Footprints of Lion

by Beverley Harper

  Tanith laughed. ‘Poor Meggie.’

  The comment was taken seriously. ‘Not really. Poor Torben, more like. I can’t help feeling that we’re all going to let him down at some stage or another.’

  ‘Let him down?’ Tanith was sensitive, yet outspoken in her criticism of Torben. ‘Your family has done nothing but prop him up.’

  ‘You know what I mean. In his eyes, it’s no more than he deserves.’

  ‘Mmm. Egged on by that wife of his, no doubt.’ Tanith and Meggie had no secrets between them.

  ‘Don’t say that. Gerda isn’t too bad. She just needs encouraging.’ At a questioning look from her friend, Meggie laughed. ‘In the nicest possible way, of course.’

  Tanith nibbled another chocolate. ‘I’m going to be sick.’

  ‘Put it down.’

  ‘Can’t.’

  ‘Pig.’

  She threw a pillow, which Meggie ducked.

  ‘What’s Duncan doing tonight?’

  ‘Having dinner at home.’

  ‘Do you think ...’

  ‘Yes, I do, and you know better than to ask.’

  The subject was usually taboo between them. Tanith was desperate for inside information on the love of her life. Meggie was just as keen to preserve Duncan’s privacy whilst, at the same time, understanding the need in her friend. The only way to deal with it was to avoid the issue.

  ‘I want to shake him sometimes, ’ Tanith confessed, tossing her hair.

  Meggie smiled and they dropped the subject.

  In the morning, when Meggie returned to Morningside, Gerda, then Torben, freely expressed their disapproval of the pyjama party, although each for very different reasons.

  ‘I thought you might have given some thought to your reputation, ’ Gerda sniffed. ‘Running around in night attire is hardly fitting for someone of our standing.’

  Meggie heard the collective term and let it go.

  ‘After all, ’ Gerda went on remorselessly, ‘what if you’d been seen?’

  ‘By whom?’ Meggie asked quietly. ‘We were in Tanith’s room, inside the house. Her parents and brothers were all at home.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Gerda had her lips pressed together. ‘Try to remember, my dear, you are not the only one in this family. Your actions impact on everyone.’

  Meggie came close to a sarcastic response. Watching her sister-in-law sway back into the house, wearing an ice-green gown more suited to dinner than breakfast, Meggie had an overwhelming and completely alien desire to grab a flaxen plait and rip it from Gerda’s head.

  Torben, with impeccable timing, found Meggie on the verandah, still trying to calm herself. ‘Missed you last night, little one, ’he said, bending to kiss her cheek. ‘You’d desert your brother for a mere acquaintance?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She couldn’t help herself. Torben had a way about him that made her want to apologise. ‘The party had been planned for weeks.’

  ‘Understood.’ He spoke lightly, somehow emphasising the hurt at her perceived betrayal. ‘As it happened, you missed nothing more than a family argument. Oh, and I hear that Cam has finally persuaded Virginia to marry him. She’s not pregnant, is she?’

  ‘Torben! How could you even think such a thing?’

  ‘In that case she must have had her eye on Mother’s jewellery.’

  ‘Sometimes I don’t understand you, Torben. Why can’t you just be happy for them like everybody else?’

  ‘I am, little sister, I am. And that goes for Gerda as well. We’re both delighted.’

  ‘Fine. Now, how about a game of croquet after lunch?’ Meggie deliberately changed the subject.

  ‘Good idea. Father is having his plaster removed this morning. Perhaps he’ll be able to join us.’

  ‘I doubt it, but we’ll see.’

  At that moment, they heard the pony trap belonging to their doctor from Empangeni. ‘Here comes old sawbones, ’ Torben said. ‘Pity Ellie isn’t here. She could have saved him the trip.’

  They waited while Doctor Roger Parry, who was also a family friend, alighted, collected his bag and joined them. ‘How’s the patient?’ he asked, not waiting for a reply. ‘I’ll need some assistance, young lady. Someone to hold that damned father of yours.’

  ‘Will it hurt when you take the plaster off?’

