you, he needs you very badly. Look after him for me, help him to find what he seeks. Oh! Nonsense, Candy, Sean muttered with embarrassIr ment.
Tromise me you'll help him. It's time you went back to your room, Sean told her. People will start talking Promise me, Sean. All right, I promise.
Candy slipped out of the bed. She dressed quickly. Thank you, Sean, goodnight. For Sean, Johannesburg was poorer without Duff: the streets were not so busy, the Rand Club was drearier and the thrills at the Stock Exchange not so intense. However, there was work to do; his share and Duffs as well.
It was late every evening when the conferences with Hradsky and Max ended and he went back to the Hotel.
In the reaction from the day's tension, when His brain was numb and his eyes burned, there was little energy to spare for regret. Yet he was lonely. He went to the Opera House and drank champagne with the crowd there. One of the girls did the Can-Can on the big table in the centre of the room and when she stopped in front of Sean and Trevor Heyns, with her forehead touching her knees and her petticoats hanging forward over her shoulders, Sean let Trevor whip her pants down, a week before he would have punched Trevor in the nose rather than concede the honour.
it wasn't so much fun any more. He went home early.
The following Saturday noon Curtis and Francois came into the office for the weekly progress meeting. When they had finished and Hradsky had left, Sean suggested, Come along with me, we'll go and have a pot or twelve at the Grand National Bar, baptize the weekend so to speak.
Curtis and Francois fidgeted in their chairs.
We had arranged to meet some of the other boys down at the Bright Angels, boss. That's fine, I'll come along with you, said Sean eagerly, the prospect of being with ordinary men again was suddenly very attractive to him. He felt sickened of the company of those who shook his hand and smiled at him while they waited for a chance to wipe him off the board.
It would be good to go along with these two and talk and not stocks and shares, to laugh with men who didn't give a digginn if C. R. C. s hit sixty shillings on Monday. He'd get a little drunk with Francois and Curtis; later on perhaps he'd have a fight, an honest, snortmig, stand-up fight. God, yes, it would be good to be with men who were clean inside, even if there was dirt under their nails and the armpits of their shirts were stained with sweat.
Curtis glanced quickly at Francois. There'll be just a crowd of roughnecks down there, boss, all the diggers come in on a Saturday. that's fine, said Sean Let's go. He stood up and buttoned his dove-grey coat; the lapels were edged in black watered silk and matched the black pearl pin in his tie. He picked up his cane from the desk.
Come on, let's get moving!
They ran into the noise from the Bright Angels a block before they reached the building. Sean grimed and quickened his step like an old gun dog with the scent of the bird in its nostrils again. Francois and Curtis hurried along on either side of him. There was a big digger standing on the bar counter. Sean recognized him as one of his men from the Little Sister Mine the man's body was tilted back to balance the weight of the demijohn he held to his lips and his throat jerked regularly as he swallowed. The crowd around Ins feet were chanting: Think it, down, down, down, down, down. The digger finished, he threw the bottle against the far wall and belched like an air-locked geyser. He bowed to acknowledge the applause and then he caught sight of Sean standing in the doorway. He wiped his mouth guiltily-with the back of his hand and jumped down off the counter. The other men in the crowd turned and saw Sean and the noise tapered off. They spread out along the bar in silence. Sean led Francois and Curtis into the room. He placed a pile of sovereigns on the counter.
Set them up, barman, take the orders. Today is Saturday and it's time to tie the dog loose. Cheers, Mr Courtney. Good luck, sirGezondheid, Mr Courtney.
Their voices were subdued with respect.
drink up, men, there's plenty more where that came from. Sean stood with Francois and Curtis at the bar.
They laughed at his jokes. His voice was loud with good fellowship and his face flushed with happiness. He bought more drinks. After a while his bladder started making its presence felt and he went through the back door into the washrooms. There were men talking in there; he stopped before he rounded the edge of the screen into the room.
... what's he want to come here for, hey? This isn't the mucking Rand Club. Shh! He'll hear you, man, do YOU Want to lose your job? I don't give a tilmn. Who does he think he is, 'Drink up, boys, there's plenty more where that came from, I'm the boss, boys, do as you're told, boys, kiss my arse, boys! Sean stood paralyzed. Pipe down, Frank, he'll go just nowThe sooner the better, say I, the big dandy bastard with his ten- guinea boots and gold cane. Let him go back where he belongsYou're drunk, man, don't talk so loudSure I'm drunk, drunk enough to go in there and tell him to his face..
