by Hilary Wilde
CHAPTER IV
As Sally and Jonathan walked across the room together, she was very conscious of her dusty appearance and aware that Cynthia Maddox was watching their approach with amused eyes. Jonathan introduced them. "It's hard to believe that a girl like you exists. Sally," Cynthia said with a smile. "Now I've seen you, I find it even harder to believe that you're an intellectual." Sally coloured. "I'm not," she said hastily. "I never went to college." "Didn't you?" Cynthia asked, then smiled. "Neither did I." Sally couldn't understand what was funny about that, but both Jonathan and Cynthia were laughing as Jonathan pulled out a chair, but before Sally could sit down, Cynthia said: "Let the child take off that thick coat, Jon. She'll roast in here." Jonathan helped Sally off with the coat and Sally noticed Cynthia's little frown as she saw Sally was wearing slacks. "Perhaps I shouldn't stay . .." Sally began. Cynthia smiled. "Don't worry. Jonathan will talk to the manager if there's any trouble. They are rather fussy at the Club, though." "I didn't know . . ." Sally began, her cheeks uncomfortably hot. "And slacks are easier in a Land Rover." Cynthia leaned forward, her dark lustrous eyes curious. 'You drive a Land Rover?" Sally nodded. "I used to for my father and . . ." Cynthia nodded. "Jonathan told me about him and why you like this work. I'd find it so boring. I suppose 56 THE GOLDEN VALLEY it's as hot as usual in that dreadful valley? You weren't at the dance last night. I saw your little friend, Kay. That reminds me. Sally . . ." Jonathan was talking to the waiter, who wore a long loose white gown with a red sash round his middle, and a tiny fez perched on his head. "Couldn't you persuade your little friend," Cynthia went on, "to go to a charm school and learn how to use make-up properly?" She smiled. "I'm not being unkind. She's very young and pretty, but she just spoils it by overdoing everything. You're different," Cynthia went on, leaning back, her eyes studying Sally thoughtfully. "You don't need make-up. It would spoil you. You're the neutral type, good clear skin, your own well-shaped brows and lashes I wonder if you know how lucky you are, Sally, for most redheads look like rabbits with sandy eyebrows and no lashes at all. While you're young, don't try to interfere with Nature." Jonathan sat down and looked at them. "I've ordered grilled trout. Sally," he said crisply. "We have no choice here in the week. I hope you like it." "I love it." "Lucky child!" Cynthia said with a smile. "At your age, you don't have to worry about your figure." Sally smiled, but inside her she thought that if Cynthia went on making her younger and younger, she would soon be in nappies! Cynthia turned to ask Jonathan for a cigarette and Sally watched as she lightly held Jonathan's hand as he lit the cigarette for her. Sally saw how gently Cynthia's fingers curved round Jonathan's for a moment. Sally also saw the quick look Jonathan gave Cynthia. She could see no sign of a quarrel. She felt Jonathan must be very much in love with Cynthia if he was willing to as he had said in the Black Bull shop .let her keep him waiting for an hour! Jonathan had ordered drinks for them all and they THE GOLDEN VALLEY chatted as they waited for the grilled trout. Cynthia included Sally in the conversation and also made her talk about herself, but Sally felt uncomfortably conscious of being what Aunt Gabby would call de trop. When she was not talking, Sally studied Cynthia's face. There was no doubt, Cynthia was quite the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her jet black hair had strange green and blue glints shining in it. Her magnolia-like skin was perfectly made up. The gracefulness of her movements, the elegance of that deceptively simple white frock, the quiet, slightly husky voice, her poise, was something to wonder at. Sally could understand why Cynthia could name her own price as a model. She was a woman any man would be proud to call his wife. "What did you think of Ouma?" Cynthia asked suddenly, as the waiter brought the plates of grilled trout to them. Sally was startled. "I-I thought she was rather wonderful." Cynthia looked amused. "That's a very charitable answer, considering she frightened you out of your wits. What is she like, physically I mean. Sally? I've never seen her, you know." "You haven't?" Sally gasped, really surprised. Cynthia's laughter tinkled like silver bells, but she was looking at Jonathan with a strangely hostile glance. "No. Ouma refuses to have visitors or to visit. No one has seen her except her doctor and her relations. She l.ives in a world that accepts no outsiders," Cynthia said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. "She must be awfully lonely," Sally began. Jonathan interrupted. "No, Ouma's life is too busy for her to be lonely. She likes it this way." "I sometimes think you'd like to live like that, Jon," Cynthia said. THE GOLDEN VALLEY Sally felt uncomfortably in the way as, for a moment, Cynthia and Jonathan glanced at one another across the table. There was a tension in the air that Sally could feel. Then Jonathan laughed. "No, Cynthia, I haven't reached that stage . . ." "Yet! " she said meaningly. She turned to Sally. "Don't you hate driving Land Rovers about and having to wear such ghastly clothes? I mean, I've never been able to understand why slacks and jeans are so popular. If the girls who wear them had a few candid photographs