Storms Over Africa (11 page)

‘What's the big attraction there?'

‘I spend time with the rangers. I might become one myself when I leave school. I help out around the place. We get to see a lot of animals. I love it there.'

‘What's to love? The place is crawling with tourists.' Richard hated tourists with a vengeance.

‘The animals, Dad. It's great to watch them. They're so intrinsically natural, so basically pure.'

Richard snorted. ‘Bullshit,' he said coarsely, ‘they're only animals. Stop giving them human traits.' Then he muttered under his breath, ‘Beatrix Potter has a lot to answer for.'

David stood up. ‘May I go?' he asked politely.

‘Yes, son, off you go,' Richard replied heavily.

‘May we take the Land Rover?'

Richard waved his arm. ‘Yeah, take the Land Rover.' Then he added, ‘Be back before it gets dark this time.'

David escaped with an air of relief.

Richard spent five minutes angrily eating his meal before Joseph Tshuma appeared for breakfast. He shouted for Wellington, excused himself, saying, ‘I've got work to do,' and went outside to get one of the farm pick-ups. He was halfway down the escarpment before he realised he had nothing pressing to do. It was Sunday, his workers were enjoying the
day off, and he had been behaving like an idiot. However, he spent the next two hours leisurely inspecting his cattle in the valley before returning to the house.

He found Penny giving Tshuma a conducted tour of the garden. Any sign of earlier anger had disappeared. She was brisk with him, polite but distant, as she gave Tshuma an extravagantly detailed explanation of her mother's plans for the garden. Tshuma showed courteous interest but Richard had the feeling the man was acting. Tshuma did not look as if he would know a rose from a cactus. He left them to it. He could not wait for them to leave.

Lunch was served on the verandah. Cold chicken and salads, followed by Wellington's specialty, lemon soufflé. David was still away, he had not even bothered to say goodbye. After lunch, Penny went upstairs to shower and pack, leaving Richard and Tshuma together in uneasy silence or a conversation which went in fits and starts. Finally, for want of something to say, Richard asked Tshuma if they had met before.

‘I don't think so.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘I think I'd remember.' Tshuma was elaborately casual.

‘I'm positive we've met.' When Tshuma made no comment, he broke one of the unspoken
rules of etiquette in the new Zimbabwe. ‘What did you do during the war?'

‘Fought.' Tshuma's answer was provocatively evasive.

‘Which side?' He knew he was breaking the rules.

‘ZANLA.' Joseph Tshuma had paled with anger.

‘We might have met in the field.' Richard pushed, hating the man, his past enemy.

‘Does it matter?'

‘Does it matter to you?'

‘Not any more. After all,' Tshuma said, taunting, ‘we won the war.'

Richard did not like to be reminded of the defeat. ‘I think it does. I think it matters to you a great deal. I think that's one of the reasons you're seeing my daughter . . . to prove you're as good as the next man.' His anger made him careless. ‘You can try till hell freezes over, my friend, but you'll never be white.'

‘This may come as a shock to you, Mr Dunn,' Tshuma was shaking with suppressed fury, ‘but one of the things Africans want least to be, is white.'

‘I don't believe that.'

‘None of you ever do. You are so sure, so secure in your whiteness, you can't imagine anyone not wanting to be like you.'

‘Of course you want to be like us. Big houses, lots of money, big cars, servants—'

‘Heart disease, cancer, ulcers—' Tshuma cut in.

‘Trips overseas, good education, swimming pools—'

‘Overdrafts, responsibilities, nagging wives—' The mood suddenly shifted dramatically, both men backing off from a racial confrontation.

‘Why are you seeing Penny?' Richard asked abruptly.

‘I like her,' Joseph Tshuma lied. Then he smiled coldly. ‘Or does that possibility bother you?'

‘How would you feel about me screwing your sister?' Richard smiled coldly back, knowing he had offended the man.

But Joseph Tshuma was more than a match for Richard. ‘My sister is a whore, Mr Dunn. You've probably screwed her already.'

Strike one to you
. He changed the subject. ‘There's not a lot of it around.'

