Handful of stardust

by Yvonne Whittal

  'Have I kept you waiting?' Samantha asked apologetically as the woman glanced up, but Emma Bryce shook her grey head and began to pour. Samantha glanced about her expectantly. 'Isn't Brett coming down for tea?'

  'Brett has asked me to make his apologies,' the woman said, handing Samantha her tea and gesturing that she should help herself to milk and sugar. 'He's taken one of the horses to make an inspection tour of the new grazing camps. He's always preferred going on horseback to taking one of the Land-Rovers.'

  Samantha felt curiously deflated while at the same time she was thankful for the opportunity to speak to Brett's aunt alone.

  'Mrs Bryce, I suppose you know Brett's reason for bringing me here?' she began tentatively.

  'Yes, I know.'

  'Am I right in assuming that you don't approve of the whole idea?' Samantha searched her face and was surprised to see those gaunt features softening considerably. 'Is that the reason for the argument between Brett and yourself before lunch?'

  'You're very astute, my dear,' Emma Bryce said at length, squaring her shoulders and avoiding Samantha's glance. 'I disagreed most strongly with my nephew on the subject. He has no right to interfere in the lives of others simply because Nadine ...'

  'Nadine?' Samantha questioned sharply as her voice trailed off guiltily. 'Who's Nadine?'

  'Brett's sister,' the older woman told her abruptly. 'She died three years ago.'

  'What has Nadine to do with my being here?' Samantha persisted curiously, certain now that there was more to this whole situation than what Brett had led her to believe.

  'Nothing,' Emma Bryce said, and Samantha was surprised to discover that the woman was decidedly uncomfortable about the way the conversation was developing. 'You know Brett's reasons for wanting to keep you here.'

  Samantha decided against pursuing the subject and instead she asked: 'Mrs Bryce, will you help me to get away from here? Please?'

  There was absolute silence for several seconds before Brett's aunt placed her empty cup in the tray with an unnecessary clatter.

  'My dear girl, as much as I dislike the idea of Brett meddling in your life, I can't go against his wishes. Brett, like his father before him, is master of this household and everything that goes with it.' For the second time Samantha noticed a softening in the grey eyes and a gentleness about the mouth that had been nothing but firmly compressed since their arrival before lunch. `Even I must obey him,' she added, and there was unexpected humour in the glance that held Samantha's. 'After all, you're here with your father's approval.'

  So Emma Bryce was not such an iceberg as she had originally suspected, Samantha thought with a feeling of immense relief. 'What am I going to do?' she sighed.

  'There's nothing you can do but accept the situation as gracefully as possible. Antagonising Brett will merely make matters worse for you.' She smiled now, transforming her features completely. 'More tea, Samantha?'

  `No thank you.' Samantha returned the smile with a

  HANDFUL OF STARDUST

  heavy heart and rose to her feet. 'May I walk about out- side, or is that not allowed when I'm unaccompanied?'

  'Good gracious, child!' the older woman said in surprise. 'You're free to walk where you please as long as you don't try to leave the farm.'

  'Where are we exactly? What's the nearest town?'

  Emma Bryce made no effort now to hide the humour in her glance. 'Bosmansvlei is the nearest town, and if you're thinking of walking there, it's thirty kilometres away.'

  Samantha assured her that, for the time being, she felt no desire to overtax her strength by attempting such a lengthy walk in an effort to escape. She refrained from mentioning, however, that she had every intention of investigating every avenue of escape available to her.

  There appeared to be no one about when she stepped into the brilliant afternoon sunlight. For a while she strolled aimlessly across the well-kept lawns until she noticed a building to the back of the house which obviously housed the farm vehicles as well as those for private use. Endeavouring to appear as casual as possible, she continued her stroll in that direction, intent on investigating the possibility of making use of one of the estate cars. There was parking space for approximately twelve cars, but only three of the parking bays were occupied. The gleaming white Mercedes was obviously Brett's, and the unpretentious Mini—a smile plucked at her lips—could only belong to Emma Bryce, for Brett would never manage to seat his large frame comfortably in such a confined space. The only other vehicle in the garage was a Land-Rover which was being repaired, judging by the various assortment of tools lying about and the amount of grease on the hands of the Coloured man who kept emerging from the interior

  of the engine to select whichever implement he needed.