taken of them, they'd never wear slacks again. Only about one girl in a thousand should wear them. We're not all blessed with the right figures, are we?" Sally coloured. "I haven't thought . . ." Cynthia laughed. "You young people are all alike. I wonder how many of you take the trouble to look in a long mirror. Back views can be most disconcerting at times." "That applies to both sexes," Jonathan joined in. Cynthia laughed. "It doesn't matter in a man, but a girl has to be careful." Sally wished she could crawl under the table and hide. Cynthia was so right, she thought. She knew she hadn't been "careful" or she would have found time to comb her hair and powder her nose! "Now we hear the great model talking," Jonathan said with a smile. "Cynthia is always so tidy never a hair out of place. Sometimes I wonder if she's human." "Jon," Cynthia said huskily, putting out her hand and laying it lightly on his, "you know me better than that." Sally devoted herself to the trout and wondered why it tasted like sawdust. Why had they asked her to join them when they so obviously wanted to be on their own and alone? she thought miserably. THE GOLDEN VALLEY She was glad when the coffee came and she could make her excuses and leave. Cynthia smiled at her. "You simply must come to the Club dance. Sally. There's one next Saturday." She looked at Jonathan. "Mustn't she, Jon?" "You would meet more local people," Jonathan agreed. "It might be a good idea." He picked up Sally's coat, saying he would walk with her to the Land Rover. "You needn't," she said quickly. "I know," he said with a smile. "I'm not suggesting that you're incapable of walking alone. I want to, otherwise I wouldn't." She wondered what he wanted to say to her as they walked across the room. There were not many people having lunch, but those there were smiled or waved, and Sally was conscious that everyone was staring at her. She was horribly aware that Cynthia was looking at her back view and equally unhappily aware that she had not spent much money on the slacks! They were not a good fit and she knew she must be looking pretty awful! Her nose was shiny, her face dusty and her hair probably like a bird's nest. Jonathan waited while she got into the Land Rover. "Don't take the wrong turning on the way home," he teased. Sally's cheeks were hot. "I won't," she said stiffly. "Thanks for lunch, Jonathan," she said, starting the engine. Jonathan was smiling in a strange manner. "Now you can start working on the book, can't you?" he said. "Mr. White should be pleased with what you've done today." "He will be," said Sally, and hoped it didn't sound as defiant to Jonathan as it did to herself. She drove straight back to M'Lita, taking her time about driving, giving herself up to the luxury of her THE GOLDEN VALLEY thoughts. She had so many notes to go through, for Jacobus had told her lots of interesting things. It was odd that so often in different countries the basic things were the same. Here, too, the original tribal laws were very strict and any slight departure from the law had ensured grave and often cruel penalties, but Jacobus regretted the fact that tribal law had gone and he felt that the laws of civilisation, if such it could be called, were difficult to understand. He had also told her about the baboon that flew through the night and frightened people because, if he saw a human face, he would scream. And the unfortunate owner of the face would find his face shrinking until it lost all li
keness to that of a human being. Why? Jacobus had asked, and told her the answer because on the baboon's back was a wicked sorcerer who had come to kill the man's cattle. Sally slowed down to pass an elderly Xhosa walking barefoot, a brightly coloured blanket wrapped round him, a gnarled stick in his hand. She was tempted to stop and offer him a lift, but Malcolm White had specifically forbidden it. There was also the "ichanti" as Jacobus called it. The icha-nti something that had had a spell put on it was the hardest thing of all to fight because it could be anything. Jacobus had said. A spell could be put on a lizard, a stone, or even a coin, so that anything you touched could be able to harm you. "That is when they run to the witch doctor," Jacobus said, "to give him money that should be spent on food for the children, but they feel it is equally well spent if it means survival. The witch doctor throws the bones or gives strong mooti." Jacobus had talked of ritual murders and had tried to explain them. "It is logical enough, perhaps, that when you are weak, THE GOLDEN VALLEY you kill or have killed a very strong man. You eat certain of his organs and thus gain his strength." Jacobus had been a great help. Sally thought. She began to sing as she drove. She felt far happier than she had done that morning. Now she knew something about the Xhosas things that had not come out of books or were purely hearsay. Jacobus understood the Xhosas. Tomorrow she would start writing her notes and if Jonathan arranged for her to meet Chief Keremido, that would be an even greater help. But perhaps, she thought, the real reason for her happiness was the fact that now Jonathan knew she was not a "phoney"; he would know her father had written books on anthropology, that she had not made it all up. So now he would know that she was not a liar. But there was still the signpost! When Sally got home, she was surprised to find the house empty except for Santosi, one of the houseboys. He