  ‘Only his pride. Otherwise, not at all.’

  ‘I can help, if you like, ’Torben offered.

  Roger Parry hadn’t trusted Torben since the boy bit him, years ago, while he was trying to remove an acacia thorn that had turned septic. ‘Thank you, Torben. Meggie knows what to do.’

  Another rejection. Torben’s face showed his reaction. ‘Very well. I’ll see you later.’

  Parry watched Torben’s retreating back for a second but all he said was, ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  They found Dallas sitting in the parlour, a look of mutiny on his face. The doctor plonked his bag down and stood, hands on hips, looking at his patient. ‘Bedroom, ’he barked suddenly.

  ‘No. Here.’

  Mister David was hovering. He bent down and spoke quietly to Dallas, who nodded reluctantly and allowed himself to be helped from the room. When Mister David returned, Parry asked how he’d managed that. ‘I told him you were an old man with a sore back and that he must make allowances for it, ’was the Zulu’s bland reply, leaving the doctor spluttering with indignation. He was a good ten years younger than Dallas. Shaking his head, Doctor Parry picked up his bag and indicated that Meggie should lead the way.

  Dallas had no argument about accepting his daughter’s assistance, much as he’d have liked one. He didn’t enjoy the fact that one of his children was seeing him in less-than-perfect physical condition. With quick, precise movements, Parry cut through the plaster. All Meggie had to do was lay a hand lightly on her father’s shoulder. For once, Dallas behaved like a lamb, so pleased was he to have the restrictive covering removed.

  The skin underneath had a puckered and grey appearance. ‘That will soon change, ’ Parry said.

  He gently manipulated the leg back and forth, paying special attention to the tibia, which had suffered the break, and the severely strained, perhaps even cracked, kneecap. ‘That hurt?’ he asked.

  Dallas gritted his teeth. ‘No.’

  Parry grinned. ‘Liar!’ He produced a crepe bandage.

  ‘What’s that for?’ Dallas growled suspiciously.

  ‘To wrap around your leg.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘Oh, very well. When can I ride again?’

  ‘Try next month, ’Parry told him without a trace of sympathy.

  Dallas closed his eyes and Meggie’s met the doctor’s with a grin.

  Lorna chose that moment to look in. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Fine, ’Doctor Parry said.

  ‘Bloody awful, ’ Dallas chipped in. ‘I still can’t ride.’

  ‘Oh, do shut up, ’ Lorna said, trying to hide her amusement. ‘At least the plaster is off.’

  ‘What can I do?’ he asked in despair.

  ‘Heal.’ Parry’s voice showed his exasperation.

  Lorna added, ‘Boss us around. You’re good at that.’

  ‘Get out of here, ’ Dallas told them all, smiling in spite of himself.

  When he reappeared in the parlour it was in knee-length shorts. ‘Might as well get some sun on the bloody thing, ’he announced defiantly, fully expecting a negative from the doctor.

  ‘Good idea, ’Parry agreed, preparing to leave. ‘Although it will have its work cut out getting through that bandage. Come and see me next week. Friday morning is relatively free. We may be able to do without it by then.’

  ‘Wonderful, ’Dallas said with irony. ‘In the meantime, if you don’t mind, I have to engage in some serious contemplation.’ He stomped outside, refusing to wince as each step reminded him that his leg still had some complaining to do.

  Torben cornered Lorna in the kitchen. ‘I need to speak with you.’

&nb
sp; ‘If it’s about the discussion with your father last evening, I’d prefer it if you spoke to him.’

  ‘No, no.’ Torben was hasty with his denial. ‘It has nothing to do with that.’

  Lorna turned to him, smiling, wiping flour from her hands. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Why are you cooking?’ Torben asked suddenly. ‘Where’s Mister David?’

  ‘Mister David has other things to do and, anyway, I like to cook. Is this what you wish to discuss?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  She turned back towards the workbench. ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘Cam’s engagement.’

  Lorna nodded, pushing hair back from her forehead with the back of a hand. Now she knew what to expect.

  ‘What ring did he get?’

