Anne Hampson - Call of The Veld

by Anne Hampson

  'I've enjoyed it very much indeed, thank you.' Sara adopted her old manner of coolness, in order to match his. They were back to where they had begun, it seemed; she felt that last night would never be mentioned again by either of them. And, strangely, she was scarcely embarrassed about it now. She knew instinctively that Carl would never even think of it again, which meant that he would never remind her of it even by a look. 'Shall I be able to go home immediately after lunch?'

  He nodded casually.

  'The sun's rather hotter than is usual at this time of the year, so the road might just have dried sufficiently for me to take the Land-rover over it without too much difficulty.'

  'I do thank you, Mr van der Linden,' she said sincerely. 'I'm very grateful indeed to you.'

  'There's no need to be,' he returned, rather abruptly, she thought. 'You were stranded and you came to me for help. My action in assisting was as natural as yours in approaching me. I'd have done it for anyone—just as you yourself would.'

  She nodded, feeling snubbed, and inexplicably depressed because of it. Carl van der Linden had done something to her during these hours she had been with him—and she felt she would never be quite the same girl as she was this time yesterday.

  The following Saturday Sara dressed for the club dance with rather more care than usual. The reason for this hovered at the back of her mind but was determinedly kept there. It had been a tiring day and one that had left her feeling exceptionally low in spirits. Irma had had one of her fault-finding moods; Sara's patience had been tried to its utmost but had not quite reached the state of exhaustion. Ray's patience on the other hand had snapped very soon, and the result was the first actual quarrel that had taken place between him and his wife. It left Irma weeping distractedly, Ray feeling so guilty that he had taken himself off somewhere, leaving work which was vitally important, and as for Sara, she scarcely knew how she kept her own tears from flowing as she tried to comfort her sister. Irma had repeatedly said that she wanted to die; she had spoken wildly about the accident, blaming Ray because, she declared, he ought to have known the runabout was not in a roadworthy condition. And then she had said, breaking away from Sara's comforting arms,

  'I'll bet if it had been you who was going out in it he'd have tested it first!'

  Sara had said nothing, but the words had gone deep, another stabbing reminder of her own position. For one angry moment she had almost decided to pack her things and leave, but Irma was already apologising —or trying to—for her sobs were racking her whole body, rising from the very depths of her, preventing anything like intelligible speech.

  Ray had returned at last, and gone in to his wife's room. A quarter of an hour later, looking haggard and weighted down with worry, he had told Sara that the quarrel was made up. It had been his turn to have a night out, but he said, a sigh on his lips,

  'I'll stay with Irma tonight, naturally. You get yourself dressed up and go to the Club.'

  She had hesitated, but not for long. She needed to get out of the house, and in any case Irma would not want her, not when her husband was willing to spend the evening with her.

  Sara had asked Ray to have his evening meal with Irma and he had agreed. Sara had put an especial effort into the cooking, and the setting of the two trays. She had the gratification of seeing Irma smile, of hearing her say,

  'This looks delicious. You're so clever with making things look pretty———— ' she had fingered the tiny flower arrangement which Sara had put on her tray. 'A little garden in an eggcup! I wish I could keep it as a souvenir.'.

  After dining alone Sara had gone to her room to take a bath and get dressed, leaving Sadie and Makau, the houseboy, to clear away the dinner things; The warm water was soothing both to body and mind, but Sara was naturally in a state of deep dejection, telling herself one moment that she would have to leave

  Njangola, but the next moment the picture of Irma was there, Irma who needed her desperately.

  Ray had thoughtfully brought the ranch wagon to the front of the house for her, and he stood there while she got in and pressed the starter.

  'It's amazing that it didn't take any harm,' she said as the engine caught right away. 'It really was buried when we looked at it on our way here.'

  'I've an idea that Carl, after he'd got his boys to haul it out of the mud, got one of them to give it a going over. He told me he has one boy who loves to tinker with anything mechanical.' Ray stepped back as Sara prepared to move. 'Have a nice time. I wish I were————- '

  He stopped abruptly, lifted a hand, then walked slowly into the house.'

