Edge of the Rain

by Beverley Harper

  ‘But Marv . . .’

  ‘Six weeks. Not a second longer.’

  ‘But . . .’

  Marv folded his arms and got a stubborn look on his face. ‘Six weeks and I’m being generous. It’s the hottest time of year in this bloody desert and I’m out here sharing my life with scorpions and a maniac. Six weeks. That’s it. And stop bloody saying “but Marv” all the time.’

  ‘But Marv. All I wanted to say was thanks.’

  ‘Oh!’ Marv looked pleased. ‘That’s all right then.’ He watched a large scorpion commit suicide into the fire before asking, ‘How much do you know, really?’ When Alex went to answer he added, ‘The truth. No bullshit stuff about ostrich.’

  ‘It’s not bullshit.’ Alex helped himself to a cigarette, lit it, and blew smoke noisily upwards. ‘Ostrich pick up small stones all the time. They need them to help digest their food. They’re attracted to shiny objects. Their gizzards are always worth a look.’

  ‘We can’t shoot every bloody ostrich we see. C’mon, Alex, you must have more than that.’

  Feeling a bit like he used to when his mother questioned him about one of her Bible readings, Alex gave him what he had. It wasn’t much. ‘Ever heard of kimberlite?’

  Marv shook his head.

  ‘They’re great pipes of rock which came up through the earth’s crust millions of years ago.’ He drew on his cigarette. ‘They brought a whole range of minerals with them—diamonds, garnet, ruby, sapphire and a lot of other stuff.’

  ‘Stuff?’ Marv’s practical side did not accept ‘stuff’.

  Alex shrugged. ‘Nickel, other rocks, stuff like that.’

  ‘Yeah right. Stuff.’

  Alex ignored the sarcasm. ‘Because the kimberlite usually settles either just below or just above ground what we have to look for are either natural pans or kopjies. And,’ he continued loudly when he saw Marv about to interrupt, ‘we also have to watch out for denser vegetation. When the kimberlite is exposed to sun, wind and rain it breaks down and the ground turns a yellowish colour. This stuff . . . er . . . ground,’ he amended quickly, ‘retains more moisture than areas with no kimberlite. So you get a higher concentration of vegetation.’

  Marv looked sour. ‘So what are we doing here?’ He waved his arm. ‘There’s not a real bloody tree to be seen.’

  ‘It’s only a base, Marv. We can explore a number of areas from here. At least it’s a roof over our heads.’

  Marv grunted. ‘Go on.’

  ‘The main thing to look for, once we’ve found land where there might be kimberlite, is termite nests.’

  ‘Jesus! There you go again. What have termites got to do with it?’

  ‘Marv, termites have been here for thousands of years. I was reading about it. They need mud to provide humidity so the fungi they eat can grow. Sometimes they have to go as deep as 300 feet.’

  ‘No way. Three hundred feet! No way, man.’

  ‘Not all of them. But they do go deep. And they have to get rid of all the gravel and sand so they bring it to the surface.’

  For the first time since he began to speak, Marv looked impressed. ‘I get it. The ants do the digging for us.’

  ‘They provide us with an indicator, sure. Small broken crystals only. If we find them we set up a grid and take samples of the surface. What we would look for is a concentration of broken crystals, mainly garnets and ilmenites.’

  Marv was looking sour again. ‘What are ilmenites?’

  ‘Black things,’ Alex said, a bit desperate, since he wasn’t entirely certain himself. ‘Manganese and stuff.’

  Marv let the ‘stuff’ go this time. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘If we find a lot of indicators, we dig.’

  ‘How deep?’

  ‘How long is a piece of string?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue,’ Alex said cheerfully. ‘It varies.’

  ‘From what to what?’

  ‘Anything from six inches to hundreds of feet.’

  ‘Fucking forget it.’

  Alex ignored that. ‘Then we bring up samples and use the sieves again.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘Yes, Marv. We’ve already used them once looking for indicators.’

  ‘A little point you forgot to mention.’ Marv leaned forward and rattled the kettle, making water slop out the spout. He needn’t have bothered. The scorpions, in their mad leap for safety, had all burned in the fire. ‘So okay, we use the sieves again.’ He sat back again. ‘I thought we needed water for sieving. We haven’t got much to spare.’

