Edge of the Rain

by Beverley Harper

  They decided to take their diamonds to Southern Rhodesia. That country was thumbing its nose at Britain and rumbling about a Unilateral Declaration of Independence. It was full of mavericks, people who couldn’t care less about world opinion. Surely they could sell them up there.

  Chrissy, once again angry at Alex’s disappearing act, was barely civil to either of them. Marv and Pru made themselves scarce, saying something about going to a movie at the club.

  Chrissy wasted no time. ‘You’re not the only person in the world, Alex Theron. The rest of us exist. We have needs.’

  ‘Look, I’ve told you what happened. I went straight to the Chief and then I had to get back to Marv. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Apologising is not enough. All I ask is that you stop and think.’ When she got angry the tip of her nose went white. ‘I have no intention of sitting patiently here while you run around pleasing yourself.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ His hands went into the air. ‘What can I say? It won’t happen again.’

  She turned her back. It took him a few moments to realise she was crying.

  ‘Chrissy!’ He had no idea his actions had hurt. He went over and put his arms around her. ‘Sorry, darling. Really I am.’

  She mopped at her eyes. ‘Okay,’ she sniffed. ‘Just stop and consider my feelings once in a while won’t you.’

  He turned her to face him and held her, feeling contrite and confused. He could not imagine why she was so upset. He could appreciate her annoyance but the hurt was something he could not fathom. He kissed her gently. Her lips quivered under his. She felt like a fragile butterfly in his arms.

  ‘Let’s have dinner out.’

  She gave him a lopsided grin. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘Yes I do. I’m an inconsiderate clot.’

  A full grin this time.

  He cocked his head at her. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘I don’t hear you denying it.’

  She laughed and hugged him. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay what?’

  ‘You’re an inconsiderate clot.’

  They both laughed. Peace had been restored.

  Over dinner at the hotel he outlined his vague plans. ‘Marv and I have to sell the stones. We’ll go to Southern Rhodesia. Hopefully that will raise enough for Marv to put down a reasonable deposit on some land. We’d hoped for more. He’ll have it tough for a few years until his farm starts to pay.’

  ‘What about you?’

  He looked doubtful. ‘I just don’t know, Chrissy. You know I want to farm but it’s a lonely life unless you have someone to share it with.’ He tried to lock eyes with her but she looked down.

  ‘You’re too young to tie yourself to a farm. Try something else for a while.’

  He knew she had fobbed him off. He tried to hide his disappointment. ‘I’m not qualified for anything.’

  She looked at him in amazement. ‘Of course you are. You’re one of the very few people who have an understanding of the Bushmen. You even speak their language. That has to be invaluable for an emerging country like this. You’re here, you were born here, the country will need people like you. You can do anything you like.’

  ‘Politics, you mean?’

  ‘Not politics as such, no. Bushmen affairs is more like it. You could be their voice.’

  ‘Do they want a voice, I wonder?’ In the year and a bit he lived with !Ka and his clan not once had he heard them complain about their way of life. They lived a happily isolated existence, undisturbed by development and technology. As far as he could see, since they lived in areas which nobody else wanted, they could remain this way for as long as they liked. And yet, as Bechuanaland became more settled fences became more commonplace and professional hunting killed more animals on land the Bushmen considered to be theirs. Perhaps their way of life was threatened.

  He knew they were psychologically and socially prepared for change. They had not chosen to live in such arid areas. They lived there and adapted out of necessity. Others, although at home in the desert, regularly visited towns or farms for work. Still others became farmers themselves and never ventured deep into the Kalahari. Clearly, the Bushmen were adaptable but time was against them. They needed more than a voice. He saw what Chrissy was getting at and began to get excited. They needed a plan. A plan for survival in their ever changing environment.

  He floated an embryonic idea. ‘When I lived with them it crossed my mind that commercialisation of their skills, provided it did not affect their way of life, might work.’

  ‘Such as?’ She was smiling at his sudden enthusiasm.

  ‘The things they make out of necessity using skin, bone, even ostrich eggs, are unique. African curios have been around for a long time but hardly anyone knows about the Bushmen handicrafts. They could be made commercially. Then nothing needs to change. The San could stay where they are, keep their traditions but improve their standard of living.’ The idea took hold. ‘Their way of life is hard. !Ka expects to die when he’s about forty-five. He accepts that, but he would be delighted to think he might live longer.’ He banged his hand down on the table. ‘Chrissy! It’s a brilliant idea.’