came to her very politely and asked if she would like tea, for the kettle was boiling. Surprised, because none of the staff had ever approached her before. Sally said she would, and after a quick shower, sat alone on the verandah and read her letter from England. It was a long family chat about their life and what the children had done and how they missed her and hoped she would have a wonderful time. "Maybe," Aunt Gabby had finished, "you'll meet Mr. Right out there and we shall lose you for ever." Sally folded the letter with a smile. Aunt Gabby, she thought, saw romance everywhere. After tea. Sally wandered through the garden. She was startled by the progress suddenly made. Petrus, the garden boy, straightened when he saw her. He wore torn khaki shorts and no shirt and the water was running down his back. "You work hard," Sally said, speaking slowly to let him understand. THE GOLDEN VALLEY "The garden is bad, missis, it is time we worked hard," he said to her with a smile. Sally stared at him, really surprised. It was the first time he had spoken in English. What had happened? she wondered. "It looks much better," she told him. "That is good, missis," he answered. She walked along the overgrown path and found herself going through glade after glade of trees, some which had fallen down and were being supported by others, until she came to a clearing and could see the r.iver. She walked to the edge and looked down she could see the tide marks which the river, when swollen with the rains, reached and she walked slowly down the slope. By the water there were huge boulders, that looked as it they had been tossed down with apparent carelessness. It was shady down here, a huge tree casting welcome shadows, so she sat down. She was staring dreamily at the small, slow-moving stream of water when, out of the corner of one eye, she saw something move. She turned quickly, but whatever it was, it had vanished in the rocks. Sally stood up. It had looked just like a fairy, which was, of course, absurd. There had been the flutter of some soft material, the glimpse of a face but it had all happened so quickly. She went as near the rocks as she could, remembering to keep Piet's side of the river, but there was nothing to be seen. She walked home slowly and stopped by a tree covered with white blossom. It would look pretty in the drawingroom, she thought, and put up her hand to break off a flower. "Missis . . . missis ... no! " a voice cried. Startled, Sally let her hand fall to her side and turned round. Petrus was running towards her. He stopped, breathless, and pointed to the tree. THE GOLDEN VALLEY "Not good for missis to pick that flower," he said. "But it's so pretty, Petrus. Is it poisonous?" He shook his head. "Not poisonous, but bad for a woman to touch, missis." Sally frowned. "How d'you mean bad?" He looked at her gravely. "If a woman touches that flower, she can never have a child. It is not good for a girl not to have a baby. She will never find husband that way." "I see, Petrus. Well, thank you for warning me," Sally said gravely. It looked as if she had a new source of knowledge here in M'Lita itself. On an impulse, she told him: "I thought I saw something down by the river. Could it be the tokoloshe?" He stared at her. "The tokoloshe does not like running water. It could be one of the river people. They fear noise, so if you throw stones in the water or sing then they will go away." "Thank you, Petrus," Sally said gravely. "What do you know about the tokoloshe?" She was interested to see that he was not frightened by the word nor upset by her mentioning it. He stood there, looking thoughtful. "That it hates women, that is why they wash clothes in rivers. It likes small children, but it is not good for us to see it, for if you see it, you die in a few hours." "You believe in the tokoloshe, Petrus?" Sally persisted. "Something you have never seen?" He smiled. "Missis, I go to Mission School, I learn all about God. I believe, but I never see Him. Same, I listen to box that speaks . . . but I can't see it." "Thank you, Petrus," said Sally, and walked on to wards the house. It had been the perfect answer, she thought. She wondered why Petrus had changed so much. One thing, she didn't believe in tokoloshes, she told THE GOLDEN VALLEY herself, so it must have been either imagination or some paper being blown about down by the river. Yet it had looked like almost like a girl. The three men were at home, already having their sundowners on the verandah. Douglas was on his feet at once, finding her a chair and a drink, as she explained why Kay wasn't with her. She smiled at Malcolm. He looked irritable and hot in a dark suit and had obviously just bathed, but was none the cooler for it. "Get the shopping done. Sally?" he asked. "Oh yes, and much more than that," she told him eagerly. "I met Jacobus." "That lout!" Piet said slurrmgly, taking another drink from his tankard. "He has perfect manners," Sally said quickly. Some of the tension left Malcolm's face, his hand played with his short black beard as he let out a shout of laughter. "Touche, Piet man! Slide off and get scrubbed. Ladies are present and you can't sit down to dinner looking like that." Piet rose slowly to his feet, his face red, his shirt and slacks dusty and crumpled. He looked at Sally as he passed her. "It was a hard tough day," he mumbled. It was like an apology. Sally felt embarrassed. She had leapt to Jacobus' defence, but it had not