Sean backed out through the door and walked slowly across the bar to Francois and Curtis. I hope you'll excuse me; I've just remembered there's something I've got to do this afternoon That's too bad, boss. Curtis looked relieved. Perhaps some other time, hey? Yes, perhaps some other time. They were pleased to see him when he went up to the Rand Club. Three men nearly fought one another to buy him a drink.
He had dinner with Candy that night and over the liqueurs he told her about it. She listened without interruption until he finished. They didn't want me there, I don't see what I've done to them that they should dislike me that way And it worries you? she asked. Yes, it worries me. I've never had people feel like that towards me before. I'm glad it worries you. She smiled gently at him. one day you're going to grow into quite a nice person. But why do they hate me? Sean followed his original line of thought.
They're jealous of you, you say this man said, 'tenguinea boots and gold cane', that is what's behind it.
YOU are different from them now, you're rich. You can't expect them to accept that. But I've never done anything to them, he protested. You don't have to. One thing I've found in this life for everything you get you have to pay a price. This is part of the payment you have to make for success Hell, I wish Duff was here, said Sean.
Then Duff would explain to you that it doesn't matter, wouldn't he? said Candy. 'Who gives a damn for them, laddie, the unwashed herd? We can do without them, ' she mimicked. Sean scratched the side of his nose and looked down at the table. Please, Sean, don't ever let DUff teach you that people don't matter. He doesn't believe it himself, but he's so convincing. People are important. They are more important than gold or places or, or anything Sean looked up at her. I realized that once; when I was trapped in the Candy Deep. I saw it very clearly then in the darkness and the mud. I made a resolution. He grinned sheepishly.
I told myself I'd never hurt anyone again if I could help it. I really meant it, Candy. I felt it so strongly at the time, but, but.. Yes, I think I understand. That's a big resolution to make and a much bigger one to keep. I don't think any single experience is enough to change a person's way of thinking. It's like building a wall brick by brick. You add to it a little at a time until at last it's finished. I've told you before, Sean, that you have a strength in you. I think one day you'll finish building your wall, and when you do, it will have no weak spots.
The next Tuesday Sean rode up to Xanadu for the first time since Duff had left. Johnson and four of the clerks from the office were at work in the ballroom, packing and labelling the presents. Nearly finished, Johnson? Just about, Mr Courtney, I'll send a couple of wagons up tomorrow morning to fetch this lot. Yes, do that. I don't want them lying around here any longer. He went up the marble staircase and stood on the top landing. The house had a dead feeling to it: was new and was waiting for people to come into it and bring it to life. He went down the corridor, stopping to look at all the paintings that Candy had chosen. They were oils in soft pastels, woman's colours.
We can do without these, I'll get some with fire in them, scarlets and blacks and bright blues. He pushed open the door to his own bedroom. This was better. vivid Persian rugs on the floor, walls panelled in dark satiny wood and a bed like a polo field. He lay on the bed and looked up at the scrolled ornate plaster ceiling. I wish Duff were back, we can do some real living in this house. He went downstairs again.
Johnson was waiting at the foot of the stairs. All finished, sir. Good man! Off you go, then. He went through into the study and walked across to the gun rack. He took down a Purdey shotgun, carried it to the french windows and looked at it in the light. His nostrils flared a little at the nostalgic smell of gun oil. He brought the gun up to his shoulder, felt the true exciting balance of it and enjoyed it. He swung the barrels in an arc across the room, following the flight of an imaginary bird, and suddenly Duff's face was in his sights. Sean was taken so by surprise that he stood with the gun trained at Duff's head.
Don't shoot, I'll come quietly, said Duff solemnly.
Sean lowered the shotgun and carried it back to the rack.
Hello.
Hello, Duff answered, still standing in the doorway.
Sean made a pretence of fitting the gun into the rack with his back to DuffHow are you, laddie? Fine! Fine! How's everybody else? To whom do you refer, in particular? Sean asked. Candy, for one. Sean considered the question. Well, you could have damaged her more by feeding her into a stamp mill! Bad, hey? Bad, agreed Sean.
They stood in
