The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (11 page)

A strange husky voice answered. ‘Madeleine's out, I'm afraid. I imagine she's with Alex, trailing around after him. She usually is.' The deep husky voice paused as she laughed, ‘That girl will never grow up! The best way to lose a man is to chase him. Can I give her a message?'

Jon felt uncomfortable as she listened. Who was this—speaking so nastily about Madeleine?

‘I'm Jon Hampton,' she said. ‘We've been invited to dinner and . . .'

‘You're little Jon?' The husky voice sounded even more amused. ‘I've been wanting to meet you. I hear so much about you. Yes, we're expecting you and your mother tonight. I'm Mrs Fox.'

‘Madeleine's mother?'

There was another husky chuckle. ‘No, her stepmother. I'm exactly two years older than Madeleine.'

‘Oh!' Jon's face burned. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't . . .'

Mrs Fox laughed. ‘Don't be. How were you to know? Anyhow, once we meet, you'll know you could never have made that mistake when you had seen me! Now, what was it you wanted to know? The time? About seven. We're not a
very
punctual family, I'm afraid.'

‘I . . . we . . . Well, we're new here as you know, Mrs Fox,' said Jon, feeling and sounding awkward. ‘Is it formal? I mean, do we . . .'

‘Dress up?' Mrs Fox chuckled. ‘Depends on how you feel. Sometimes I wear jeans, other times a long gown. Madeleine will be dressed up, you can be sure of that, if Alex is coming. Dear sweet Alex!' Mrs Fox chuckled. ‘Have you fallen in love with him, too?'

Jon's face was bright red. How she wished she'd never phoned Madeleine's home! She managed a laugh.

‘I suppose he is attractive, if you like that sort of rugged ugliness.'

Mrs Fox's laughter rang out. ‘How lovely! You're so right—rugged ugliness, that describes Alex perfectly. I gather you left your heart behind on England's gloomy cold shores?'

Jon clutched at the unexpected straw. ‘Yes, I did.'

Mrs Fox chuckled. ‘Maybe it's just as well. Wherever Alex goes, he leaves a trail of broken hearts. I think he enjoys it, likes to see how many of us he can hurt.' Her voice was bitter. ‘Well, little Jon, we'll see you tonight? Good. Goodbye.'

Jon replaced the receiver with a sigh of relief. But she knew one thing. She had no desire to go to Pumula that night, or any other night. Alex would be there, too.

Could
she look at him? talk to him? receive with dignity his teasing? Could she do all this without betraying the truth?

She went out on to the stoep. It was still quiet. The lovely mountains in the distance were bright with but few shadows, for the sky was blue, with few clouds, and the sun hot. How beautiful it . . .

Suddenly she wanted to cry. She stood very still, biting her lower lip, clenching her hands, fighting the desire to weep. If her mother saw her with red eyes . . . worse still, if Alex did!

‘Why, Uncle Ned, when you gave me such a lovely gift, has everything to go wrong?' she asked silently. ‘I ought to be the happiest girl in the world, and instead I'm so miserable. I feel caught, I want to get away, right away, back to my safe little world with an interesting job and . . .'

She walked up and down the stoep restlessly. Even though the blue mountains of Kabuta were not
hers
, as Alex had sarcastically pointed out, the view of them was, and that should be enough.

Just look at the garden—despite the night of destruction. Look at that beautiful tree, the trunk so straight, almost arrogantly so, with branches growing out at equal angles, as if designed by some famous architect. Everything was so lovely—the large green lawn, the frangipanis with their pretty pink fragrant flowers, the cannas with their gay yellows and
reds,
the huge dark red dahlias, their buds just opened. It was all so lovely and it was all hers, given to her by Uncle Ned who had loved Jabula and known she would love it, too. Was she going to give up all this simply because she loved a man who saw her as a girl of fourteen? Other people had broken hearts and survived. Why couldn't she?

She drew a long deep breath. No, she would not sell the farm. Somehow she would find a really good farm manager and . . .

‘I'll give you a penny for them,' a deep familiar voice said. Jon swung round, startled to see Alex in the doorway to the house.

‘I didn't hear you come in,' she said almost accusingly.

