When the Lion Feeds (60 page)

. but, as I was saying, my guess is that little Katy is having an acute attack of jealousy.

Probably her first, seeing that the two of you have spent your whole married life out in the deep sticks and she has never had an opportunity of watching the Courtney charm work on any other female before.

Nonsense, said Sean. Who's she got to be jealous of? Me, said Candy.

Every time she looked at me the other night I felt as though I'd been hit in the chest with an axe Candy touched her magnificent bosom with her fingertips, skilfully drawing Sean's attention to it. Sean looked at it. It was deeply cleft and smelt of fresh violets.

He shifted restlessly and looked away. Nonsense, he said again. We're just old friends, almost like - he hesitated. I hope, my dear, that you weren't going to say "brother and sister". . . I'll not be party to any incestuous relationship. . . or had you forgotten about that?

Sean had not forgotten. Every detail of it was still clear.

He blushed and stood up. I'd better be going, he said. I'm going to keep looking for her. Thanks for your help, Candy, and for the drink.

Whatever I have is yours, sir, she murmured, lifting an eyebrow at him, enjoying the way he blushed. I'll let you know as soon as we hear anything. The assurance that Candy had given him wore thinner as the afternoon went by with no news of Katrina. By nightfall Sean was again wild with worry, it had completely swamped his bad temper and even anaesthetized his fatigue. One by one Mbejane's tribesmen came in to report a blank score, one by one the avenues Candy's men were exploring proved empty, and long before midnight Sean was the only hunter left. He rode hunched in the saddle, a lantern in his hand, riding the ground that had already been covered a dozen times, visiting the mining camps along the ridge, stopping to question late travellers he met along the network of roads between the mines.

But the answer was always the same. Some thought he was joking: they laughed until they saw that his face was haunted and dark-eyed in the lantern light, then they stopped laughing and moved hurriedly on. Others had heard about the missing woman; they started to question him, but as soon as Sean realized they could not help him, he pushed past them and went on searching. At dawn he was back at the hotel. Mbejane was waiting for him.

Nkosi I have had food ready for you since last night.

Eat now and sleep a little. I will send the men out to search again today, they will find her. Tell them, I will give one hundred pounds to the one who finds her. Sean passed his hand wearily across his face.

Tell them to hunt the open veld beyond the ridges, she may not have followed a road. I will tell them . . . but now you must eat.

Sean blinked his eyes, they were red-veined and each had a little lump of yellow mucus in the corner.

Dirk? he asked. He is well, Nkosi, I have stayed with him all the while Mbejane took Sean firmly by the arm. There is food ready. You must eat. Saddle me another horse, said Sean. I will eat while you do it.

Without sleep, unsteady in the saddle as the day wore on, Sean widened the circle of his search until he was out into the treeless veld and the mine headgears, were small spidery triangles on the horizon.

A dozen times he met Zulus from the city, big black men in loin cloths, moving at their businesslike trot, hunting the ground like hounds. There was a concealed sympathy behind their greetings. Mbejane has told us, Nkosi. We will find her. And Sean left them and rode on alone, more alone than he had ever been in his LIFE before. After dark he rode back into Johannesburg, the faint flutter of hope inside him stilled as he limped stiffly into the gas-lit lobby, of the hotel and saw the pity in the reception clerk's face. No word, I'm afraid, Mr Courtney Sean nodded. Thanks anyway. is my son all right? Your servant has taken good care of him, sir. I sent dinner up to him an hour ago The stairs seemed endless as he climbed them. By God, he was tired, sick-tired and sick with worry. He pushed open the door of his suite and Candy stood up from a chair across the room. The hope flared up in him again Have you he started eagerly. No, she said quickly. No, Sean, I'm sorry. He flopped into one of the chairs and Candy poured a drink for him from a decanter that was waiting on the writing desk. He smiled his thanks and took a big gulp at the glass. Candy lifted his legs one at a time and pulled off his boots, ignoring his faint protest. Then she took up her own glass and went to sit across the room from him.

I'm sorry I joked yesterday, she apologized softly. I don't think I realized how much you love her. She lifted her glass to him. Here's a speedy end to the search.

Sean drank again, half a glass at a swallow.

You do love her, don't you? Candy asked.

Sean answered her sharply. She's my wife. But it's not only that, Candy went on recklessly, knowing his anger was just below the surface of his fatigue. Yes, I love her. I'm just learning how much, I love her as I'll never be able to love again. He drained his glass and stared at it, his face grey under the frown and his eyes dark with unhappiness. Love! he said. love? mouthing the word, weighing it.

