When the Lion Feeds (56 page)

Soon! said Sean.

Don't forget to get your supplies here. I'll be back, Sean assured him.

Mbejane carried one of the bags and Sean the other.

Sean was smiling and streamers of cigar smoke swirled back from his head as he strode along the sidewalk.

There's something in the weight of a sack of gold that makes the man who holds it stand eight feet tall.

That night as they lay together in the darkness of the wagon Katrina asked him. Have we enough money to buy the farm yet, Sean? Yes, said sean. We've got enough for the finest farm in the whole Cape peninsular. . . and, after one more trip, we'll have enough to build the house and the barns, buy the cattle, lay out the vineyard and still have some left over. Katrina was silent for a moment then, So we are going back into the bushveld again? One more trip, said Sean. Another two years and then we'll go down to the Cape. He gave her a hug. You don't mind, do you? No, she said. I think I'd like that. When will we leave? Not just yet awhile, Sean laughed. First we're going to have some fun. He hugged her again, her body was still painfully thin; he could feel the bones of her hips pressed against him. Some pretty clothes for you, my fancy, and a suit for me that doesn't look like a fancy dress. Then we'll go out and see what this burg has to offer in the way of entertainment, He stopped as the idea swelled up in his mind.

Damn it! I know what we'll do. We'll hire a carriage and go across to johannesburg. We'll take a suite at the Grand National Hotel and do some living. Bath in a china bath, sleep in a real bed; you can have your hair prettiedup and I'll have my beard trimmed by a barber. We'll eat crayfish and penguin eggs. . . I can't remember when I last tasted pork or mutton. . . we'll wash it down with the old bubbling wine and waltz to a good band - Sean raced on and when he stopped for breath katrina asked softly, Isn't the waltz a very sinful dance, Sean?

Sean smiled in the darkness. It certainly is! I'd like to be sinful just once, -, not too much, just a little with you to see what it's like. We will be, said Sean as wicked as hell The next day Sean took katrina to the most exclusive ladies shop in Pretoria. He chose the material of half a dozen dresses. One of them was to be a ball gown in canary-yellow silk. It was extravagance and he knew it, but he didn't care once he saw the flash of guilty delight in Katrina's cheeks and the old green sparkle in her eyes.

For the first time since the fever she was living again.

He spilled out his sovereigns with thankful abandon. The sales girls were delighted with him, they crowded round him with trays of feminine accessories. A dozen of those, said Sean and, yes, those will do. Then a flash of green on the racks across the room caught his eye, it was katrina's green.

What's that? He pointed and two sales girls nearly knocked each other down in the rush to get it for him.

The winner carried the shawl back to him and Sean took it and placed it around Katrina's shoulders. It was a beautiful thing.

We'll take it, said Sean and Katrina's lips quivered then suddenly she was crying, sobbing brokenly. The excitement had been too much. There was immediate consternation among the shop assistants, they flapped around Sean like hens at feeding time while he picked Katrina up and carried her out to the hired carriage. At the door he paused and spoke over his shoulder.

I want those dresses finished by tomorrow evening.

Can you- do it? They'll be ready, Mr Courtney, even if my girls have to work all night on them. He took Katrina back to the wagons and laid her on her cot. Please forgive me, Sean, I've never done that in my life beforeIt's all right, my fancy, I understand. Now you just go to sleep the following day Katrina stayed at the camp resting, while Sean went to see Mr Goldberg again and buy from him the stores they would need for the next expedition. it took another day to load the wagons and by then katrina seemed well enough to make the trip to Johannesburg.

They left in the early afternoon. Mbejane driving, Sean and Katrina sitting close together on the back seat holding hands under the travelling rug and Dirk bouncing round the interior of the carriage, pausing now and then to flatten his face against a window and keeping up a flow of comment in the peculiar mixture of English, Dutch and Zulu that Sean called Dirkese. They reached Johannesburg long before Sean-expected to. In four years the town had doubled its size and had spread out into the veld to meet them. They followed the main road through the new areas and came to the centre. There were changes here as well but it was, in the main, the way he remembered it.