  ‘We can dry sieve. It’s harder but it’s possible.’

  Marv hunched his shoulders. ‘Okay, what happens then?’

  ‘It’ll take a while to get the action right but you sort of shake the sieve around and all the heavy stuff settles to the bottom. Then you flip it over and, voila, all the heavy stuff is sitting on top.’

  Marv was unimpressed. ‘You ever done it?’

  ‘Ah . . . not exactly.’ Alex puffed on his cigarette. ‘Um . . . no, actually. But how hard can it be? We’ll just rattle the sieves around till we get the hang of it.’ He could see Marv’s practical mind shift into overdrive. ‘We can practise in the morning,’ he added hastily.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Marv’s sarcasm was really getting into top gear. ‘What do we look for? Do all diamonds look like the one !Ka gave you?’

  ‘No.’ Alex unbuttoned his shirt pocket and pulled out the diamond which he kept on him at all times. ‘This one is quite rare. Most diamonds are octahedrons. That means,’ he added quickly, ‘eight sided.’ He handed Marv the stone. ‘See how flat the sides are. Most diamonds have perfectly flat faces. And they’re usually very bright. Nothing else has the sharp shape of a diamond. They stand out.’ He drew in the sand. ‘They look a bit like this.’

  Marv studied the sand. ‘Okay, so we sift through the heavy stuff and pick up sharp shiny things. Things that look like two pyramids back to back, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And they’ll be diamonds?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Waddya mean “maybe”?’

  ‘They might be quartz.’

  ‘How do we know the difference? I don’t fancy rushing into Gabs with a shit load of quartz.’

  Alex held out his hand. ‘See this ring?’

  Marv nodded. ‘The one your parents gave you.’

  ‘If we find anything that scratches this, it’s a diamond.’

  ‘You’d bugger it up!’ Marv was scandalised.

  ‘If it’s not a diamond it won’t harm it. If it’s a diamond I’ll buy another onyx stone for the ring.’

  ‘That’s a bit off,’ Marv said. ‘You’ve only just been given the bloody thing.’

  ‘Can you think of an alternative?’

  Marv couldn’t.

  That night Alex had been asleep for nearly half an hour before Marv was satisfied there were no scorpions in his bedding and settled down himself. He was very disgruntled. There was no obvious way of fixing the shower attachment to the tap and, when he went to take a shower the end kept flying off and hitting him on the head. The water had heated up too much, scalding him. He did not like the wide open land although he had no idea why. The endless flat country seemed altogether too dangerously exposed. Older than Alex by nine years, he could not share the younger man’s sublime confidence that nature, God, or whatever, would provide. Nor did he have much faith in them finding diamonds. Lethal scorpions were not to his taste. Alex, who hardly ever smoked, had sat in front of him and clearly enjoyed every drag of his cigarette, knowing full well that Marv was trying to give up. All in all, it had been a bad day for Marv. Conveniently, he forgot that he had been as keen as Alex when they discussed the idea.

  In the middle of the night, unbeknown to the sleeping men, a small pride of lions paid a visit, perhaps attracted by the smell of cooking meat. They found the spoor in the morning. This bothered Marv not at all. It was scorpions he was scared of.

  T
heir quest for ostrich, rocks, yellow earth or dense vegetation proved difficult. In fact they couldn’t find any. Not the next day, or the next, or for the next week. They found termite nests—hundreds of them—but no pieces of garnet or ilmenites. After ten days of searching over a radius of some fifty miles, both men were more than ready to spend the weekend in Gaberones.

  Alex planned to stay with Chrissy. Marv said he would stay with a friend. Taking only one vehicle they drove the three-hour journey, stopping briefly in Molepolole to say hello to Marthe and Jacob.

  He had thought about Chrissy a great deal during those first ten days. It was a strange feeling, he had never considered serious relationships—he was young and believed he had plenty of time. But in their one short night together a stranger had crept into his heart and lay there, snug and right and happy-making. Nothing he ever experienced before could have prepared him. Love, he had to assume that was what it was, hit him so hard it took his breath away. On the way to Gaberones, he remembered how she made him feel, recalled her soft body next to his. By the time he had dropped Marv and pulled up outside her flat he was hot, hungry and horny. When she opened the door and flung herself into his arms, he forgot the hot and hungry.

