Footprints of Lion

by Beverley Harper

  The pressure on Dallas to remain married to Sarah had continued until Lorna’s mother died of tuberculosis in 1879. Lord de Iongh, released from the moral obligation to stand by his wife, dropped all charges against him. Sarah’s father could no longer threaten Dallas, and after an uncontested divorce he and Lorna were finally free to marry.

  Although the Zulu War had ended, the family were unable to return to their original farm. Cetshwayo had been captured, Britain controlled his kingdom, and unlike in the old days when the king allowed use of land as and when he saw fit, permission to acquire a farm was now at the discretion of Britain’s administrators, who gave preference to those willing to grow sugar cane. So Dallas and Lorna secured two thousand acres in Zululand, establishing a property they named Morningside. Dallas did plant some cane, on the lower coastal flats, but cattle were his main interest and the majority of their farm was given over to raising beef stock, with a small but growing herd of Zebu cattle, bred for their disease and heat resistance.

  During a disastrous outbreak of rinderpest in 1897, which destroyed over eighty percent of Zulu cattle, Dallas made extensive use of a newly developed vaccine and constructed miles of fencing to quarantine his land. It worked, and despite dramatic fluctuations in the price of sugar and beef, the farm flourished.

  So did the children. Six in total were born to Lorna and Dallas, which meant there were seven in the family, including Torben. Cameron, or Cam, and Torben were only a few months apart in age. Now grown men, both nearly twenty-seven, their lives had taken very different paths. In fact, when Dallas thought about it, not one of the children resembled another. Their interests and personalities were all different. Lorna was largely responsible for this, allowing each to grow within the boundaries, or lack of them, as personality dictated. She had tutored the girls at home but all four of the boys spent time away at boarding school near Pietermaritzburg.

  A tomboy herself as a child, she had vivid memories of growing up feeling constricted. Probably for that reason the more extrovert of their children were encouraged to be so; the retiring respected for their need of privacy. As a result, with one exception, the family were a well-adjusted, adequately educated and contented lot.

  Torben was that exception. A brooding child, temperamental youth and secretive adult, he caused more worry for Lorna and Dallas than the rest put together. It seemed there was a self-destructive aspect to his nature. Given two choices, Torben could always be relied on to take the one no-one else would. Lorna said it was because he felt his mother had abandoned him and he was constantly trying to prove his worth. Dallas took a more simplistic view– that Torben was a lot like Jette. Whatever the cause may have been, the boy, and later the man, had moments that seemed to result from nothing more than a desire to disrupt the rest of his family. At other times, he was a pleasure to know. The trouble was, moods of varying kinds came and went with no warning.

  Lorna, followed by Mister David, now their cook of several years, came onto the verandah, the latter bearing a silver tray heaped with scones, butter, jam, cream, home-baked biscuits and cakes, tea, slices of lemon and, especially for Dallas, a selection of savoury delicacies.

  ‘Whew! When is winter coming?’ Lorna sat down and fanned herself with a napkin. Her face was flushed from being in the kitchen. The sleeves of her blouse were already rolled up and, once Mister David had disappeared inside again, she hiked up her skirt in a most unladylike manner, causing Dallas to grin spontaneously.

  ‘Just the two of us this afternoon, ’ she commented, gazing away over the rolling hills. ‘Even Meggie has deserted us.’

  Meggie. Their youngest. Bright as a button, the apple of her father’s eye and, at sixteen, already a beauty. Not that she would have agreed with that. Meggie was the daughter most like Lorna – a tomboy, a rebel, outspoken to the point of causing embarrassment, and not at all fussed about feminine trappings. Early the previous year, when her breasts finally began to develop, both parents felt it necessary to convince her that, even if it were only around the house, wearing nothing more on top than one of Dallas’s old vests was not a terribly good idea. Meggie glanced down at herself. ‘Oh these.’ She dismissed the two pointed buds with a wave of her hand. ‘It’s only flesh. Besides, I dress properly when I go out.’