been her intention to criticise Piet. "Jacobus gave me a lot of useful information, Mr. White," she began again, "and I had lunch with Jonathan and Cynthia." "You did?" Malcolm sounded pleased and then added: "Who on earth is Cynthia?" with a frown. "The most beautiful girl . . ." Sally began. THE GOLDEN VALLEY "And as cold as ice," Douglas said. "I saw her the other night when I was with Kay." "Cynthia suggested it might be a good idea to go to the next Club dance," Sally went on, "and Jonathan thought I could meet more people . . ." Malcolm smiled. "An excellent idea. The more friends we make, the sooner our task will be finished. We'll all go to the next dance." Sally stared at him, trying to hide her dismay. She was sure that was not what Cynthia or Jonathan had meant, but there was nothing she could do about it. Sally found it a pleasant evening, for Malcolm and Piet played billiards and she and Douglas sat and talked. Sally was asleep when Kay walked into the room, switched on the light and perched on the edge of the bed. "I hear you had lunch with your wonderful Jonathan. It's all over town," Kay began. Sally blinked as she saw the clock. Two o'clock! "Kay " "Sally," Kay leant forward and shook Sally's arm, "do wake up. I've got the most marvellous idea. Richard, the man I've been out with and who's rather boring, let drop something tonight. You know what? I think Jonathan got him to ask me out to lunch just so that he could ask you for lunch. See what I mean?" Sally rubbed
her eyes and sat up. "Oh, rot!" she said with a yawn. "Besides, Cynthia was with us." It was quite comical the way Kay's face changed. "Oh no!" she said in dismay. "What did you think of her?" "Beautiful." "Douglas reckons she could be cruel. Did she cut you down to size, as the Australians say?" Sally laughed ruefully. "Yes, in a way you could say she did." She yawned. "But really, Kay, she was very THE GOLDEN VALLEY nice to me. I may have imagined the other. I was covered with dust and I'd forgotten to look at myself, so I was self-conscious." Kay laughed. "You are the end. Sally. I wonder what he thought?" Sally yawned. "Who cares?" she said sleepily. "Please, Kay, why must you always wake me up?" Kay jumped off the bed. "Sorry, I'm sure," she said, her voice annoyed. "I only wanted to hear what had happened." Sally yawned again. "Nothing did and nothing will. Switch off the light, please, Kay, and tell me everything in the morning." Vaguely Sally saw the room was in darkness again and heard the door close, and then she was asleep. When she awoke in the morning, it gave her a satisfying feeling to know that, at last, she had some work to do. She sat in the hot little room she had been given as an "office" and typed out her notes before filing them under their separate headings. She felt dismayed when she realised how little she had got. Maybe, she thought, if she typed out the skeleton synopsis, she could then make lists of questions and enlist Jacobus' help. Also, when she met Chief Keremido, she should have some idea of what she wanted to ask him. As she tidied the little room, she wondered again why die tape recorder in Mr. White's Land Rover had never been used. He and Piet went out every day exploring the valley, going farther afield to meet people, yet, to date, Malcolm White had dictated no notes at all. Perhaps she was being impatient, she told herself; they had only been here just over a week. Kay was gay at lunch. She and Douglas were driving to Ubito to play tennis. "We might do a film this evening if a good one's on," she said. THE GOLDEN VALLEY "Couldn't you come. Sally?" Douglas asked. She smiled. The three of them were alone, for Piet and Malcolm White had gone off together. "I think not, Kay. I've got some work to do." Kay's face altered. "You and Douglas make me mad," she said crossly. "If Dad doesn't mind you taking time off, why be so stupidly ethical about it?" Douglas and Sally exchanged a look. She saw that he had the same answer in mind that she had, and that both of them felt it was too pompous to say aloud. Sally worked hard that afternoon, trying to follow her father's methods. She was startled when Santosi told her tea was waiting for her. After tea. Sally told herself that she deserved a rest, She walked through the garden towards the river. Perhaps, she teased herself, she might see the tokoloshe again. Petrus was cutting with a sickle the long dry grass that had engulfed what had once been a flower bed. All round him was evidence of how hard he had worked. He straightened and smiled at her. "I'm just going to walk down to the river," Sally said, and then wondered why she had felt it necessary to tell him. He nodded. She looked round. "You are working hard," she told him. His grin was a splash of white in his dark face. "Boss said we work hard or else . . ." Still grinning, he sliced his hand through the air as if miming a whip. Sally smiled, "Boss McSeveney?" she asked, surprised. Petrus shook his head. "No, Boss Jonathan. He the real boss. Boss Piet, he talks with a big mouth and does nothing. Boss Jonathan pays us and gives us food." "I see," said Sally, though she didn't. As she walked on, along the hard path that must have been trodden on THE GOLDEN VALLEY by generations of Xhosas, she felt absurdly happy. Jonathan had been good enough to bother about her. He had taken the trouble to tell the staff to behave. Surely that meant. Sally thought, that he no longer believed she was a liar?"
