that David's terrible disfigurement and Debra's blindness were wounds of
war. They misunderstood the Brig's reference to sacrifice, and one of
them began to applaud.
Immediately it was taken up, a smattering here and there amongst the
tables, but quickly the sound rose became thunder.
People were staring at David and Debra as they clapped, other heads
turned towards them.
Chairs began to scrape as they were pushed back and men and women came
to their feet, their faces smiling and their applause pounding, until it
filled the hall with sound and they were all standing.
Debra was not sure what it was all about, until she felt David's
desperate hand in hers and heard his voice.
Let's get out of here, quickly. They are all staring.
They are staring at us She could feel his hand shaking and the strength
of his distress at being the subject of their ghoulish curiosity.
Come, let's get away. And she rose at his urging with her heart crying
out in pain for him, and followed him while the thunder of applause
burst upon his defenceless head like the blows of an enemy and their
eyes wantonly raked his ravaged flesh.
Even when they reached the sanctuary of their own suite, he was still
shaking like a man in fever.
The bastard, he whispered, as he poured whisky in a glass and the neck
of the bottle clattered against the crystal rim. The cruel bastard, why
did he do that to us? David. She came to him groping for his hand. He
didn't mean it to hurt. I know he meant it well, I think he was trying
to say he was proud of you. David felt the urge to flee, to find relief
from it all within the sanctuary of Jabulani. The temptation to say to
her Come and lead her there, knowing that she would do so instantly, was
so strong that he had to wrestle with it, as though it were a physical
adversary.
The whisky tasted rank and smoky. It offered no avenue of escape and he
left the glass standing upon the counter of the private bar and turned
instead to Debra.
Yes, she whispered into his mouth. Yes, my darling, and there was a
woman's pride, a woman's joy in being the vessel of his ease. As always
she was able to fly with him above the storm, using the wild winds of
love to drive them both aloft, until they broke through together into
the brightness and peace and safety.
David woke in the night while she lay sleeping. There was a silver moon
reflecting from the french windows and he could study her sleeping face,
but after a while it was not sufficient for his need and he reached
across gently and switched on the bedside lamp.
She stirred in her sleep, coming softly awake with small sighs and and
tumbling black hair brushed from her eyes with a sleep-clumsy hand, and
David felt the first chill of impending loss. He knew he had not moved
the bed when he lit the lamp, what had disturbed her he knew beyond
doubt was the light itself, and this time not even their loving could
distract him.
Reuben Friedman's dwelling proclaimed his station in the world. It was
