And downstairs, Joseph flicked his cigarette away and went inside. He was tired. Concealing his hatred of Richard had taken its toll. That, and hiding his dislike of Penny who was, in his opinion, a spoiled brat and a lush. He had bedded Penny in Harare it was true and she had an exciting body and was, in a European way at least, attractive, but his involvement with her was a means to an end. When he had learned who she was, he had gone out of his way to become her friend. The fact that she wanted more, wanted him as a lover, was an added bonus as far as he was concerned. And now he had finally come face to face with the man he hated above anything else. He had plans for Penny and he had plans for Richard. He intended to bring Richard Dunn to his knees, one way or another. Or, preferably, both ways.
The Department of National Parks and Wildlife Management in Harare, commonly referred to as Game Department, had suspected Gabriel Tenneka’s activities for several years. However, because the man had been a legal businessman for a long time, his contacts, lines of communication and methods of routing monies were well established and difficult to penetrate. So the department had taken another tack. They decided to find the source of Tenneka’s illegal dealings. A lucky break about six months earlier had led them to suspect Janie Roos.
Two years previously Joseph had learned of Richard’s whereabouts. When Janie Roos had come under suspicion and Joseph realised that the Roos property adjoined Richard’s, he wondered if Richard had also been involved in poaching. Excited at the prospect, he had checked into Richard’s finances and discovered that the man had been a virtual bankrupt after the war. Miraculously, he had managed to pull himself out of the financial mire over the space of two years. Joseph knew this would have been impossible unless the man had either hidden money or was involved in something illegal. When he discovered that Janie had also managed to save his property around the same time he became convinced that this man he hated above all others was poaching. He held the destruction of Richard Dunn right in his hands.
Joseph bided his time, savouring the moment he would send Richard Dunn down for poaching. And his daughter would go down too, in a different way. She was his second string to a bow already tensed for action. He could almost hear the snap of Richard Dunn’s arrogant spirit.
SIX
Richard woke at dawn the next morning, as was his habit. Prohibited from enjoying a cup of coffee on the verandah because Joseph Tshuma was sleeping in the downstairs guest room and he did not feel like bumping into him, he took the Land Rover down to the shed which had been broken into. Not that he expected to find anything. As he cleared up the mess with Samson he had looked for a clue as to who could have broken in. He had found nothing then and found nothing now. There were Land Rover tyre tracks at the front of the shed but they could have been made by Samson. Everyone drove Land Rovers, used them as farm vehicles, so he dismissed them. The windows and door showed no sign of a forced entry, the wooden planks on the walls had not been tampered with and the roof was solid. Whoever broke into his shed either had a key or had expertly picked the lock.
He was less bothered by the break in itself than he was by the fact that someone had broken into that particular shed. He toyed briefly with the idea that Janie might have been looking for evidence that Richard was tampering with his traps. But Janie’s mind was so fuddled with alcohol, Richard doubted it. Driving back to the house he wondered about Joseph Tshuma. The man was with Game Department and, last night, Penny had made a point of telling him of his interest in poachers. Richard had met him before, he was sure of that. Somewhere out of the context of his day-to-day life. But for the life of him, he could not remember where.
Penny was on the lawn, playing with Winston. The dog was addicted to fetching a tennis ball and she was obliging him. She looked fresh and relaxed, a different girl from last night. She walked over to him and they stood, side by side, next to the Land Rover. Richard looked at her lovely face, into her deep brown eyes, and marvelled at her ability to be so vibrant, so healthy. ‘Morning, poppet.’
‘Morning, Daddy. Sorry about last night. I guess I had too much to drink.’
He had heard it before. ‘Forget it.’ Then he had to spoil things. ‘But why did you bring him here?’
‘I’m seeing him.’
‘How can you?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She threw the ball and Winston bounded away.
‘You know what I mean, Pen. He’s black. You know how I feel about it. For Chrissakes, I fought him, fought to save the country from people like him. How could you?’