  It would not be difficult to escape at night if she could make use of one of those cars, but it would be to her disadvantage if she planned too hastily. It would take a little time to discover where the keys were kept, for any direct questions in that respect might cause suspicion and inevitable failure.

  The thundering of a horse's hooves interrupted her thoughts and she turned to see horse and rider approaching her across the yard. It was Brett, looking alarmingly different in jodhpurs and khaki bush jacket, with a broad-rimmed slouch hat pulled firmly over his eyes. He drew the horse in beside her and Samantha stepped back swiftly as the temperamental white stallion pawed the air.

  `Do you ride?' he asked abruptly, looking down at her with a sardonic expression on his face as he kept a tight hold on the reins to control the horse.

  `N-no.'

  `Then I shall have to teach you.' To her horror he leaned down towards her and extended his hand. 'Give me your hand and I'll help you up and give you a taste of what it's like.'

  `Oh, no ' There was nothing she wanted less at that moment than to get on the back of that vicious-looking animal with Brett.

  `Come.' It was a command and she found herself obeying involuntarily. 'Put your left foot in the stirrup and I'll do the rest.'

  The quivering animal turned large brown eyes in her direction but remained perfectly still at Brett's command. Samantha did as she was told and quite suddenly found herself sitting on the animal's back with Brett's strong arm about her waist.

  'Just as well you're wearing slacks,' he mocked as she

  drew her breath in sharply. 'Are you comfortable?'

  `Y-yes, thank you,' she managed breathlessly, only too aware of his solid broad chest against her shoulder and the warmth of his muscular arm about her waist. There was about him the smell of the sun which made him almost a complete stranger to her, compared to the immaculately groomed business man she had come to know since that night she had walked into his private garden at the hotel.

  She had not been sure what to expect after being hoisted up on to his horse, but she gradually relaxed as she became accustomed to the rhythm of the animal beneath her. Brett's warm breath was against her cheek as they thundered across the veld with its thorn bushes and windmills standing out like beacons, but he did not speak until the horse had slowed its pace to a rhythmic canter.

  'Have you ever been on a sheep farm before?' he asked eventually, his voice low and pleasant against her ear.

  'Only once when I was a child, but I don't remember much about it,' she owned, allowing her gaze to wander in the direction of the camps where the sheep were grazing lazily. 'Tell me something about it.'

  `Are you merely being polite, or do you really want to know?' he asked mockingly, and Samantha felt the tightening of the muscles in his arm.

  'I wouldn't ask if I wasn't interested.'

  Brett appeared to consider this for a moment, then he laughed softly beneath his breath. 'There's a lot I still have to learn about you, little Samantha.'

  'Don't call me that!' she snapped irritably, leaning back slightly to glance up at him and wishing she had not allowed herself to be forced into undertaking this unusual expedition with him.

  'What?' he laughed mockingly, strong white teet
h flashing against the tan of his skin. 'Little Samantha? You live up to your name, my dear, but what you lack in height you certainly make up for in temperament.'

  'I did ask you to tell me something about the farm,' she reminded him coldly, changing the subject swiftly before she lost her temper.

  'Your servant, madam,' he mocked thumbing his hat on to the back of his head. 'The grazing area has been fenced off into camps and we graze them in rotation to preserve the natural vegetation. It sounds complicated, but it's really very simple,' he smiled at her when she looked up at him with raised eyebrows, but he continued his explanation without a trace of mockery. 'The lambs are born in spring or at the onset of autumn, but preferably in the spring, as our winters here can be cruel at times.'

  The stallion continued its rhythmic walk along the jackal fencing and although Samantha realised that she would suffer some discomfort later as a result of this ride, she was strongly aware of the peacefulness of the country as the late afternoon sun lay warm against her bare arms. In a camp some distance away, two farmhands were herding a large number of lambs into a stone kraal and their bleating could be heard clearly across the stillness of the open veld.

