.

  `Lucky guy,' Tim said enviously. He makes a fortune. Wish I could get such a job.'

  Have you tried ? '

  He nodded. Bad eyes.'

  As they watched the small white plane glide, swoop and climb and then come back to zoom low over the fields, Tim explained about spraying.

  To Jon, it was a fascinating experience, caught up in her imagination, she felt herself in the plane as it shuddered under her hands and she made it respond to her demands. How lovely it must be—high up in the beauty of the cloudless sky, leaving the earth with its problems far behind.

  The plane landed on a distant runway. It's filling up. I want to see, so I'll go over. See you later.'

  Jon hesitated. She would have liked to go, too, but she remembered Tim's strongly expressed determination not to be interfered with while on farm work, so she walked obediently back to the house.

  She saw that the inside door to the house had been closed, and frowned. She was sure that both doors-

  the one outside and the house one—had been open when she and Tim were there. Maybe Violet had come to see her . . . or to take the empty glasses away. It never for a moment occurred to her that someone might have been standing there, witnessing the little scene in which she had stood in Tim's arms and he had kissed her. Reading into the scene, perhaps, everything that was not true.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Christmas came nearer, the shops were bright with decorations and, in some, the soft muted music of carols. Jon, who normally loved Christmas, found it hard to work up any enthusiasm.

  She shopped, buying her mother a chiffon negligee and nightie and Tim a pipe, as he was always losing his and accusing the girls of having stolen it.

  Surely there was no need to buy Alex a present ? She rarely saw him these days except when he came to pick up her mother or they all met at a dinner party. As for Madeleine . . . well, no one could call them friends.

  Tim brought home decorations and spent a hilarious evening putting them up.

  I'll bring up a Christmas tree at the last moment,' he promised.

  ' Isn't it rather a farce ? ' Jon said unhappily. We'll all be out.'

  She could not forget the pain she had felt when her mother announced that she was going to spend Christmas with her friends. They had been sitting on the stoep in the early hours of the evening when the sky was streaked with crimson and green and the reddish sun slowly vanished behind the mountains. They were having their usual sundowner, when Ursula said :

  I don't know what your plans are for Christmas Day, Jon darling, but I've been invited to Qwaleni for the day with some friends.'

  Jon could still remember the ridiculous hurt she had felt. Looking back, she could remember that in England, and ever since she was seventeen, she had refused invitation after invitation from friends who wanted her to spend Christmas with them. Her mother had known about these invitations and had accepted it as a fact that needed no discussing, for surely no loving daughter

  would dream of leaving her poor widowed mother alone !

  Yet now her mother . . . this, their first Christmas in a strange land . . . Of course she wasn't a widow —but Jon could be lonely, too. Imagine a Christmas all alone !

  Tim had leant forward. ' We've been asked to a braaivleis, Ursula, so don't worry about us.'

  Later, much later, Jon had tackled Tim. ' It was good of you, but you don't have to, Tim. I mean, I know you made it up about that invitation.'

  He grinned, But I didn't make it up. The Oswalds asked us, and I've been driving myself nearly silly to work out how we could leave your ma out. The Oswalds aren't her cup of tea, but I didn't want to upset her.'

  Is that the truth ? ' Jon asked worriedly. She could not bear it if she spoiled Tim's Christmas for him.

  He made a dramatic gesture. Cross my heart and all the rest. We'll have great fun, just the four of us. Mark's great at braaivleis and we can talk and talk and talk.'

  So Jon had laughed an
d accepted the situation. But try as she might, she could not see her mother's side of it, and she had a vaguely unhappy feeling that her mother no longer loved her as she had before. Obviously her mother's friends were of a different age group. But they had been in England, too, yet her mother had loved the family Christmas, even though there were only two of them.

  Suddenly she thought of something : Was it with Alex that her mother planned to spend Christmas ?

  It was a week before Christmas when Tim and Jon had been invited to the Oswalds for the evening. Jon's mother had already told them she was going out for the evening, but not who with. She rarely mentioned names these days, Jon thought miserably. There was no doubt about it, she and her mother were growing apart.. Jon was in the bath when her mother called goodbye.

