‘Dallas?’ Lindsay needed to know if he was conscious but received no response. The man was hardly breathing and sweating profusely. He coughed, a harsh sound which had Lindsay start his examination by listening to the patient’s lungs. Methodically he carried out further tests, each new finding moving him closer to making a diagnosis. The nurse hovered and helped where she could.
At last he was finished. ‘Get this man into a ward, ’Lindsay said to the stretcher-bearers. ‘Nurse, please make sure he has a bed bath and is given something more appropriate to wear. What he’s got on can go to the laundry.’
Or the incinerator, the nurse thought to herself.
‘After that, please find my wife and ask her to meet me in the office.’
Ellie was conducting her afternoon rounds when she received the message from Lindsay. ‘Thank you, nurse. Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
It took her another fifteen minutes. ‘They’ve brought in your father, ’Lindsay said, wasting no time on preliminaries.
Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Is ...is he ...?’ She had turned ashen, eyes wide and staring behind her glasses.
‘He’s not wounded. I’m fairly certain that he has advanced pneumonia. If you feel up to it I would appreciate your opinion.’
‘Of course. Where is he?’
Lindsay told her then added, ‘And I think you should send a telegram to your mother saying what has happened.’
Ellie nodded and left. She had not become hysterical, simply efficient in her response to his devastating news. Both knew only too well that pneumonia was usually fatal when contracted in the warmer months. Little could be done other than to let the infection run its course and pray that Dallas could summon the strength to come through it alive. Helplessness was often the worst part of their chosen profession. Physical injuries could be treated with surgery and splints but pneumonia or infectious diseases caused by conditions lacking even the most basic sanitation were another matter altogether. Ellie realised that she might be seeing her father for the last time.
Lindsay sighed and tried to stretch away the tension. He had deliberately let his wife go alone. The Granger-Achesons were a tough lot and if anyone had a hope in hell of surviving it was Dallas.
When Lorna received the telegram concerning her husband’s condition and whereabouts she didn’t waste a second. She had been expecting it.
Mister David prepared the carriage for the trip to the Thukela railhead while she packed a few essentials and made sure everybody knew what had to be done in her absence. A distraught Meggie was told to contact Cameron and Torben, then, with Mister David’s help, hold the fort at Morningside until her mother returned with Dallas. That did not include visits to Kingsway.
Lorna had no idea how long she would be gone. What went without question was that she would bring her husband home, no matter who or what stood in her way. If the worst were to happen then Dallas would die in her arms on the land they had tamed together.
The slow train journey back to Morningside gave Lorna a long-awaited opportunity to catch up with her eldest daughter and, in particular, find out about married life with Lindsay. Ellie was as efficient as ever and Lorna gladly let her take charge of their travelling arrangements while she kept a watchful eye on Dallas. Ellie had organised places for all three of them on one of the hospital trains carrying wounded to the coast.
‘I don’t know how I would have managed all this without your help, dear. It was quite stupid of me to think I could do it all on my own.’
‘Nonsense, Mother. If I hadn’t been here you would have coped perfectly well. You always do.’
Lorna smiled. ‘Does Lindsay mind your coming home with us? I didn’t even think to ask the poor man.’
‘Of course not. This is family.’
‘So is he, Missus Mayer, or should I say “Doctor Mayer”?’ Other than in letters, it was the first time Lorna had used her daughter’s married name and title.
Ellie laughed. ‘That sounds so strange coming from you, Mother.’
‘And how is married life?’
‘In many ways no different, but there is so much more I can’t put my finger on. How do I explain it? It’s as if a huge part of me was missing and I didn’t know it. Mother, I’ve never been happier in my life. Lindsay feels the same.’
‘I’m so very pleased for you both. Do you realise, there hasn’t been one wedding in this family which has allowed your father and me to either give away a daughter or provide a proper reception?’
‘You’re quite right. I hadn’t thought of it like that. There’s still time, though. Cam’s wedding can’t be far off and don’t forget Meggie.’