‘I came in through the back. Your
induna
sent me a message as one of the tractors is giving trouble. By the way, I asked Violet to make us some coffee. Okay?'

‘Of course.' She sat down. ‘Sit . . .' she began, but Alex had already done so, stretching out his long legs as he smiled at her.

‘Sleep well?'

She nodded, clenching her hands, trying to keep her voice even, to avoid looking directly at him. ‘Yes, thanks to you. It was good of you, Alex.'

He laughed, ‘Simply self-preservation. It saved me from getting wet on the way home. Did you hear me leave?'

Her mouth was suddenly dry. So he had
stayed
with a selfish motive? Not to protect her, to give her a feeling of confidence in the storm because she had a companion, as she had thought.

‘No,' she said curtly.

The coffee came and Alex poured it out. ‘Sugar?' he asked casually, and she knew a moment of swift anger. What right had he to act in this house as if it was his home? Then she thought again. He and Uncle Ned had been so close, and he had looked on Uncle Ned as a father.

But it was never going to be his real home. As Uncle Ned wished . . .

She glanced at her wrist and her thoughts skidded to a standstill as she saw the small red thing, stuck in her skin just above her wrist.

It could only be a tick—and Madeleine had warned her about them.

‘Look!' Jon held out her arm in dismay and Alex was on his feet instantly, taking her arm in his hand.

‘Panic over,' he said as he deftly removed the tick and turned away with it.

Jon was shocked to find herself trembling. ‘Madeleine said I . . . I must pull the tick out slowly, making sure the head came, or it would . . . I mean the sore would turn septic and . . . and goodness knows what else.'

Alex turned and sat down. ‘Look, Jon, take everything Madeleine says with a pinch of salt. She'll twist anything. Not that I blame her.
She's
had ten years of what must be hell, ever since her mother died and her father remarried. Incidentally, and before I forget it, Jon, put vaseline on a tick if you're unhappy about pulling it out, then the tick will drop off in time.'

Jon shuddered. Much as she loved this country, there were things in it that made her feel sick, just as there must be in every country of the world. Here it was the incessant war with the mosquitoes and now the ticks . . . She shivered. Alex's head was turned away as he drank his coffee and it gave her a chance to study each line of that rugged face, the small flat ears, the dimple in his chin, the way his hair was rumpled.

Alex turned his head suddenly and caught her staring at him. Her cheeks were hot as she braced herself for his sarcastic comment. Why was she trembling? she wondered. Was it the fright the tick had given her? Or that strange electric feeling that had shot through her when he took her arm in his hand?

‘When do you expect your mother home?' Alex asked.

The unexpected question, so different from what she had feared, jerked Jon back to her usual self-control.

‘After tea.'

‘Not until then?' He sounded disappointed, she thought, then he stood up. ‘I must be off, but Jon, would you come up to the sanctuary
this
afternoon? I've got visitors coming and I'd like you to play hostess. Besides, you've never been round the sanctuary and I'd like you to see it.' He laughed. ‘Don't look so scared, little Jon. All you'll have to do is pour out the tea. See you about three? Okay?'

She was puzzled. Why ask her when Madeleine was so handy? Maybe she had something else to do?

‘I . . .' She began, groping for a logical excuse, but Alex smiled at her.

It was a new kind of smile, a different sort of smile, a smile that made her want to throw her arms round his neck.

‘Thanks, Jon,' he said gently. ‘I knew you wouldn't let me down.'

And then he was gone. She stood very still as she stared after him. How could she bear it? To be so near him and yet so far away.

*          *          *

Jon dressed carefully that afternoon in a simple cream-coloured sheath frock. Her dark hair was brushed back from her high forehead and her eyes were wary though, as she drove through Alex's sanctuary, she kept telling herself there was nothing to worry about
that
afternoon. Alex would be too busy with his visitors to watch her critically. As he had said, all she had to do was pour out the tea!

It was to turn out very differently. As she
drove
slowly along his winding earth road, she kept getting glimpses of monkeys swinging from the trees, a young giraffe running with his strange loping gait, an ostrich who stood in the middle of the road, blocking Jon's way and staring at the car with suspicion for a long time before, in the end, she turned away with disdain and Jon could drive on. As she came in sight of the house, a cloud of pale blue little birds flew up from the track in front of her.