  Have a good time, Jon darling. I may be home late, so don't worry about me.'

  Jon called goodbye and leisurely soaked in the refreshing bath. The Oswalds rarely dressed up, so she slipped on her red kaftan. She loved the loose swinging sleeves, the comfortable feel of the silk material next to her skin.

  As usual Tim was late, and Jon waited patiently. When he joined her, he was wearing a safari suit.

  Ready ? ' he asked impatiently, just as if she hadn't been already waiting for nearly an hour.

  ' We're late.'

  So what ? ' he grinned.

  But when they got to the cottage the Oswalds were renting, they found a note pinned to the door.

  ' We waited as long as we could to tell you Mark has to go to Qwaleni about his job. We'll dine at the Prince Inn, so maybe see you there. Sorry and all that, Kirsty.'

  Jon began to laugh. ' It must be important to drag Mark all that way.'

  Let's go to the Prince Inn, Jon. I've never been there.'

  Horribly expensive,' she warned him.

  He grinned. Then let's go dutch, okay ? '

  Okay.' Jon settled down by his side as the car shot off.

  She was never very happy driving with Tim, for he not only drove fast but took chances. Once he had told her jokingly that he must have ninety-nine lives as there could be no other explanation for his continued survival.

  Jon loathed back seat drivers herself, so she forced her hands to lie on her lap and kept her legs stiff so that her feet would not jam on imaginary brakes. She closed her eyes as the car jerked and swung round corners, bumped over corrugations, in and out of deep ruts. She must make herself think of something else

  Where was her mother dining that night ? she wondered. It was strange how little she knew about Ursula's outings. Of course she didn't have to tell her, yet, in the past, she had seemed to delight in telling her everything, all she had done, and then would have asked Jon what she had done, too ! Now she seemed quite uninterested. Jon tried to laugh at herself. Perhaps it meant that her mother now accepted the fact that her daughter was a woman and not a child All the . .

  Jon stifled a startled sound as the car hit a bump, seemed to leap in the air, then landed with a bounce before roaring on.

  Tim laughed, That was a close one. Stupid goat ! ' Did . . . did you hit him ? '

  Course not. I'm not that daft. Why so quiet ? Disappointed about the Oswalds ? '

  Of course not. Just thinking.'

  About what ? '

  Jon clung to the side of the car as they went round a steep corner, swerving sideways. ' Life after death.'

  Tim roared with laughter. Am I giving you the jivvies ? Am I going too fast ? '

  'A.. . a bit.'

  Yellow, that's what you are. Chicken, Jon. All the best drivers in the world act crazy.'

  Jon was wondering what Alex would have said when Tim shouted :

  Hold tight ! '

  The car plunged through a stream that meandered over the road, splashing up water so that the windscreen was nearly covered and Jon was splashed through the open window.

  They must have had rain earlier today, because that's new.' He sounded joyous. Bet that gave you a fright.'

  And how ! ' She could hardly speak as she wiped the muddy water off her face. Tim, I wonder if we're dressed enough for the Prince Inn ? You haven't got

  a tie on.'

  Does that matter ? Anyhow, let's give it a try.' He looked at her. We'll be off the earth in five minutes and then you can relax.'

  Good-oh.' She tried to laugh, but she felt a little shaken and sick. She wondered why, for she was not subject to car-sickness. She only hoped she was not getting the strange 'flu bug that seemed to be going round the district.

  The tarred road was smooth and the jerking and swaying lessened though their speed increased, but at last they reached Qwaleni.

  The Prince Inn was on the slope of a hill with a grand view over the valley where electric lights flickered and shone against the black background. There was even a moon to shine a swathe of light over the clusters of trees and the narrow river that swerved past the houses. The Inn was modem and immensely popular, judging by the many parked cars.

  They walked through the foyer towards the restaurant. The tables were grouped round the dance floor and a small band playing. Tim's hand was on her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin in time to the beat. Looks rather smart '

  Suddenly Jon stiffened. She couldn't believe it. Yet it was true. All her past fears were proving right.