They've dirtied that word . . .

they sell love at the Opera House . . . they have used that word so much that now when I want to say "I love Katrina" it doesn't sound what i mean. Sean hurled the glass against the far wall, it shattered with a crack and a tingle and Dirk stirred in the bedroom. Sean dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. I love her so it screws my gut, I love her so that to think of losing her now is like thinking of dying.

He clenched his fists and leaned forward in his chair. I'll not lose her now, by Christ, I'll find her and when I do I'll tell her this. I'll tell her just like I'm telling you. He stopped and frowned. I don't think I've ever said to her "I love you. " I've never liked using that word. I've said "Marry me" and "You're my fancy, " but I've never said it straight before. Perhaps that's part of the reason she ran away, Sean, perhaps because you never said it she thought you never felt it.

Candy was watching him with a strange expression, pity and understanding and a litlle . . - yearning. I'll find her, said Sean, and this time i'll tell her. . . if it's not too late. You'll find her and it won't be too late. The earth can't have swallowed her, and she'll be glad to hear you say it. Candy stood up. You must rest now, you have a hard day ahead of you.

Sean slept fully dressed in the chair in the sitting-room.

He slept brokenly, his mind struggling and kicking him back to half wakefulness every few minutes. Candy had turned the gas low before she left and its light fell in a soft pool onto the writing desk beneath it.

Katrina's Bible lay Where she had left it and each time Sean started awake the fat, leather-covered book caught his eye. Some time before dawn he woke for the last time and knew he could not sleep again.

He stood up and his body still ached and his eyes felt gritty. He moved across to the gas lamp and turned it up high, he let his hand drop from the lamp onto the Bible.

its leather was cool and softly polished beneath his fingers. He opened the front cover and caught his breath with a hiss.

Beneath Katrina's name, in her carefully rounded writing, the ink still freshly blue, she had filled in the date of death.

The page magnified slowly in front of his eyes until it filled the whole field of his vision. There was a rushing sound in his ears, the sound of a river in flood, but above it he heard voices, different voices.

Let's go, Sean, it looks like a grave! But more than anything she needs love The earth can't have swallowed her.

And his own voice, If it's not too late, if it's not too late The morning light was gathering strength as he reached the ruins of the old candy Deep office block. He left his horse and ran through the grass towards the mine dump.

The wind was small and cold; it moved the tops of the grass and went on to where Katrina's green shawl was caught on the barbed wire fence that ringed the shaft. In the wind the shawl flapped its wings like a big green bird of prey.

Sean reached the fence and looked down into the mouth of the shaft. At one place the grass had been torn away from the edge as though someone had snatched at it as they fell.

Sean loosed the shawl from the spikes of the barbed wire, he balled the heavy material in his fists, then he held it out over the shaft and let it drop. It spread out as it floated down into the blackness, and it was the bright green of Katrina's eyes. Why? whispered Sean. rWhy have you done this to us, my fancy? He turned away and walked back to his horse, stumbling carelessly in the rough footing.

Mbejane was waiting for him in the hotel suite.

Get the carriage, Sean told him. The Nkosikazi -TGet the carriage, Sean repeated.

Sean carried Dirk downstairs. He paid his bill at the reception desk and went out to where MbeJane had the carriage ready. He climbed up into it and held Dirk on his lap.

Drive back to Pretoria, Sean said.

Where's Mummy? Dirk demanded. She's not coming with us. Are we going alone? Dirk insisted and Sean nodded wearily. Yes, Dirk, we are going alone. Is Mummy coming just now? No, Dirk. No, she's not. It was finished, Sean thought. It was all over, all the dreams and the laughter and the love, He was too numbed to feel the pain yet, it would come later. Why are you squeezing me so hard, Daddy? Sean slackened his grip and looked down at the child on his lap. it was not finished, he realized; it was only a new beginning.

But first I must have time for this to heal. time, and a quiet place to he up with this wound. The wagons are waiting and I must go back into the wilderness.

Perhaps after another year I will have healed sufficiently to start again, to go back to Lady-burg with my son, back to Lady-burg, and to ada and to Garry, he thought. Then suddenly and sickeningly he felt the pain again, and the deep raw ache of it frightened him. Please God, prayed Sean who had never prayed before, please God give me the strength to endure it. Are you going to cry, Daddy? You look like you're going to cry. Dirk was watching Sean's face with solemn curiosity. Sean pulled the child's head gently against his shoulder and held it there.

If tears could pay both our debts, thought Sean, if with my tears I could buy for you an indulgence from all pain, if by weeping now I could do all your weeping for you then I would cry until my eyes were washed away. No, Dirk, he answered. I am not going to cry, crying never helps very much. And Mbejane took them to where the wagons waited at pretoria.

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