  'I wish I were coming with yo…' That was what Ray had been going to say. He did not really want to be with his wife, then? And after that dreadful quarrel which had left Irma so achingly distracted that she had wanted to die.

  The ranch wagon moved away from the house towards the path which had caused Sara so much trouble only a few days previously. Once away from it, and on the main road, Sara forced herself to forget what she had left behind and to look forward to an evening's relaxation at the Club. It would be time enough to shoulder her burdens again tomorrow morning, when another unpredictable day would begin. Often after one of her unhappy moods Irma would be a little brighter, as if she really were making some effort to accept her situation, so perhaps tomorrow would be a lot more comfortable than today had been.

  When eventually Sara turned into the Club grounds she had successfully cast aside her problems, and as she entered the lounge she was able to greet the people she knew with a smile. She had previously met Greta and

  Hal Drake, both of whom were artists, and who lived in one of the attractive bungalows situated on the outskirts of the town. They came up to Sara now and invited her to join them for a drink. They were soon joined by a young man Sara had met previously, Bernard Kirkby who was single and living with his sister and her husband, helping them on their farm for part of the time and being employed by Carl at the weekends. He had confided to Sara that he was working hard to save enough for a holding of his own, hence the long hours he so willingly put in.

  'Hello, Sara! It's nice to see you!'

  'And nice to see you,' she returned spontaneously, looking with undisguised pleasure into his plump, good-humoured face.

  'Would you consider me rude, I wonder, if I remarked on your dress? It's absolutely smashing! You look sixteen in it!'

  Sara flushed slightly, but grimaced as well. Greta tilted her head sideways as if to be considering the statement just made by Bernard.

  'Sixteen, eh ? Well, you might well be right.'

  'I'm quite sure he isn't right,' from Sara with emphasis. Nevertheless, she knew the dress, with its attractive colour of midnight blue, its long full skirt and high neck trimmed with narrow white lace, did make her look younger than she was. Both Ray and Irma had told her this. 'In any case,' added Sara, 'I don't want to look sixteen.'

  'The age of no real problems,' murmured Greta on a dreamy, nostalgic note.

  So true, agreed Sara to herself. She glanced around, looking for Carl. He had not yet arrived—unless he was in the other room, dancing already. Some people would be dancing, she realised, for the music was playing.

  After a while Bernard asked Sara to get up with him.

  The next dance she had was with Hal, and the next with Bernard again. Carl had still not arrived.

  At half-past ten Sara announced her intention of going home. Bernard, looking disappointed, tried to persuade her to stay a little while longer but she shook her head.

  'I'm tired,' she told him… but to herself she had to admit that the evening had been flat almost from the start.

  Carl van der Linden, the man she did not like very much at all, had not put in an appearance…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I was saying, a week or so ago, that you needed some sort of a break.' Ray had joined Sara in the garden, where she was cutting flowers for her sister's room. 'Will you promise me you'll think about it?'

  'Why, Ray? I sai
d I wasn't tired.'

  'I'm so terribly afraid you'll leave here.'

  . She shook her head.

  'Not until Irma tells me to go,' she promised.

  'Not until———— ?' Ray looked at her in surprise. 'You sound as if you're half expecting Irma to tell you to go.'

  Sara turned away, intending to stoop and cut another rose. But Ray unexpectedly reached out and brought her round to face him.

  'Ray, what———- ?'

  'She's been saying something to you. I demand to know what it is!'

  She quivered beneath his touch, casting down her eyes swiftly lest he should read the secret of her heart.

  'She gets morbid at times, as you know. I don't take any notice—at least, not much notice,' she amended, managing to free herself from Ray's grasp. He said nothing for a moment and Sara began cutting the flowers again and dropping them gently into the basket she carried over her arm.

  'What does she talk about during these morbid spells?' asked Ray at length.

  'Oh—er———- '

  'The truth, Sara!' Ray's voice was almost threatening; Sara was seeing a new side of him altogether.

