Sweet Roots and Honey

by Gwen Westwood

  'The films and stills are terrific, just what I wanted. They're going to be a great help to me. I'd no idea you were such an expert.'

  'I'm pleased with them myself,? Perry admitted.

  'The shots of the hunt with Toma and Nusi are particularly good because they were such a good-looking couple. It was a pity the consequences were so drastic for you.'

  The music was drawing to a close and the seconds of time in which she could be alone with him were almost ended. And here they were talking about things that were no longer significant. Of course she was pleased that the pictures were a success, but what did they matter compared with the fact that soon Fabian would be gone and she would most probably never see him again?

  'Why the sad expression, Perry? Is it because you're not dancing with Mark?'

  She looked at him, unable to speak. How bitterly she regretted now that she had told him of her previous attachment. From then he had concluded that she still harboured romantic feelings for Mark.

  'Tonight you certainly don't look like a suitable future wife for a wild life authority,' he went on. 'It's hard to remember the Perry we knew in camp. What have you done with those khaki slacks that you hated so much?'

  He was laughing down at her with his faunlike mocking smile.

  'I've given them to my washwoman's son,' she declared defiantly. 'He can find more use for them than I can. I don't expect to be in the desert for a long while, if ever, in the future.'

  'What will you do? Go back to photographing fashion models?'

  'I expect so.'

  The music had stopped and they made their way back to the table. Mark rose eagerly as they approached.

  'It's time to get you home, Perry. She looks glowingly healthy, doesn't she?' he asked the others. 'But she tires easily. I have to look after her.'

  Why did he have to assume this possessive air in front of Fabian? Perry thought desperately. Everything seemed to confirm his opinion that they had come together again.

  She was quiet as they drove home in the car that Mark had hired for his stay in the city.

  'Has it been too much for you tonight?' Mark took his hand from the wheel and pressed her hand.

  'I am a little weary,' she admitted. I'm sorry, Mark, since it's your last evening here.'

  'There'll be more evenings. Now we've come together again, I don't mean to lose you so easily.'

  In spite of her tiredness, she felt she must find some way to discourage him. It was unfair to start this all over again when she knew she was incapable of loving him. She let him come up to the flat, searching in her mind what to say. But as soon as they were inside the door she found herself in his arms, and he was kissing her as if he would make up for all the missing years between. She pushed him gently away.

  'No, Mark, I'm sorry.'

  'I'm sorry too, Perry. I've been longing for that all evening, but I should have remembered that you've been ill and tonight has been too hectic for you.'

  'Oh, Mark, it isn't only that. Come and sit down.'

  She led him to the curved couch that overlooked the fabulous view of the city. Cars were still forming a long glittering snake of light along the distant freeway.

  'Mark, I've been wrong to take advantage of your friendship.'

  'What do you mean, Perry? I'd hoped it was more than friendship. Hasn't it been wonderful to meet again?'

  'Yes, it has. Of course it has. But, Mark, our time for loving has passed. We can never feel the same again.'

  'You really think that? We could give it a try. You could grow to love me again.'

  'No, Mark, I'm sorry.'

  His blue eyes were hurt and troubled.

  'Tell me the truth, Perry. Is there someone else?'

  She got up from the couch and looked out of the window at the glittering lights, then turned to face him. If she was to be fair, she must admit it.

  'Yes, Mark. I am in love with someone, but it's hopeless.'

  'Is he married?'

  'No, he's just not the marrying kind.'

  'Oh, one of those. There are plenty of his type in a city like this, I suppose. Take care, Perry, you're worth more than that.'

  'Oh, Mark, it's not like that at all. He doesn't think of me in that way. When he leaves Johannesburg, as he will do soon, he'll forget that I ever existed.'

  'Then he must be as crazy as I was to throwaway your love. But I had the excuse of youth. Well, Perry, I'll keep in touch with you and go on hoping.'

  She kissed him gently.

  'Dear Mark, it's no use.'

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Perry awoke next morning feeling drained and exhausted. When she looked over the city, there was a stillness about the air and an ominous electric feeling as if, still far away but coming nearer to invade the bright blue firmament, a storm were brewing. This was the time of year in Johannesburg when sharp storms struck suddenly in the afternoon, heralded by intense heat and the gradual piling up of cumulus clouds on the horizon. She put on a sleeveless sheath of a dress in tobacco brown shantung and topped it with a three-quarter length raincoat of buttercup yellow. Her red-gold hair was coiled in a knot at the back of her head, for she had brushed out the elaborate style, and she wore a gold bracelet in a modern design of roughly wrought gold.