  ‘It’s not out that worries me, ’ Dallas had said rather self-consciously. Discussing his daughter’s sexual attributes, particularly as she seemed so unaware of their significance, made him quite uncomfortable.

  Lorna came to his rescue. ‘I know, dear. But you are growing up. A little modesty wouldn’t hurt.’

  They’d never lied to her. Meggie took the advice good-naturedly and conformed. A little. She continued to go barefooted, skirts tucked into her knickers when playing tennis or games on the lawn. She was, Lorna once declared, the most free spirited human being she’d ever known.

  ‘That’s just it, ’Dallas had worried. ‘She seems so completely unconcerned about how others view her. Young men ...well, will they understand, do you think?’

  ‘That’s years away, ’ Lorna replied complacently.

  ‘Yes, but the boys have friends over. You never know what ...’

  ‘I’ll speak to her, ’ Lorna promised.

  And she had. Although refusing to go into details Lorna told him that the conversation had been frank. Dallas didn’t want a word-for-word report, all he needed to know was that his Meggie would not send out the wrong signals and ruin her reputation. The hypocritical nature of this wish had occurred to him but he didn’t care. This was Meggie.

  Her body safely confined in what could only be described as practical attire– she completely shunned soft and feminine dresses, preferring either loose-fitting shifts or pinafores with the skirt cut into trousers as her mother had always worn when in the bush – Meggie’s acquiescence was confined to her clothes. There was nothing either parent could do about her mouth. Meggie spoke her mind and saw no reason not to.

  Dallas shook his head and came back to the present. A storm was rolling in from the sea. Until the wilder weather stopped, winter would not fully arrive. He felt Lorna’s hand on his thigh, warm and affectionate. ‘Tomorrow, ’she reminded him. ‘One more day.’

  ‘I can’t wait, ’ Dallas stated the obvious. ‘This leg is driving me mad.’

  ‘What were you remembering?’

  ‘Oh, this and that. Us. The early days.’

  ‘Only me, I hope.’

  ‘Only you.’ At a disbelieving look from Lorna, he added with a smile, ‘I skimmed the rest.’

  She laughed and patted his leg.

  They had grown into middle age together and neither of them had noticed. The passion of the early years had matured into love, respect and liking. They were the best of friends, partners in everything, lovers, and each trusted the other implicitly. Perhaps it was growing up together in Scotland – Lorna’s brother had been Dallas’s best friend and his sister, Charlotte, and Lorna were once inseparable – that meant that there was no pretence between them. Unencumbered by any need to impress, when they had finally been able to spend time together as man and woman, both simply picked up where they had left off. The flames of desire were strong, earlier ties and memories dispensing with formality.

  Lorna’s outspokenness constantly delighted Dallas. She threw false modesty back in the faces of those who pretended it. Her obvious breeding, and the fact that before she married Dallas she had been the Marchioness of Dumfries, allowed her to get away with this. People were usually intimidated by her manner and criticism was only expressed well out of her hearing. The few close friends they had were, of necessity, square pegs in round holes. That suited both Lorna and Dallas, who needed no others to make their life fulfilling and enjoyable.

  She was topping a jam-smeared scone with a liberal amount of cream. ‘I suppose you’ll go charging back to the fields once that plaster comes off.’

  ‘What else would I do? You’ve seen me for the past six weeks. I hate being housebound.’


  ‘I’ve actually enjoyed having you around, ’ she told him, laying a hand back on his leg.

  His hand covered hers. ‘Bad temper and all?’

  ‘You haven’t been that bad. A bit pensive, perhaps. The rest has probably been good for you.’

  ‘Don’t you start. The doctor keeps reminding me of my age. The bloody man treats me like an octogenarian.’

  ‘You’re not so young anymore.’

  ‘Forty-nine. I keep fit and active. Just because I’ll be fifty next year ...’ The forbidden word slipped out. Dallas had been conscientiously avoiding it for the past couple of years. To him, it marked the beginning of a downward spiral and he dreaded it. ‘Where did the years disappear to?’ he asked.

  Lorna smiled wickedly. ‘So your mind is going too, is it?’

