tore it open, then in the mirror looked without interest at the round bosses of her nipples that were already darkening with the promise of fruition. She kicked off her shoes.
I hate him. She stooped and her hands went up under her skirts into the petticoats. She loosened her pantaloons and stepped out of them; she held them across her chest to tear them, then threw them next to the bed. She swept her arm across the top of her dressing-table: one of the bowls hit the floor and burst with a splash of face-powder and there was the sudden pungent reek of spilled perfume.
She crossed to the bed and dropped onto it. She lifted her knees and her petticoats fell back like the petals of a flower: her white legs and lower body were the stamen.
just before nightfall there was a shy knock an her door.
What is it? she asked. The Nkosikazi has not told me what I should cook for dinner, Old Joseph's voice was raised respectfully. There will be no dinner tonight. You and all the servants may go. Very well, Nkosikazi Garrick came home in the dark. He had been drinking; she heard him stagger as he crossed the stoep, and his voice slur as he called. Hallo. Where's everybody? Anna! Anna! I'm back Silence for a while as he lit one of the lamps and then the hurried thump, thump of his peg along the passage and his voice again edged with alarm. Anna, Anna, where are you?
He Pushed the door open and stood with the lamp in his hand. Anna rolled away from the light, pressing her face into the pillow and hunching her shoulders. She heard him set the lamp down on the dressing-table, felt his hands pulling down her skirts to cover Her nakedness, then gently turn her to face him. She looked into his face andsaw the uncomprehending horror in it. MY darling Oh Anna, my darling, what's happened? He stared at her broken lips and her breasts. Bewildered he turned his head and looked at the bottles on the floor, at her torn pantaloons. His face hardened and came back to her.
Are you hurt? She shook her head. Who? Tell me who did it She turned away from him again, hiding her face.
My darling my poor darling. Who was it, one of the servants? No, her voice stifled with shame. Please tell me, Anna. What happened?
She sat up quickly and threw her arms about him, holding him hard so her lips were near his ear. you know, Garry. You know who did itNo, I swear I don't, please tell me Anna drew her breath in deep, held it a second then breathed it out. Sean! Garrick's body convulsed in her arms, she heard him grunt as though he had been hit. Then he spoke. This too. Now this too He loosened her hands from his neck and pushed her gently down onto the pillows. He crossed to the cupboard, opened one of the drawers and took out Waites service pistol.
He's going to kill Sean, she thought. Garrick went out of the room without looking at her again. She waited with her hands clenched at her sides and her whole body stretched tightly. When the shot came at last it was surprisingly muted and un-warlike. Her body relaxed, her hands opened and she began to cry softly.
Garry limped down the passage. The pistol was heavy and the checkered grip rough in his hand. There was light showing under the study door at the end of the passage.
It was unlocked. Garrick went in.
Sean sat with his elbows on the desk and his face in his hands but he looked up as Garrick came in through the door. The scratches had already dried black across his cheek, but the flesh around them was red and inflamed.
He looked at the pistol in Garrick's hand. She has told you. There was no question or expression in his voice. Yes. I hoped that she wouldn't, said Sean. I wanted her to spare you that at leastSpare me? Garrick asked. What about her? Did you think of her? Sean did not answer, instead he shrugged and laid back tiredly in his chair. I never realized before what a merciless swine you are, choked Garrick. I have come to kill you! Yes. Sean watched the pistol come up. Garrick was holding it with both hands, his sandy hair hung forward onto his forehead. My poor Garry, Sean said softly and immediately the pistol started to shake. It sank until Garrick held it, still with both hands between his knees. He crouched over it, blubbering, chewing at his lips to stop himself. Sean started out of his chair to go to him, but Garrick recoiled against the door-jamb. Keep away from me! he yelled, don't touch me. He threw the pistol, the sharp edge of the hammer cut across Sean's forehead, jerking his head back. The pistol glanced off and hit the wall behind him. It fired and the bullet splintered the panelled woodwork.
We're finished, Garrick screamed. We're finished for ever. He groped wildly for the door and stumbled out into the passage, through the kitchens into the rain. He fell many times as the grass caught his peg but each time he scrambled up and kept running. He sobbed with each step in the utter darkness of the night.