  'She becomes upset about you and herself, getting the stupid idea that you'll eventually stop loving her.' There, it was out, forced from her against her will, but perhaps it was as well. Ray might give Irma a little more of his time from now on.

  He moved silently away, to stand with his back to a tree, regarding Sara with a strange expression on his handsome face.

  'You consider it a stupid idea, then?' he said softly at last.

  'That you might fall out of love with her? Yes, of course I do I' Her tones were vehement; she was under no illusions as to why this was. She was trying to convince herself, not Ray.

  'I did say to you that love couldn't last,' he began, when Sara, frightened and angry, interrupted him.

  'You asked me how long love could last,' she corrected.

  'Well, we'll not split hairs about that,' he returned casually. 'Irma's changed since the accident. She's become a termagant, a female whose only pleasure in life is in voicing complaints. Is she ever grateful for anything either you or I do for her?'

  'She has so much to bear,' Sara reminded him, her memory jarred by that quarrel which had taken place between Irma and Ray, a quarrel which, declared Irma, had caused a rift that would never be closed. 'You should be kinder to her, Ray.' Sara's voice was gentle, persuasive. There was pain in her eyes because of the bitterness in his. It seemed of vital importance that he should be brought out of his present state of mind. That he was still in love with his wife she did not doubt, but she also sensed that his love was weakening. And if it died altogether, what then? While his love still remained there were no major complications, since he had no idea that Sara was in love with him. But, should he come to lose the love he had for his wife he might then turn his attention to Sara, in which case complications were bound to result for, strong as she was, Sara had no illusions that, should Ray come to love her, she could resist a confession of her own love for him.

  That was as far as it would go—but Sara was determined to do all in her power not to allow even this to occur. Irma needed her husband's love more than anything else at this time, needed it desperately because of her doubts, the doubts she had voiced to Sara. She was living with those doubts, so obviously needed reassuring the whole time. After Ray's love she needed that of her sister, and Sara was prepared to give her whole life, if need be, for Irma.

  'She has a great deal to bear, granted,' Ray was saying. 'But surely she could, just now and then, express a word of gratitude?'

  'I don't care for gratitude being extended to me, Ray. I do what I do for Irma because I love her and, secondly, because I feel it's my duty to care for her.'

  'So you won't run out on me?'

  'On you?' she frowned. 'I shan't run out on Irma, if that's what you really meant to say.'

  'This break,' he said, resorting to his previous query. 'Are you prepared to take one? There are trips to the coast which can be booked in Paulsville—sort of package deals, they are. I saw them advertised the other day when I drove in for those fertilisers I was telling you about.'

  'I don't want to go off on my own, Ray.'

  He hesitated a moment and then,

  'Carl and I were talking about it,' he admitted. 'His mother's living in Diera, near the coast ———-'

  'His mother?' broke in Sara, diverted. 'I didn't think he had a mother.'

  'No? Why not?' inquired Ray in some surprise.

  'I can't imagine what gave me the idea that he has no parents. Perhaps it's because he's never mentioned them.'

  'He has no father. If he had he wouldn't be in possession of Ravenspark, and all the lands that go with it.' Ray looked at her. 'As I was saying, Carl and I talked about you. He said you could go and visit his mother '

  'Do you mean to say,' interrupted Sara for the second time, 'that Mr van der Linden actually suggested I go and stay with his mother?' What was Carl's reason? wondered Sara. He must have one, that was for sure.

  'I know you don't like him,' said Ray, 'but that's nothing to do with it, really. He himself should have visited his mother who, from what I can gather, hasn't been too bright lately and desires company. She lives alone except for her servants.' He paused as if to ascertain whether or not he had managed to arouse her interest. 'Carl's mother left Ravenspark on the death of her husband,' continued Ray as Sara looked interrogatingly at him, wondering why he had stopped speaking. "She went to live nearer to her brother's widow, but this woman died recently and Mrs van der Linden seems to be depressed. She asked Carl to go and visit her and he promised to do so, but a young woman who was once his ward has written to say she's on her way to Ravenspark, but is calling for short spells at one or two places on the way. Carl was annoyed, as he hadn't been previously warned of the girl's intended visit. But apparently he has no means of putting her off, simply because she hasn't provided him with any addresses. She's merely stated her intention of phoning him the day before she's due to arrive here. I was saying how worried I was about you, and that I felt you needed a rest ————-'

  'So he suggested I have a holiday with his mother?' broke in Sara incredulously. 'I can't believe it!' Nor could she believe he had ever had a ward, but obviously he had.

