And over there is Lion Kop. Garry turned to point to the west, where the escarpment made a stately sweep, forming a heavily forested amphitheatre around the town of Ladyburg. That's Sean's land, all of it from my boundary. There!
Right as far as you can see. Between us, we own the whole escarpment. That's the homestead of Lion Kop, you can just make out the roof through the trees.'It's so beautiful, Centaine breathed. Oh look, there are mountains beyond, with snow on the peaksrThe Drakensberg Mountains, a hundred miles away.'And that? Centaine pointed over the roofs of the town, over the complex of sugar refinery and lumber mills, to an elegant white mansion on the slope of the valley. is that Courtney land also? Yes. Garry's expression changed. Dirk Courtney, Sean's son. I didn't know that General Courtney had a son.'Sometimes he wishes he did not, Garry murmured, and then briskly, before she could pursue it, Come along everybody, it's almost lunchtime, and if we are in luck and the postman has delivered my cable, the servants will be expecting us. How many gardeners do you keep, Mijnheer? Anna asked, as the Fiat puttered up Theuniskraal's long twisting driveway, and Anna surveyed the confusion of vegetation with a disapproving frown. Four, I think, or maybe five. Well, Mijnheer, you are not getting your money's worth, Anna told him severely, and Centaine smiled at the certainty that from now on the unsuspecting bevy of gardeners would be earning every sou. of their wages. Then her attention was diverted.
Oh, look! She stood up impulsively and gripped the front seat, holding on to her hat with the other hand. On the far side of the white-painted fence that ran beside the driveway, a troop of yearlings took mock alarm at the clattering Fiat and fled across the lush green kikuyu grass paddock, manes streaming, hooves flying and glossy hides flashing in the sunlight.
One of your duties, my dear, will be to see that the horses are kept in exercise. Garry twisted round in the driver's seat to smile at her. And we will have to pick out a pony for young Michel here.'He is not yet two years old, Anna intervened. Never too young, Mevrou. Garry transferred the smile to her, and it changed to a lascivious leer. Or too old! Although her frown stayed firmly in place, Anna could not prevent the softening of her eyes before she turned her face away from him. Ah, good! The servants are expecting us after alP Garry exclaimed, and braked the Fiat to a halt before the double teak front doors. The servants stepped forward in order of seniority to be introduced, beginning with the Zulu chef in his tall white hat and ending with the grooms and the gardeners and stable boys, all of them clapping their hands respectfully and beaming with white teeth so that Shasa leaped in Centaine's arms and let out an excited shout. Ah, Bayete, the chef laughed, as he gave Shasa the royal salute, all hail, little chieftain, and may you grow as strong and straight as your father! They went into Theuniskraal, and Garry led them proudly through the cavernous rooms in their genteel disarray. Though Anna ran her finger over every object that came in range and scowled at the dust that came off on it, yet from the long baronial dinning-room with hunting trophies decorating the walls to the library with more expensive but dusty volumes stacked on the desk and the floor than on the shelves, the homestead of Theuniskraal possessed a benign and friendly atmosphere.
Centaine felt at home almost immediately. Oh, it will be so good to have young people here again, and pretty girls, and a small boy. Garry put it into words, The old place so needs livening up.'And a little cleaning up won't hurt it either, growled Anna, but Garry was dashing up the central stair case, sprightly as a lad with excitement.
Come along, let me show you your rooms The room Garry had selected for Anna was beside his own suite, and although the significance of this was lost on Centaine, Anna lowered her eyes and looked like a demure bulldog as she noticed that a discreet door connected with Garry's dressing-room. This will be your room, my dear. Garry led Centaine along the upper gallery and ushered her into a huge sunny room with french doors opening on to a wide terrace that overlooked the gardens. It's lovely. Centaine clapped her hands with delight and ran out on to the terrace. Of course it needs redecorating, but you must choose your own colours and carpets and curtains, now, come alon, let's look at young Michel's room.
As Garry opened the door across the gallery facing Centaine's room, his mood changed dramatically, and as she stepped into the room, Centaine realized the reason.
Michael's presence was everywhere. From the framed photographs on the walls he smiled down at her; Michael in rugby football togs standing arms folded across his chest with fourteen other grinning young men, Michael in white cricket flannels with bat in hand, Michael with a shotgun and a brace of pheasant, and the shock drained the blood from Centaine's face. I thought it would be appropriate for Michel to have his father's room, Garry murmured apologetically. Of course, my dear, if you don't agree, there are fifteen other rooms to choose from. Slowly Centaine looked around her at the shotguns in their racks, and the fishing-rods and cricket-bats standing in the corner, at the books on the shelves above the writing-desk, at the oilskins and tweed jackets hanging from their pegs.
yes, she nodded. This will be Shasa's room, and we'll keep it just as it is.
Oh, good! Garry nodded happily. I'm so glad you agree.
And he bustled out into the gallery, shouting orders at the servants in Zulu.
Centaine moved slowly around the room, touching the bed on which Michael had slept, stopping to press a fold of the rough tweed jacket against her cheek and imagining she could smell that special clean odour of his body upon the cloth, moving on to his desk and tracing with her fingertips his initials MC carved in the oaken top, lifting down a copy of Jock of the Bushveld from the shelf and opening it at the fly leaf: This book was stolen from Michael Courtney. She closed the book and turned back to the door.
There was a mild commotion in the passageway, and bustled back directing two of the Zulu servants Garry who were staggering under the weight of a child's cot. Its high sliding sides and massive mahogany construction would have caged a full-grown lion.
This was Michael's, I think it should hold his son, what do you think, my dear? Before Centaine could answer, the telephone rang demandingly in the hall downstairs.
Show them where to put it, my dear, Garry called as he dashed out again. He was gone for almost half an hour, and Centaine heard the telephone jangling at irregular intervals. When Garry came rushing in again, he was bubbling over.
Damned telephone just won't stop. Everybody wants to meet you, my dear. You are a very famous lady.
Another ruddy journalist wants to interview you-'I hope you told them 'no', Papa. It seemed that in the last two months every journalist in the Union had requested an interview. The story of the lost girl rescued from the African wilds with her infant had, for the moment, captivated the fickle interest of every newspaper editor from Johannesburg and Sydney to London and New York.
I sent him packing, Garry assured her. But there is someone else very eager to see you again. Who is it? My brother, General Courtney, he and his wife have come up from their home in Durban to their other home in Lion Kop. They want us to go across to have luncheon and spend the day with them tomorrow. I accepted on your behalf. I hope I did the right thing? Oh, yes, oh, indeed yes!
Anna refused to accompany them to the luncheon at Lion Kop.
There is too much that needs doing here! she declared.