She had parked the car when Alex came to meet her. How attractive he looked! His sun-bleached hair was still wet from a shower, his square face with the deep-set half-closed eyes and his square chin with the cleft in it that sometimes looked like a dimple. Oh, she thought, unhappiness flooding her, if only she didn't love him so much!

‘Good girl,' he said, looking her up and down appraisingly. ‘Perfect. I like a woman to look like a woman. Feminine! I also like her to be punctual, methodical and neat.'

She was not sure if he was joking or serious, but somehow she found courage enough to make a joke of it.

‘So for once I'm a woman in your eyes, Alex? Quite a change from the impression I usually get.'

His eyes narrowed. You look like a woman today, but are you one? You are so young and naïve.'

‘I'm twenty-three . . .' she began, and made
a
big effort so that she could laugh. ‘I'm afraid I'll have to send to Somerset House for a copy of my birth certificate, because you'll never believe me.'

He laughed, ‘I'm not calling you a liar, little Jon. You're like your mother. She looks so absurdly young, too.'

The depression flooded Jon again. Back to her mother!

Alex glanced at his watch. ‘My visitors are late. Let's sit down and have a cold drink. Right?'

It was pleasant on the long attractive stoep with its view of the valley below. But it could have been infinitely more pleasant, Jon knew, if she had felt less tense, less scared of what might lie ahead, less wary and watchful of her reactions to his teasing, less afraid lest she reveal her secret.

Fortunately Alex talked most of the time, telling her of his dislike of pineapple and indeed, any kind of farming.

‘I never was a farmer at heart. Originally I was a game warden, and I loved that life. Then my parents died and left me the farm. They'd worked hard on it and I felt I owed it to them to make a go of it, but it was no good. In the end, your uncle told me I was wasting time, energy and my money. He helped me begin the sanctuary.'

Jon listened, entranced, and, without realizing it, she became more and more
relaxed
as Alex told her funny stories of how he had caught the wild animals, and how often things went wrong. And then, quite suddenly, the pleasant relaxed atmosphere vanished as he said: ‘I'm ambitious, but I need more land.'

There was an uncomfortable silence as Jon's body stiffened and she concentrated on looking at her hands so that she could avoid looking at Alex. Why had Uncle Ned been so emphatic? she wondered. Why mustn't she ever sell the farm to Alex? Her uncle must have had a reason. If only she knew what it was!

At that moment, fortunately, three huge cars drove up and Alex led Jon to greet them. There were about ten people, most of them friendly Americans, eager to see everything, talking of the great beauty of this beautiful land, and looking at Jon with unasked questions in their eyes.

It was a perfect afternoon, hot but with a pleasant breeze so that the animals had not hidden themselves deep in the undergrowth. Alex, with Jon by his side, introduced them to his beautiful wild birds with their long stalk-like legs and their lovely pink wings and long beaks. They saw the giraffes, the baboons, the monkeys, too. Afterwards Jon poured out tea, though most asked for coffee which Alex's Jeremiah instantly produced. Finally after a round of talking and laughter the visitors left and Alex walked with Jon to her car.

‘Thanks
for lending me a hand. This may help a lot. Two or three of them write for magazines in the States and say they'll get me some publicity. They certainly had some super cameras.'

‘Thanks for a pleasant afternoon,' Jon said, and meant it, for she had enjoyed it all, except for that awkward moment when Alex had said he needed more land.

Her mother was at home.

‘I was getting worried, wondering where you were, Jon. Couldn't you have left a note?'

‘I'm sorry, Mum, I never thought of it. Actually I didn't think I'd be away so long. Alex didn't . . .'

‘Alex?' Her mother turned round quickly, frowning a little. ‘You've been with Alex?'

‘Yes, he had some visitors and wanted a hostess.'

Her mother laughed. ‘Of course, that's right. He told me about it the other day and asked me to stand in. Was it very boring?'

‘No. I . . . I quite enjoyed it.'

‘I'm so glad, for you seem to have such a dull life here. Alex told me Madeleine had other plans for this afternoon and so he asked me. I suppose when I wasn't available, he was glad to have you.'