  This morning she felt too weary to cope with the traffic, so decided to take the bus and sat in a dream as it passed the blocks of smart flats and sunlit gardens. Sometimes when the view opened out a little there were splashes of yellow cassia trees and jacarandas of misty purple. Spring had come to Johannesburg while she had been away in the desert. Men were wearing their lightweight summer suits and young girls were in new flick skirts and striped sleeveless tops. Perry saw a man and a girl, lingering at a corner, reluctant to part and go on their way to work, obviously enthralled with each other's company. She felt a twist of envy. How lovely it must be to be able to acknowledge your love to each other and not have to repress it.

  But she must not think of that, for last night she had made a resolve that she would try to put love out of her life and start thinking about her work here in Johannesburg and not cast her mind back to the events during the expedition. But that was rather difficult, because as she opened the door of the studio Mike said, 'Surprise, surprise!' and on the large stand that they usually used for exhibitions were all the best shots of the Kalahari, including a large picture of Fabian holding Topaz in his arms and with his characteristic smile. Another one in more serious mood showed him talking to Natamu. Perry wished with all her heart that Mike had not done this. Of course he expected her to be pleased and thrilled and she had to try to pretend that she was, when all the time the sight of Fabian, so lively and so real, depressed her still more.

  'Fabian was quite ecstatic about the photographs,' Mike informed her jubilantly. 'It was great of you, Perry, to make such a fine job of it. Now, when he organizes something else, he's bound to ask you.'

  'Heaven forbid!' It had slipped out before Perry could stop it.

  Mike frowned. 'Why do you say that? I thought you two got on well together. I don't blame you, though. It must have been pretty rough. Anyhow, I'm hoping I shall be able to go next time. He's proposing to investigate eagles in the Drakensberg, and that wouldn't be so bad because Faith could come too and stay at a hotel. You could come to keep her company.'

  'And who would look after the studio?'

  'I'm thinking of getting a young assistant. I have one in mind. But this is all in the future. Fabian was a little vague about his plans.'

  That was just as well, thought Perry. Nothing would induce her to join this expedition. But she could make a stand when the time came. She threw herself into the work of printing some shots of African mine dancers that had been ordered and was so busy all morning that she did not have time to be depressed. Mike had a lunch date with a client, but she sent out for a sandwich and milk shake from a nearby cafe. As she ate she could not resist having another look at the screen full of Kalahari photographs and she had such a yearning
for the desert that she felt she could not bear it. What could she do about it? Her eyes fell on the pictures of Topaz. That was it. It was foolish, maybe sentimental, but she would go to see the little creature this afternoon as soon as she had finished work.

  She asked Mike rather apologetically if she could leave a little earlier than usual as she had decided to go to Zoo Lake to see Topaz.

  'Of course, it's all right as far as I'm concerned, but you may get wet. There's a storm brewing. Have you seen the cumulus clouds outside?'

  'I have a raincoat,' said Perry, 'and the bus stops at the gates.'

  'Haven't you got your car?'

  'No, but it doesn't matter.'

  After life in the desert, thought Perry, a small Johannesburg storm could hardly affect her, and in any case it often came to nothing. As she came into the street, clouds were towering in mountainous formations over the city that seemed torpid in the heat of the afternoon. The bus passed the mansions of the rich, white-painted villas with gardens ablaze with colour, and swimming pools surrounded by bright patio furniture. As she descended and made her way in to the park-like surroundings of the zoo, thunder rumbled in the distance and the sun disappeared. But she could shelter here if the need arose. She made inquiries about Topaz and a friendly keeper led her to a secluded part of the grounds.

  'We haven't put him on show to the public yet, miss, because Mr. Sinclair didn't want it. He said he hadn't decided what to do with the little cub. He was wondering whether he could be returned to a game reserve when he was old enough to fend for himself, so he doesn't want him to get used to people too much. It's a bit of a problem.'

  'Has he been to see him, then?' Perry could not resist asking.

  'Yes, quite a few times. The little cub is very tame with him.'

  And here he was, Topaz with his tawny fluffy coat still spotted on the underside, peering out of the shelter in his cage; evidently he had been asleep and was now a little startled by the noise of the thunder.

  'Can I hold him?' asked Perry.

  The keeper looked doubtful. 'He has very sharp claws already, miss. I'd better hold him first.'

  But when Topaz was in the keeper's arms he mewed at Perry. It was quite clear that he still knew her. She took him in her arms, handling him as she had become used to doing. He had grown quite a bit in these few weeks, but he was still gentle, fluffy and lovable. His eyes blinked sleepily at her and his paws were soft as silk.

  'Oh, what a gorgeous wee thing you are,' she said.

  'He is,' said the keeper. 'Whoever had the upbringing of him in the desert looked after him very well. He's a fine specimen.'

  'This young lady had a lot to do with it,' said the voice of Fabian. 'Good afternoon. Perry, fancy meeting you here.'