  ‘Is that any of your business, my dear?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘I don’t see why. We have many pieces of jewellery, as you know. Some belong to your father, some to me. I can’t possibly wear it all. It gives us pleasure to give away a few items as and when we see fit. Gerda, if you recall, chose the ring she now wears. Cameron made his selection for Virginia. That’s all there is to it. You’ll just have to wait and see which one it is.’

  Torben said tightly, ‘Gerda chose that ring because I warned her not to be greedy. I really don’t see why your more valuable belongings should be purloined.’

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. ‘Before your father and I are dead, you mean?’

  ‘If you insist.’

  ‘Don’t be so prudish, Torben. Gerda could have had anything she liked and you know it.’

  ‘Well, she feels that you and Father prefer Virginia. The ring proves it.’

  As she sometimes could, Lorna momentarily lost her self-control, slamming both hands down on the bench. ‘How would you know? You haven’t even seen it yet. Damn it, Torben, a piece of jewellery proves nothing. Take another if it makes you happy. I’m sick to death of your petty jealousies. No-one prefers anyone in this house. Each of us has good and bad sides, none of us is perfect. Take another bloody ring. Take the whole bloody lot if it makes you feel better.’ With that his stepmother sailed from the kitchen, cursing herself for allowing Torben to get under her skin yet again.

  Taken aback by the outburst, Torben rubbed a hand over his head. He hadn’t meant to make her angry. Truth be known, he loved Lorna very much, appreciated her honesty and outspoken ways, and, as far as he was concerned, her only fault was the unconventional manner in which she approached so many things.

  ‘Moi cherub.’ It was Gerda, doing her best imitation of French, an affectation with which Torben really wished she wouldn’t bother. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing. I was just looking for you.’

  She went to him, humming a little under her breath, one plump hand extended to soothe the frown from his brow. ‘Something is bothering you, my dearest.’

  Torben relaxed. His wife’s lavish attention to his well-being was the one thing guaranteed to make him feel better. She seemed to know exactly when he needed it and when he wanted to be left alone. Sitting on a kitchen stool he pulled her onto his lap. ‘I love you.’

  ‘Mmm, mmm, mmmmm, ’she hummed in the special way she did when trying to pacify him.

  Gerda was too heavy to stay on his lap and, as soon as he shifted to a more comfortable position, she quickly rose. ‘Come and choose a luncheon gown for me.’

  Torben stood as well. Control over his wife’s clothing made him feel good. He did most of the buying and knew exactly what her wardrobe comprised. ‘Did you bring the cream silk? Mother seems determined to be drab. You don’t have to follow suit. I thought you might try it with the amethyst pendant and that red scarf.’

  ‘Not too daring?’ Gerda smiled and dimpled.

  ‘Daring!’ Torben laughed. ‘Not for you, my darling. You wear everything with such style.’

  They went off arm in arm towards the guest bedroom. Torben still felt short-changed by his wife’s engagement ring but Gerda had managed to take his mind off it.

  Once the kitchen was clear, Mister David, who had been polishing silver in the dining room while waiting to reclaim his domain, returned. He could easily have prepared the pastry needed for lunch but understood why Lorna had volunteered. It was to get away from Gerda, who took every opportunity she could to avoid housework. The kitchen was a refuge where Lorna spent an inordinate amount of time during Torben’s infrequent visits.

  Mister David sympathised. Lorna’s behaviour was typical of any Zulu mother who did not particularly like her daughter-in-law. Although she usually stopped short of outright rudeness, anyone who knew Lorna understood how she felt about Torben’s wife.

  On one occasion, taking matters into his own hands, Mister David had put a mixture of undetectable herbs onto Gerda’s food. Not enough to cause harm, simply enough to render her off-colour and consigned to bed, safely out of Lorna’s way. Lorna had said nothing about it, though the knowing glare on her face had told him he’d overstepped the mark. He didn’t try it again, afraid a repeat performance might mean he could end up out of work. Mister David needn’t have worried. That same evening he had overheard Lorna telling Dallas of her suspicions. She’d seemed more amused than angry.

