She came forward shyly.
Take it, Lothar ordered gruffly.
Thank you, Uncle, she whispered. Dankie, Oom. She whipped the plate under her skirt, hiding it from other eyes, and then dragged the two little ones away. They disappeared amongst the huts.
The girl returned an hour later. The plate and spoon had been polished until they shone. Does Oom have a shirt or anything that I can wash for him, she asked.
Lothar opened his pack and handed over his and Manfred's soiled clothing. She brought the laundry back at sunset, smelling faintly of carbolic soap and neatly folded.
Sorry, Oom, I didn't have a smoothing iron. What is your name? Manfred asked her suddenly. She glanced around at him, blushed scarlet and looked at the ground.
Sarah, she whispered.
Lothar buttoned the clean shirt. Give me the ten shillings, he ordered.
We'd have our throats cut if anybody knew that I have that much money, Hendrick grumbled.
You are wasting my time. Time is the only thing we have plenty of. Including the barman, there were only three men in the corner bar when Lothar pushed through the swing doors.
Quiet tonight, Lothar remarked as he ordered a beer, and the barman grunted. He was a nondescript little man with wispy grey hair and steel-framed spectacles.
Take . a drink for yourself, Lothar offered, and the man's expression changed.
I'll take a gin, thank you. He poured from a special bottle that he produced from under the counter. They both knew that the colourless liquid was water and the silver shilling would go directly into the barman's pocket.
Your health. He leaned over the counter, prepared to be affable for a shilling and the possibility of another.
They chatted idly, agreeing that times were hard and would get harder, that they needed rain and that the Government was to blame for it all.
How long have you been in town? I haven't seen you around. One day, one day too long, Lothar smiled.
I didn't catch your name. And when Lothar told him, he showed genuine interest for the first time.
Hey, he called down the bar to his other customers. Do you know who this is? It's Lothar De La Rey! Don't you remember the reward posters during the war? He is the one that broke the hearts of the rooinekke. Red neck was the derogatory term for the newly arrived Englishman whose neck was inflamed by the sun. Man, he blew up the train at Gemsbokfontein. So great was their approbation that one of them even bought him another beer, but prudently limited his largesse to Lothar alone.
I'm looking for a job, Lothar told them when they had
all become firm friends, and they all laughed.
I heard there was work out at the H'ani Mine, Lothar persisted.
I'd know if there was, the barman assured him. The drivers from the mine come in here every week. Would you give them a good word about me? Lothar asked.
I'll do better. You come in Monday and I'll set you up with Gerhard Fourie, the chief driver. He is a good pal of mine. He'll know what's happening out there. By the time Lothar left, he was established as a good fellow and a member of the inner clique of the corner bar, and when he returned four nights later he was hailed by the barman.
Fourie is here, he told Lothar. Down at the end of the bar. I'll introduce you after I've served these others. The bar-room was half full this evening, and Lothar was able to study the driver. He was a powerful-looking man of middle age, with a big slack gut from sitting hours each day behind the driving-wheel. He was balding but had grown the hair above his right ear and then plastered it across his pate with brilliantine. His manner was bluff and loud; he and his mates had the well-satisfied air of men who had just performed a difficult task. He didn't look like a man that you could threaten or frighten, but Lothar had not yet finally decided on what approach to make.
The barman beckoned to him. Like you to meet a good friend., They shook hands. The driver turned it into a contest but Lothar had half-expected that and shortened his grip, taking his fingers rather than his palm so that Fourie could not exert full force. They held each other's eyes until the driver winced and tried to pull his hand away. Lothar let him go.
Buy you a drink. Lothar felt easier now, the man was not as tough as he put out, and when the barman told them who Lothar was and related an exaggerated version of some of his exploits during the war, Fourie's manner became almost fawning and obsequious.
Look here, man. He drew Lothar aside and lowered his voice. 'Erik tells me you're looking for a job out at the H'ani Mine. Well, you can forget it, and that's straight. They haven't taken on any new men in a year or longer. Yes. Lothar nodded glumly. Since I asked Erik about the job, I've learned the truth about the H'ani Mine. It will be terrible for you all when it happens. The driver looked uneasy. What are you talking about, man? What truth is this? Why, I thought you'd know. Lothar seemed amazed by his ignorance. They are going to close the mine in August.
Shut it down. Pay everybody off. Good Christ, no! There was fear in Fourie's eyes. That's not true, it can't be true. The man was a coward, gullible, easily impressed and even more easily influenced. Lothar was grimly satisfied.
I'm sorry, but it's best to know the truth, isn't it? Who told you this? Fourie was terrified. He drove past the hobo camp down by the railway every week. He had seen the legion of the unemployed.
I am walking out with one of the women who works for Abraham Abrahams. He was the attorney who conducted all the business of the H'ani Mine in Windhoek. She saw the letters from Mrs Courtney in Cape Town. There is no doubt. The mine is shutting down. They can't sell the diamonds. Nobody is buying diamonds, not even in London and New York. Oh my God! My God! whispered Fourie. What are we going to do? My wife isn't well and we've got the six children. Sweet Jesus, my kids will starve. It's all right for somebody like you. I'll bet you've got a couple of hundred quid saved up. You'll be all right., But Fourie shook his head.
