Shadows in the Grass

by Beverley Harper

  Dallas hooked one foot around the leg of a chair and pulled it out. ‘Sit.’ Torben’s saunter bordered on insolence but his father made no comment. Instead, with the dresser now vacated, he and Lorna joined forces in front of it waiting for Torben to do as he was told.

  The boy sat, facing sideways.

  ‘Don’t push your luck, young man,’ Dallas barked. ‘And don’t be rude.’

  Reluctantly, Torben turned towards them.

  Clamping down on exasperation, Dallas chose his tactics and began. ‘There’s no point in lying. You hit Cam quite deliberately. I’m not going to ask for an explanation – you probably don’t even know why you did it.’

  Torben looked surprised.

  ‘However,’ Dallas went on, moving to stand in front of him, ‘I would like it understood that what you did might have killed your brother.’ He reached down and tapped Torben’s temple firmly enough so that the boy blinked in pain. ‘If you’d hit him there, he could be dead. Do you have anything to say for yourself?’

  The head shake was silent.

  ‘How about an apology?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Dallas shook his head. ‘It’s not me you hit.’

  Defiance showed in the boy’s set mouth.

  Dallas moved back beside Lorna, their eyes locking in silent despair. Turning to face Torben, Dallas chose another tack. ‘Cam isn’t perfect. No-one is. Did he do something to annoy you?’

  ‘Would you punish him if he did?’ Torben challenged.

  ‘That would depend on what it was.’

  ‘You always take his side.’

  ‘I’m giving you the chance to explain.’

  ‘What good will that do? No-one understands.’

  ‘I’m trying to,’ Dallas said gently. ‘Unless you meet me halfway, I’m afraid you’re on your own.’

  ‘I’m not apologising. He asked for it.’

  ‘How? For goodness sake, son, speak to me.’

  Tears sprang to Torben’s eyes and he angrily scrubbed them away with his knuckles. ‘The girls like him better than me. He knows that and waits until we’re playing then comes and takes over. I’m not sorry I hit him.’

  Dallas sighed. He’d get nowhere trying to force an apology. ‘I’ll leave it up to your conscience.’ he reached to the top of the dresser, taking down a leather strop. ‘Your explanation is no excuse for something which might have killed him. If you weren’t so mean to the girls they might like you better. Unless there’s another reason for your behaviour, you’ll have to be punished.’

  Dallas waited but Torben just stared at him.

  ‘Very well. Stand up and bend over.’

  Lorna hastily left the room. She had no stomach for the very occasional call for corporal punishment, although in most cases when Dallas considered it necessary, she agreed.

  Torben took the six lashes like a man, his furrowed brow and clenched fists the only signs of suffering. In truth, although his son didn’t know it, Dallas never used much force. Just enough so that whichever boy, and it was usually Torben, was being punished knew about it. ‘Now go to your room and stay there. You may join us for meals but other than that you are to remain there for two days.’

  Without a word, Torben did as he was told. Dallas watched him go. As he passed the sitting room door Torben could not resist a dig. ‘Sissy.’

  If Cam responded, Dallas didn’t hear what he said. Cam was no angel. No doubt he’d get even at some stage.

  Dallas sank onto one of the kitchen chairs with a sigh. Try as he might, he could not get close to Torben. No-one could. The boy had a chip on his shoulder and not one member of the family could get rid of it. ‘Must be the Danish in him,’ Dallas had said on one occasion.

  As a toddler he’d been prone to tantrums and dark moods, but was at least reachable.

  Cam’s cheerful, easygoing temperament only served to show how difficult Torben was. As the two boys grew older, their differences were becoming more apparent. Dallas and Lorna realised that, given his nature, Torben would find it easy to believe he was being picked on. This, in turn, only made him more defiant.

  Just after his sixth birthday, Torben’s moodiness and lack of communication became much worse. It was then he learned that Lorna wasn’t his real mother.

  ‘Do you think he remembers Jette?’ Lorna asked, often in despair.

  ‘How can he?’ Dallas responded. ‘He was still a baby.’

  When Dallas had arrived home from his meeting with Cetshwayo, Mister David’s anxious face warned him that something was amiss.