  ‘You’d have to be careful. If you introduce money into their way of life you’ll set off a chain reaction. Somehow, and I can’t see how at this stage, they need to preserve their culture but improve their living standards.’

  ‘Their biggest problem is health. If their craftsmanship could fund clinics . . . don’t you see, Chrissy, they could trade handicrafts for health. It’s exactly the sort of deal they’d like. Something for something.’

  ‘Hey, slow down. You’ll have to work it through.’

  ‘You bet.’ He was alive with new thoughts. Ideas flooded him. He spoke around the steak in his mouth. ‘We’ll get finance. We’ll export to America and Europe. We’ll . . .’ Chrissy’s eyes grew round. He was about to ask why when a hand thumped him between the shoulder blades so hard he choked.

  ‘Hello, boyo. Jesus mother of Mary, you’ve turned into a man.’

  Pat, Willie, Bob and Artie stood over him, grinning.

  ‘He must be a man. That’s a helluva woman he’s with. Pardon me, ma’ am, my name’s Artie. This here’s Pat. This is Bob. Willie you don’t want to know.’

  ‘You always say that. Why do you always say that?’ Willie was grinning and flashing his gold teeth.

  Chrissy was smiling but bemused. ‘Pleased to meet you, gentlemen.’

  Pat liked that. ‘Gentlemen! She called us gentlemen. Miss, you can stay.’

  ‘My name’s Chrissy.’ She glanced at Alex who appeared to have lost his tongue. ‘Say something.’

  ‘Something,’ he croaked. He had only just dislodged the piece of meat from his throat.

  ‘Boy’s choking.’ Pat manhandled his back and shoulders. ‘There, boyo, that should do it.’

  Artie kicked out a chair and sat down. ‘Jeff’s over there. He wants to see you.’

  ‘I don’t want to see him.’ He dabbed at the tears streaming from his eyes. ‘Jesus, Pat, you nearly killed me.’

  Pat picked up extra chairs and set them down at the table, sinking into one and indicating the others should join them. ‘Shove up, boyo. Finish your meal, there’s a good boy. We’ve got some serious catching up to do. You drink, Chrissy? Good.’ He didn’t wait for her reply. He shouted to the barman. ‘Hey, Max, about five bottles should do for a start.’ He picked up Alex’s wine glass and drained it, pulling a face. ‘There, that’s got rid of the sissy stuff.’

  Alex had recovered. He quickly shovelled the last piece of steak into his mouth, chewing rapidly in case Pat felt the need to thump him again. Swallowing, he said to Chrissy, ‘I’d finish that if I were you. Otherwise Pat will finish it for you.’

  The barman sent them five quart bottles of cold Castle beer and six glasses. Artie was telling Chrissy about the cattle drive. ‘. . . six of the biggest lions I’ve ever seen. The bastards . . . oh, excuse me, Chrissy . . . them
bloody lions took three or four head of cattle each night. The fuckers . . . oh, excuse me, Chrissy . . . the bastards had a go at the horses too. Jesus, I hate lions.’

  Pat, who had drained Chrissy’s wine, was pouring beer for everyone. ‘C’mon, c’mon, drink up. It’s hotter that a whore’s knickers in here. Don’t let it get warm. The beer, boyos, not the knickers. Oh, excuse me, Chrissy.’

  Willie was trying to tell Alex something about seeing Nightmare. ‘I swear to God, that bitch looks meaner than a black mamba. But by Christ, she’s fucking beautiful. Oh excuse me, Chrissy.’

  Bob sat, large and silent, drinking and smiling and nodding approvingly each time someone apologised.

  Chrissy was looking slightly overwhelmed.

  Alex sensed Jeff standing beside him. ‘Didn’t Artie tell you I wanted to see you?’

  ‘He told me.’ Alex locked eyes with him.

  ‘Well?’ Jeff thrust out his jaw.

  Looking up, Alex found it easy not to hate him. !Ka had said, ‘If you have hate in your heart, your heart knows it is wrong. Then, two things happen. Your heart will be so full of hate it will not be able to tell you anything else. And when the bad spirits see that your heart is occupied elsewhere, it will try to enter your heart. A man is easy prey at such times. Better not to have hate in your heart at all.’ Alex saw the sense of what !Ka said. Why bother to waste his life hating? There were so many other more pleasant things to do.

