At the sound of the shot, the second bull swerved in dead run, gathered its forelegs beneath its chest and went up in a high, driving leap over the thorn bush that stood in its path. Sebastian traversed his rifle smoothly without taking the butt from his shoulder, his right hand flicked the bolt open and closed, and he fired as a continuation of the movement.
The heavy bullet caught the kudu in mid-air and threw it sideways. Kicking and thrashing, it struck the ground and rolled down the bank of the ravine.
Whooping like a Red Indian, Mohammed galloped past Sebastian, brandishing a long knife, racing to reach the second bull and cut its throat, 'before it died so that the dictates of the Koran might be observed.
Flynn ambled across to Sebastian. 'Nice shooting, Bassie All boy. Salted and dried and pickled, there's meat there for a month.'
And Sebastian grinned in modest recognition of the compliment. Together they walked across to watch Mohammed and his gang begin paunching and quartering the big animals.
With the skill of a master tactician, Flynn chose this moment to inform Sebastian of the name he had selected for his grandson. He was not prepared for the fierce opposition he encountered from Sebastian. It seemed that Sebastian had expected to name the child Francis Sebastian Oldsmith. Flynn laughed easily, and then in his most reasonable and persuasive brogue he started pointing out to Sebastian just how cruel it would be to saddle the child with a name like that.
It was a lance in the pride of the Oldsmiths, and Sebastian rose to the defence. By the time they returned to Lalapanzi, the discussion needed about six hot words to reach the stage of single combat.
Rosa heard them coming. Flynn's bellow carried across the lawns. 'I'll not have my grandson called a pew ling milksop name like that!'
'Francis is the name of kings and warriors and gentlemen!' cried Sebastian.
'My aching buttocks, it is!'
Rosa came out on to the wide veranda and stood there with her arms folded over the beautiful bulge that housed the cause of the controversy.
They saw her and started an undignified race across the lawns, each trying to reach her first to enlist her support for their respective causes.
She listened to the pleadings, a small and secret smile upon her lips, and then said with finality, 'Her name will be Maria Rosa Oldsmith.'
Some time later Flynn and Sebastian were together on the veranda Ten days before the last rains of the season had come roaring in from the Indian Ocean and broken upon the unyielding shield of the continent. Now the land was drying out; the rivers regaining their sanity and returning, chastened, to the confines of their banks. New grass lifted from the red earth to welcome the return of the sun. For this brief period the whole land was alive and green; even the gnarled and crabbed thorn trees wore a pale fuzz of tender leaves. Behind each pair of guinea-fowl that clinked and scratched on the bottom lawns of Lalapanzi, there paraded a file of dappled chicks. Early that morning a herd of eland had moved along the skyline across the Varney, and beside each cow had trotted a calf Everywhere was new life, or the expectation of new life.
'Now, stop worrying!' said Flynn, as his impatient pacing brought him level with Sebastian's chair.
'I'm not worrying,' Sebastian said mildly. 'Everything will be all right.'
'How do you know that? 'challenged Flynn.
'Well..
'You know the child could be stillborn, or something.'
Flynn shook his finger in Sebastian's face. 'It could have six fingers on each hand how about that? I heard about one that was born with -.'
While Flynn related a long list of horrors, Sebastian's expression of proud and eager anticipation crumbled slowly.
He rose from his chair and fell into step beside Flynn. 'Have you got any gin left?' he asked hoarsely, glancing at the shuttered windows of Rosa's bedroom. Flynn produced the bottle from the inside pocket of his jacket.
An hour later, Sebastian was hunched forward in his chair, clutching a half-full tumbler of gin with both hands.
He stared into it miserably. 'I don't know what I'd do if it was born with...' He could not go on. He shuddered and lifted the tumbler to his lips. At that instant a long, petulant wail issued from the closed bedroom. Sebastian leapt as though he had been bayoneted from behind, and spilled the gin down his shirt. His next leap was in the direction of the bedroom, a direction Flynn had also chosen. They collided heavily and then set off together at a gallop along the veranda. They reached the locked door and hammered upon it for admission. But Nanny, who had evicted them in the first instance, still adamantly refused to lift the locking bar or to give them any information as to the progress of the birthing. Her decision was endorsed by Rosa.