  ‘What’s wrong, my friend?’

  ‘It is nothing, master.’

  ‘Oh, come! Do not expect me to believe that. Have you had bad news?’

  The Zulu deflected his question. ‘Is the king well?’

  ‘He is in excellent health. I have been granted land in Chief Gawozi’s region.’

  Satisfaction gleamed in Mister David’s eyes. ‘That is good.’

  ‘He is your chief, I understand.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you wear a Mpungose maiden’s love letter?’

  Mister David’s fingers fondled the beaded message.

  ‘So you will be pleased to hear that we will probably move north after the birth of our child.’ Dallas smiled. ‘Tell me then, since I bring good news, what is it that troubles you?’

  Mister David’s eyes would not meet his. ‘It is not my business.’ He turned, leading Tosca to the stables. ‘But,’ the words came over his shoulder, ‘the madam is anxious to speak with you.’

  Lorna had heard him arrive and was standing at the front door. In response to his wide grin and open arms, she tossed her head and retreated inside.

  Mystified, Dallas followed.

  She waited, hands on hips, at the foot of the stairs. When he went to kiss her, she fended him off.

  ‘What’s wrong, darling? Have I angered you in some way?’

  ‘No. It is I who might cause you concern.’

  Dallas took Lorna’s arms, pulling her to him. ‘You could never do that.’ He breathed in the clean smell of her hair. ‘Mmmm. It’s good to be home.’

  ‘Dallas!’ She struggled to free herself. ‘You’d better come with me.’ Turning, she swept up the stairs.

  Dallas followed, wondering what on earth was going on. She hadn’t even asked about the grant.

  From the landing, Lorna turned into Cam’s room. ‘We have company.’

  Dallas could only gape. Sitting in the cot with their child was Torben. ‘Where the hell did he come from?’

  Queenie, the Zulu girl, who had taken on a nannying role since she was the only indoor servant who spoke English, sat by the cot, her eyes wide with apprehension. She knew that Torben was the master’s son. What she couldn’t anticipate was how he would take to the child’s unexpected appearance. Lorna shook her head at Dallas’s question and said, ‘We’ll talk downstairs.’

  In the parlour, she poured him a large scotch and a slightly smaller one for herself. ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’ he asked, taking the glass.

  She ignored his words and sank into a chair. ‘Talk first. We have a problem.’

  ‘Torben?’ He could have bitten his tongue. Clearly, Lorna was in no mood for frivolity and their problem was obvious.

  She frowned and got straight to the point. ‘Quite,’ Lorna agreed crisply. ‘To put it mildly, the boy has been dumped on us.’

  Dallas ran a hand through his hair. The appearance of Jette’s child was one thing. That he was more than a one-day visitor, quite another. ‘It would appear that damned woman has no scruples whatsoever.’

  ‘I’m inclined to agree, although I admit she seemed extremely distressed.’

  Dallas took a seat opposite Lorna. ‘You’d better tell me what happened,’ he said quietly.

  Lorna sipped her drink, sighed deeply and told him. ‘Five days ago Mister David came to tell me that a Mr Jeremy Hardcastle, accompanied by Mrs Jette Petersen and a small boy, waited at the gate. They
requested entrance. Naturally, I invited them in.’

  ‘Naturally? Even though you knew who she was?’

  ‘I was curious to see this other son of yours. And to be truthful, I was more than slightly intrigued at the prospect of meeting the boy’s mother.’

  Dallas suppressed a grin. On more than one occasion Lorna had tried to get information about Jette. He’d always been vague, believing it the lesser of two evils. Any slip of the tongue had been pounced on and shaken, not satisfied until she knew everything. Wary now, Dallas kept the conversation centred on actual details rather than risk tripping over Lorna’s Achilles heel. She’d comment on Jette soon enough. ‘You say she was with Jeremy Hardcastle?’

  ‘Yes. Ghastly man. I think she was frightened of him.’

  Dallas let that go. Jette knew the one-time ship’s officer well enough to avoid him if she wished.

  ‘Mrs Petersen was in quite a state. Something about a sultan who had managed to locate her and threatened revenge unless she returned his money. What was that all about, do you know?’