  'Those lambs have been weaned,' Brett explained, sensing her query. 'They were born during October and are now almost four months old.'

  `Do you do your own shearing, or do you enlist the aid of people specially trained to do this?'

  'My farmhands do the shearing and sorting themselves,' he said abruptly. 'They're a highly specialised bunch, but the shearing is done only after the winter, from August to October.' He turned the horse sharply

  and she sucked her breath in sharply as they galloped across the veld, away from the enclosed camps. 'There's someone I want you to meet,' he shouted above the noise of thundering hooves and the wind in her ears.

  The Coloured settlement lay beyond a small kopje, its neat brick houses shaded by tall bluegum trees. The children were the first to notice them and they ceased their games to greet Brett exuberantly, running alongside the horse as he slowed its pace to a walk and scrambling for the handful of cents he had dropped in the sand. Samantha's presence caused a slight stir among them, but they obviously took it for granted that if she was with Brett she had every right to be there.

  Samantha somehow managed to restrain herself from questioning Brett until he slid off his horse at the furthest end of the settlement and placed his hands about her waist to help her down.

  'I'm taking you to meet Rosa,' he answered her query, his hands lingering disturbingly at her waist. `She sent a message via her grandson that I was to bring you to her, and even I don't ignore such a command '

  `But why?' she asked, somewhat surprised. 'She doesn't even know me.'

  Brett's lips twitched slightly. 'I think I should warn you. Rosa is rather strange in some ways. She ... sees things, as they say, but she's really quite harmless.'

  Samantha shivered involuntarily. 'You make her sound rather frightening.'

  `There's nothing frightening about Rosa,' Brett assured her. 'My grandmother died shortly after my father was born, and Rosa looked after him from when he was a baby right through to his adolescence. She's merely a wise old woman with peculiar ways, but don't let her upset you in any way.'

  He took her arm and led her towards the cottage built a little distance from the others. The gate opened noiselessly beneath his hand and they walked in silence up the garden path towards the front door. It was opened by a young Coloured woman before Brett could raise his hand to knock and she smiled broadly, gesturing that they should enter. The neat but sparsely furnished room served as a lounge and dining-room, and in a chair beside the scrubbed wooden table sat an old woman, her face lined with age and snow-white hair combed back from her face with a neat plait coiled in her neck. She smiled, displaying teeth that were yellowed with age, and invited them to sit down.

  'Rosa, you're an old rogue,' Brett rebuked her kindly once they were seated. 'You're the only person who would have the cheek to order me about.'

  'Your father was like my own child,' her voice crackled, 'and you are his son. Your father and your mother are no longer here to look after your welfare, God rest their souls, so I must do the best I can, even if it means ordering you about.'

  'You know you're always forgiven,' Brett replied with surprising gentleness.

  The old woman nodded and turned dark, beady eyes on Samantha. 'I knew that one day you would come, and when I saw a star shoot in the east last night, I knew that before the sun set on another day, you would be here.'

  Samantha glanced nervously at Brett seated beside her, and the look he gave her said clearly: 'What did I tell you?'

  'Your name is Samantha,' the old woman continued, and Samantha felt the blood recede from her face. 'I had to see you to tell you what I saw. I'm getting old,

  you see,' she chuckled with mirth, 'and sometimes I forget things—important things.'

  Samantha could not pretend that she was unaffected by Rosa's meanderings and, ignoring the mockery in Brett's glance, she questioned the old woman. 'What is it that's of such importance that you had to tell me?'

  Rosa's glance never left Samantha's and she had the most peculiar feeling that the woman was almost sinking into a trance. Her skin crawled. It was almost like delving into the supernatural, something she had heard of and had scoffed at in the past.

  'Beware of stardust. It blinds the eye and slips through your fingers,' Rosa's crackling voice interrupted the tense silence. 'When the young leaves of spring sit on the trees you will find your star of happiness.'