Penny’s looked up at him. ‘Things change, Dad. The old Rhodesia ended over ten years ago. If you can’t stand the heat . . .’ She left the rest for him to pick up.
‘I know things have changed, damn it.’ He felt his temper stir. ‘I know it’s their country now. I know they call the shots. But by all things holy, Penny, do you have to shove it down my throat?’
Her mouth was set in a straight line, a sure sign she, too, was getting angry. ‘Get with the times, Dad. I don’t have a problem with his colour.’
‘Well I do. I’m telling you, Pen, don’t bring him back. I don’t have to like it. The bloody man probably has AIDS,’ he added ruthlessly.
‘That’s disgusting. How dare you. There’s no need to be crude.’ Penny was deeply offended. ‘He’s a very nice person and I like him. If you dropped the colonial white man myth and gave him a chance you’d like him too.’
‘Penny, you forget how well I know you. You’re getting at me for some reason. I swear to God, there are times when you behave like a child.’ He saw she was about to argue so went on hurriedly. ‘Sure, he’s probably a very nice man. Sure, he’s educated. Sure, he’s civilised. But God damn it, Penny, he’s a black man.’
Penny lost her temper. ‘I’ll see who I like, when I like, how I like. You can’t stop me. And be warned, Daddy, whether you are poaching or not, you can still get into trouble for it.’
‘Is that it? Is that why you’re seeing him, why you brought him here? To warn me?’
She tossed her head. ‘Of course it would never occur to you that I’m seeing him because I like him, really like him, would it?’
‘He’s a kaffir.’ He used the outlawed South African expression on purpose. He knew it would offend her. Just as she knew he was offended. Well, that was hard luck, two could play that game. He braced himself for an outburst.
She chose to ignore it. ‘He’s charming and well educated and extremely good fun. I like him more than anyone else I’ve met. The fact that he’s with Game Department is incidental.’ She glared at him. ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to listen to me for a change, would it? If he finds out about your poaching it will put him in an awkward position.’
‘To hell with him.’
‘That’s right! Play God. You’re a white man, the rules don’t apply to you.’ Her fear for him made her reckless. ‘Fuck it, Daddy, listen to me. You’ll end up in prison.’
‘Don’t you dare use that language in front of me.’
‘Why not? You use it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ she said, her voice rising each time.
Richard went very white. His eyes narrowed and he was having trouble with his breathing. His hand ached with the desire to slap her, hard. Yes, he said the word in the company of men. Yes, he knew he was old-fashioned. He hated hearing women swear and he particularly hated to hear them use that word. Especially his daughter. And she knew it.
This last thought brought him round. She was deliberately trying to provoke him. With a supreme effort of will Richard slowed his breathing, shrugged and said with exaggerated calm, ‘Do stop behaving like a whore.’
Penny’s head snapped up. She could not believe her ears. Her father had called her a whore! There were tears in her eyes as she breathed deeply, looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘And fuck you too’, before spinning around and running back towards the house.
Richard rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘Oh, God, why did I sa
y that? Why? She’s my little girl.’ He looked up to see Joseph Tshuma, leaning over the railing on the verandah, his eyes shining with something like triumph. Richard ignored him and stumped into the house, calling Wellington for breakfast, hating himself, hating Penny and—above all—hating Joseph Tshuma. David was at the table.
‘Nice of you to wait for everyone.’ Richard took his anger out on his son. ‘We have guests, or hadn’t you noticed?’
Startled, David put down his knife and fork. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’re always bloody sorry.’
David stood up, leaving his food half-eaten.
‘Oh, sit down,’ Richard snarled, sitting down himself. ‘Sit down and finish your breakfast. Stop being so bloody . . . so bloody-well amenable.’ Wellington appeared and put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. Richard attacked his food savagely, mauling the eggs into an unrecognisable slimy jumble, hacking his toast into jagged pieces and stabbing his bacon ferociously. He was aware, as he ground his teeth around his meal, that David was sending sidelong glances at him.
Suddenly the anger left him. It was always like this. It would flare in an instant and, just as quickly, die away. ‘What are you planning to do today?’