‘Pardon me?' Joseph had not known what to expect but Richard's change of direction had thrown him off guard.

‘Mixed relationships. They usually don't work, you know. Too many differences.'

‘Black and white. They're the only differences, Mr Dunn.'

‘You know better than that.'

‘Are you trying to warn me off?'

Richard looked stonily into his guest's eyes. ‘Yes.'

Tshuma sat back, unused to the directness. ‘That's too bad,' he managed finally, ‘because I intend to keep seeing her.' As he said it he realised it was true. If he were ever to get close enough to this man to hurt him, he had to have access to him through his daughter. He hated Richard Dunn enough to marry his daughter if the need arose.

‘Penny will get sick of you, she gets bored with everyone.'

‘I don't think so.'

‘What makes you so sure?'

And Joseph, goaded by the arrogant interference of this white man, delivered the ultimate gibe. ‘Because the black man has something the white man would kill for.' He rose, encouraged by the sick look on his host's face. ‘Excuse me, I have to pack.'

Left to himself, Richard let fly a stream of obscenities. The reference to the size of the black man's penis had been a calculated insult, designed both to taunt Richard and debase Penny. Suddenly, he felt afraid. Joseph Tshuma was clever and vindictive. Perhaps he had organised the break in to his shed. Maybe he was looking for evidence. The big black man reminded him of a cat playing with a mouse—Richard. And where did that leave Penny? The girl had no idea what she was getting into.

‘We'll be off as soon as Joe is packed.'

Startled, he looked up. Penny was standing near him, arms folded, sunglasses hiding her eyes. ‘Let's walk,' he said, rising.

‘We have nothing to say to each other.'

‘I think we do. Come on, let's walk in the garden.' He wanted desperately to protect her.

They walked to the orchard, a favourite spot of Kathy's. Penny said nothing, making it difficult for Richard to begin. He did not mind, he respected her strong-willed punishment for the way he had insulted her. ‘I'm sorry for what I said.' He found it difficult to apologise. ‘I didn't mean it.'

‘Don't ever do it again. I'm not a child any more.'

‘I know, Pen. It's just that I hated hearing you swear like that. It's so common.'
Oh, shit, now I've done it.

She did not rise to the bait. ‘You are so old-fashioned, Daddy. Everyone swears these days.'

‘You are not everyone. You're Penny Dunn. Try to remember it.'

Unpredictable as always, this comment angered her. ‘So what?'

He backed down, as he often did with her. ‘Don't let's fight, baby. I'm worried about you.' He waved his arm back towards the house. ‘That man doesn't care about you. He'll hurt you. He's playing his own game. I can't get over the feeling that he's using you to get to me.'

This was too much for Penny's ego. ‘Joe and I have been seeing each other for two months. We had already established our relationship before he knew you were my father.' As she said it, Penny knew she was wrong. Joseph knew who she was and who her father was from the beginning but she was too vain to admit it to Richard. ‘You're just saying these things to break us up. If Joe were white you couldn't care less about the relationship.'

Richard was losing and he knew it. His volatile temper flared and, as often happened when he was angry, he became crude. ‘I'm having a hard time with the fact that my daughter is banging my old enemy,' he shouted. ‘I fought this man in the bush. He could have killed me. Now you're screwing him. How do you think that makes me feel? How do you think any decent white man in this country feels about it? For Chrissakes, Penny, how low can you go?'

‘Shut up! Just shut up!' she screamed at him. ‘You're disgusting. The war is over. Why can't you forget it? You go on and on about honour. What about you? What about your affairs since Mummy died? Don't talk to me about how low I can go. She hadn't been dead two weeks before you . . .' She pulled up, knuckles pressed to her teeth, eyes wide. She knew she had gone too far.

Her father was breathing hard, eyes like
flint. ‘Don't you ever,
ever
, compare your mother and me to you and that . . . that . . . that bloody nigger.' He said it quietly, through lips stretched tight. ‘I loved your mother and she loved me. How we could have reared a thoughtless, selfish and totally irresponsible girl like you is quite beyond me. Get out. Get off Pentland. I need you and your cheap thrill seeking like a hole in the head. Go to hell.'

