The Burning Shore - Smith Wilbur - Страница 129
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I like to hear what everybody has to say, he explained. Hate to miss a good story at the end of the table. He had a discerning palate and had accumulated one of the finest cellars in the country. He had stolen his Zulu chef from the Country Club in Durban, so his invitations were sought after even though acceptance usually involved a train journey and an overnight stay at Theuniskraal.
This fellow Joseph Robinson may have a baronetcy, which in many cases is the mark of an unprincipled scoundrel too cunning to have been caught out, he may have more money than even old Cecil John ever accumulated - the Robinson Deep and Robinson Goldmine belong to him, as does the Robinson Bank, but he is as mean as any man I've ever met. He'll spend $10,000 on a painting and grudge a starving man a penny. He is also a bully and the greediest most heartless man I've ever met. When the prime minister first tried to get a peerage for him, there was such an outcry that he had to drop the idea."If he is so awful, why do we invite him, papa? Garry sighed theatrically. A price I have to pay for my art, my dear. I am going to try to prise from the fellow a few facts that I need for my new book. He is the only living person who can give them to me."Do you want me to charm him for you? Oh no, no! We don't have to go that far, but you could wear a pretty dress, I suppose. Centaine chose the yellow taffeta with the embroidered seed-pearl bodice that exposed her shoulders, still lightly tanned by the desert sun. As always, Anna was there to prepare her hair and help her dress for the dinner.
Centaine came through from her private bathroom, which was one of the great luxuries of her new life, with a bathrobe wrapped around her still-damp body and a hand towel around her head. She left wet footprints on the yellow wood floor as she crossed to her dressing-table.
Anna, who was seated on the bed restitching the hook and eye on the back of the yellow dress, bit off the thread, spat it out and mumbled, I have let it out three full centimetres. Too many of these fancy dinner-parties, young lady. She laid out the dress with care and came to stand behind Centaine.
I do wish you would sit down to dinner with us, Centaine grumbled. You aren't a servant here. Centaine would have had to be blind not to have realized the relationship that was flourishing between Garry and Anna. So far, however, she had not found an opportunity of discussing it, though she longed to share Anna's joy, if only vicariously.
Anna seized the silver-backed brush and attacked Centaine's hair with long powerful strokes which jerked her head backwards.
You want me to waste my time listening to a lot of fancy folk hissing away like a gaggle of geese? She imitated the sibilance of the English tongue so cleverly that Centaine giggled delightedly. No, thank you, I can't understand a word of that clever chatter and old Anna is a lot happier and more useful in the kitchen keeping an eye on those grinning black rogues. Papa Garry so wants you to join the company, he's spoken to me ever so often. I think he is becoming so fond of you. Anna pursed her lipsand snorted. That's enough of that nonsense, young lady, she said firmly, as she set down the brush and arranged the fine yellow net over Centaine's hair, capturing its springing curls in the spangled mesh set with yellow sequins. Pas mal! She stood back and nodded critical approval. Now for the dress. She went to fetch it from the bed, while Centaine stood up and slipped the bathrobe from her shoulders. She let it fall to the floor and stood naked before the mirror.
The scar on your leg is healing well, but you are still so brown, Anna lamented, and then broke off and stood with the yellow dress half-extended, frowning thoughtfully, staring at Centaine.
Centaine" Her voice was sharp. When did you last see your moon? she demanded, and Centaine stooped and snatched up the fallen robe, covering herself with it defensively.
I was sick, Anna. The blow on my head, and the infection. How long since your last moon? Anna was remorseless.
You don't understand, I was sick. Don't you remember when I had pneumonia I also missed- Not since the desert! Anna answered her own question. Not since you came out of the desert with that German, that cross-breed German Afrikaner. She threw the dress on to the bed and pulled the covering robe away from Centaine's body.
No Anna, I was sick. Centaine was trembling. Up to that minute she had truly closed her mind against the awful possibility that Anna now presented.
Anna placed her big callused hand on Centaine's belly, and she cringed from the touch.
I never trusted him, with his cat's eyes and yellow hair and that great bulge in his breeches, Anna muttered furiously. Now I understand why you would not speak to him when we left, why you treated him like an enemy, not a saviour. Anna, I have missed before. It could be- He raped you, my poor child! He violated you! You could not help it. That is how it happened? Centaine recognized the escape that Anna was offering her, and she yearned to take it.
He forced you, my baby, didn't he? Tell Anna. No, Anna. He did not force me. You allowed him, you let him? Anna's expression was formidable.
I was so lonely. Centaine sank down on to the stool and covered her face with her hands. I had not seen another white person for almost two years, and he was so kind and beautiful, and I owed him my life. Don't you understand, Anna? Please say you understand! Anna enfolded her in those thick powerful arms, and Centaine pressed her face into her soft warm bosom. Both of them were silent, shaken and afraid.
You cannot have it, Anna said at last. We will have to get rid of it. The shock of her words racked Centaine, so she trembled afresh and tried to hide from the dreadful thought.
We cannot bring another bastard to Theuniskraal, they would not stand for it. The shame would be too much.
They have taken one, but Mijnheer and the general could not take another. For the sake of all of us, Michael's family and Shasa, for yourself, for all those whom I love, there is no choice in the matter. You must get rid of it."Anna, I can't do that. Do you love this man who put it in your belly? Not now. Not any more. I hate him, she whispered. Oh God, how I hate him!
Then get rid of his brat before it destroys you and Shasa and all of us.
The dinner was a nightmare. Centaine sat at the bottom of the long table and smiled briefly, though her eyes burned with shame and the bastard in her belly felt like an adder, coiled and ready to strike.
The tall elderly man beside her droned on in a particularly rasping and irritating tone, directing his monologue almost exclusively at Centaine. His bald head had been turned by the sun to the colour of a plover's egg, but his eyes were strangely lifeless, like those of a marble statue.
Centaine could not concentrate on what he was saying, and it became unintelligible as though he were speaking an unknown language. Her mind wandered off to pluck and worry at this new threat that had loomed up suddenly, a threat to her entire existence and that of her son.
She knew that Anna was right. Neither the general nor Garry Courtney could allow another bastard into Theuniskraal. Even if they were able to condone what she had done, and it was beyond reason or hope that they could, even then they could not allow her to bring disgrace and scandal not only upon Michael's memory, but upon the entire family. It was not possible, Anna's way was the only escape open to her.
She jumped in her seat and almost screamed aloud.
Below the level of the dinner-table, the man beside her had placed his hand upon her thigh.
Excuse me, Papa. She pushed back her chair hurriedly, and Garry looked down the length of the table with concern. I must go through for a moment, and she fled into the kitchen.
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