They threaded their way through the babble of Eloff Street, and around them, millOwing with the crowds on the sidewalks, were the ghosts of the past. He heard Duff laugh and twisted quickly in his seat to place the sound; a dandy in a boater hat with gold fillings in his teeth laughed again from a passing carriage and Sean heard that it was not Duff's laugh. Very close, but not the same. All of it was like that, similar but subtly changed, nostalgic but sad with the knowledge of loss. The past was lost and he knew then that you can never go back. Nothing is the same, for reality can exist at one time only and in one place only.

Then it dies and you have lost it and you must go on to find it at another time and in another place.

They took a suite at the Grand National, with a sittingroom and two bedrooms, a private bathroom and a balcony that looked out over the street, over the rooftops to where the headgears and white dumps stood along the ridge. Katrina was exhausted. They had supper sent up to the room early and when they had eaten Katrina went to bed and Sean went down alone to drink a nightcap at the bar. The bar-room was crowded.

Sean found a seat in the corner and sat silently in the jabber of conversation. In it, but no longer a part of it.

They had changed the picture above the bar, it used to be a hunting print; but now it was a red-coated general, impressively splattered with blood, taking leave of his staff in the middle of a battlefield. The staff looked bored.

Sean let his eyes wander on along the dark panelled walls.

He remembered, there was so much to remember! Suddenly he blinked.

Near the side door was a star-shaped crack in the wooden panelling. Sean started to grin and put down his glass and massaged the knuckles of his right hand. If Oakie Henderson hadn't ducked under that punch it would have taken his head off.

Sean signalled to the barman. Another brandy, please. While the man was pouring Sean asked, What happened to that panel near the door? The man glanced up and then back at the bottle. Some fellow put his fist through it in the old days. Boss left it like that, sort of souvenir, you know. He must have been quite a fellow . . . that wood's an inch thick. Who was he! Sean asked expectantly.

The man shrugged. One of the drifters. They come and they go. Make a few pounds, piss it against the wall and then go back where they came from. He looked at Sean with bored eyes. That'll be half a dollar, mate. Sean drank the brandy slowly, turning the glass in his hands between sips and watching the liquor cling to its sides like thin oil.

By a cracked panel in a bar-room they shall remember you.

And now I shall go to bed, he decided, this is no longer my world. My world is upstairs sleeping, I hope! He smiled a little to himself and finished the brandy in his glass.

Sean? a voice at his ear and a hand on his shoulder as be turned to leave. My God, Sean, is it really you?

Sean stared at the man beside him. He did not recognize the neatly clipped beard and the big sun-burned nose with the skin peeling off the tip, but suddenly he knew the eyes.

Dennis, you old rogue. Dennis Petersen from Lady-burg.

That's right isn't it? You didn't recognize me! laughed Dennis. So much for our friendship, you disappear without a word and ten years later you don't even know me!

Now they were both laughing. I thought they would have hanged you long ago. Sean defended himself. What on earth are you doing in johannesburg? Selling beef, I'm on the committee of the Beef Growers association.

There was pride in Dennis's voice. I have been up here negotiating the renewal of our contracts. When are you going back? My train leaves in an hour. Well, there's time for a drink before you go, what will it be?

I'll have a small brandy, thanks Sean ordered the drinks and they took them up and stood, suddenly awkward in the awareness that ten years were between their once complete accord. so, what have you been doing with yourself? Dennis ended the pause. This and that, you know, a bit of mining, just come back from the bushveld. Nothing very exciting. Well, it's good to see you again anyway. Your health. And yours, said Sean, and then suddenly he realized that here was news of his family, news he had been without for many years. How's everyone at Lady-burg, your sisters? Both married, so am I with four sons, and the pride was in dennis's voice again.

Anyone I know? asked Sean. Audrey, you know old Pye's daughter. No!

Sean ripped out the word, and then quickly, That's wonderful, Dennis.

