'Michael. ' The terrible appeal in Garry's voice checked him.
'What is it?'
'Your share, it isn't very much. I hadn't told you before, but there
was a time-when you were very young. The rinderpest.
I had to-' He couldn't go on.
'What are you trying to tell me?'
'Sit down, Michael. Sit down and I'll show you.' Reluctantly, afraid
of what he was about to hear, Michael returned and stood beside his
chair.
Garry selected a key from the bunch on his watch-chain and opened the
top drawer of his desk. He selected a rolled document, slipped it from
its retaining ribbon and handed it without speaking to his son.
Michael spread it and read the words upon the cover.
'Deed of Mortgage.'
With a sliding sensation in his stomach, he turned the page.
He did not read it all. Words and groups of words stood out in bolder
print, and they were sufficient: 'The Ladyburg Trust & Banking Co.' .
'A certain piece Of land in extent approx. 25,000 morgen situate in
the district of Ladyburg, Magisterial Division of Pietermaritzburg,
known as the farm Theuniskraal' 'AB constructions, erections and
improvement thereon' . 'Plus interest at eight and one half per
cent,'I see.' Michael handed the document back to his father and stood
up.
'Where are you going?'
'Back to Lion Kop. ' 'No!' Garry whispered. 'No, Michael.
Please, my son.
No-O God-No!' Michael left the room and closed the door softly behind
him.
When Anna came into the room Garry was sitting behind the desk, sitting
quietly with his shoulders slumped forward.
'You let him go!' she hissed. Garry did not move, he did not seem to
hear.
'He's gone. Gone to your brother-and you let him.' Her voice was very
low, but now it rose harshly and she shrieked at him. 'You useless
drunken animal. Sitting here playing with your little books.
You were not man enough to breed him-your brother had to do that for
you! And you are not man enough to keep him-again your brother!
You let him go. You've taken my son from me. ' Garry sat unmoving.
He saw nothing. He heard nothing. In his head was a soft, misty grey
ness and the mist blotted out all sight and sotirid. It was warm in
the mist-warn and safe. No one could reach him here for it wrapped and
protected him. He was safe.
'This is all you are good for.' Anna snatched a handful of the
manuscript sheets from the desk in front of him. 'Your little pieces
of paper. Your dreams and stories of other men-real men.
She ripped the pages through and through again, then flung them at him.
The pieces fluttered and swirled, then settled like dead leaves on his
shoulders and in his hair. He did not move.
Panting in her grief and anger, she took up what remained of the
manuscript and shredded that also, scattering the tiny white scraps
