The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (15 page)

She skipped a little with joy. She would show them! Yes . . .

She tripped over a big stone and fell
headlong
in the mud. For a moment she lay still, then scrambled to her feet, looking at her mud-covered jeans and hands.

‘Well, well!' an amused and all too familiar voice said, ‘I'm not accustomed to such worship, my little Jon. It really wasn't necessary to grovel in the mud at my feet. What's wrong this time?'

She glared at Alex. ‘I wish you wouldn't always creep up on me as you do!'

‘Are you out of your mind?' Alex sounded even more amused. ‘I was following you up, but you were dancing along like a young impala. Why are you so happy? Your new manager?'

Jon had forgotten Tim, but now she wondered how that first meeting had gone. She tried to look calm and at ease as she studied Alex's rugged face. ‘You came this morning?'

‘I said I would, didn't I?'

It was not a question, more of a reminder that he always kept his word.

‘Well?' she asked.

‘Well?' he asked in turn with a smile.

They stared at one another, each silent as if completely oblivious to the beauty of the mountains and not noticing the dogs as they chased one another. Jon felt breathless, but she clung to her self-control, digging her long nails into the palms of her hands, welcoming the pain as her composure slipped away. If
only
he would stop looking at her like that!

‘Well, what did you think of Tim?' she managed to say.

‘It's difficult to judge after such a brief meeting, but I'd say he knows his job.'

A wave of relief swept through her. She had expected a sarcastic answer. ‘You think he'll be all right?'

Alex shrugged. ‘Who can tell? Only time. Anyhow, Jon, you know you can phone me if any problem arises that Dean can't cope with. I'm not far away. Be seeing you!' He turned and walked rapidly away.

Jon still stood where she was, unable to move. So that was that! Alex had washed his hands of her for good.

That was what he obviously meant. Of course, she could phone him. How very nice! Very thoughtful! What would Uncle Ned say? she wondered. Alex was supposed to help her, not just walk out at the first opportunity. Madeleine was right, then. Alex had found Jabula and its inhabitants nothing but a nuisance, a burden he had now gladly shrugged off.

She stopped her thoughts abruptly, shocked by her bitterness and injustice. It was her own fault, entirely. This was what she wanted and she had made it plain enough, surely? Alex had quietly and with dignity accepted the situation.

And yet she was blaming him for doing just
what
she had wanted him to do! How unutterably stupid can you be? she asked herself.

Now as dark grey clouds had suddenly appeared, massing up so that they hid the mountains, Jon walked back slowly to the house. She heard her mother's voice as the dogs raced ahead. Was Alex still there?

Jon went to the back door and the bathroom for a quick shower and then put on a clean pink frock. She went slowly to the stoep. But it wasn't Alex there, it was Tim, looking clean and spruce in a pale fawn safari suit and making her mother's eyes shine with interest.

Breakfast was a gay meal on the surface, but deep inside her, Jon could not forget the look in Alex's eyes and then the casualness of his voice as he said curtly: ‘Be seeing you!' and walked off.

She loved that man, she thought miserably. How she loved him! Why was she behaving like Madeleine? Staying and suffering. Wouldn't it be better to sell the farm and go far, far away? Canada, or even Australia— anywhere that she could live without the risk of meeting him. Just suppose he learned the truth—that she loved him so? How he would laugh at her! She could imagine him saying: ‘Is our little Jon growing up at last?' and her cheeks would burn and her temper boil over and she would say something terrible and . . .

‘Excuse
me,' she mumbled, and stood up, hurrying to the safety of the bathroom where she could stand for a moment, pressing her hands against her eyes, fighting the tears that were so near.

She bathed her eyes in cold water, scolding herself, for if her mother noticed the tears, she might mention them to Alex and . . .

But would her mother notice? Jon asked herself. These days her mother seemed to be living in another world of her own. Jon was glad for her mother's sake as well as her own, but sometimes she missed the loving fussiness her mother had practised in the days when they lived in Bexhill. Today, she felt, her mother rarely
saw
her at all.