'Don't you dare let them in until everything is ready,'
she whispered huskily, and roused herself from the stupor of exhaustion, to help Nanny with washing and wrapping the infant.
When at last everything was ready, she lay propped on the pillows with her child held against her chest, and nodded to Nanny. 'Open the door, she said.
The delay had confirmed Flynn's worst suspicions. The door flew open, and he and Sebastian fell into the room, wild with anxiety.
'Oh, thank God, Rosa. You're still alive!' Sebastian reached the bed and fell on his knees beside it.
'You check his feet,' instructed Flynn. 'I'll do his hands and head,' and before Rosa could prevent him, he had lifted the infant out of her arms.
'His fingers are all right. Two arms, one head,' Flynn muttered above Rosa's protests and the infant's muffled squawls of indignation.
'This end is fine. just fine!' Sebastian spoke in rising relief and delight. 'He's beautiful, Flynn!' And he lifted the shawl that swaddled the child's body. His expression cracked and his voice choked. 'Oh, my God!'
'What's wrong?' Flynn asked sharply.
'You were right, Flynn. he's deformed.'
'What? Where?'
'There!' Sebastian pointed. 'He hasn't got a whatchim-ca all-it,' and they both stared in horror.
simultaneously It was many long seconds before they realized that the tiny cleft was no deformity but very much as nature had intended it.
'It's a girl!' said Flynn in dismay.
'A girl!' echoed Sebastian, and quickly pulled down the shawl to preserve his daughter's modesty.
'It's a girl, Rosa smiled, wan and happy.
'It's a girl,' cackled Nanny in triumph.
Maria Rosa Oldsmith had arrived without fuss and with the minimum of inconvenience to her mother, so that Rosa was on her feet again within twenty-four hours. All her other activities were conducted with the same consideration and dispatch. She cried once every four hours; a single angry howl which was cut off the instant the breast was thrust into her mouth. Her bowel movements were equally regular and of the correct volume and consistency, and the rest of her days and nights were devoted almost entirely to sleeping.
She was beautiful; without the parboiled, purple look of most new-barns; without the squashed-in pug features or the vague, squinty eyes.
From the curly cap of silk hair to the tips of her pink toes, she was perfection.
It took Flynn two days to recover from the disappointment of having been cheated out of a grandson. He sulked in the arsenal or sat solitary at the end of the veranda. On the second evening Rosa pitched her voice just high enough to carry the length of the veranda.
'Don't you think Maria looks just like Daddy the same mouth and nose? Look at her eyes.'
Sebastian opened his mouth to deny the resemblance emphatically but closed it again, as Rosa kicked him painfully on the ankle.
'She is the image of him. There's no doubting who her grandfather is.'
'Well, I suppose... If you look closely,' Sebastian agreed unhappily.
At the end of the veranda, Flynn sat with his head cocked in an attitude of attention. Half an hour later Flynn had sidled up to the cradle and was studying the contents thoughtfully. By the following evening he had moved his chair alongside and was leading the discussion with such remarks as, 'There is quite a strong family resemblance.
Look at those eyes no doubt who her Granddaddy is!'
He interspersed his observations with warnings and instructions, 'Don't get so close, Bassie. You're breathing germs all over her.'
'Rosa, this child needs another blanket.
When did she have her last feed?'
It was not long before he started bringing pressure to bear on Sebastian.
'You've got responsibilities now. Have you thought about that?'
'How do you mean, Flynn?'
'Just answer me this. What have you got in this world?'
'Rosa and Maria,' Sebastian answered promptly.
'Fine. That's just great! And how are you going to feed them and clothe them and... and look after them?'