David knew his father was no longer angry. He was tempted to throw his sarcastic words back at him and say, ‘We have guests, Dad, or hadn’t you noticed?’ What he said instead was, ‘If you don’t need me, Thomas and I want to go back into the reserve.’
‘What’s the big attraction there?’
‘I spend time with the rangers. I might become one myself when I leave school. I help out around the place. We get to see a lot of animals. I love it there.’
‘What’s to love? The place is crawling with tourists.’ Richard hated tourists with a vengeance.
‘The animals, Dad. It’s great to watch them. They’re so intrinsically natural, so basically pure.’
Richard snorted. ‘Bullshit,’ he said coarsely, ‘they’re only animals. Stop giving them human traits.’ Then he muttered under his breath, ‘Beatrix Potter has a lot to answer for.’
David stood up. ‘May I go?’ he asked politely.
‘Yes, son, off you go,’ Richard replied heavily.
‘May we take the Land Rover?’
Richard waved his arm. ‘Yeah, take the Land Rover.’ Then he added, ‘Be back before it gets dark this time.’
David escaped with an air of relief.
Richard spent five minutes angrily eating his meal before Joseph Tshuma appeared for breakfast. He shouted for Wellington, excused himself, saying, ‘I’ve got work to do,’ and went outside to get one of the farm pick-ups. He was halfway down the escarpment before he realised he had nothing pressing to do. It was Sunday, his workers were enjoying the day off, and he had been behaving like an idiot. However, he spent the next two hours leisurely inspecting his cattle in the valley before returning to the house.
He found Penny giving Tshuma a conducted tour of the garden. Any sign of earlier anger had disappeared. She was brisk with him, polite but distant, as she gave Tshuma an extravagantly detailed explanation of her mother’s plans for the garden. Tshuma showed courteous interest but Richard had the feeling the man was acting. Tshuma did not look as if he would know a rose from a cactus. He left them to it. He could not wait for them to leave.
Lunch was served on the verandah. Cold chicken and salads, followed by Wellington’s specialty, lemon soufflé. David was still away, he had not even bothered to say goodbye. After lunch, Penny went upstairs to shower and pack, leaving Richard and Tshuma together in uneasy silence or a conversation which went in fits and starts. Finally, for want of something to say, Richard asked Tshuma if they had met before.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I think I’d remember.’ Tshuma was elaborately casual.
‘I’m positive we’ve met.’ When Tshuma made no comment, he broke one of the unspoken rules of etiquette in the new Zimbabwe. ‘What did you do during the war?’
‘Fought.’ Tshuma’s answer was provocatively evasive.
‘Which side?’ He knew he was breaking the rules.
‘ZANLA.’ Joseph Tshuma had paled with anger.
‘We might have met in the field.’ Richard pushed, hating the man, his past enemy.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Does it matter to you?’
‘Not any more. After all,’ Tshuma said, taunting, ‘we won the war.’
Richard did not like to be reminded of the defeat. ‘I think it does. I think it matters to you a great deal. I think that’s one of the reasons you’re seeing my daughter . . . to prove you’re as good as the next man.’ His anger made him careless. ‘You can try till hell freezes over, my friend, but you’ll never be white.’
‘This may come as a shock to you, Mr Dunn,’ Tshuma was shaking with suppressed fury, ‘but one of the things Africans want least to be, is white.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘None of you ever do. You are so sure, so secure in your whiteness, you can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be like you.’
‘Of course you want to be like us. Big houses, lots of money, big cars, servants—’
‘Heart disease, cancer, ulcers—’ Tshuma cut in.
‘Trips overseas, good education, swimming pools—’
‘Overdrafts, responsibilities, nagging wives—’ The mood suddenly shifted dramatically, both men backing off from a racial confrontation.
‘Why are you seeing Penny?’ Richard asked abruptly.
‘I like her,’ Joseph Tshuma lied. Then he smiled coldly. ‘Or does that possibility bother you?’
‘How would you feel about me screwing your sister?’ Richard smiled coldly back, knowing he had offended the man.