  Where their lovemaking before had been tender and gentle, now they tore at each other’s clothes, trembling and panting. ‘Hurry, hurry,’ she groaned, raking her nails down his back.

  They climaxed together, ninety seconds later. ‘Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,’ he whispered into her neck, stroking inside her in rhythm to the last achingly sweet spasms as they shuddered through his lower body.

  She rocked with him. He could feel her own climax pulsating deep inside her. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ she sighed a little later.

  It was wonderful to be with her again. To smell the sweetness of her, feel the softness of her, hear the feminineness of her. He caught himself smiling at the ceiling. Lighthearted happiness and a cocoon of warmth washed over and around him. The knock on the door was the most unwelcome sound he had ever heard. ‘Ignore it. Pretend we’re not here.’ She snuggled back against him.

  ‘I know you’re in there. Open up.’ It was Marv.

  ‘Oh bloody hell.’ She flung back the covers and grabbed her gown. ‘What does he want?’

  He pulled on his own clothes. ‘Damned if I know. I dropped him on the other side of The Village.’

  Marv banged again. ‘Open up.’

  Marv’s special knack of putting his foot in things did not let him down. ‘What took you so long?’

  Chrissy had daggers in her eyes. Alex wasn’t terribly pleased to see him either. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘My friend is away. Can’t get in. I’ll just have to stay with you guys.’ Marv looked quite comfortable with the thought.

  ‘I use the spare room as a study.’ It was the last thing she wanted.

  ‘That’s okay.’ He sat on the sofa and bounced up and down. ‘This’ll do fine.’ He grinned up at them. ‘What’s for dinner? I’m starving.’

  As much as Alex liked him, Marv’s presence ruined what would have otherwise been a wonderful weekend. Chrissy simply did not take to him. Alex sympathised—Marv took a little getting used to and didn’t help the process by constantly getting in the way or saying the wrong thing. Whenever she turned around Marv was there. He poked and prodded around her flat as though he owned the place. When she put a record on, he took it off. ‘That’s terrible, haven’t you got any Beatles?’ When she went into the kitchen he was right behind her, sniffing and tasting. ‘Needs more salt.’

  She had prepared dinner for two which she managed to stretch to three by adding a salad. Marv ate his portion rapidly then said, ‘You don’t eat much, do you? I’m still hungry.’

  They sent him out for ice cream. ‘Can’t you get rid of him?’

  ‘How? He’s got nowhere else to stay.’

  ‘That’s his problem. He’s got a damned cheek just barging in here. I hardly know him.’

  He put his arms around her. ‘I’ll suggest a roster. He can have one weekend in Gabs, I’ll have the next. How’s that? For now, can you bear with him?’

  She leaned against him. ‘Do I have a choice?’

  He kissed her. Marv crashed back into the room. ‘Forgot the keys. Hey, stop the mushy stuff.’ He was grinning at them like a proud parent.

  The trouble was, Marv meant no harm. He honestly believed he was welcome there. Alex was his friend, therefore Chrissy was his friend. Had the tables been reversed, he would have done nothing less for Alex. It simply hadn’t occurred to him he was in the way.

  By Sunday afternoon Alex could see that Chrissy was one step away from exploding. Marv had drunk all her beer, eaten all her food, played her records too loud, dominated every conversation and, worse, in a lighthearted moment of playfulness, slapped her backside, fondly believing she would not mind. Alex suggested it was time for them to leave. The last thing Marv yelled back from the vehicle nearly broke her selfcontrol: ‘See you next time.’

  Tight-lipped, she managed, ‘I’ll be away.’

  ‘How does she know she’ll be away when she doesn’t know when the next time is?’ Marv asked, as Alex drove away.

  ‘Maybe you misheard.’ Alex couldn’t bring himself to hurt Marv’s feelings, even though there had been times during the weekend he could cheerfully have wrung his neck.

  ‘No, I heard it quite clearly. She said it. Women are strange creatures aren’t they?’

  Early February in the Kalahari is not a place for the faint-hearted. For the next week they sweltered and suffered. ‘This is worse than up north,’ Marv complained, wiping sweat. ‘I thought it was supposed to be a dry heat in the desert.’