Penny had gone very white but the demon which rode her back, like the demon which rode her father's, had the last say. ‘That's fine with me. I'm going. And I might well marry Joe and raise his kids. I might even tell him about your poaching.' She paused, gathering strength for the final onslaught. ‘You are one sick old man,' she told him. ‘You are sick and prejudiced and set in a rut. I hate your guts.' And she walked quickly back to the house.

Richard was shaken. He and Penny had had arguments and fights but they had never attacked each other so personally, never called each other names which would be hard to retract. He walked slowly through the orchard, staring up through the glossy green leaves of the trees to the pure blue of the sky, willing Kathy to come to him. ‘How did it get to this?' he thought out to his dead wife.
All I wanted to do was protect her from that man. I love her.
The leaves rustled above his head as a small breeze touched them.
Is that you,
Kath?
He desperately wanted it to be her, even though he knew it could not be.
If that's you, darling, help me deal with our daughter.

Troubled, and dissatisfied, he returned to the house. As he walked in through the back door he heard a car start up and drive away. He rushed to the front just in time to see the Jaguar disappearing from view around the curve in the driveway. Richard poured a large scotch and slumped into a chair, exhausted. Wellington appeared and hovered uncertainly, knowing that there had been trouble yet again between the master and the young madam. Richard sensed him there and waved him away. He did not want to speak.

When David returned around 4.30 he found his father drunk and passed out in the lounge. He roused him, helped him upstairs, undressed him and put him to bed. It was something he had done a lot of in the bad years after his mother died, when his father was drinking every day. Seeing his father like this now surprised him. He wondered what had caused it. Had to be something bad. Probably his bloody sister as usual. He knew his father was upset about Joseph but that in itself would not have caused him to get drunk. As he passed Penny's bedroom door, which was shut, he kicked it and muttered, ‘Bitch!' He could never understand the relationship between his sister and father, so close one
minute and so far apart the next. All he knew was, whenever there was trouble, they both took it out on him.

It was Wellington's afternoon off. David went downstairs to raid the refrigerator.

Richard threw himself into work for the next few days. He had heard nothing from Penny since the weekend, nor did he expect to. She normally took a week to cool off. This time could take longer. He was confident, however, that she would calm down. Then she would arrive, relaxed and friendly, acting as if the last fight had never taken place. Christmas was just over a week away. If he had not heard from her by the middle of next week he would take steps to bridge the gap. He wanted time to calm down himself. Whenever he thought about their last fight, anger would rise in him and he had to get rid of it with a conscious effort of will.

David kept out of his way. The boy spent all his time in the reserve doing God knows what. The closest Richard ever came to an explanation was ‘I help out around the place'. When pressed he said ‘I do whatever is necessary'. Richard left it alone. His son was occupied, keeping out of trouble and he appeared happy. He wished it was that easy with Penny.

On Thursday, however, as they were eating breakfast, Richard suggested that David spend the day with him. ‘I've seen nothing of you since you arrived.'

‘You're always so busy with the farm.' David was defensive

‘Come with me. Learn more about the place.'

‘I'm not interested in farming, Dad. You know that.' This was an old discussion. For years Richard had tried to interest David in animal husbandry, crop rotation, ploughing schedules, weaning, stud breeding programs, anything in fact to do with the day-to-day running of Pentland Park. For the same length of time his son had persistently refused to learn, preferring to spend time in the game reserve. David's lack of interest in the farm further alienated him from his father, who loved farming generally and Pentland Park particularly.

He had once complained to Kathy, ‘I don't know what's wrong with the boy. Most kids would give their right arm to inherit a place like this.'

‘Your father probably feels the same way about his hotels,' she reminded him gently.

‘This is different.'

Kathy had smiled at him.

Richard had thrown his hands in the air and walked away. But it did not stop him trying at
every opportunity to turn his son's interest towards Pentland.

‘Okay. Have it your own way. But I'd still like to see you. Do you have to go into the reserve every bloody day?'