Lorna hadn’t intended to say anything about her youngest daughter’s affair with Stan King but realised Ellie was probably the only person she could confide in. When all was said and done, the situation sounded a lot less serious than Lorna had previously thought.
‘So Father has no idea?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Will you tell him or leave that to Meggie?’
‘I can’t keep it from him.’
‘No. But first let me speak to my sister. This is not a matter of taking sides. For better or worse, it’s Meggie’s life we’re talking about.’
There was no point in going over the same ground time and time again, so Ellie changed the subject. ‘Have you heard anything from Cecily and Stephen?’
‘No, not a word and I have no idea how to contact them.’
‘Neither have I. If there’s time while we’re in Durban I’ll check the house. Failing that I can do it on my way back.’
‘How long will you be able to stay, dear?’
‘That rather depends on Father. A week. Ten days at the most.’
‘So no Christmas at home?’
‘Sorry, Mother. Next year – with Lindsay. We might even let you arrange a belated reception for us – unless there’s something else to celebrate, of course!’
Lorna smiled. ‘Of course.’
They sat in silence for a while, both keeping an eye on their unconscious patient. It didn’t last long.
‘Do you ever see Torben and Gerda?’ Lorna asked.
‘Last time was a month or so after Alice was born. They made me a godmother, you know.’
‘Yes, and Duncan godfather.’
‘Right now it’s Frazer I can’t wait to see. God, how strange that sounds. How is he doing?’
‘Fine. He and Tanith are both well. Aminta seems to have become his full-time nanny. She carries him everywhere, wrapped in a blanket on her back. When they come to Morningside his favourite place is under the cassia tree, beside Katie and his namesake. He and Aminta sit there for hours. Suza usually joins them, as if he’s keeping guard. It’s quite strange.’
‘And Tanith’s family? What’s the story there?’
‘As you know, they didn’t come to the wedding. Her mother has seen Frazer but that’s not common knowledge. Mister Taylor is being as pigheaded as ever and the boys just do as they’re told.’
Ellie shook her head. ‘Let’s hope he comes to his senses. Life is too short to stand in the way of other people’s happiness.’
Lorna found herself thinking about Meggie and Stan rather than Tanith and Duncan.Had Ellie intended that, she wondered.
Dallas moaned, which usually meant he needed water. The two women turned quickly to their patient.
TWENTY-TWO
Captain Cameron Granger-Acheson sat in his canvas tent baking in the early December heat. Both end flaps were open but even the air was too hot to move. Eye-stinging sweat trickled down his face as he looked at the papers spread out on his folding table. The immediate problem was to think of some credible reason why one of his troop had lost two of Her Majesty’s rifle magazines. Although he and his men had been brought in from the field for a short break and long overdue refit, life around camp lacked the excitement and dangers they had become used to. Then there was the paperwork.
‘Bugger,
’he swore as a great blob of sweat dropped from his nose causing part of the report to form a blue-black sea of spreading ink. Administration was an officer’s duty but it was not one that Cameron took on with any enthusiasm.
‘Beats being out in the bush, wouldn’t you say?’ Captain Sam Snelling asked cheerily, filling the tent with a bright smile and his huge bulk. ‘Three meals a day and the officers’ mess to drink yourself stupid. Can’t be bad, eh? Got time for one?’
Cameron looked up at the quartermaster whose reputation for being among the last to leave the mess each night was legendary. A regular soldier, he was horribly overweight, preferring the sedentary life of base camps where a supply of good food and drink was never far from his place of work. Being cheerful by nature, as well as unusually generous with regimental supplies, made him popular with both men and officers from the field.
‘No can do, I’m afraid. Got to finish this ridiculous report, all for the sake of two bloody magazines, ’ Cameron responded irritably. ‘Then I’ve got to take a weapons inspection.’
‘Forget the report, ’the quartermaster offered. ‘I’ll write them off and issue your man a couple more.’