  He tried to lunge and tickle her, swore at his rigid leg and collapsed back into the chair, eyes closed in frustration. ‘You, ’ he told her in mock outrage, ‘are asking for trouble.’

  ‘Good.’ She clapped her hands together, eyes shining with mischief. ‘Would that be taking the form of domination in the bedroom, because I’m sick of doing all the work.’

  Dallas burst out laughing. ‘Work, is it? You’re a bad lady, ’ he joked with great affection.

  She grinned and rose. ‘Finished?’

  ‘Tea, yes.’

  She swiped gently at the top of his head. ‘Now who’s being bad?’

  Mister David appeared at the door. ‘I may take the tray?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Lorna turned to Dallas. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen. We’re trying something new this evening in honour of Torben’s visit. Will you be all right here?’

  ‘What am I?’ he grouched. ‘An invalid? Anyway, Suza and I have some fine conversations.’

  The battle-scarred boxer lying sprawled beside his chair was stone deaf but still had a keen sense of smell. This was quite surprising as he always appeared oblivious to the general reaction to his frequent and often noisy releases of putrid air, after which he had been named. Born on the farm, his fourteen action-packed years had witnessed many a confrontation with fruit-stealing baboons, not to mention the odd leopard with a liking for chickens. Suza had a sister, Saba, but she was Cameron’s constant companion. Alert eyes watched the Zulu’s retreating back. It was too hot for any other movement.

  Mister David’s timing had been, as usual, impeccable. There were occasions when Dallas wondered if his long-term mentor lurked behind the lace curtains, waiting for tea to finish. He wouldn’t put it past him. Mister David was part of the family, a fact which he was quick to remind anyone and everyone if the occasion warranted. He’d been with Dallas from the beginning – as a wagon driver on his trading trips down the Thukela, becoming induna at the first farm and then this one. As the years rolled by and Mister David became less able to do hard physical work, he, at his own request, was being trained by Lorna as cook. The Zulu had taken to her kitchen as though born to it.

  It had been Mister David who taught Dallas so much about Zulu culture, customs and language. When the children arrived, he’d also tutored them. As a result, most had spoken Zulu before mastering English. Again, the exception was Torben, who refused point-blank to speak a language he claimed was made up mainly of stupid clicks and grunts.

  Grey now peppered Mister David’s hair and his back had bent slightly with age. Bright eyes still twinkling with fun, he constantly corrected everyone’s pronunciation of Zulu words and would tell any of them when he thought they were wrong about something. Dallas regarded the man more as a friend than an employee. When the children were growing up, if any of them became ill Mister David could be relied on to arrive bearing a collection of roots, leaves, bark, and sometimes items which didn’t invite investigation in case their origins became known. These he would boil up, strain, pulverise or whatever was needed so that the patient could be treated with traditional Zulu muthi. More often than not, his bush medicine was far better than anything the family’s English doctor could recommend.

  Dallas often thought how different his life had become from the one for which he was originally destined. As Lord Acheson, his future had been decidedly boring. Thomas, the eldest brother, inherited everything – estates and their late father’s title. Boyd went into the army; Glendon, the church. It was all as expected. Which left Dallas with little more than a courtesy title, a small allowance, an excellent education and breeding. Had he stayed in Scotland, Dallas and Lorna might have married after her husband died and he would have been well within his rights to run the considerable estates owned by the Marquis. But only until Lorna’s son came of age. Although Cam was actually Dallas’s child, this fact remained unknown to anyone else. It was thought the Marquis had suffered a stroke in the act of begetting him. In truth, the seizure which rendered him helpless occurred before his marriage had been consummated. So, although not the natural heir, Cameron was entitled to inherit the Marquis’s estate in its entirety. Any involvement by Dallas would have been nothing more than a caretaking role. While prepared to put up with most things in order to be with Lorna, the thought of living off her inheritance was quite unpalatable and he wondered how long it would have been before resentment set in.