I'm pleased for you, she was a lovely girl. The best, agreed Dennis complacently. He had the sleek well-fed, well-cared for look of a married mann, fatter in the face and his stomach starting to show. I wonder if I have it yet, Sean thought. Of course, old man Pye's dead now, that's one creditor he couldn't buy off. Ronnie's taken over the bank and the store. The bat-eared bush rat, said Sean and knew immediately that he had said the wrong thing. Dennis frowned slightly.

He's family now, Sean. A very decent chap really - and a clever business man. I'm sorry, I was joking. How's my mother? Sean changed the subject by asking the question that had been in the forefront of his mind and he had picked the right topic. Dennis's expression softened immediately, you could see the warmth in his eyes. The same as ever.

She's got a dress shop now, next door to Ronnie's store. It's a gold mine, no one would think of buying anywhere else but at Aunt Ada's.

She's godmother to my two eldest, I guess she's godmother to half the kids in the districts and then his expression hardened again, The least you could have done was write to her sometime, Sean. You can't imagine the pain you have caused her. There were circumstances. Sean dropped his eyes to his glass.

That's no excuse, you have a duty which you neglected. There is no excuse for it. You little man Sean lifted his head and looked at him without trying to disguise his annoyance. You pompous, preaching little man peering out at the world one-eyed through the keyhole of your own self-importance. Dennis had not noticed Sean's reaction and he continued. That's a lesson a men must learn before he grows up, we all have our responsibilities and our duties. A man grows up when he faces those duties, when he accepts the burdens that society places on him.

Take my own case: despite the vast amount of work I have on the farms, I now own Mahobals Kloof as well, and despite the demands made on me by my family, yet I have time to represent the district on the committee of the Beef Growers Association, I am a member of the Church Council and the village management board, and I have every reason to believe that next month I will be asked to accept the office of mayor. Then he looked steadily at Sean, What have you done with your life so far? I've lived it, Sean answered, and Dennis looked a little perplexed, then he gathered himself. Are you married yet? I was, but I sold her to the arab slavers up north. You did whatV Well, I grinned Sean, she was an old wife and the price was good! that's a joke, hey? Ha, ha! You couldn't fool good old Dennis, Sean laughed out loud. This unbelievable little man!

Have a drink, Dennis, he suggested. Two is my limit, thanks Sean.

Dennis pulled the goldhunter from his waistcoat pocket and inspected it.

Time to 90, I'm afraid. Nice seeing you again-Wait, Sean stopped him.

My brother, how's Garry? Poor old Garry. Dennis shook his head solemnly.

What's wrong with him? Sean's voice was sharp with his sense of dread.

Nothing, Dennis reassured him quickly. well, I mean nothing more than ever was. Why did you say "poor old Garry" then? I don't really know, except that everybody says it. It's habit, I suppose, he's just one of those people you say poor old in front of. Sean suppressed his irritation, he wanted to know. He had to know. You haven't answered me, how is he?

Dennis made a significant gesture with his right hand. Looking into the bottle quite a bit these days, not that I blame him with that woman he married. You were well out of it there if I may say so, Sean. You may, Sean acquiesced, but is he well? How are things at Theunis Kraal? We all took a bit of a beating with the rindepest, but Garry, well, he lost over half of his herds. Poor old Garry, everything happens to him. My god, fifty percent! Yes, but, of course, Ronnie helped him out. Gave him a mortgage on the farm to tide him over. Theunis Kraal bonded again, groaned Sean. Oh Garry, Garry. Yes, well, Dennis coughed uneasily. Well, I think I'd better be going. Totsiens, Sean. He held out his hand. Shall I tell them I saw you? No, said Sean quickly.

Just leave it stand. Very well then. Dennis hesitated. Are you all right, Sean? I mean', he coughed again, are you all right for money?

Sean felt his unhappiness dissolve a little; this pompous little man was going to offer him a loan. That's very good of you, Dennis. But I've got a couple of pounds saved up enough to eat on for a few days, he spoke seriously. All right then. Dennis looked mightily relieved. All right then, totsiens, Sean, and he turned and walked quickly out of the bar. As he left the room so he went out of Sean's mind, and Sean was thinking of his brother again.