  ‘I told you Jette jumped ship in Casablanca. Apparently she’d accepted a commission from the Sultan of Morocco to set up a small gambling casino in Rabat. Typical of her, she robbed him and fled.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’

  ‘Darling, you seem to feel threatened by Jette. You have no need, you know. I try to say as little as possible about her so you don’t wonder if I carry any feelings for her.

  ‘You must have had some. Torben is living proof of that.’

  ‘I was lonely. She was attractive. That’s all.’

  Lorna rubbed fingers over her eyes and nodded. ‘Sorry. I am jealous, I confess, especially after meeting her. She’s really quite beautiful.’ Her eyes bored into his.

  ‘Can I come over and sit next to you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Very well. Let’s clear this up once and for all. Yes, Jette is beautiful. Yes, I slept with her and thoroughly enjoyed myself. We’ve gone through all this before. Inside Jette, however, there is something quite unattractive. Oh, she can be charming, no doubt about it. But I wouldn’t trust her. She takes, never gives. Compared with you, she hasn’t a chance.’ Dallas broke off and shook his head. ‘I don’t know any more words to try and convince you. I love you. You are my life. No-one else.’

  Lorna tried to smile. ‘I hear your words and am desperate to believe them. It may take a while, now that I’ve met her.’

  ‘Is this connected to the fact that I had an affair with your mother at the same time as –’

  ‘Yes, of course it is,’ Lorna snapped. ‘Women don’t get over such a thing easily, try as they might.’

  She had a point.

  Lorna sighed. ‘How did we get off the subject? I do trust you, Dallas, really. I know you love me.’

  ‘Please let me sit next to you.’

  ‘Not yet. Let’s finish talking about Torben and his mother. Mrs Petersen was very scared. I don’t think she cared much about herself but she was certainly concerned for Torben. I got the distinct impression that Mr Hardcastle was somehow involved.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. The man’s obsessed with Jette. He’d do anything to have his way. That includes placing lives in danger.’

  ‘He didn’t say much while they were here. Just kept glancing at his fob watch as if impatient to get going. She said that bringing Torben to you was his idea. She was obviously most distressed at the thought of leaving her baby here, but could see no other option. I was to tell you that a trust fund had been set up for Torben which would mature when he was twenty-five.’ Lorna handed Dallas an envelope. ‘The details are in here. The news definitely came as a surprise to Mr Hardcastle. He became quite angry, accusing Mrs Petersen of withholding information and demanding that he be responsible for the fund. That was the only time I saw her stand up to him. She was adamant that you administer the trust and completely ignored his rantings. While she was obviously intimidated by the man, nothing he could do or say would induce her to hand him control of Torben’s inheritance. It showed me just how terrified she was that harm would befall her son. As they left she said she hoped you would forgive her and take the boy to your heart.’

  Dallas swallowed a decidedly large gulp of scotch. ‘You mean she casually called by to drop off her son and leave him with us . . . forever?’ he asked, his throat burning, shaking his head. ‘I don’t believe it! Isn’t she coming back for him at all?’

  ‘No.’

  Dallas jumped to his feet and paced in agitation. ‘This is ridiculous. I fathered the boy, as you know, with no idea that Jette deliberately used me for that purpose. She expected no other involvement from me. Torben was hers and hers alone. Now he’s passed on like a discarded possession. Dammit, Lorna, why didn’t you say no?’

  ‘I couldn’t. The poor woman. It was no act, her heart was breaking. Torben looks so like you. If I’d refused, you might have resented that too.’

  Dallas knelt in front of Lorna. ‘Cam is my son. I love him.’ He placed a hand on the swell of her belly. ‘And this little one is ours too.’ He stroked gently. ‘But Torben? I don’t know how I feel about him. And what about you? The child is my flesh and blood but he’s nothing to you.’

  She smiled slightly. ‘That’s not strictly true. He’s a mirror image of you. My heart went out to him. It’s not his fault. He’s just a pawn in whatever his mother and that Hardcastle man are up to. I have heard that the two of them went north to the Gold Coast. There is no doubt in my mind that Mrs Petersen fully believed Torben’s life to be in danger. She was very frightened. I also think Mr Hardcastle holds something over her. It was plain she didn’t like him very much.’