  As it was, fate intervened, forcing him to leave the land of his birth. Dallas quickly discovered that in the dark continent of Africa life was lived to the full, a man judged by deed rather than lineage, and opportunities abounded for all. Yes, Lorna’s wealth certainly smoothed a path for which others had to work hard. But Dallas paid back every penny and was now extremely well off in his own right.

  A sudden breeze ruffled his hair as the approaching storm flirted between sea and land. It would stay out over the ocean. Circling seagulls, wheeling white against clouds laden with rain, showed no interest in seeking shelter inland. He took a deep breath, smelling the salty tang released by an uneasy surf as it blended with the dirt dry scent of land. Back from the coast, cattle grazed contentedly. Dallas shifted his gaze down towards the unfenced stands of waving cane. Despite the British government’s insistence that any sale of land be dependent on a commitment to growing sugar, the area he planted had changed little over the years. Dallas had no interest in crops. They were far more vulnerable to disease and weather than cattle.

  He heard boots on the verandah. Cameron. Suza noticed nothing and dozed on.

  ‘Father?’

  ‘Here, ’ Dallas called.

  Saba appeared first, then Cameron rounded the corner. Tall and blond, deep blue eyes, skin the colour of bronze, a ready smile. He had been beautiful as a little boy and time had turned him into a strikingly handsome man. He flung himself into the empty chair beside his father. ‘I did it.’ Suza opened a questioning eye as Saba seemed to whisper something in her deaf sibling’s ear.

  ‘And?’

  ‘She said yes.’

  Dallas stretched out a hand and Cameron clasped it, shaking firmly, a grin so wide it nearly split his face in two.

  ‘Congratulations, son. Have you spoken to her father?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Told your mother?’

  ‘Just about to.’

  ‘She’ll be pleased. So am I. Virginia is so right for you.’

  ‘Ja.’

  ‘Yes, ’ Dallas corrected absently. All his children had picked up what was rapidly becoming a South African way of speaking. A mixture of English and Afrikaans with some Zulu thrown in for good measure. The young claimed it was a way to ensure an amicable blending of the cultures. Dallas wasn’t so sure. Each clung possessively to their own very different protocols and customs.

  ‘I’ll go find her.’ Cameron slapped his thighs, rose to his feet, told Saba to ‘stay’ and added, ‘ I can only hope our marriage will be as happy as yours.’ With that he left his father, who wore a faint smile of satisfaction.

  Virginia Waring-Jones. Dallas couldn’t have dreamed up a better match for his eldest son. She was twenty-four, educated mainly in England, loved Zululand and its lifestyle,
was gentle yet possessed a quiet strength, and she’d kept the lad waiting for five years before saying yes. Dallas didn’t blame her. Cameron had a reputation that sometimes included other women. He also had a wild streak – nothing terrible– and an affinity for the Zulu people which occasionally took him beyond the boundaries of conventional behaviour. He was an intelligent man though not academically inclined, preferring his two years’ practical work with the Cedara agricultural facility to those spent at Hilton College. Although Cameron could read and write perfectly well, do sums, and knew most of what there was to know about cattle, it would have been pointless asking him to recite Robbie Burns or Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Charm meant he got away with things others could never hope to.

  Virginia and Cameron had known each other most of their lives. If anyone understood what was underneath his carefree exterior, it was her. When she was nineteen and he first proposed marriage, she realised that Cameron was still too immature for commitment. At twenty-one, she again said no. Both times, Cameron had disappeared from her life to lick his wounds, finding solace in the arms of women seeking nothing more than a night’s pleasure, going on extended hunting trips with friends or just plain ignoring her. During the past couple of years, however, Dallas and Lorna could see that Cameron had matured considerably. Obviously Virginia thought so too.

  A grand addition to the family. Lorna adored the girl. Virginia had been best friends with Kate, Dallas and Lorna’s second daughter. Like their own children, she spoke fluent Zulu, and was Zululand through and through. She wasn’t beautiful in the chocolate-box sense, but was strikingly good-looking and possessed a natural style and a directness that set her apart.

  Mother and son burst onto the verandah, arms around each other. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Lorna’s happiness was completely genuine.