‘Much appreciated.’ Cameron crumpled up the sheet he had been working on. ‘I still have to do the parade but since you’ve saved me a lot of damned paperwork the least I can do is buy you a drink or two this evening.’
‘Sounds good to me, old boy, ’ Snelling grinned. ‘Roast beef and Yorkshire pud in the mess tonight. Better get in early before it’s all gone.’
Cameron smiled, shaking his head as the big soldier went on his way. Rising to stretch legs stiff from sitting he stepped outside and stared at the row upon row of white tents pitched in neat lines as far as the eye could see. He could hear the bawled orders of NCOs drilling their men, a blacksmith’s hammer clanging his anvil as he shod a seemingly endless stream of horses. Turning back Cameron glanced around the tent that was both his office and sleeping quarters, noting – not for the first time – the complete lack of personal belongings. One folding table, one canvas chair, a camp stretcher and paraffin lamp – all carefully itemised and none of them his. A blanket bedroll, mirror, spare uniform and the holstered army issue Webley revolver which hung from a nail also belonged to Queen Victoria. They at least went with him while he was protecting her empire, patrolling a vast land nobody seemed to control. Heaven help him, he thought, if anything should go missing.
The letter from Virginia still haunted him but he had told nobody – save for Henry– and had been able to bury himself in a world of kill or be killed. It was the nights, when she came uninvited into his dreams, that were the worst. Christmas was not far off and Cameron hoped he might wangle enough leave to go home. That would be the time to confront Ginnie and plead his case for their future.
‘Captain, sir?’ A familiar voice jolted him back to reality.
Cameron glanced up from the last of his report-writing to see Sergeant-Major Mulligan standing at the entrance to his tent. ‘Yes, Sarn’t-Major?’
‘They want to see you up at the ops room, sir.’
‘Any idea what it’s about?’
‘No, sir.’
Glad of a diversion and the possibility of action, Cameron grabbed his hat and tunic, strapped on the revolver and walked briskly to the tent that served as communications and administration headquarters for his company. There he was met by the regiment’s adjutant, a captain like himself.
‘Ah, Cameron.’ He stepped outside to get away from the chattering telegraph. Behind him sat two soldiers whose job it was to sort the mounds of paperwork the army ran on. ‘I am afraid there’s some bad news for you.’
Cameron had not been expecting the adjutant’s words and immediately feared the worst. Someone in the family was dead or dying. He said nothing, though the colour drained from his face.
The regiment’s senior captain continued, ‘There seems to have been a bit of a delay– can’t think why – but we have just received word that your father is seriously ill. Not wounded, if that’s any consolation: pneumonia, apparently. It seems your mother doesn’t trust military hospitals and intends taking him home to be looked after. That was some days ago. The CO has approved your immediate leave.’
‘Thanks, Tom. Not your fault.’ Despite his words, Cameron felt a sense of frustration. ‘Have you any idea how bad he is?’
‘Sorry, old chap. Your pass is valid until midnight on New Year’s Day. Don’t worry about the troop. I’ll organise for a replacement officer to stand in while you’re away.’
Cameron took the all-important piece of paper and walked back to his tent, stunned by the hand life had dealt him. He had hoped to be home for Christmas but not under these circumstances. The family could lose – Lord knows, they may already have lost – the person who stood out as a rock in the sand dunes of their lives.
The man had called himself Inspector Wild when he introduced himself to Torben. He was in fact a well-educated Dutchman by the name of Klaas. Brought up in England, his London accent came easily, though it was those years of enforced exile that made him a passionate supporter of the Afrikaner cause. Klaas saw his role in the war as that of a liaison officer. More correctly, he was both a spy and a member of the Broederbond. Now he stood in the single room of a Boer farmhouse, a tiny bundle in his arms. ‘The baby’s name is Alice Petersen, ’he said. ‘You will be her mother until it is decided otherwise.’