  Rosa sagged in her chair and bowed her head, clearly exhausted by the effort. Brett drew Samantha to her feet and gestured to the younger woman hovering in the doorway that they were leaving.

  'Tell Rosa that Miss Samantha appreciated her concern and that we'll come again some other time,' Brett told the girl, before he marched Samantha firmly from the cottage.

  It had been a weird experience that left her mind in a turmoil during the silent ride home. What could the old woman have meant? Beware of stardust. It blinds the eye and slips through your fingers. And then there. was something about finding her star of happiness in the spring. Was the old woman implying that her happiness with Clive would not materialise before the spring? But that was seven months away, and she had no intention of being parted from Clive for that long!

  Brett was strangely distant when they parted company some time later, and during dinner that evening

  she was aware of his long searching glances. After coffee had been served in the living-room she escaped into the garden to enjoy the peaceful silence of the night. She had to be alone. She had to think!

  'There's nothing more brilliant than the stars in the country,' Brett remarked behind her, and she stiffened instantly. 'Have you noticed?'

  'I didn't come out here to do stargazing,' she replied, moving away from him along the stoep.

  'I did warn you not to take Rosa's ramblings too seriously,' he said drily, almost as though he had read her thoughts.

  Samantha turned to face him in the shadowy moonlight. 'You know her better than I do. What was she trying to say?'

  The silence was filled with the fragrance of honeysuckle as she waited for him to reply, but he merely shrugged his shoulders carelessly and said: 'I'm afraid I have no idea what she meant.'

  'Surely you must have some idea?'

  'My dear Samantha,' Brett laughed mockingly, 'how should I know all that goes on in the mind of someone like Rosa? It could have meant that you're chasing after moonbeams, or something equally ridiculous.'

  'Now we're back to Clive,' she snapped angrily.

  'No, my dear, we're back to you,' Brett corrected, taking her hands in his and drawing her relentlessly towards him in the silvery darkness. 'Marry me, Samantha, and all my worldly goods will be yours.'

  'I'm not for sale! she exclaimed breathlessly, struggling vainly to free her hands and still the clamouring of her heart.

&nbs
p; His grip tightened painfully on her wrists. 'If I'd wanted to buy a wife, I could have done so years ago. I'm asking you to be my wife, Samantha:

  'I can't marry you,' she choked out the words. 'I don't love you.'

  `Love?' he laughed mockingly, his cool breath against her forehead. 'What is love? You talk of it as if you know, and yet I'm certain that you haven't the faintest idea what it's all about.'

  `Let me go ! You can't force me to accept by using brute strength,' she panted wildly, but, instead of releasing her, Brett held her firmly against the hard length of his body.

  'I agree, Samantha, but I will nevertheless prove to you that you're not as indifferent to me as you would like me to think.'

  His mouth was hard against her own, forcing her lips apart and sending a charge of electricity along her nerves. She trembled, struggled to subdue her rising emotions, and finally knew that, subconsciously, she had wanted him to kiss her in this way. Horrified and ashamed of herself, she broke free, and Brett made no effort to stop her. It was anger that came to her rescue, or she might have burst into tears as she stood facing him on that still summer night with her fickle heart hammering against her ribs.

  'Am I to be subjected to this kind of treatment throughout my enforced stay?' she gasped, trying to control the trembling of her hands by clasping them behind her back. 'Do you intend to wear down my defences until I no longer have the will to refuse?'

  The silence was heavily charged as they faced each other. Brett's expression was formidable in the moonlight, and Samantha's nerves twisted into a tight coil.

  `You must allow me to know what's best for you,' he said with surprising calmness. 'You have my word that I shan't kiss you again unless you give some sign that you wish it, but I will not discontinue my efforts

  to make you accept my proposal of marriage.'

  'You'll be wasting your time ! '

  'I think not, Samantha,' he contradicted harshly. 'I'm a patient man. I can wait.'

  'You'll wait for ever, Brett Carrington ! ' she flung at him, her cheeks burning with humiliation and anger as she made her escape while his mocking laughter followed her until she had entered the house.