When Jon went back to the breakfast table, she saw that she hadn't even been missed! Her mother was saying: ‘Yes, I'd love to go to the Drive-In, Tim. We must get a local paper and see what's on.'

‘I know,' Tim said with a grin. ‘I've seen the film, but it's worth seeing a dozen times.'

‘What's it called?' Jon asked, not because she was really interested but because she wanted to appear as if she was behaving normally.

Tim grinned. ‘A good title.
What Is This Thing Called Love?
'

Jon caught her breath and with another unnoticed murmur slipped from the room again. She heard her mother say: ‘Is it an A or
an
X film?'

Tim was laughing. ‘It's very subtle. You'd enjoy it.'

Jon closed the bathroom door and leant against it. ‘What is this thing called love?' she repeated slowly. She had always thought love would mean happiness. Maybe it did if you fell in love with the right man. A man who could love you, could see you as a woman and not as a child, the niece of his best friend.

If only . . .

What was it Alex was always saying?' You'll get used to it.' Would she? Would she ever get over this desolate heartache, the feeling of hopelessness, the pain?

‘Jon . . . Jon darling!' her mother called

Jon hurriedly returned, hoping her mother would not ask her why she'd left the room, but Ursula was laughing:

‘Jon, Tim's taking me to the Drive-In tonight. Like to come?'

‘I don't . . .' Jon began, but Tim was on his feet.

‘Of course she'll come. The more she learns about love the better. We're at the dangerous age, aren't we, Jon?'

‘Are we?' She managed to smile.

Next day when Jon drove down to the store to shop, she was alone, as her mother had decided not to come, as though they had heard the water was down, it was far too high for her liking.

There
was a sudden hush as Jon walked into the large building and she wondered if they had been talking about her. Then as she got the basket and walked round the closely-packed shelves, looking at her shopping list and pretending not to notice the way the people were looking at her, the voices and laughter began again.

No one spoke to her until she went to pay and then a group of women who had been talking greeted her.

‘Hullo, Jon, how are things? Is it true that you've got a manager?' asked one.

‘I thought Alex managed everything for you,' said another.

‘We all thought you'd sell the farm,' a third butted in.

Jon faced them all. There was nothing malicious, she knew, in their gossip. In a small group of people where nothing much happens the smallest bit of gossip becomes fascinating.

‘Alex has been helping me,' Jon said calmly, ‘but I can't expect him to do it all the time, because he has his own work.'

A burly man in grey shorts and a thin white shirt climbed down from a truck and came in, grinning at Jon. ‘I hear you've got a hippie running your farm,' he teased.

She flushed. How people liked to use that word as an insult! What was wrong with being a hippie, after all?

‘Is his hair really down to his waist?' old
Cliff
went on. Jon knew him well; he often came to buy pineapples. Now he grinned at her, his blue eyes innocent of malice as he enjoyed a chance to bait her.

The laughing-stock of the neighbourhood, Madeleine had said, Jon remembered. Keeping her face solemn, she said: ‘Actually, you know, his hair reaches to the ground.'

She heard the quick gasp of shock from someone near her, but old Cliff roared with laughter. ‘I bet that makes Alex mad, because he'll be bald in a few years.' He calmed down and spoke more seriously. ‘Look, Jon, is it going to work out?'

‘I see no reason why it shouldn't,' Jon said rather stiffly, then regretted her tone, so she smiled: ‘We always have Alex to give us advice.'

‘Alex knows him?' Cliff sounded surprised. ‘If Alex says he's okay then okay he is. I heard he'd been living with the Oswalds.'

‘Staying with them,' Jon corrected him gently, then she felt her quick temper rising. ‘And just what is wrong with the Oswalds?' she asked.

Old Cliff chuckled. ‘You ask 'em, m'dear, not me. Anyway I'll be along your way later on, so I'll look in and have a peep. Hair down to the ground, bless me soul . . .' he was muttering, still chuckling as he went back to the truck. He had done no shopping at all, Jon noticed, so that meant he had recognized her
car
and come in simply to find out about the new manager!

As Jon paid her bill, the pretty young woman behind the desk smiled: ‘I expect your ma will be glad to have a man about the house. You're a bit isolated there.'