  Working quietly and efficiently in the kitchen, Mister David pondered the family he’d known for nearly thirty years. Dallas had aged, but otherwise was largely unchanged. He spoke Zulu as well as a native, understood their ways, loved the country he’d come to regard as his own (there’d been a few discussions between them on that subject, which neither man had won) and, apart from recent frustrations over a leg which restricted his freedom, remained fair and free-minded. The Zulus on the farm respected and liked their employer. His family adored him. Dallas, in turn, lived for them.

  He was a good farmer, a great cattleman, respected African customs regarding the working and keeping of his beasts and made sure he took care of the land, which in turn took care of the cattle, which in turn took care of everything else. The way it should be.

  Lorna, too, remained much the same. She carried herself proud and tall, and continued to shock all and sundry with a dress-sense that was, to say the least, unusual. True friends sought her company. Those looking for the thrill of saying they knew her – not many had the opportunity of meeting an ex-marchioness – were quick to gossip about what they gleaned. Lorna was just as fast to see through such people and snubbed them with indecent haste. She remained her own woman, with one exception– Dallas. With him, Lorna was like putty.

  If Mister David had a firm favourite among the children, it was Cameron. As a little boy he had carved a place in the Zulu’s heart which, irrespective of any future bad behaviour on Cameron’s part, would never be erased. Watching Cameron grow through boyhood to puberty and then manhood filled the elderly man with a pride equalled only by watching his own boys.

  Dallas’s firstborn responded in kind, with love and respect that far exceeded anything outside most family units. Mister David was his mentor, friend, second father, confidant and brother. He was the man Cam looked to for guidance in all matters Zulu. When Kate died, it was in Mister David’s company that Cameron cried out his loss and listened to words of wisdom about ancestors and death. It was to the Zulu he turned when trying to find the courage to propose, yet again, to Virginia, and it was to Mister David that the tidings of success were first brought.

  For Ellie, he reserved the kind of respect usually accorded a sangoma, or spiritual healer. The girl was clever – educated at home, an avid reader and now studying medicine in Durban – with knowledge only very few whites were privileged to attain. Ellie’s fascination with injuries and disease had never diminished. Encouraged by her parents, and fortunately able to stay with family friends in Durban, she was already in her third year of training at Addington Hospital.

  Ellie had slotted easily into life with Cecily and Stephen. They were two of Lorna and Dallas’s dearest friends. Living outside formal marriage v
ows, their behaviour scandalised others, as had that of Lorna and Dallas so many years before. In each case, the woman of the couple had the connections and influence to make their choice possible. Cecily, now a self-confessed sixty-three, was cousin to the widow of Lord Randolph Churchill, the high-profile British politician who had died of syphilis in 1895, unrepentant in his widely publicised hatred of ugly women and the Boers. Cecily was as rare as Lorna. In a world of rules and regulations the two had gravitated together as naturally as bees to pollen.

  Lorna and Dallas’s eldest daughter loved her studies and work, devoted long hours to both, and regularly offered herself for extra duties when the hospital was short-staffed, which was not an uncommon situation. At eighteen, Ellie had reluctantly become a debutante, declaring her availability to the opposite sex, something in which she had little or no interest. Men were no mystery to her. They breathed air, swallowed bile, spoke, saw, heard, felt. Males of the species became ill just as easily as females, injured themselves or healed just as well and, as far as Ellie could see, were no different physically, apart from one or two additions and subtractions. These she treated as perfectly normal appendages.

  Emotionally, members of the opposite sex had as many challenges as women. Mentally, Ellie had these nicely grouped into various categories. Crying was one. Anyone who believed men didn’t feel enough to cry hadn’t watched one by a dying wife’s or child’s bedside. Against colleagues’ advice, Ellie actively encouraged men to show their emotions. In this regard she was way ahead of her time. The number of male patients who had come into the hospital nearly insane with suppressed grief and left again feeling able to cope were testament to the fact that she was on the right track.

  So it came as something of a surprise to everyone, particularly Ellie, when she finally fell in love. She complained to Lorna that it had ‘sneaked up on her’.

  Her mother smiled. ‘Men do that.’