At last the growl of the rain-engorged Baboon Stroorn blocked his way. He stood on the bank with the drizzle blowing into his face. Why me, why always me? He screamed his agony into the darkness. Then with a rush of relief as strong as the torrent in the river-bed below him he felt the moth flutter its wings behind his eyes. The warmth and the greyness closed about him and he sank down onto his knees in the mud.
Sean took very little with him: his bedroll, a rifle and a spare horse. Twice in the darkness he lost the path to Mbejane's kraal but each time his horse found it again.
Mbejane had built his big grass beehive hut well away from the quarters of the other servants, for he was Zulu of royal blood. When at last Sean came to it there were a few minutes of sleepy stirring and muttering within before Mbejane, with a blanket draped around his shoulders and an old paraffin lamp in his hand, came out to Sean's shouts.
What is it, Nkosi? I am going, Mbejane. Where to? Wherever the roads lead. Will you follow? I will get my spears, said Mbejane.
Old man Pye was still in his office behind the bank when they reached Lady-burg. He was counting the sovereigns and stacking them in neat golden piles and his hands were as gentle on them as a man's hands on the body of the woman he loves, but he reached quickly for the open drawer at his side as Sean shouldered the door open. You don't need that, said Sean and Pye lifted his hand guiltily off the pistol. Good gracious! I didn't recognize you, my boy. How much have I got credited to my account! Sean cut through the pleasantries. This isn't banking hours, you know. Look here, Mr Pye, I'm in a hurry. How much have I got?
Pye climbed out of his chair and crossed to the big iron safe. Shielding it with his body he tumbled the combination and swung open the door. He brought the ledger across to the desk. Carter, Cloete, Courtney, he muttered as he turned the pages. Ah, Ada, Garrick, Sean. Here we are.
Twelve hundred and ninety-six pounds eight and eight pence; of course, there are last month's accounts at the store still unpaid. Call it twelve hundred then, said Sean. I want it now and while you are counting it you can give me pen and paper. Help yourself, there on the desk. Sean sat at the desk, pushed the piles of gold out of his way, dipped the pen and wrote. When he had finished he looked up at old Pye.
Witness that, please. Pye took the paper and read it through. His face went limp with surprise. You're giving your half share of Theunis Kraal and all the cattle to your brother's first born! he exploded. That's right, please witness it. You must be mad, protested Pye. That's a fortune you're giving away. Think what you're doing, think of your future. I had hoped that you and Audrey -'He stopped himself and went on. Don't he a fool, manPlease witness it, Mr Pye, said Sean and, muttering under his breath, Pye signed quickly. Thank you. Sean folded the document, slipped it-into an envelope and sealed it. He put it away inside his coat.
Where's the money? he asked.
Pye pushed a canvas bag across to him. His expression was one of disgust; he wanted no truck with fools.
Count it, he said. I'll take your word for it, said Sean and signed the receipt.
Sean rode out past the sale-pens and up the escarpment along the road to Pietermaritzburg. Mbejane trotted at his stirrup leading the spare horse. They stopped at the top of the escarpment. The wind had blown the clouds open and the starlight came through. They could see the town below them with here and there a lighted window.
I should have said goodbye to Ada, Sean thought. He looked down the valley towards Theunis Kraal. He could see no light. He touched the letter in the inside pocket of Witwatersrand his coat. I'll post it to Garry from Pietermaritzburg, he spoke aloud.
Nkosi? asked Mbejane. I said, 'It's a long road, let us begin. ''Yes, agreed Mbejane. Let us begin. They turned north from Pietermaritzburg and climbed steadily up across bleak grassland towards the mountains.
On the third day they saw the Drakensberg, jagged and black as the teeth of an ancient shark along the skyline.
It was cold; wrapped in his kaross Mbejane trailed far behind Sean. They had exchanged perhaps two dozen words since they left Pietermaritzburg for Sean had his thoughts and they were evil company. Mbejane was keeping discreetly out of his way. Mbejane felt no resentment, for a man who had just left his home and his cattle was entitled to brood. Mbejane was with sadness himself, he had left a fat woman in his bed to follow Sean.
Mbejane unplugged his small gourd snuff-box, picked a pinch and sniffed it delicately. He looked up at the mountains. The snows upon them were turning pink in the sunset and in a little while now they would make camp, and then again perhaps they would not. It made no difference.
Sean rode on after dark. The road crossed another fold in the veld and they saw the lights in the valley below.
Dundee, Sean