  He had approached so silently that neither of them, absorbed as they were with Topaz, had heard him. Perry gave Topaz back into the keeper's arms and tried to speak coolly, though her heart was pounding.

  'Hello, Fabian, I didn't expect to see you either. Topaz is looking well, isn't he? I'm thrilled that he still knows me after all this time.'

  There was a loud roll of thunder and several spots of rain the size of silver pieces splashed upon the hot ground.

  'The rain is coming,' said Perry, glad of an excuse to get away. 'I shall have to run for the bus.'

  'Nonsense, I'll give you a lift.'

  He helped her into her yellow raincoat, then seized her around the waist and they ran in the increasing downpour to the place where he had parked his Alfa-Romeo. Now there was no avoiding the intimacy of the closed car as the rain poured across the windscreen, blinding the occupants to anything that was happening in the outside world.

  'I think we'll sit for a while,' said Fabian, 'or are you scared of the storm?'

  It was not the storm that scared her, thought Perry, it was the fact that she was alone once more with Fabian and she must try not to betray by the smallest gesture or expression how much he meant to her.

  'No,' she said in a small voice. 'Not at all.'

  He laughed and held her firmly, his arm around her.

  'You can't deceive me. You're trembling. Come on, I'll get you home if you will direct me. I can see you'll be happier under a roof.'

  Wide rivulets of water were pouring across the sidewalks, but Fabian drove steadily along in the almost deserted streets, skilfully pulling the car gently over when it was inclined to skid. By the time they had reached Perry's apartment house the rain had stopped its first torrential downpour, but threatening rolls of thunder overhead showed that the storm had not yet exhausted its fury.

  'I hope I'm going to be asked in for a drink,' said Fabian, opening the door on her side. 'Otherwise I'm going to die of pneumonia.'

  His smile was at its most charming. How could she dismiss him? she thought in despair.

  'Of course you must come in for a quick drink. I'm afraid I have a dinner date for this evening,' she lied.

  'So soon after Mark's departure? Poor Mark!'

  He was grinning now as if he did not believe her, but she made no reply.

  'Very grand,' he said, his eyes sweeping over the gold and blue Persian rugs, the comfortable cream tweed chairs and the few carefully chosen pieces of Georgian furniture. 'It must have been a shock to your system to come with the expedition.'

  'Of course it wasn't,' she said crossly. 'What about Paul and Samantha and their comforts?'

  'That was catered for,' he seemed a little surprised at her vehemence, 'but you had to put up with a small tent and a lot more discomfort than Samantha did.'

  Perry was cross and distraught now.

  'I didn't put up with it! How can you say such a thing? I loved it. It was like a home to me, that dear little green tent If you knew how I longed to be back in it, when I was at the mission hospital... but what's the use of talking to you? You just never understand how marvellous it all seemed to me. It was one of the most wonderful times of my life, perhaps the most wonderful.'

  She walked across to the windows where the hand-woven cream mohair curtains were still not drawn and there was a magnificent panorama of the storm-lashed sky. She did not want him to see that she had tears in her eyes, that even now they were spilling down her cheeks. But he came behind her.

  'Come away from the window. Perry. I'll draw the curtains. I thought you were afraid of storms.'

  A jagged multiple flash of lightning rent the dark cobalt sky followed by a rending crash of thunder overhead.

  'No, leave the curtains. I love to watch a storm.'

  'So. You're not trembling because you're afraid of the storm, Perry. What is it that's scaring you?'

  'Nothing,' she gulped. 'Leave me alone, I'm quite all right.'

  'And that's rain on your face, I suppose, not tears? Oh, Perry darling, sweet Perry, what game are you playing with me?'

  'No game,' she sniffed. She was in his arms and he was wiping the tears away. What had he called her? She must have mistaken the words.

  'Do you remember the day Nusi gave you the magic bow of love?' he asked. 'I hoped then that I would be the one, but then you'd told me about Mark and I thought you cared for him.'

  Perry shook her head. 'That was all over long ago, Last night I told him it was no use.'

  'So he told me when I met him at the airport this morning. He said you loved someone else. Perry, it was like one of those flashes of lightning. I rushed to the studio and Mike told me I'd just missed you.'

  'Then it was not a coincidence that you came to see Topaz?'

  'Of course not, my sweet love. I grew to love you more and more when we were in the desert. When you were so ill, I realized that I couldn't live without you. But there was Mark. The shadow of your old love lay between us, the bitterness you'd felt towards me.'

  'And now there's no more bitterness,' Perry said, putting her arms around him and lifting up her face for his kiss. 'Only love, Fabian, a love that will last a lifetime.'

  d, Sweet Roots and Honey