in Johannesburg, had decided it might be good policy to keep at least a few hundred miles between herself and her brother? No doubt she had already taken for granted his surrender of the house and fifty acres and removal to Cape Town; it was unlikely that she had troubled to t hink further ahead and wondered how a man who knew only planes and farming would make a living away from both. All she cared about at the moment was keeping Storr’s opinion of herself highly glazed and intact.
For a few minutes Ann wondered about Elva’s long stay in England and that suspect fall from a bedroom window. What a strange, reckless creature she must have been ... might still be. It didn’t bear thinking about.
They found the hotel bright with music from a gramophone, joined several dancing couples and recaptured some of the friendliness of their earlier acquaintanceship. The glamour was missing, though; in its place Ann was conscious of an understanding of Theo which bordered on compassion. For a lighthearted debonair and handsome young man he had really had a little too much to endure. While she was here she would help him all she could.
T he following weekend there were two or three social events. On Friday evening one of Theo’s friends gave himself a birthday party at the hotel, and on Saturday there was a picnic near die river, arranged by Mrs. Newman. Ann had received a warm note of invitation to the picnic, and she accepted at once, only to discover later that neither Elva nor Theo had received a similar note. Apparently Sheila Newman’s courage had not quite risen to extending invitations to people who had previously refused them. However, Ann enjoyed the picnic, met several entertaining people and ended the day at the Newmans’ house. It did her good to be away from everyone at Groenkop for so long.
Elva had brought the chestnut gelding to the small pasture in which the grey and the roan spent their leisure, but it was not till Sunday morning that Ann tried it out. With the rein tighter than usual, she rode slowly down to the little tin church where the Africans, decorous in best suits and clean frocks, sat in a circle on the glass and listened to a very black priest. When the service was over and she had the place to herself, Ann looked through a window into the church. The benches were plain but varnished, the altar narrow and covered with a crisp white cloth edged with lace. There were carved wooden candlesticks, a pot of crimson Barberton daisies, and below the altar a crude but magnificent mosaic depicting a huge gold cross being borne along by a number of dark-skinned saints. It was a primitive and peaceful building, too small to be used for normal services.
Ann got back into the saddle, felt insecure for a moment because the gelding was broader than the roan, and then pushed the horse to a canter. She sat easily, and thought about the letter she had received yesterday from her mother. They were at Durban for five days, while the ship reloaded, and they wished Ann were with them; they hoped to receive a letter from her at the next stop up the coast. It worried Ann that her mother had not mentioned her own health, and yet she was sure that if anything were even slightly wrong with it her father would write. Perhaps she was letting her general uneasiness become concentrated on the one point.
The gelding moved gracefully over the hillside, making for the road. A jeep rocked along down there, raising a lethargic cloud of dust, and half a dozen natives, carry ing beribboned sticks and wearing brilliant cloths about their heads, danced to their own chanting and turned across the veld. The sun glared over a scene which was peculiarly African; low brown and green mountains, occasional umbrella trees, a huddle of thatched huts on a hillside, a piccaninny herding his father’s handful of assorted cattle. Then, as Ann reached level ground, a long and sumptuous estate car appeared on the road; it slowed and stopped, and
For a few minutes Ann wondered about Elva’s long stay in England and that suspect fall from a bedroom window. What a strange, reckless creature she must have been ... might still be. It didn’t bear thinking about.
They found the hotel bright with music from a gramophone, joined several dancing couples and recaptured some of the friendliness of their earlier acquaintanceship. The glamour was missing, though; in its place Ann was conscious of an understanding of Theo which bordered on compassion. For a lighthearted debonair and handsome young man he had really had a little too much to endure. While she was here she would help him all she could.
T he following weekend there were two or three social events. On Friday evening one of Theo’s friends gave himself a birthday party at the hotel, and on Saturday there was a picnic near die river, arranged by Mrs. Newman. Ann had received a warm note of invitation to the picnic, and she accepted at once, only to discover later that neither Elva nor Theo had received a similar note. Apparently Sheila Newman’s courage had not quite risen to extending invitations to people who had previously refused them. However, Ann enjoyed the picnic, met several entertaining people and ended the day at the Newmans’ house. It did her good to be away from everyone at Groenkop for so long.
Elva had brought the chestnut gelding to the small pasture in which the grey and the roan spent their leisure, but it was not till Sunday morning that Ann tried it out. With the rein tighter than usual, she rode slowly down to the little tin church where the Africans, decorous in best suits and clean frocks, sat in a circle on the glass and listened to a very black priest. When the service was over and she had the place to herself, Ann looked through a window into the church. The benches were plain but varnished, the altar narrow and covered with a crisp white cloth edged with lace. There were carved wooden candlesticks, a pot of crimson Barberton daisies, and below the altar a crude but magnificent mosaic depicting a huge gold cross being borne along by a number of dark-skinned saints. It was a primitive and peaceful building, too small to be used for normal services.
Ann got back into the saddle, felt insecure for a moment because the gelding was broader than the roan, and then pushed the horse to a canter. She sat easily, and thought about the letter she had received yesterday from her mother. They were at Durban for five days, while the ship reloaded, and they wished Ann were with them; they hoped to receive a letter from her at the next stop up the coast. It worried Ann that her mother had not mentioned her own health, and yet she was sure that if anything were even slightly wrong with it her father would write. Perhaps she was letting her general uneasiness become concentrated on the one point.
The gelding moved gracefully over the hillside, making for the road. A jeep rocked along down there, raising a lethargic cloud of dust, and half a dozen natives, carry ing beribboned sticks and wearing brilliant cloths about their heads, danced to their own chanting and turned across the veld. The sun glared over a scene which was peculiarly African; low brown and green mountains, occasional umbrella trees, a huddle of thatched huts on a hillside, a piccaninny herding his father’s handful of assorted cattle. Then, as Ann reached level ground, a long and sumptuous estate car appeared on the road; it slowed and stopped, and
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