Jon smiled. ‘We are compared with where we lived before—right on the front at Bexhill in England.'

‘But you're happy here?'

Jon drew a long deep breath. ‘I'm very happy here,' she said, and as she drove home, she wondered if it was the truth. Yes, she was happy, she decided, except where Alex came into the picture. She liked the local people's friendliness. And nowhere could there have been nicer people than those who had opened their doors to her mother. Their friendliness had made her mother happy.

Driving along the avenue of jacarandas, she wished they might bloom for ever for all too soon, the bluebell-blue blossoms fell to the ground, leaving a carpet of colour.

Back home she was surprised to find her mother had gone out after all. ‘Mrs Sellars came and said there was nothing to worry about the dam. I'm having a bridge lesson this afternoon, but will be back tonight as Tim is taking us out,' said the note.

Jon sighed. Tim and her mother seemed to have boundless energy. The night before they had gone to the Drive-In, getting home late. It
was
odd, but she got more tired doing nothing than when she worked so hard. Sometimes it worried her to think she was not using her qualities as a pharmacist. Was she right, trained as she was, in a world where so many people were ill, in leading this lazy life of leisure? One thing, when the winter came and the cooler days she was going to work on the garden. At the moment, it was far too hot.

She heard the sound of a horse and hurried out to the stoep, but it was only Madeleine. She left her horse to browse and despite the sun, ran across to the house. She wore elegantly cut green cotton trews, a white shirt, and her long blonde hair was brushed back, tied with a green ribbon.

‘Hi, Jon!'

‘Hi,' Jon replied stiffly.

Madeleine gazed at Tim's car. ‘So it is true?'

‘So what's true?' Jon asked, refusing to help. Then she saw the perspiration running down Madeleine's cheeks and thought of the times the girl had helped her, and felt a worm. ‘Come inside,' she said. ‘Like a cold drink?'

‘With plenty of ice, please. It really is a scorcher. I think it's building up for another big storm.' Madeleine kicked off her shoes and stretched out on one of the chairs.

Jon took her time in the kitchen getting cold drinks and ice. Madeleine was reading the local paper when Jon joined her.

‘Thanks. Cheers.'

‘Cheers,'
said Jon, looking across the beautifully cut lawn and thinking what a good job Robert had made of it. He was the garden-boy and a hard worker.

The mountains were shrouded in a dark mist and that part of the sky was hidden in low clouds.

‘What's he like?' Madeleine asked with a yawn.

‘What's who like?' Jon said stubbornly.

Madeleine laughed. ‘Come off your high horse, Jon. Everyone's talking about it. You've got yourself a bachelor manager . . . “with a view to marriage should both parties prove suitable”,' she quoted.

Jon coloured. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

Madeleine laughed again. ‘You're very touchy today, Jon. What's gone wrong? Are you missing Alex's constant visits? I was quoting the adverts you see in the paper for the Lonely Ladies column. You're looking for a husband to run the farm for you so you employ a handsome young bachelor. Simple. I'm glad that, at long last, you've admitted the truth.'

Jon was battling to control her temper. ‘What truth?'

‘The truth about Alex. He was really fed up, you know, running your farm plus his own work.'

‘He said he didn't mind.'

‘Of
course he said that, he's too polite to tell the truth. Besides, he was crazy about your uncle.'

Jon sipped her cold drink slowly, looking at Madeleine thoughtfully. How different she was when away from her own home! It was difficult to believe that this aggressive, rude girl was the same meek girl at home who almost trembled if her father looked disapproving.

‘Where's your mother?' Madeleine asked abruptly. ‘She seems very popular these days.'

‘She's made a lot of friends.'

‘It's hard to realize she's over forty.'

‘Only just. I hope I look as young as she does when I'm forty-one.'

‘You probably will, seeing that you look about fifteen now,' Madeleine said bitterly. ‘What's this new man like? I hear he's been living with the crazy Oswalds.'

‘Am I intruding?' Tim opened the door to join them. He looked curiously at Madeleine, his thin horse-like face amused.