  ‘Nobody likes the man. He’s a scoundrel of the first order.’ Dallas sighed with frustration. ‘I wish I’d been here, Lorna. Perhaps I could have helped her. The woman’s a thief with the scruples of a street harlot but at least she’s honest about it. Despite all I said before, and I meant every word, I still liked her.’

  ‘So did I. That’s probably the main reason I agreed to take Torben. She was telling me the truth.’

  ‘So suddenly we’ve got a second son.’

  For the first time since he’d arrived home, Lorna looked, if not happy, more relaxed. ‘It would seem so.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Fairly quiet. Not open and happy like Cam. His English is atrocious. He seems to have moods where he refuses to communicate. Hopefully he’ll snap out of those before too long. Perhaps he’s missing his mother. For all that, he’s a dear little chap. Cam is delighted to have company.’ Lorna leaned towards Dallas and kissed him. ‘Welcome home. I missed you.’

  ‘Didn’t look like it when I got here,’ he grouched.

  ‘Sorry. I was feeling a trifle fragile over Jette. And I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be about Torben.’

  ‘I’m not happy about it,’ Dallas admitted. ‘It’s the last thing I expected.’ He kissed her back. ‘That’s two adjustments we’ll have to make.’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘Torben and Zululand.’ He was unprepared for her enthusiastic lunge. The two of them fell on the floor, Lorna splayed out on top of him. ‘Careful, my darling.’

  Her eyes were shining. ‘When? When do we go? Tell me more.’ The problem of Torben and Jette slipped away as happiness engulfed her.

  Dallas grinned. ‘Any time you like, though there’s a house to be built and a lot to organise. I think we’d better stay in Durban until the baby arrives. And if you two don’t get off me, that could happen at any moment.’ He eased Lorna onto her back, leaned down and kissed her deeply. ‘I love you,’ he told her quietly. ‘You have a very big heart.’

  That was just over five years ago. There were times when Dallas wished he’d never laid eyes on Jette. What single woman, irrespective of the circumstances, would deliberately fall pregnant only to relinquish responsibility to the father when life became a little tough? Jette didn’t need the li
kes of Jeremy Hardcastle, regardless of what threats he might have made. She was a woman of the world who, by her own admission, had plenty of money. Surely she could have slipped away – after all, she’d done it before – taking Torben somewhere they’d both be safe.

  Shaking his head at the complexities of human nature, Dallas picked up the official letter and gave further consideration to his current headache. What was he to do? The contents were hardly news. A brief history stating it was considered necessary to subdue the Zulus in order to unite them under a confederation administered by Britain. Dallas probably knew more than most about recent machinations and how they affected the Zulus. The fact that this communication contained any kind of information was, in itself, a form of justification for what Dallas knew to be a gross overreaction.

  Events over the past five years had occurred as John Dunn predicted. Cetshwayo, having accepted the terms and conditions laid down by Shepstone at the time of his coronation, was now finding them working against him. Despite doing nothing to threaten British interests in Zululand and keeping his fifty thousand strong impi out of other African uprisings, Cetshwayo had run into trouble over the increasing number of executions he considered essential to maintain law and order among his regiments. The main difficulty originated from Cetshwayo’s insistence that traditional laws regarding marriage for warriors be maintained. No man, unless he’d washed his spear in blood or reached the age of forty, could take a wife. The king’s peaceful policies gave no opportunity for bloodshed and disputes over women became commonplace. Frustrated Zulus fought and killed each other over women they were not permitted to marry. Naturally, murder had to be punished. Executions increased. The administration were as appalled by the numbers as they were by the methods, which to them seemed barbaric in the extreme. Clubbing or spearing were barely tolerated. But when news reached them of stakes being driven into a culprit’s anus until they reached his neck, disgust turned to outrage. These events came to the attention of Sir Henry Bulwer. The Lieutenant-Governor of Natal was forced to speak to Cetshwayo about them, reminding him of his promise to Shepstone at the time he was crowned king.