Snare of Serpents (34 page)

“We do understand,” said Lilias. “That is quite satisfactory. We wanted to be together and we are prepared to come and work here.”

He still looked worried. Then he said: “I am forgetting. You must be tired and hungry. I have brought with me a bottle of wine and some food. Would you like to eat now or would you prefer that I show you the place?”

“Let us see the place and perhaps we could wash some of the
grime from the journey from us. Then we could eat and talk in comfort, if that is agreeable to you.”

“That’s an excellent idea. There is an oil stove on which we can heat water. I’ll put that on and while it is heating I can show you round.”

We were quite pleased with what we saw. There was a large room with a long table and chairs in it together with a large cupboard. We opened this and found books and slates inside.

“The schoolroom,” said Lilias with approval.

In addition to the schoolroom there were two small rooms on the ground floor, and a kitchen with a back door which opened onto a small garden. Shrubs grew in profusion and Lilias gave a cry of pleasure.

John Dale was smiling, evidently delighted by our appreciation.

Lilias said: “We had no idea what we were coming to.”

“And feared the worst?” he asked.

“Well, we did not imagine anything so good as this, did we, Diana?”

Upstairs there were four small rooms, simple but quite comfortably furnished.

“Bedrooms and a study and still one room left,” said Lilias. She went to the window and looked out on the street. Then she turned to me with shining eyes.

“I want to make this into a flourishing school,” she said.

“You will,” replied John Dale. “And now that water will be hot and I’ll bring it up for you.”

“We’ll help,” said Lilias. I had rarely seen her so excited.

In the room downstairs John Dale had set out the meal. There was cold chicken, crusty bread, a bottle of wine and some luscious pears.

“This is a lovely welcome to our new life,” said Lilias.

“I want you to know how glad we are that you have come,” John Dale told us. “Let me tell you something about the town and the people.”

“We are longing to hear.”

“I think you will like the climate, although you may find it a little too hot in summer.”

“We are prepared for that,” I said.

“Kimberley, as you probably know, owes its prosperity to diamonds. Before ‘71 it was more or less a village. Then, of course, there were the discoveries … and everything changed. Kimberley
is
diamonds. Most of us here are engaged in the business in some form or other … if not finding them, preparing them for the market and actually marketing them.”

“You, too?” asked Lilias.

“Yes, I work in the offices of one of the biggest companies.”

“Would that be Mr. Lestrange’s company?”

“Oh no … not ours. When he came to Kimberley some years ago, he bought a share in one of the other companies. Shortly afterwards he married and acquired Riebeeck House. It is one of the finest residences in the town. Tell me, when did you propose to open the school?”

“There is no reason for delay,” said Lilias. “Let us have a day or so to settle in and find out what pupils we have and what materials there are …”

“Of course. What about starting on Monday? That would give you the rest of this week and the weekend.”

“And the pupils?”

“There are about ten of them so far. There will be more.”

“What ages?”

“Varying.” He looked at her anxiously. “Will that make it difficult?”

“It is what one expects and as there are two of us, we can divide into two classes perhaps. However, we shall have to see.”

“I’ll circulate the news that school will start on Monday.”

“How very kind you are.”

“Not at all. I am delighted that we are getting the school started again. Education is so necessary. I wish everyone here agreed with me.”

“These pears are delicious,” I said.

“We grow the finest fruit in the world here.”

“What a beautiful country it is!” said Lilias. “To us it is like the Promised Land.”

He laughed. “I’ll remember that. I am going to drink a toast. May it live up to that.”

When he had left and we were alone in our schoolhouse, Lilias and I agreed that it had been a wonderful welcome.

The Kimberley Treasure

THE NEXT WEEK was a busy one and most enjoyable. I had never seen Lilias so excited.

“If I had tried to imagine something I wanted to do, it would have been exactly this,” she announced. “It’s like starting a new school … my school.”

She went through the books that were there and made lists of what she would like to have. John Dale, who was quite a frequent visitor, joined in the enthusiasm. He would see the council and discover whether she could have what she wanted.

“He’s a great ally,” said Lilias. “How lucky we are to have him here!”

On the appointed day the children arrived. There were fourteen of them—not a great number but more than we had dared hope for. Their ages ranged from five to fourteen and Lilias decided that I should take the fives to sevens, of whom there were six, and she would teach the elder ones; I with my pupils would be at one end of the largish room and she at the other.

It was a strange feeling to be confronted by the young children. They stared at me with interest and I felt it was going to be a trying ordeal and I only hoped that I should be able to deal with it satisfactorily. I managed to struggle through and began by teaching the alphabet and nursery rhymes.

When the children had gone to their homes Lilias and I cooked simple meals for ourselves in the little kitchen and discussed what had happened during the day. Lilias was in her element; I was less sure of myself. This was Lilias’ vocation, I reminded her. My abilities in the teaching field were yet to be tested.

“You’ll come to it,” she assured me. “You must remember that you mustn’t lose your patience. Never let them see that you are ruffled in any way. You’ve lost the battle if you do; and there is a certain battle on. They’re watching you as closely as you are watching them. You have to show the right amount of authority. Be kind. Be patient. But make them aware all the time that you are in charge.”