  'You ought not to be so surprised,' said Ray casually. 'They do things like that here; it's the traditional hospitality. Carl's already been in touch with his mother by telephone and she'll be delighted to have you for a week or so.'

  'Irma won't want me to go off and leave her for all that time. Nor do I myself relish the idea of going to a total stranger.' Sara found herself searching for Carl's reason for this amazing offer. They had met three times since her stay with him; neither he nor she had acted in any way differently from the way they had acted towards each other before. Certainly that incident in their lives was to be regarded by them both as of no importance whatsoever. It had faded into insignificance; its cause had been a few glasses of wine too many—on Sara's part, that was. She felt an overwhelming relief that it had been blotted out from Carl's memory so easily. As for herself, she had too much to do for her sister to be able to dwell on any thing else at all.

  Ray was looking at her, obviously expecting her to add to what she had been saying. She told him that she did not need a rest and a change, reminding him that she had not been here for any appreciable length of time.

  His eyes were troubled as, looking squarely at her, he asked if she could honestly say that her time had not dragged, that she hadn't said to herself, more than once, that it seemed more like a year and a half than a month and a half since she came out to Njangola Farm. Taken by surprise that he should be so astute, Sara gave herself away by her very inability to find an answer. Ray nodded thoughtfully and said yet again that he was afraid she would decide to leave.

  'This is the sole reason for my wanting you to take a break, Sara. Waiting on Irma the way you do, taking over th
e cooking and the general running of the house —well, it must amount to sheer drudgery after the easy and pleasant job you had before.'

  Sara was quite unable to voice a denial; life was without doubt one of drudgery, and it was boring, too, for although she was busy all the time she had certainly to admit that time dragged. However, she decided that she could not leave Irma, and in any case, she told Ray, she had no intention of dumping herself on a stranger for a week.

  'You won't be dumping yourself,' returned Ray with :in unexpected flash of humour. 'You do have the most unattractive way of putting things at times!'

  'Carl's mother might not like me.'

  'You might not like her, but at least you can go and see.'

  'You sound as if you're trying to get rid of me,' she just had to say. Her eyes were on his handsome face; her heart quickened. It was one of those rare moments when she allowed herself the luxurv of forgetting that he was her brother-in-law and seeing him as the man she loved. But the twisting of her emotions was excruciating… the pleasure-pain that unrequited love can bring.

  'Perhaps it does seem like that to you,' Ray was spying. 'But quite honestly, Sara, I feel you should get away from Irma for a while.'

  It was just over a week later, as she drove the runabout into Paulsville, that Sara began seriously to consider Ray's proposition. Yes, it would do her good to get away from Irma—who had been so trying yesterday that Sara had developed the kind of sick headache that by rights should have sent her to bed for an hour or so, but of course there had been no time for such self- pampering as that. It would do her good to get away from Ray, too, thought Sara, as it was so trying, seeing him constantly, feeling that her love was strengthening when all she desired was to discover that it was dying—slowly, perhaps, but very surely. Who, though, would look after Irma? There had been a nurse from Paulsville coming every day prior to Sara's arrival, but Irma confided afterwards that it was her intense dislike of this woman that had been one of the reasons for her sending for Sara. Still, it would only be for one week, mused Sara, her mind on Ray and the way he could look after his wife when he really wanted to. As gentle as any woman, he could tend her, with the same care and compassion as did Sara herself. He would murmur things she liked to hear, would drop a kiss on her forehead now and then as he straightened the bed covers or punched up the pillows.