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to see you.’ He spoke quietly, his eyes still looking straight into Jeff’s.

  Jeff looked angry. ‘I don’t like you, kid. You’re too damned smug. But I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I beat you up like that.’ He turned on his heel and walked away.

  ‘He’s been itching to say that for years,’ Bob said quietly.

  ‘Should’ve gone out of his way to say it then,’ Pat said. ‘Instead of waiting.’

  Alex shrugged. ‘Doesn’t bother me. Apology or not, I don’t want anything to do with him.’ He stopped, then added, ‘Or his bloody daughter.’

  ‘Good for you, boyo.’

  Alex knew the thump was coming. He flexed his arm and deflected it.

  ‘She’s in Europe anyway,’ Willie put in. ‘Gone off to get finished.’

  Chrissy was getting used to the onslaught of these men. Willie’s revelation, however, put her back where she started. ‘Finished?’ she managed in a strangled voice which Alex knew meant she was trying not to laugh.

  ‘Yeah, finished. You know.’ He struggled to explain. ‘Where to learn to arrange flowers and things,’ he said finally. ‘You know, what knife to use, stuff like that.’ His tone clearly implied he thought it a waste of time.

  ‘Oh!’ Only Alex knew what an effort not to laugh she was making. The others took the explanation seriously.

  ‘I hope they finish off her bad temper,’ Pat said. ‘She’s like a bear with a sore head these days.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Chrissy rose and walked quickly to the ladies’ toilet.

  Pat wasted no time. Gripping Alex tightly on his upper arm he said, ‘She’s a little beaut, boyo. Where’d you find her?’

  ‘She was staying with my parents. She’s an anthropologist.’

  ‘A who whatta?’ Willie looked puzzled.

  ‘An anthropologist, you oaf.’ Artie poked fun at him. ‘She digs up things and tells us where we’ve been. Hey, Alex, she found any dinosaurs yet?’

  Alex wished he could join Chrissy in the ladies’ toilet.

  Pat whistled softly. ‘There’s that bastard Kel. Jesus, he doesn’t get prettier does he?’ He looked at Bob. ‘Sorry, boyo, that wasn’t a dig.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ Alex asked. He couldn’t help himself. Despite his intense dislike of the man, sympathy stirred in him when he looked at his face.

  ‘A combination of things I guess,’ Bob said. ‘It happened on the cattle drive just after Jeff beat you up. Kel was trying to lead Nightmare back and she reared up, pulling him off his own horse. He hit the ground face down.’

  Alex remembered regaining consciousness and seeing Nightmare, her reins trailing, and wondering how she got there. He even remembered wishing she had bitten Kel. ‘What did he land on—a rock?’ The ground was soft sand. It couldn’t have done all that damage.

  Pat looked uncomfortable. ‘Now don’t you go taking this the wrong way, boyo.’

  They were hiding something. ‘Let’s have it, Bob.’ Alex stared him down.

  Bob glanced helplessly at Pat but all the big Irishman said was, ‘The boy’s got to find out at some stage. Might as well hear it from us.’

  ‘That fight you had with him,’ Bob said reluctantly. ‘Kel claims it must have resulted in a hairline crack in his cheekbone because when he hit the ground the bone collapsed and a sharp sliver went straight through the skin.’

  ‘Jesus!’ Guilt flooded through Alex.

  ‘He had it coming,’ Pat said loyally.

  ‘He was a bit of a mess when he reached us,’ Bob continued. ‘He had this bone sticking out and the whole right hand side of his face was caved in but he wouldn’t let me near it. Mind you, I wasn’t sorry about that. I didn’t have a clue what to do anyway.’

  Artie interrupted. ‘I wasn’t on that drive but I back Bob one hundred per cent. He did what I’d have done. You can’t force a man to have medical treatment if he doesn’t want it.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Alex glanced over at Kel but the man was leaning on the bar and had his back to them.

  ‘He kept on insisting he’d be fine. He wouldn’t even take antibiotics. Two days later he developed septicaemia. His temperature shot up, his face swelled and he was in agony. We were at least two days from anywhere and the bloody radio was flat. We couldn’t get in touch with anyone.’