The woman was middle-aged, her face pinched by hardship and worry. Gently she took the living bundle from him. Heidi van der Merwe had lost a child some months before and now her husband was away, riding the veld with Jan Smuts. The death of her own offspring had been almost beyond bearing when Klaas made contact, saying he had a task that she would be paid for – to look after a six month old baby girl. Heidi would have done it without the money. Anything to fill the vacuum of loss and loneliness that had become her life. She peered down into the blankets to see a smiling face staring back. ‘She is truly beautiful, ’Heidi whispered in awe. ‘And she is mine.’
‘Only for as long as I say so, ’ Klaas reminded her. ‘Until then you will be well paid to care for the child.’
Heidi looked sharply at the man she suspected of belonging to the secretive organisation she had heard referred to as the Broederbond. It was not a woman’s place to ask questions, though she knew her husband was a member. She had met this man Klaas a year earlier when her husband had brought the stranger home for a night. Heidi did not like him then and did not like him now. He stank of treachery and deceit. ‘Until you say otherwise, ’ she agreed in words – but not in her heart.
Alice Petersen was at least in good hands, even if that happened to be more than two hundred miles from her home in Durban.
Klaas placed a small bag of coins on the table, picked up his hat and left without saying another word. Heidi stood rocking the baby and crooning the only song she knew, ‘Sarie Marais’.
Lorna sat by the bed she and Dallas had shared for so many years. At times her husband was almost lucid, his breathing noticeably easier after leaving the highveld. They had spent a night at Addington hospital in Durban and Ellie had managed to send a telegram telling Meggie when to expect them at the Thukela railhead. There had been no time to check Cecily and Stephen’s house or to contact Torben. The journey from Durban took two full days.
Meggie was horrified by her father’s appearance. He looked haggard – having lost over a stone in weight it was hardly surprising – and did not seem to recognise her.
Ellie had a hard job convincing Mister David that rest and plenty of liquid would do more for Dallas than his muthi. However, when they finally got him into his own bed she was not surprised to find a small and very old square of snakeskin lying on his chest. It had strange scratch marks on it and Ellie decided to leave it. The magic charm could do no harm; it might even be helping. She realised how precious the talisman must be to Mister David and how lucky her father was to have such a friend.
‘My lo
ve, ’Dallas croaked through parched lips. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep?’
Lorna was dozing and snapped awake at the sound of her husband’s voice. They had been home for nearly three days and these were the first coherent words he had spoken. She gripped his hand in hers. ‘I’m fine, my darling. I was sleeping in the chair.’
‘You should be in bed, not sitting here.’
‘I am where I want to be, ’ Lorna said, smiling. ‘Beside you and nowhere else.’
As she stood and brought a glass of water to his lips, Dallas looked up at the familiar face hovering over him. ‘My angel, ’ he sighed. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Here, my darling. Right here.’
As if on cue, both his daughters tiptoed into the room. Dallas held up an arm and weakly beckoned them forward. Each hugged their father in a way that took him back to when they were children. Tears flowed freely.
‘Hey, steady on. I’m not going to die, ’ he reassured his women. ‘I’ll be back on my feet and keeping an eye on Duncan before you know it.’
‘Over my dead body, ’Lorna snapped. ‘Your war is over, my boy, so get used to it. I need you here.’
Dallas winced at his wife’s commanding tone. He knew she was right. For a moment he actually found himself wondering what jobs might need his attention around the farm. God willing, the war would soon be over and, as the bible said, swords could be turned into ploughshares. They had lost a son and two others were still at risk. It was enough. More than enough.
A mist seemed to lift from his mind as Dallas realised he also had a grandchild that he had not yet seen. Frazer, Duncan’s son.
Outside, a dog barked. Saba. Cameron’s dog never barked unless ...?
‘Cam!’ Lorna shouted. In seconds she was rushing down the steps and breaking into a run to meet her firstborn son. Saba was already by his horse’s side. ‘What a wonderful surprise, darling. We weren’t sure if you would be coming. Does Ginnie know?’
Footprints of Lion Page 34