  ‘So it is, mainly.’ Alex found the conditions trying as well. The last of the summer storms were threatening but not producing. Black skies on the horizon built the humidity so the air felt like a steam bath. Foraging ants, looking for moisture, dominated the kitchen. Flies, which normally did not bother them, became sticky and persistent. Cockroaches appeared from nowhere. Stepping through the screen door sent hundreds of them scurrying for cover so the floor appeared to be alive.

  They found ostrich. Live ones. In a moment of irrational discomfort and frustration, Marv shot one.

  ‘What’d you do that for?’ Alex yelled, frustrated himself.

  ‘I’m sick of this. For two pins I’d pack it in. Anyway, we can eat it.’

  ‘They’re greasy and horrible. What a fucking waste.’

  ‘Look, if you’re so fucking good, fuck off and shoot a buck.’

  ‘Think I fucking can’t?’

  ‘Fuck no. All you fucking do is fucking criticise.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Fuck you too.’

  ‘Fucking hell. Fuck, fuck, fucking hell.’

  Suddenly it was funny and they were laughing. They fell onto the hot sand and howled. Wiping his eyes, Alex said, ‘Sorry, man.’

  Marv propped himself on his elbows. ‘Ja, man. Me too.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s have a look at the bird.’

  ‘We could make biltong.’ Marv eyed the ostrich with some distaste. Aside from the back straps, the meat was generously marbled with greasy-looking orange fat. Even sun-dried, it was obvious the end result would not remove the oiliness.

  ‘The ants would probably get it.’

  ‘They’d be bloody welcome to it.’

  Alex had eaten ostrich with the San. It was not their favourite food but, boiled for several hours with ground nuts and tubers, it was edible. This particular bird did not look very appetising. He remembered !Ka refusing to kill a certain male ostrich once, explaining he was too old to eat. At the time, Alex assumed the Bushman was showing his respect for such an old creature. It was something the San often did—!Ka had once told him, ‘A very old animal is a very clever animal and deserves to be treated well.’ But looking at this particular bird he wondered if perhaps !Ka had been referring to the taste.

  Having examined the grit and stones
from the dead bird’s gizzard, they left it for the hyenas.

  While the days were hot and humid from sunrise to sunset, as soon as the sun went down they felt cold. ‘Sand is a pain in the arse,’ Marv said.

  ‘Why?’ Alex threw a stick on the fire.

  ‘It’s so damned hot one minute it’ll take your skin off. The next it’s as cold as a witch’s tit.’

  ‘We could always go inside,’ Alex said mildly.

  Inside was hell and they knew it. The corrugated iron walls and roof, and the cement floor, heated up during the day until the shack was like an oven. The heat remained unbearable until around ten in the evening when, with loud cracking and booming sounds, the outside temperature cooled the iron and the shack went from oven to refrigerator in the space of fifteen minutes. Until this happened, the ants and cockroaches had a field day but, as soon as the cooling process began, they miraculously disappeared. Alex and Marv remained outside by the fire.

  ‘How do you think Chrissy will take to this place?’ Marv asked. Chrissy planned to visit them the following weekend. Despite his lack of sensitivity around women, Marv was a thorough gentleman. In his experience, women liked and were entitled to some creature comforts.

  ‘Okay I hope. She’s seen worse. Her job takes her to some pretty ropy places.’ Alex was less worried by Chrissy’s reaction to their living conditions than he was about her prolonged exposure to Marv. He had tried to talk Marv into going to Gaberones for the weekend.

  ‘Rather be with you guys.’

  Short of demanding he bugger off for the weekend, Alex knew of no other way to get him to leave them in peace. Innuendo was lost on Marv. He crossed his fingers and decided to make the best of it.

  The next day they ventured further than usual. The by now familiar build-up of storm clouds occurred around two in the afternoon. This time, though, the wind picked up. ‘Think we’ll get it?’ It was a rhetorical question. Marv always asked it.

  Alex thought of his mother. Pa once said that there was always someone who had to be on the edge of the rain and Mum had tartly replied, ‘Yes, but why is it always us?’ He was beginning to understand her frustration. With clouds like that, rain had to be falling somewhere. Sometimes, like now when the wind picked up, he could actually smell it. But it was always just over there.