With a thrust of his buttocks against the table, Dirk straightened up.
He smiled then and let his eyes move down over her body, slowly 'Can I
go now?' he asked, and Ruth stiffened. Then she knew there was no
compromise, that she would have to fight him.
'Yes, Dirk. You may go,' she answered. She knew with sudden clarity
that he was evil, and if she lost this contest he would destroy her and
her child. In that moment she was no longer afraid.
Catlike, Dirk seemed to sense a change in her. For a moment she
thought she saw a flicker of doubt, of uncertainty in his eyes-then he
turned away and sauntered out of the kitchen.
She guessed that it Would Come soon, but not as soon as it did.
Every afternoon Ruth would ride out into the plantations with Storm's
pony on a lead rein beside her. They made a game of finding Sean and
Michael, following the labyrinth of roads that crisscrossed through the
blocks of' trees, guided by the vague directions of the gangs of Zulus
until finally they ran them down and delivered the canteens of coffee
and the hamper of sandwiches. Then, all four of them would picnic on
the soft carpet of dead leaves beneath the trees.
This afternoon, dressed in riding habit and carrying the hamper, Ruth
came out into the kitchen yard. The young Zulu nursemaid was sitting
in the shade of the kitchen wall flirting with one of the grooms. Storm
was nowhere in sight, and Ruth asked sharply: 'Where is Miss Storm?'
'She went with Nkosikana Dirk.' And Ruth felt the tingling premonition
of danger.
'Where are they?' and the nursemaid pointed vaguely in the direction
of the stables and outbuildings that sprawled away down the back slope
of the hill.
'Come with me.' Ruth dropped the hamper and ran with her skirts
gathered in one hand. She reached the first row of stables and hurried
down them, glancing into each stall as she passed. Then into the feed
rooms with the big concrete bins and the smell of oats and molasses and
chopped lucerne mixing with the sharp tang of dung and dubbined
leather, out again into the sunlight, running for the barns.
Storm screamed in terror, just once, but high and achingly clear, so
the silence afterwards quivered with the memory of it.
The harness room. Ruth swirled in her run. God, please No!
Don't let it happen. Please! Please!
She reached the open door of the harness room. It was gloomy and cool
within the thick stone walls, and for a moment the scene made no sense
to Ruth.
Her back wedged into the far corner, Storm stood with hands lifted to
shield her face-small fingers rigid, splayed open, spread like the tip
feathers of a bird's wing. Her body shook silently with her sobs.
In front of Storm, squatting on his heels, Dirk leaned forward with one
hand outstretched as though he offered a gift. He was laughing.
Then Ruth saw the thing in Dirk's hand move and she froze with horror.
It uncoiled from around his wrist, and slowly reached out towards
Storm, its head cocked back in a half-loop of its body, tiny black
tongue vibrating between the grinning pink lips.
Ruth screamed, and Dirk jumped to his feet and spun to face her with