  Dancing on the floor was Alex. And in his arms, laughing up at him, was her mother

  Jon stopped dead so that Tim bumped into her. ' Steady on ! What's wrong ? '

  ' I . . . I feel sick . . .' Jon gasped, looking round for the cloakroom. I won't be a mo . . .' she muttered, and almost ran.

  Alone, she stood still and gradually the nausea seemed to float away. She must surely be getting that 'flu bug, she told herself.

  Had Alex seen her ? And if he had, did it matter ? But why all the secrecy ? Why hadn't her mother said she was dining out with Alex ? Why . . . why . . . ?

  But she had no right to ask these questions, she knew. Her mother had the same right to live her own life without questions as Jon had often felt she had, when they lived in England.

  Nor had she any right to feel hurt because Alex had not asked her to join them. So often in the past, he had said :

  ' You don't mind a blind date, little Jon ? I'm arranging a party ', and she had refused, finding some stupid excuse. And why ? Because she wanted no blind date ' but to dance with Alex, and he had no desire to dance with her !

  All the same, it was no wonder he had stopped inviting her out, was it ?

  She went back to the hall where Tim was sitting on a couch, a glass in his hand. He beckoned to her and she went and sat by him It was a lofty hall with pillars and frescoes on the walls. They were out of sight of the restaurant, so there was little danger of Alex seeing them.

  ' What happened ? '

  I felt sick.'

  ' Come on suddenly ? ' he asked.

  I didn't feel too good in the car. '

  He put his hand on hers. Silly girl,' he said gently. You should have told me. We needn't have come all this way.'

  I think it must be 'flu.'

  You don't want to dine here ? '

  She turned to him appealingly. No, please, Tim, no.' Her hand flew to her mouth. But the Oswalds are dining here.'

  They'd understand. It's very hot and noisy. We'll go to the Karrafin.'

  When they went outside, there was a distant rumble and suddenly a vivid flash of fork lightning in the distance.

  Looks like a storm,' Jon said.

  The Karrafin was much quieter and cooler. After a

  quick meal, Tim drove her home much more slowly. The rumbles of thunder were much closer, often crashing overhead as the great dark sky was rent with jagged flashes.

  At home, the dogs welcomed them noisily.

  How about a cup of coffee ? ' Tim asked.

  I'll get it,' said Jon, letting the dogs out in the garden where they raced in circles, leaping in the air as they barked madly, but they soon came back to curl up at Jon's feet.


  Jon had just finished her coffee when Tim said : Why do you hate Alex Roe so much ? '

  H-hate him ? '

  Yes. He was there tonight. That's what upset you. Why ? '

  I don't hate him, but . . . but, well, he makes me mad. He will treat me as a child and he never stops teasing me. I hate sarcastic men, too.'

  Tim grinned. Memo : Jon dislikes being teased. You never mind when I tease you.'

  That's different.' So very different, she thought, because I'm not in love with you. Alex seems to delight in making me feel small or humiliated.'

  Tim had a strange expression on his face. Jon, it's tricky for me and that's why I've said nothing, because I thought you and your mum were fond of Alex, so . . . Well, look, has he made you an offer for the farm, Jon ? I heard a rumour, but . .

  There was a startlingly white flash of lightning together with a terrific clap of thunder and then there was a dark silence.

  Jon shivered, remembering how this had happened before, and how touched she had been by Alex's kindness only to discover that he had spent the night in the house to save himself from getting wet on the way home.

  ' Not an offer, but he does want the farm,' Jon said stiffly.

  Why ? Does he give a reason '

  He wants to enlarge his sanctuary, Tim.'

  Tim grunted. That's a lie, make no mistake. Do you want the truth ? '

  The truth ? ' Her voice was unsteady.

  Yes, the truth. Has he told you that they plan to build a dam and that, if so, this farm will be under water ? '

  Jon sat up, horrified. ' I didn't know. He didn't say. It can't be true ! My farm ? '

  Of course he didn't tell you, Jon. That would give the game away, wouldn't it ? When the dam is built, you'll be given good compensation, a far higher sum than you'd get for the farm. That's why he wants to buy it. All he thinks of is money.'