But Joseph Tshuma was more than a match for Richard. ‘My sister is a whore, Mr Dunn. You’ve probably screwed her already.’
Strike one to you. He changed the subject. ‘There’s not a lot of it around.’
‘Pardon me?’ Joseph had not known what to expect but Richard’s change of direction had thrown him off guard.
‘Mixed relationships. They usually don’t work, you know. Too many differences.’
‘Black and white. They’re the only differences, Mr Dunn.’
‘You know better than that.’
‘Are you trying to warn me off?’
Richard looked stonily into his guest’s eyes. ‘Yes.’
Tshuma sat back, unused to the directness. ‘That’s too bad,’ he managed finally, ‘because I intend to keep seeing her.’ As he said it he realised it was true. If he were ever to get close enough to this man to hurt him, he had to have access to him through his daughter. He hated Richard Dunn enough to marry his daughter if the need arose.
‘Penny will get sick of you, she gets bored with everyone.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
And Joseph, goaded by the arrogant interference of this white man, delivered the ultimate gibe. ‘Because the black man has something the white man would kill for.’ He rose, encouraged by the sick look on his host’s face. ‘Excuse me, I have to pack.’
Left to himself, Richard let fly a stream of obscenities. The reference to the size of the black man’s penis had been a calculated insult, designed both to taunt Richard and debase Penny. Suddenly, he felt afraid. Joseph Tshuma was clever and vindictive. Perhaps he had organised the break in to his shed. Maybe he was looking for evidence. The big black man reminded him of a cat playing with a mouse—Richard. And where did that leave Penny? The girl had no idea what she was getting into.
‘We’ll be off as soon as Joe is packed.’
Startled, he looked up. Penny was standing near him, arms folded, sunglasses hiding her eyes. ‘Let’s walk,’ he said, rising.
‘We have nothing to say to each other.’
‘I think we do. Come on, let’s walk in the garden.’ He wanted desperately to protect her.
They walked to the orchard, a favourite spot of Kathy’s. Penny said nothing, making it difficult for Richard to begin. He did not mind, he respected her strong-willed punishment for the way he had insulted her. ‘I’m sorry for what I said.’ He found it difficult to apologise. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘Don’t ever do it again. I’m not a child any more.’
‘I know, Pen. It’s just that I hated hearing you swear like that. It’s so common.’ Oh, shit, now I’ve done it.
She did not rise to the bait. ‘You are so old-fashioned, Daddy. Everyone swears these days.’
‘You are not everyone. You’re Penny Dunn. Try to remember it.’
Unpredictable as always, this comment angered her. ‘So what?’
He backed down, as he often did with her. ‘Don’t let’s fight, baby. I’m worried about you.’ He waved his arm back towards the house. ‘That man doesn’t care about you. He’ll hurt you. He’s playing his own game. I can’t get over the feeling that he’s using you to get to me.’
This was too much for Penny’s ego. ‘Joe and I have been seeing each other for two months. We had already established our relationship before he knew you were my father.’ As she said it, Penny knew she was wrong. Joseph knew who she was and who her father was from the beginning but she was too vain to admit it to Richard. ‘You’re just saying these things to break us up. If Joe were white you couldn’t care less about the relationship.’
Richard was losing and he knew it. His volatile temper flared and, as often happened when he was angry, he became crude. ‘I’m having a hard time with the fact that my daughter is banging my old enemy,’ he shouted. ‘I fought this man in the bush. He could have killed me. Now you’re screwing him. How do you think that makes me feel? How do you think any decent white man in this country feels about it? For Chrissakes, Penny, how low can you go?’
‘Shut up! Just shut up!’ she screamed at him. ‘You’re disgusting. The war is over. Why can’t you forget it? You go on and on about honour. What about you? What about your affairs since Mummy died? Don’t talk to me about how low I can go. She hadn’t been dead two weeks before you . . .’ She pulled up, knuckles pressed to her teeth, eyes wide. She knew she had gone too far.
Storms Over Africa Page 8