“I’ll try to remember that. I’ll stick to the rules … if I can.”

For the first week I thought of little but doing the job. The days started to pass quickly. The routine had to be followed rigorously. Lessons all morning. The children came at nine and left at twelve. Then we would cook something light and eat a meal to be ready for when they returned at two o’clock; they stayed till four.

We were becoming known in the town and the shopkeepers were very pleasant to us. We had the impression that the townsfolk were pleased that the school was open again.

Of all the children in my class there was one girl who interested me particularly. I was haunted by her rather sad little face. Her name was Anna Schreiner and she was about five years old. Her mother brought her to school each morning and called to pick her up at the appointed times with most of the parents of the younger children. She was a quiet child and, if addressed, usually replied in monosyllables; she hardly ever smiled. Her mother was young and pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed and rather plump. It struck me that Anna was brooding on something which she could not get out of her mind.

One day the children were copying the letters I had put on the blackboard; so deep in concentration were they that there was hardly a sound except that of pencils scratching on slates. I wandered round, looking at what they were doing, commenting now and then. “Is that an
0
or a
Q?
A
Q?
It hasn’t got its little tail on, has it?” “The loop on that
P
comes down too far. See?” Then I came to Anna. She was working laboriously and all her letters seemed perfect.

I sat down beside her. “That’s very good,” I said.

She did not smile. She just went on with the letters.

“Is everything all right, Anna?”

She nodded.

“Do you like school?”

She nodded again.

“You are happy here?”

Again the nod. I was getting nowhere.

She continued to bother me. I thought she was an unnatural child, aloof from the others.

I watched her with her mother. Her face did not brighten when she saw her. She just ran up to her and took her hand; and they went off together.

I told Lilias of my interest in the child.

“Children vary,” she said. “She’s just a solemn child.”

“She has that pretty mother. I wonder if she is an only child?”

“John Dale would probably know. Ask him next time you see him.”

That time would not be far off, I guessed. He was a frequent visitor to the schoolhouse. He often brought food and wine as he had on the first day and we would share what he called a “picnic.”

When I asked him about Anna Schreiner he said: “Oh yes. Poor child. I understand her living in perpetual fear. She probably imagines Hell’s Gates are open wide to receive her if she’s five minutes late for school.”

“Her mother looks as though she is quite a jolly person.”

“Greta, yes. Well, she was … once. I don’t understand why she married old Schreiner. Although there were rumours …”

“Rumours?” I cried.

“It’s probably a lot of scandal.”

“Mr. Dale,” said Lilias. “It helps us to teach our children if we know something of their background.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I know. Piet Schreiner is rather a formidable character. Calvinistic … puritanical. There are a few like him in this town … and all over the country, it seems. There is a strong feeling of puritanism among the Boers. He is even more fanatical than most. One could imagine his going off on the Great Trek. Hard-working … strictly honest and … godly—so he would say. It seems sad that someone with his virtues should put such an interpretation on his religion as to make life miserable for everyone around him. For such as he is, everything people do seems to have its roots in sin. I suppose he himself is always on guard against it.”

“And that’s little Anna’s father?” I said.

“Well … on the surface. There are some who say that is not the case.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lilias.

“Schreiner is all of twenty years older than Greta … she’s the child’s mother. A pretty girl who was inclined to be flighty … once. Her family were strict with her … and I suppose that may have added to the incentive to stray … or to do something that shocks. The fact of the matter is that her family were very friendly with Schreiner. He’s a lay preacher in the chapel which they attend. Whether or not Greta married him because she was in trouble, I am not sure, but I cannot imagine she could have had any other reason for doing so.”

“So Schreiner is not Anna’s father …”

“He calls himself her father. It’s all on the records. The girl is Anna Schreiner all right. The fact is that Schreiner married Greta in a bit of a hurry. No one had thought he would ever marry anyone—let alone a young girl like that. There was a lot of talk about it. However, there it was. They married—that frivolous young girl and the hellfire preacher so much older
than herself. It was a nine days’ wonder. There was as much talk about it as when Ben Curry found the Blue Diamond and made a millionaire of himself. But that happened more than five years ago. People forget. They only remember now and then.”

“So that poor child lives with her flighty mother and this fanatically religious man who may or may not be her father.”

“Poor little thing. I don’t suppose she has too good a time.”

“I must try to help her in some way,” I said.

“Don’t get into conflict with old Schreiner,” warned John. “Holy men can be fiendish when they are fighting the enemies of the righteous … which means anyone who doesn’t agree with them.”

“That’s not likely,” said Lilias. “But I know Diana will be gentle with the poor little thing.”

After that I took an even greater interest in Anna Schreiner, but no matter how I tried, it was impossible to get her to talk. She just worked more diligently than the others and quietly walked away with her pretty mother.

What sort of life did they have with each other? I wondered.

O
N OUR SECOND
S
UNDAY
in Kimberley Lilias and I were invited to lunch at Riebeeck House.

Myra had called on us on the previous Wednesday about four-thirty, after school had closed.

She said: “I guessed that I should be interrupting school if I came at any other time. Do tell me how everything is going.”

“Very well indeed,” Lilias told her enthusiastically. “We have been agreeably surprised.”

“That’s wonderful. I hear that the school is a great success.”