  ‘Bob did a great job under the circumstances,’ Pat said. ‘Kel had a change of heart and was begging us to help him. Two of us held him down, Bob cut off the bone that was sticking out and then stitched him up. It wasn’t much fun. The whole cheek was full of pus by then and Bob had to cut away some skin.’

  ‘No anaesthetic?’ Alex asked shakily.

  ‘I had a bottle of ether. I’m a bit wary of that stuff. Too much can kill a man. Kel felt most of it.’

  ‘Jesus!’ Alex said again. ‘The pain must have been indescribable.’

  ‘He’s lucky he didn’t die,’ Pat said sourly. ‘Stupid little sod brought it all on himself.’

  ‘He tried to sue Bob,’ Artie said. ‘Didn’t get to first base. A doctor at the hospital here said there was very little else Bob could have done.’

  ‘So much for gratitude,’ Willie put in. ‘At least he’s alive.’

  ‘You might as well hear the rest of it,’ Bob said quietly. ‘He blames you for it. He was threatening to sue you too until Artie pointed out that every man on the ranch would testify that he provoked the fight. He swears he’ll get even with you.’

  Alex looked back at the bar but Kel was nowhere to be seen. He felt sick. True, the fight had been instigated by Kel and he couldn’t be blamed for Nightmare pulling Kel off his horse. But somehow he still felt responsible for the fact that Kel had to go through the rest of his life looking like a monster. Then he remembered something !Ka had said once when a troublesome member of the clan had packed up and left and Alex had expressed relief to see the end of him: ‘What a man carries in his heart today, he will wear around his shoulders tomorrow.’

  Kel had got what was coming to him and there was nothing Alex could do about it. Chrissy returned to the table and the conversation moved to more pleasant topics.

  It was well after midnight when they got back to the flat. There was no sign of Pru and Marv. ‘Must be a hell of a movie,’ Alex said.

  Chrissy wound her arms around his neck.

  The little book of his school years had taught him many things about women. But it had not prepared him for the depth of feeling in him whenever he and Chrissy were together in bed. Her nearness almost always caused him t
o fill with protectiveness. He was always warm and happy. She brought out a tenderness which surprised him. ‘I love you, Chrissy,’ he said, lying in the dark with his arm under her head.

  The sheets rustled as she turned into him, sliding an arm over his chest. ‘I love you too.’ She kissed his nipple, then sucked it gently.

  He felt desire stir. He pushed her away. ‘If I get this Bushman scheme up and running I’ll be happy to hand it over to someone else. Then I’ll farm. How do you feel about . . .’

  Her hand found his manhood and she circled the head with her fingernail, slowly and gently, round and round. ‘Ah God, Chrissy.’

  ‘Fuck me.’ Her voice was deep with want. ‘Fuck me, Alex. Push yourself into me. Fill me up with this. Fuck me, darling.’ He wanted her answer but the low urgency of her voice took the question clean out of his mind. He had never wanted anyone as much as this. He rose over her. Her hand guided him into her. ‘Ah yes, ah, ah yes. That’s beautiful.’ She thrust against him, her voice lust-filled, saying things he had never heard a woman say before. Part of him was shocked. But it was exciting. What she was saying was filthy and yet it wasn’t. She used words he’d only heard whispered between schoolboys. Yet it seemed right. She wrapped her legs around him, crying out, demanding he get deeper.

  Her climax shook through her body, pulsing inside her, bringing a cry to her throat. Their bodies were slippery with sweat. Her hair felt wet beneath his fingers. The intensity of their lovemaking left him gasping and breathless. It was a while before he remembered the question he tried to ask. Something held him back from asking again. He sensed she had deliberately avoided the question. Perhaps she was not ready. Perhaps she didn’t love him enough.

  He and Marv left to sell their diamonds the next morning. The road to Francistown was just over 300 miles of dust and boredom. They watched the endless flat, scrubby country for mile after mile, each man busy with his own thoughts. There was very little traffic but the occasional impala or duiker danced across the road, leaping for safety at the last possible moment. Alex let his mind drift. Chrissy. Marriage. Bushmen. Diamonds. Kel. Jeff. They all crowded his thoughts in a woven tapestry of confusion and uncertainty. He felt he was going nowhere. What had he achieved? What was wrong with Chrissy? He could have sworn she felt the same way about him as he did about her. Why, if she loved him as much as she said she did, did she head him off each time he tried to talk about their future?